A Babysitter's Guide to Monster Hunting

by Joe Ballarini

  “Stupid batteries,” I grumbled as we stood in the darkness.

  The Shadow Monster lunged toward us. I screamed and ducked.

  A pale-blue light beamed into the creature’s eyes, stopping it in its tracks. Victor stood strong, holding out his phone with the flashlight app turned on. The roar of the party masked the wailing agony of the withering Shadow Monster.

  Victor boldly stepped toward the beast, phone light blasting.

  Then his phone died.

  “Stupid batteries!” he cried at his phone.

  The beast’s thundering paw swiped Victor, bashing him backward. Victor buckled. I gasped.

  “VICTOR!”

  His head fell forward. His shirt was shredded. My hurt turned to rage. I threw my flashlight at the Shadow Monster, its stinking plumes of fur swishing like dryers at a car wash.

  “You—you—thing! You terrible, mean thing!” was all I could say.

  I pulled back my shoulders and inhaled. Fire shot from my belly and turned into a scream that sent the hair on the Shadow Monster’s snout blowing back. The beast paused. Blinked. Then it bellowed at me, exhaling a reeking wind of sweet laundry detergent and sour belly juice into my face.

  Checkmate, Oleg.

  I darted toward the stairs.

  THUMP, THUMP.

  Meaty, hairy paws galloped behind me.

  I was almost at the banister that overlooked the party.

  I knew what to do to save the lives of everyone here. I had to scream. I had to roar. I had to become Visible.

  I slammed into the railing on the balcony and screamed down to the party.

  “Hey, you guys!” I shouted. “Take a picture of this!”

  The party got quiet. Kids looked up at me as I waved my arms back and forth. From the corner, Victor weakly looked up at me like “What are you doing?”

  “Happy Halloween!” I screamed.

  I threw my legs over the banister and jumped, aiming for the couch, hoping the boys sitting on it would run away in time for my landing. The Shadow Monster roared and sprang after me.

  Phones were aimed high and flashes exploded, filling the living room with a burst of nuclear light. Under the strobing lights, the monster howled and dissolved into wisps of smoke. Blinded momentarily, I plunged into the couch as the soccer guys spilled out of the way.

  “Meh. I’d give that a five,” Jesper said, putting his phone away. “Ken’s been doing that all night.”

  I looked up. Oleg had vanished into thin air. I laughed to myself and rolled off the sofa.

  “Someone’s desperate for attention,” I heard Deanna grumble from a reclining chair, where she fanned herself under the care of the Princess Pack. Her cat ears were askew, and her hair was bunched up where she had fallen. Her mashed-up costume made me giggle to myself. Deanna’s comments didn’t sting as much this time.

  Victor was clinging to the banister, gazing down at me, shaking his head in wonderment. His sideways smile was back.

  I charged up the stairs and crouched down beside him, gently touching the tatters of his pirate shirt. Even though the claw marks scratched across his chest looked like they really stung, he held my hand with appreciation. All the fear that filled me moments ago was replaced by a flight of giddy helium balloons.

  “AAAARRRGOTCHA!” came a scream from inside the walls.

  A loud metallic thumping wound up toward the ceiling. Victor and I braced ourselves for another monster attack. Then we both realized we were still holding hands. His fingers tensed in mine. I swallowed.

  Stay focused, Kelly.

  The air-conditioning vent in the middle of the hallway broke open, and Snaggle the Toadie spilled out, beakfirst. Victor and I recoiled, but then it jerked to a stop, midair. Snaggle was clinging to its little leather purse. Holding the other end of the Toadie’s sacred satchel was a human hand with black nail polish.

  “Liz?” I called out.

  Liz jumped down from the air-conditioning vent, yanking the Toadie with her.

  “Nurm! Nurm!” grumbled Snaggle, playing tug-of-war with Liz.

  “Get the thing!” Liz shouted.

  “I got this,” Victor said, tucking in his pirate shirt.

  He put out his arms in a “give me space” gesture and boldly stepped forward, like he was going to take a penalty kick. His leg swung with grace and ease, connecting sneaker toe to Toadiebeak. It was a perfect liftoff. The creature’s whole body went flying across the hall and crashed into the fire alarm with a crack. The fire alarm shrieked, and emergency sprinklers shot water from the ceiling. I could hear the loud whoops and squeals of kids caught in the spray down below.

