“Mrs. Moriarty will wonder where her other yardstick went.”
“Maybe we can get it tomorrow. Take your math book and let’s go back in. How long have we been away?”
Philip couldn’t tell so he didn’t answer. He retrieved his book from behind the porch chair, and together he and Emery entered Mrs. Moriarty’s kitchen. They tiptoed across the floor and checked the living room. Mrs. Moriarty still lay asleep in her chair in front of the TV. Relieved they didn’t have to face any questions from Mrs. Moriarty, the boys went back into the den.
“Let’s see what the letter says.” Emery reached behind him and yanked out the already opened envelope. He unfolded the letter.
“What’s it say? What’s it say?” Philip stared over Emery’s shoulder.
“It says welcome to the city of Brunton and congratulations on being selected from dozens of applicants. Please report to your new job at eight a. m. Monday, December 8, to . . .”
“To? To? Go ahead. To where?”
Emery looked inside the envelope for a second page. “There’s no more.”
“No more! The Wolfman’s getting a job right here in Brunton and starts this Monday, and we don’t know where? Look inside the envelope again.”
Emery turned the envelope upside down and shook it.
“Did you drop the second page?”
“I only saw one page in the envelope.”
The boys drifted off into deep thought. Finally, Emery said, “Maybe we should watch the rest of the movie?”
Philip gave Emery a hesitant look. “I don’t think so.”
“How about just the end—to see if the Wolfman is captured or what?”
“Okay, yeah okay, but I don’t want to hear any of the talking in the movie. Let’s go to the end and fast search backwards. We’ll be able to tell what happens to him.”
Emery agreed and performed the necessary button pushing. “Ready?”
Philip nodded and both boys got back on the sofa and sat close together. Emery pushed reverse. The boys watched the static on the TV screen disappear and the names of the actors roll backwards. Then they saw Larry Talbot lying on the ground. As they watched he turned back into werewolf! Another man watched the change, too.
“Isn’t that his father?” Philip whispered.
“Yeah. Look, they’re fighting.”
“Stop it. Push the stop button.”
Emery pushed the button and the screen turned blue.
“His father killed him,” Philip said softly.
“You think our Larry Talbot has a father? Maybe we could call him.”
“Call him and what?”
“Tell him to come over and bop his son before he starts eating people in the neighborhood,” said Emery.
Philip shook his head in disdain. “I don’t think so.”
“But at least in the movie he died. So they can die, right?”
“I guess.”
“Still watching TV?” Mrs. Moriarty stood in the doorway.
“Argh!” The boys jumped at Mrs. Moriarty’s unexpected interruption.
“I guess I dozed off a few minutes. You must have had a very boring night. I haven’t been much of a baby-sitter for you. Are you hungry?”
Both boys shook their heads.
“Okay. Your family just drove into the driveway, Emery. Might as well get ready to go home. They’ll call any moment.” Mrs. Moriarty cocked her head and looked oddly at the two boys. “You both sure you’re okay?”
Both boys nodded energetically.
Mrs. Moriarty smiled and left the room.
“Put the yardstick back,” said Emery.
Philip had carried the yardstick into the den with him. He picked up the yardstick, pulled the aluminum foil off the top, and froze. “Emery. Emery. Come see.”
Emery walked over to him. “What?”
“Look.”
Emery inspected the yardstick and he froze. Deep bite marks of something very large covered the yardstick.
Chapter Eight
“Don’t forget, Philip, we’re having dinner over the Wyatts tonight.”
“Why are you shouting?” asked Philip, who stood right behind his mother.
His mother jumped. “Philip, I thought you were in the living room.”
“No, kitchen. I’m hungry.”
“I’ll make you a sandwich.”
“Do we have cracked pepper turkey? With mayonnaise and lettuce?”
“When did you get so sandwich fussy?” His father asked this question. He’d just entered the kitchen from the basement. He rubbed his hand across the top of Philip’s head a few times and smiled. “A fancy sandwich may be all we’ll get for dinner tonight.”
