by Laura Dower
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Acknowledgments
CHAPTER 1 - READ ’EM AND WEEP
CHAPTER 2 - SOMEONE FLICKED A CRAZY SWITHCH!
CHAPTER 3 - THOUSAND THOUSAND THREE^COINS IN A FOUNTAIN
CHAPTER 4 - TREMORS!
CHAPTER 5 - LET’S SEE WHAT DEVELOPS
CHAPTER 6 - NO IFS, ANDS, OR BOTS
CHAPTER 7 - ROGER TO THE RESCUE!
CHAPTER 8 - LEERY THEORY
CHAPTER 9 - MALL OR NOTHIN’
CHAPTER 10 - MAY THE FORCE BE WITH US
CHAPTER 11 - ATTACK OF THE BOTS
CHAPTER 12 - ARE YOU FOR REEL?!
CHAPTER 13 - THE INCREDIBLE FIREQUARTZ QUEST
CHAPTER 14 - MAKE IT ZAPPY
CHAPTER 15 - MAGNETIC NO MORE
CHAPTER 16 - PHOTO FINISH
GROSSET & DUNLAP
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Text copyright © 2010 by Laura Dower. Illustrations copyright © 2010 by
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Library of Congress Control Number: 2009045218
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For Papa.
—Laura Dower
To Dad.
—Dave Schlafman
Acknowledgments:
Special thanks to Dave
Schlafman’s magic pen.
Extra special thanks to
Judy Goldschmidt and
she knows why.
PROLOGUE
LINDSEY GOMEZ
I ripped off silver birthday wrapping paper, lifted a pale pink box lid, and tore through a bunch of sparkly tissue.
There it was.
“A CAMERA? NO WAY!” I cried.
“What do you mean no way?” Dad joked. “All we ever give you are cameras.”
“Yeah, I know,” I said, smirking. “This makes camera number twenty-two in my collection!”
Kids at school know me as “photographer at large” because I snap photos for the school paper. I try to show up at all soccer games, school musicals, and spelling bees. And now that I’m a member of the Monster Squad, photography comes in handy more than ever. I’m working on a photo scrapbook of all our Monster Squad adventures.
Monster Squad is this top secret group formed by genius B-Monster movie director Oswald Leery. A few months back, Leery and his sidekick, Walter Block, invited four of us Riddle Elementary fifth-graders (and superfans of the B-Monster movies) to join him and track down B-Monsters in the real world.
How do B-Monsters get out into the world, you ask? Well, when a Leery B-Monster movie is screened from an original movie reel, the B-Monster has the ability to escape. If you were stuck in a movie reel, wouldn’t you want out?
When Leery explained this all to me, I jumped right on the bandwagon because . . . well, I couldn’t think of a single reason not to. I could not turn away the chance to hunt down B-Monsters and take photos at the same time! After all, my grandpa Max was the original photographer and cinematographer for all of Leery’s movies.
And I inherited his photography gene—big time.
An entire wall of my bedroom is covered with cool B-Monster photos that my grandpa took on and off the movie set. He has shots of B-Monsters attacking, eating, and flying warp speed into the ozone layer. My favorite shot shows a bunch of glowing robot props from They Came from Planet Q—with Grandpa posing in the middle.
I inherited more than a photo gene from Grandpa though; I inherited most of his camera collection, too. Many of the cameras are old-fashioned, like the ones that take sepia-toned pictures (brown and white instead of black-and-white), but they work like new. There are Polaroid-type cameras (where the picture comes right out); cameras with long-range lenses; and cameras that have a special “B-Monster Vision” knob.
“Was this really one of Grandpa’s cameras?” I asked my parents. “It looks so plain.”
“Came from his secret stash, I guess,” Mom explained. “It was at the bottom of a box in the attic, all wrapped up in brown paper with a bunch of other movie props. At first we thought it was broken. The lens was scratched a bit and that dial on top was covered with grime. But then your father found this new repair shop . . .”
“Reely Good Things!” Dad piped up. “It’s a brand-new store at Petroglyph Mall down on the lower level. They sell cameras and DVDs. I saw some B-Monster movies in the shop. I wouldn’t be surprised if they have some original reels there!”
“Original reels?” I gulped.
I knew what that meant. A new B-Monster could be released at any moment. The squad already eliminated three. I wasn’t really sure I was ready for number four.
My dad knows Petroglyph Mall like the back of his hand. He’s the head of security there. Twenty-six different guys report to him! He knows all the store owners, which is a major bonus, because they offer cool discounts and specials, like offering to fix my new camera.
“Thanks for this,” I said, squeezing my arms around both Mom and Dad at the same time. “You get the best presents.”
“Well . . .” Mom shrugged. “You’re the best daughter.”
Dad nodded at the camera. “Looks pretty interesting . . .”
“More like pretty strange,” I said. “What are all these functions?”