  “Goal!” he shouted, and threw up his fists, water streaming down his smile. We high-fived. It was awesome.

  Snaggle grumbled, shook the fuzz out of its head, and clawed up the window curtains.

  “No, no, no!” Liz said, running toward the Toadie. Her boots splashed across the wet carpet, but she was too late.

  The trash troll broke through the window and dove outside.

  We rushed to the ledge. The Toadie’s rear legs kicked out of a hole it was rapidly digging. Liz crouched on the windowsill, about to jump two stories down, but Snaggle slipped into the depths of its tunnel system and vanished.

  Liz scowled at Victor. “I said get it, not kick it.”

  Victor’s arms withered at his sides. I pulled my puffy green waterproof jacket over our heads like an umbrella, and we huddled together. Victor was only trying to help, but he had just screwed things up for us, just like I had been doing the whole night. I was kind of glad it wasn’t me for once.

  Liz glowered at us, and she stalked off to inspect Snaggle’s leather troll purse. There was a small bulge inside the bejeweled sack. She fished out a thick piece of round glass with spiraled ridges.

  Liz made an unhappy growl. I tried to get a closer look, but she shoved the glass chunk and sack into her backpack. She was on the move.

  Liz swung open the bathroom door.

  “All clear, Penny,” Liz said in a kind voice.

  Penny, shivering in the falling water, poked her head out of the crack in the door.

  “I wan’ my mom,” Penny mumbled.

  Liz crouched down to Penny’s eye level. “Why don’t you call her and ask her to come home?”

  “But my brother will get in trouble,” Penny said.

  Jesper rushed up the stairs, soaking wet. His ski goggles sloshed with water. I guess the cold sprinklers had snapped him out of his party trance, because his eyes were panicked and angry. “Penny! I’m gonna kill you!”

  “Hold on, Jesper,” I said. “You’re the one who threw a big, stupid party and let it get out of control, and now you’re blaming your harmless little sister for causing all this damage? Not cool, Jesper.”

  “Wh-what?” Jesper stuttered, surprised Kelly What’s-Her-Name had just spoken up and called him out.

  Speeding sirens wailed outside. Red-and-blue lights flooded the windows. Kids below screamed, “Police!”

  Jesper cringed at the sound of furniture being bashed aside as kids stampeded around the house. He yelled for everyone to shut up, but his grass skirt caught around his ankles, and he fell down the stairs.

  Liz flipped Penny her business card. “Next time your mom and dad go out, have them call me, and this will never, ever happen again.”

  I felt a little hand tug on my wrist. Penny gently pulled me to my knees.

  She removed the sparkly tiara from her wet tangle of hair. It twinkled in her hands as she lifted it up to my head. The sprinklers stopped. The air around us was filled with mist that smelled like garden hose water.

  “Thank you for getting rid of the monster in my closet,” whispered Penny as she crowned me. The broken tiara fit on my head perfectly. My throat closed up. This little girl must have been tormented by that Shadow Monster for so long, and now she was finally free.

  Liz’s mouth was pinched into a frown, eyes red and withdrawn. Tears smeared her dark mascar
a into black smudges. She swallowed and then marched down the stairs without looking back. Fire engines wailed close to the house.

  Headlights spilled into the windows, sending shadows skittering like roaches as Liz and I bolted out to her moped. She showed me the pet tracker. The blue dot was on the run again, veering away from the house.

  “Why was the Toadie guarding that piece of glass?”

  “We’ll ask it when we catch it.”

  Victor kept pace with us. He had his strength back, and he looked ready to kick some butt. I was glad he was there—not just as my crush, but as my friend and fellow monster hunter.

  “What have youuuu two been up to?” laughed one of the soccer guys who had gathered outside on the lawn. “No. Seriously. What have you two been up to? The basement’s trashed.”

  “It was a raccoon,” said Liz. “Went wild. Must have been rabid.”

  “Yeah. Raccoon. Totally,” I said, glancing at Victor.

  Was he going to play along, or would he rat us out to his friends?

  “Yeah,” Victor said, shaking his head. “Raccoon. It was crazy.”