“No, we won’t,” said Mrs. Felton. “I happen to know Emery’s mother has already bought a ham and plans to drive the two babies to her sister’s house so she can concentrate on cooking and entertaining tonight. Philip, all I can find is ham for your sandwich.”
“Ham! How many times am I supposed to eat ham in one day?”
“This ham sandwich will be just as good as the other hundreds of ham sandwiches I’ve fixed for you. With mustard. The brown kind. And cut off the crust.”
“If it was cracked pepper turkey, I’d eat the crust,” Philip grumbled.
“I’ll get some on my next trip to the store.”
“Don’t forget to buy mayonnaise.”
“And lettuce. I heard you the first time, darling.”
Philip sat at the table and watched his mother put his sandwich together.
“Who are the other people coming to dinner tonight?” his father asked.
“Some friends of Betty’s. They just moved into the neighborhood. I think they knew each other in high school.”
Philip’s stomach exploded. “The people from the haunted house?” he blurted.
“You mean the one you and Emery fixed up?” said his father.
Philip nodded.
“I don’t know. Are they the new neighbors?”
“I don’t know. I guess. Betty said they just moved into the neighborhood. The Talbots.”
“I gotta go,” said Philip.
“Sit, sit, sit, mister. I didn’t make this sandwich for nothing.”
Philip sat back down and decided the quickest way out of the kitchen was to eat the sandwich and run. Emery had to know about this—if he didn’t know already.
Ten minutes later, Philip banged on the Wyatt’s front door. Emery’s mom answered.
“Oh, hello, Philip.” Mrs. Wyatt held a baby in her arms, and Philip could hear the other baby crying in the background.
“Is Emery home?”
“He’s in his room, and he won’t come out.”
“Why not?”
“Come in. I fed one, but not the other,” she said wearily, as if this was something Philip needed to know.
Philip followed Mrs. Wyatt into the living room and watched her put one baby down and pick up the other baby. He knew the two babies were only about one year apart. The baby she put down started wobbling around the living room on very shaky legs. Mrs. Wyatt took a bottle of milk and stuffed the nipple into the crying baby’s mouth.
“No, no, no,” she said to the wobbly baby, who grabbed onto a lamp cord for balance. Mrs. Wyatt switched the smaller baby to her other arm and grabbed the arm of the wobbly baby.
This is going to take forever, Philip thought. “Can I go up to see Emery?”
“No, you can’t have this bottle. You just had yours. No, no, now stop it.”
Philip tried again. “Can I go up to see Emery?”
“Don’t pull your diaper off. Now stop it.”
“Can I go up to see Emery?”
“He’s in his room, and he won’t come out.”
“I know. You already told me.”
“Why won’t he come out?”
“How should I know?” Philip said, perplexed.
“OW! Don’t pinch me,” Emery’s mother snapped. She released the walking baby, who wobbled righ
t back to the dangling electrical cord. “No, no. I said no.”
Philip began to understand about the headaches Emery said his mother got. He’d try another approach. “I’m going up to see Emery. Okay?”
“What is so fascinating about a lamp cord? Yes, go, Philip. Go. He’s in his room, and he won’t come out.”
Philip went up the stairs as fast as politeness would allow, all the while listening to Mrs. Wyatt in the background discussing the electrical cord with a one-year-old who wanted the cord more than she had ever wanted anything in her life.
Philip knocked on Emery’s closed door.
“No,” came Emery’s voice in a shout. “No, I’m not coming out. I’m staying right here, and I’m not coming out until tomorrow, and you can’t make me. No, no, no.”
Philip opened the door slightly. “Emery?”
“No, I said I’m . . . Philip? What are you doing here?”
“I was having lunch when my mom said we’re eating here tonight with . . .”