There were tiny icons on the dial on top: an amoeba, a bird, a sun, a moon, a candle, a question mark, and even a lightning bolt coming out of a cloud—only the bolt was red.
“Lightning bolts usually mean some kind of flash,” I said, in answer to my own question. “But I’ve never seen red lightning.”
I aimed the lens at my parents. No sooner had I snapped than the camera sizzled like a BBQ.
“Just say cheesy!” I called out.
My parents were such big show-offs. They couldn’t stop posing. Dad crossed his arms in front of him like a rap singer. Mom fluffed up her hair and smiled like she was in a pageant.
After a few minutes, however, Dad shouted, “Okay! Enough of this. Time to move on to part two!”
My jaw dropped. “What do you mean, part two?”
“Part two of your present, of course,” Dad said.
&n
bsp; Mom nudged me toward the basement stairs. “No peeking!” she said.
Had they finally—finally!—gotten me the puppy I’d been begging for since I was three? No. Wait. It couldn’t possibly be a pup. Mom was allergic. Was it games? Books? Another camera with even more dials?
“Open your eyes,” Dad finally said.
I just barely opened one eye first; then the second. The room was dark, so it took a minute for me to adjust. But then I saw everything.
Everything.
It nearly knocked me flat.
“A DARKROOM? Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!” I wailed. “Someone pinch me. Is this really happening? I can’t believe it—no way!”
Mom and Dad looked very, very pleased with themselves.
“So what do you think?” Mom asked. “Happy?”
“Happy? I need a tissue I’m so happy!” I blubbered. “Now I can develop all my photos on my own! Thank you! Thank you!”
“Thank Grandpa Max,” Dad said. “Before he passed away, he made us promise that you would get this darkroom. It just took me some time to fix it up right. Now it’s yours. Mom and I think you have the potential to be a great photographer, Lindsey.”
The darkroom had always been in the basement, but it hadn’t been used in years. Dad fixed it up with tubs and trays, photographic chemicals, a sink, and shelves of boxes (mostly filled with photo paper). My parents installed a photo drying line, a new timer, and special darkroom lights, too.
“Is this really all for me?” I asked.
My parents nodded.
“Well!” Mom cheered. “Shall we go back upstairs and celebrate with some birthday cake? I made carrot with cream cheese frosting just the way you like it.”
When we got upstairs, Mom and Dad sang “Happy Birthday to Our Wonderful Daughter!” as Mom sliced the enormous cake slabs for each of us. Then Dad clicked on the television, just like usual. At six o’clock every night, we watch Word Buzz on channel five. We smacked the table edge like it was an imaginary word buzzer and pretended that we were actual contestants on the show.
I wasn’t really watching TV so much because I was looking at my camera. But just as the game show host shouted out a super-duper-double bonus question, I glanced up—right in time to see the TV screen go black.
An announcer’s voice barked. “We interrupt this regularly scheduled program for an eeeeeemergency news bulletin . . .”
Talking heads filled the screen. Dad turned up the volume.
“Chaos across the globe!” cried a newscaster.
Along the bottom of the TV screen, words flashed in lime green:UFO SIGHTED IN BOLIVIAN JUNGLE ...
STRANGE ENERGY FORCE REPORTED
IN THE RED SEA ...
SCREECHING ANIMALS FLEE
SWEDISH ZOO AS STEEL CAGES
COLLAPSE ...
Dad flipped channels. But the channels were all the same, with warnings galore. Even WNN, the Weather News Network, was raising a red flag. Dad flipped to WNN and saw a spinning cyclone and the words: TSUNAMI DOOM!
“Tsunami doom?” Dad cried. “Hmmmmph. What’s really going on?”
“Global warming, I’ll bet,” Mom grumbled. “If it’s not a melting ice cap, it’s pollution in the sky . . . and now this.”
She grabbed the remote and clicked the television off.
“Wait! Mom!” I wailed. “We were watching that!”
“Not anymore,” Mom said sweetly. “This is your special birthday night. No bad news or hot topics allowed. How about another slice of cake?”
I sighed. “Moooom.” But it did no good. I took the slice.
Of course, at that moment, I probably should have known what was really going on out there in the world. I should have clicked the TV right back on and taken pages of notes. After all, as a member of the Monster Squad, it’s my job to pay extra-close attention to freaky occurrences just like those.
Often, it’s a sign of B-Force.
B-Force is the incredible power generated by the presence of a real, live B-Monster. B-Force may take the form of wild weather or a bug swarm or even a river of goo. No matter what form it takes, B-Force always means the same thing: Some B-Monster is coming to town.
Rrrrrrrrrrrrrring.
Mom handed the phone right to me. “Who’s Stella?” she asked.
There was only one Stella that I knew in the whole world and she was in the Monster Squad like me. Other kids in Riddle call her Ninja because she’s got a mean karate kick.