  I beamed. He was on my side.

  The soccer guys groaned and walked off, but Victor stayed with us.

  “Is this . . . You do this?” he asked me.

  I shrugged and was about to tell him it was my first night and that I’m not really a joiner, but if he wanted to join us, he was more than welcome to, y’know, join. And then I was going to tell him that I ramble and make stupid jokes when I’m nervous, but Victor squinted and shook his head in wonder.

  “It is so . . . weird.”

  My smile deflated. His accent suddenly sounded sharp and mean.

  I plucked Penny’s tiara from my head and threw my wet hair to the side, accidentally whipping a line of water into his face.

  Angry neighbors had emerged and were screaming at Jesper and the kids on the front lawn. Shaving cream and Silly String smeared the front of the house, giving it a foamy frown. A crushed pumpkin burned on the porch, candle wax oozing from its eyes. Parents were arriving, yelling at their kids.

  “It’s not what I do,” I said, shifting my weight, hand on my hip. “I’m just trying to save up to go to Camp Miskatonic.”

  “Camp. Very cool,” Victor said, brightening.

  I smiled and zipped the tiara up in my jacket pocket. Liz growled and shook her helmeted head.

  “I’m telling you, I saw something!” screamed Deanna. She clomped across the asphalt in a sopping wet mess of pink taffeta and runny makeup that stretched her face like Silly Putty. She pressed her cold hands into Victor’s face for him to “feel how frightened” she was.

  “Gotta go, Ferguson,” Liz said over her shoulder.

  Deanna wilted into Victor’s side. “You’re leaving? Aaaaw. Don’t worry, my mom’s coming. I’ll give him a ride home.”

  Deanna’s hands were now holding Victor’s.

  In a flash, I saw our story unfolding like an episode of Tears of Flowers and Fish. After the opening credits (sung by K-pop legend Na Feng), Liz and I would leave, and Deanna would seek comfort in Victor’s arms. He would tell her about the monster we defeated, and she would call him a cool monster hunter, and Victor would like that kind of compliment, and pretty soon, they would be within kissing distance. All in subtitles, of course.

  BANG!

  The moped engine shot black smoke.

  Liz’s boot flicked down the kickstand. She took a Sharpie from her bag, marched over to Victor, snatched his hand away from Deanna, and wrote my number on his palm.

  “This is Kelly’s number,” she said. “Don’t text her. Call her. But—and let me be clear—if you go home with Spray Tan here, don’t do either.”

  Victor nodded, speechless.

  23

  As we followed the little paw on the pet tracker, rocketing through dark neighborhoods in pursuit of the Toadie, I felt alive and kind of light-headed. My wet hair was tucked under my helmet, getting crispy in the rush of autumn air. I was going to get sick tomorrow for sure, but right now I was thriving on adrenaline.

  Did I just jump off a banister and onto a couch? Did I blast a Shadow Monster to pieces? I did that! Me! Kelly Ferguson! Yes!

  “You think he likes me, or do you think he thinks I’m weird?” I blurted out.

  “I think you sound pathetic.”

  “Right. But for the sake of argument, what’s your opinion on the matter?”

  “Of?”

  “Victor and me.”

  “My opinion is that if you keep talking, I’m going to elbow you in the face.”

  “Right. But what if Victor calls? My phone’s dead.”

  “Will you shut up?” she screamed.

  I closed my mouth.

  “Backpack. Third pocket,” Liz mumbled.

  As Liz kept steady on the handles, I dug out a portable cell phone battery pack from her bag. I plugged it into my phone.

  “And I swear,” Liz said, “if you’re checking Instagram or sending some stupid emoji, I will end every last piece of you. We gotta focus on the mission, and that’s you and me saving Jake. Got it?”

  I nodded and tucked away my phone.

  It grew quiet except for the echo of the moped’s engine.

  “Are you psychic or something?” I asked.

  “What?”

  “How’d you know I’d need a flashlight?”

  Liz shrugged. “A babysitter’s always ready.”

  “You’re a good associate, Liz,” I said, hugging her from behind.

  Liz threw back her helmet and head butted me. CLUNK!

  “I said ‘associate,’ not ‘friend’!” I said, rubbing my forehead.

  “I don’t like people hugging me.”