“I know. I know. Lawrence Talbot is coming here. With his family. They’ll all be here; him, Dracula, and baby Frankenstein.”
“Isn’t his family a wife and a little girl?”
“Who knows? Maybe they’re his family during the day before the moon comes up, but what about after? Who are they then? I’m not leaving my room. N-O!”
“Maybe it’ll be all right if our moms and dads are there.”
“What difference will that make? Are moms and dads stronger than the power of the full moon? Can moms and dads keep you from having your blood sucked right out of you? Larry Talbot is coming here for a reason, and I’m the reason.”
“What do you mean you’re the reason? Why’s your hand under the pillow?”
Emery withdrew the hidden hand and thrust it at Philip as if he were a prince and expected Philip to kiss it. After two seconds of confusion, Philip saw what Emery wanted him to see. There on the back of Emery’s left hand was a five-pointed star. A pentagram!
“I’m going to be the werewolf’s next victim,” said Emery.
Chapter Nine
“What’s that? Where did you get it?” Philip asked in alarm.
“The library. I went to the library this morning, and they had a little fair on the top floor to raise money. You showed your library card, and they stamped your hand so you could go upstairs. This is the stamp.”
Philip thought a moment. “But then everybody at the library got a stamp like you.”
“Yeah, but they don’t live down the street from . . . you-know-what. They don’t know the truth about this neighborhood. They don’t know what we know. And he’s not having dinner at their house tonight.” Emery lowered his head into his right palm, a picture of surrender.
“It’s just an accident you got the mark. The one in the movie was like . . . magical. It appeared and then it disappeared. Nobody stamped it there, and only Bela the Wolfman could see it.”
“It doesn’t mean it really happens that way. Maybe it happens this way. Maybe somebody puts it on you. You want a pentagram? Here.” Emery grabbed a red magic marker and yanked the top off. “I’ll give you one. Give me your hand.”
“No, no. Forget it.” Philip zipped both hands behind his back.
“Come on. Come on. It won’t be a magical pentagram, so it won’t make any difference you said.” Emery jumped on Philip and knocked him down. They wrestled around as Emery tried to draw on the back of Philip’s hand, and Philip tried to stop him.
“What’s all the noise up there?” Emery’s mother shouted up the stairs. “I’m trying to put the babies down for naps. Whatever you two are doing, stop it!”
The boys sat on the floor breathing hard. Philip gave Emery an angry look. “Some friend you are—trying to give me a werewolf pentagram.”
“So? You said it didn’t matter. Remember?”
“All right. All right. It might matter. We don’t know yet.”
“Yet? Good, let’s wait until tonight and find out. You can tell me while the Wolfman’s chewing on my shoulder. What are we going to do about it?”
Philip almost answered, What do you mean, we? but thought better of it.
“You’re positive he’s coming here tonight?”
“Yes, he’s coming here tonight. What a stupid question. And he’s coming for me.” Emery waved the back of his hand in Philip’s face.
“I see it. I see it. Well, the answer’s simple. Don’t be here when he comes.”
“Where am I going to go? You gonna buy me a bus ticket to New Jersey? I can’t just leave the house.”
Philip got up off the floor. “I’m going home. Let me think about it.”
“How will I know if you get an idea? I’m not leaving this room. Help me move the bed against the door. The bureau, too.”
“How will I get out then? You can move stuff later. There’s no hurry ’cause he can’t change until after dark, right? You don’t have to hide until then. Come to my house in a little while. I’ll have a plan by then.”
“Well, okay, but I’m going to be back in here with my bureau against the door way before it gets dark.”
Philip walked thoughtfully down the street toward his house. When he reached home, his father sat on the sofa, his baby sister Becky asleep next to him. His father waved him over.
“What’s this?” his father asked with a smile.
“Oh, my spelling test.”
“100%. Very good.”
Philip shrugged, his mind elsewhere.
“Close your eyes and put out your hand.”