“Lindsey?” Stella’s voice crackled. “You watching TV? You sitting down? Because right now channels 6, 8, and 10 are showing this extreme stuff happening all over the planet. And you know what that usually means . . .”
“I know,” I whispered. “B-Force . . .”
I didn’t want Mom or Dad to hear. Neither is allowed to know the inner workings of the Monster Squad or the truth about all the real-life B-Monsters that have been on the loose. Mom would have a cow if she knew I was moonlighting as Lindsey the B-Hunter.
“So we need to meet!” Stella said. “It’s too late to meet tonight so let’s hook up at the mall tomorrow. Food court. Eleven AM. I’ll call Jesse. You call Damon. Got it?”
I got it. I dialed Damon right away. An answering machine picked up and I explained the plan.
“B-there, or B-square!” I blurted into the receiver at the end.
A massive B-Monster takeover may have been brewing, but that wasn’t about to stop little old me from making a pun.
CHAPTER 1
READ ’EM AND WEEP
When we’re not meeting at school or Leery Castle, Monster Squad meets at Petroglyph Mall. Sometimes Dad even arranges for us to get food court discounts. Lunch that day was served at Wok N Roll. Nothing like planning B-Monster destruction with a side order of rice.
The mall is called Petroglyph because it’s supposedly built on top of these old, haunted, cavemen-painted caves. A petroglyph is a caveman’s cave picture, complete with stick figures and bows and arrows. All the rumors about the mall being haunted don’t scare me, but they do set a good mood for plotting and planning.
Jesse, as usual, came prepared for a meeting. Super-prepared.
He threw a stack of important papers onto the table.
“Read ’em and weep, Monster Squad,” Jesse said. “Evidence of B-Force all over the world! This is one bad B-Monster.”
He’d been up late last night, printing out dozens of stories he’d found on the Internet. They were stranger-than-strange-but-true stories that pointed to some kind of powerful B-Monster presence.
“Check out that headline!” Damon said, pointing to one of the stories.
MICROWAVE OVENS DISAPPEAR INTO THIN AIR
“Nuke kidding,” I cackled. “Who cooked up that disaster?”
“Awwwww, Lindsey,” Jesse said, laughing. “That’s just lame . . .”
“And lamer,” Damon added.
I made a sourball face and read the piece aloud, anyway.
RAMBO, IN—Officials in Rambo were stunned when the Kitchenette Factory, which produces supplies and appliances, came under an apparent attack. Yesterday morning at approximately seven AM, the roof to the company building appeared to open up like a volcano. Passersby reported seeing a large cloud of red, hazy smoke. Refrigerators, ovens, dishwashers, garbage compactors, and microwaves seemed to lift up into the air through the gap in the roof and disappear into the smoke. Kitchenette president, Herb Splutter, said, ”We suspect foul play.” Company representatives are working with law enforcement to investigate the bizarre incident.
“Foul play?” I joked again. “What? Like a bunch of chickens stole all the microwave ovens?”
No laughs. Just groans. Loud groans.
“What do these stories mean?” Stella said, flipping through the pages Jesse had brought.
“Hey, read this one!” Damon cried, pointing to yet another article.
BARCELONA (INTERNATIONAL)—Esteemed Museo Magnifico curator Rolando Miguel de Cervantes is recovering in the hospital tonight f
ollowing the strange events that took place inside the city museum last night. Numerous antiquities and an entire collection of knightly armor disappeared in the middle of the night. Mr. de Cervantes was knocked out by a steel sword as it left the building. There is no evidence to indicate who took the sword or the rest of the museum inventory. No other people were seen at the scene. Police are checking security cameras at the scene as well as the alarm system. Museo Magnifico is closed until further notice.
“Museo Magnifico isn’t the only heist,” Jesse said, glancing at the pages. “There are articles here about armor and jewelry stolen from other places, too.”
We looked at the other articles about places whose names I could hardly spell, like Czechoslovakia and Zimbabwe. There was a town in Australia where every single lawnmower vanished into thin air.
What B-Monster could be that powerful? There were so many possibilities.
“Okay. Armor, lawnmowers, appliances . . .” Jesse started to list off the subjects in all the articles.
“Wait!” Stella blurted. “Everything you just mentioned is made of the same thing: metal.”
I gave Stella a high five. “Impressive observation, Ninja,” I said.
“Actually, if you want to be accurate, they’re all made from alloys of metal,” Jesse added.
“Huh?” Damon said, looking befuddled.
“In alloys, the metal is not pure but rather a combination of numerous different metals that make up the many varying levels of—”
“WHOA!” Damon yelped. “Stop, please! We get it, bro. What don’t you know?”
“Well,” Jesse said, “I don’t know what B-Monster we’re dealing with. Do you?”
“This can’t be too hard to figure out,” I said. “If the B-Force involves metal objects . . . then what does that say about our B-Monster?”
“That maybe it’s magnetic?” Jesse observed.