  The road narrowed into a single treelined gravel lane, where there were no more streetlights to cast a glow on our way. The moped bucked and crunched as the tracker led us to a stretch of black forest path with the pavement consumed by dirt and weeds.

  In the shadows, a house with a sagging garage door and a sign covered in scratches and muddy kitten prints that read “No Trespassing” waited for us. We rolled to a stop among the long weeds and bushes sprouting up from the stone walkway leading to the house. The screen door was torn. The windows were blacked out with garbage bags. There was the strong scent of you-know-what steaming off the house.

  Something swished in the tall grass. I tensed against Liz. It was only a gray cat.

  But then that cat joined fifty other cats that were perched on the branches of a dead tree nearby. Cats were crawling all over this house. And we’re not talking cute and cuddly. These were deranged, crazy-eyed cats.

  I chewed the inside of my cheek.

  “The Cat Lady,” she said.

  Before I could ask who that was, Liz nodded to her backpack.

  “Check the guide?” I asked.

  “Check the guide,” she said with a nod.

  NAME: Cat Lady, aka Peggy Drood, aka the Cat Lady and her cats

  HEIGHT: 5’4’’

  WEIGHT: 128 lbs

  TYPE: Human, Class 3 apparition

  ORIGIN: American suburbia; Peggy Drood loves cats. Over time, she collected over 200 felines in her house. However, when she couldn’t afford to feed them all, she gave them one final meal: herself.

  LIKES: Cats, milk, tuna, yarn, eating. BRING FOOD—OTHERWISE, HER CATS WILL EAT YOU!

  DISLIKES: Everything not listed above, especially swimming

  STRENGTHS: Small, deadly feline army. IF YOU ARE ALLERGIC TO CATS, STAY AWAY.

  WEAKNESSES: Hair balls, being confined to her home, catnip, laser pointers, frail human body; cats are easily distracted by the possibility of food.

  SMELL: Constant faint whiff of tuna

  SIGHTINGS: Peggy was last seen in her condemned home forty years ago. Rumored to have been eaten by her cats, who still live there.

  ALLIES: Cats are too self-centered for allies but will mildly tolerate people who feed them.

  I closed the n
otebook and then looked up at the decrepit house.

  “Are you kidding me?” I yelled.

  Liz’s phone rang.

  “Berna. Hey. We’re at Peggy Drood’s. Yeah. Pretty gnarly. I’ll drop you a pin now.”

  Liz hung up. I assumed we would wait for them to show up, but Liz marched up the weedy path. I stared, dumbstruck. Liz wanted to go in there? “What if this is another trap? Like Jesper’s house?”

  “This is different. A monster doesn’t just stop off at another monster’s house.”

  “You think they might be in—whadayacallit—cahoots?”

  Liz nodded.

  “So we wait for backup, right?” I said hopefully. “Oh! I know. We passed a Starbucks about two miles back; we could wait there. I’ll get a pumpkin spice latte, you get a decaf anything—”

  I trailed after Liz, begging her to reconsider going into a house with cats that had been raised with a taste for human meat. Sure, I owned that shadow beastie back at Jesper’s, but I was crashing from eating nothing but candy all night.

  We checked the tracker. The Toadie hadn’t moved. Liz reached into her backpack and removed the long cattle prod. She flicked it on, and it hummed and crackled with electricity. She found a sandwich bag full of Cheerios and handed me some. “I always keep a bag of treats for the kids. You can feed the cats if they get too hungry.”

  I looked at the cereal in my palm.

  “These things are used to eating human flesh. I don’t think they’ll be in the mood for breakfast cereal,” I said.

  “Did you bring catnip?” Liz asked.

  “Uh. No.”

  “Then Cheerios are what we got.”

  Gray cats darted under the sagging porch boards. A flicking tail brushed against my cuff. I kicked my leg up and accidentally banged my knee into Liz’s thigh. She elbowed me, told me to get control of myself, and climbed through the window. I followed her, but my foot caught on the sill, and I fell into a slippery pile of old magazines.

  I gagged. The rancid stink of old books, mud, and cat pee, with a spray of lavender perfume, hung in the dead air. I covered my nose and mouth with my sleeve and caught up with Liz, who was crouching around the corner, wiping her nose.