Philip followed his father’s directions. First, he felt his father’s finger press onto the back of his hand. Then his father flipped his hand over and put something into it. Philip opened his eyes and saw a dollar bill.
“Just a small reward for your fine test.”
“Thanks, Dad. But why did you . . . ?” Philip turned his hand over to see why his father pressed his finger there.
A feeling of shock and horror swept over Philip. Shining brightly on the back of his hand was a tiny, shiny gold star, the kind they gave out in first grade. A golden pentagram!
“What’s this? Where’d you get it?”
“Oh, I found a box of them downstairs in the basement and thought I’d surprise you with one. I can see you’re surprised.”
“Yeah. Surprised. Can I take it off?”
Philip’s father shrugged. “Do what you want.” Becky stirred and Mr. Felton picked her up and walked with her into the kitchen. “Time for a feeding, sweetheart,” he said to his wife.
Impossible, thought Philip. Impossible, but true. Both he and Emery had been marked with the sign of the pentagram! Not like the movie one that appeared then disappeared, but a real pentagram. How could this have happened? How?
Philip ran upstairs, slammed his bedroom door, and wondered how long it would take him to slide his bed and bureau against the door. He and Emery were under attack!
Chapter Ten
“I can’t believe our mothers threw us out of the house,” Philip moaned.
Emery agreed. “Yeah, usually we get yelled at ’cause we don’t want to go to our rooms, and today we get thrown out because we do want to go to our rooms. It’s not fair. Now we have to have dinner tonight with you-know-who, and both of us marked with the sign of the pentagram. Oh, this is bad. This is really, really bad.”
The two boys walked around the block tucked into their heavy coats and wearing wool caps pulled down over their ears. Emery had scrubbed the inky star off the back of his hand with his toothbrush and soap, and was not looking forward to brushing his teeth that night. After Philip showed his golden pentagram to Emery he peeled it off and tossed it away. Even though the pentagrams were gone, the boys couldn’t mistake their meaning.
“I knew I should have moved the bed and bureau over to the door,” Emery went on. “But I couldn’t move either one. They were both too heavy, so I stuck some socks under the door.”
“Socks? Why? You think the smell w
ould keep monsters away?”
“My socks don’t smell. Anyway, they were clean socks from my drawer.”
“Whatever. What did you do it for?”
“I jammed them under the door and hoped the door would get stuck and not open.”
“Did it work?” If it did, Philip thought he could use the trick.
“I’m here. Don’t you see me?”
“Didn’t work, eh?”
Emery didn’t bother to answer. After a few more steps he said, “We need a plan. You said you’d have plan by now.”
“I didn’t know I’d need a plan for both of us.”
“So you got one or not? You don’t, do you?”
“How about if we both get sick and have to stay in bed?”
“Like our moms’ll really believe us after we locked ourselves in our rooms.”
“Did your mother ask you if you were crazy? Mine did.”
“Your mom asked you if I was crazy?”
“No, no. She asked me if I was crazy, but she said I was acting as crazy as you.”
“As crazy as me! Who told her I was crazy?”
“Your mom called,” Philip said wearily, “and said you wouldn’t come out of your room. So my mom came to ask me if I knew what was wrong with you, but I was locked in my room and wouldn’t come out. That’s when she asked me if I was crazy and said something about being at a strange age.”
“Her? How old is she?”
“Not her; us, dummy. Then she threw me out.”
“Oh, we need a plan,” Emery wailed in desperation. “We need a plan bad.”
“I’m thinking. I’m thinking. Just be quiet.”
“Be quiet. Be quiet. Everybody tells me to be quiet. I have to be quiet at home because of babies. I have to be quiet in school because of the teacher. I have to be quiet in the supermarket so my mother can concentrate on shopping. I have to be quiet now so you can think. I should have been born without mouth. When I grow up I’m going to be the noisiest grown-up ever. I’m going to . . .”
Philip and the Monsters (9781619500464) Page 4
