How I Met My Monster (9780545510172)

by Stine, R. L.

  “Monroe’s family said you could go downstairs and live with them for the week,” Mom said.

  “L-live with Monroe?” I stammered.

  “Yes,” Mom said. “You and Monroe together for a whole week. Isn’t that great?”

  I felt sick. I could feel my heart sinking into my stomach. My head spun.

  I gripped the edge of the table. “Please —” I choked out.

  “Bean, you don’t look happy,” Mom said.

  “It’s just because he’s surprised,” Dad told her.

  “No,” I said. “You don’t understand.”

  “We’ll only be gone a week,” Mom said. “You won’t miss us that much.”

  “You don’t understand,” I said through clenched teeth. “Monroe is a monster.”

  Mom and Dad laughed.

  Dad picked up his fork and knife and began to cut his lamb chop. “We’re so glad you’ve made a new friend,” he said.

  “Maybe Monroe will help you get over your fear of monsters,” Mom said.

  “No, he won’t help me,” I replied. “He won’t help me because he’s a monster.”

  “Stop being silly,” Mom said. She shook her head. “Really, Bean. This has got to stop. You’re seeing monsters everywhere you look.”

  “I have proof,” I said.

  That wasn’t exactly true. I’d been trying to get proof. I didn’t really have it yet. But I knew my hunch about Monroe had to be right.

  He was a monster. A few hours before, he’d tried to drown me. And now they were sending me downstairs to live with him. Sending me into a total trap.

  “I — I won’t do it!” I cried. I didn’t mean to sound so whiny. It just came out that way.

  “That’s enough,” Dad snapped. He set down his silverware and narrowed his eyes at me. “Enough monster talk. Do you hear me?”

  “Let’s change the subject,” Mom said, giving me a fake smile.

  “I got in some new fighting fish at the store,” Dad said. “They’ll be perfect for your pet fair at school. You should win the prize easily.”

  “I’d rather be eaten by fighting fish than by a monster,” I said.

  “That’s enough!” Dad shouted. He never shouts. I could see I was making him angry.

  “Okay, okay,” I muttered.

  They weren’t going to listen to me. Why start a big fight? Just because I probably wouldn’t be alive when they got back home?

  After dinner, they gave me a big travel bag and told me to go to my room and pack. I carried it into my room, flung it onto the bed, and closed my bedroom door.

  Then I called Lissa. “You won’t believe what’s happening,” I told her. “They’re sending me downstairs to live with the monster for a week.”

  “Maybe it won’t be so bad,” she said.

  “Huh? You, too?” I cried. “Why won’t it be bad? Tell me. Didn’t he try to drown me in the pool? Didn’t he point at me and growl, ‘You’re next. You’re next’?”

  “But you don’t really know if the monster was Monroe,” she argued. “It’s just a hunch.”

  “It’s not a hunch,” I told her. “I asked him. I asked the monster. I said, ‘Are you Monroe?’ And he looked at me and said ‘Maybe.’ Like he was playing it cute.”

  “Doesn’t Monroe have brothers and sisters?” Lissa asked.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Well, he won’t act like a monster with them around.”

  “Sure, he will,” I said. “I think they’re monsters, too. I think I saw them in the stairwell, and —”

  Lissa laughed.

  “Lissa,” I said, “I don’t understand why you’re not taking this seriously. Don’t you understand? I’m going to be monster meat. I’m doomed. I’m totally doomed.”

  “My mom is calling me,” Lissa whispered. “I’m not supposed to be on the phone. Bye.” She clicked off.

  Big help.

  I stood staring at the travel bag. It was really happening. I had no choice. I had to go down there and stay with him.

  As I slowly started to shove some clothes into the bag, I had only one question in my mind: How long will I survive?

  Monroe’s parents seemed nice. They are both short and kind of chubby. They both have straight black hair and round pink faces. Mr. Morton has a square black mustache that looks like a paint-brush. He wears thick, round eyeglasses that make his eyes appear to bulge.

  He looks kind of like a bullfrog with a mustache.

  Marni and Mickey are Monroe’s sister and brother. Marni is six and Mickey is seven, and they are both total pests. As soon as I sat down on the couch in the living room, they both started to climb on me. Like I was a playground or something.

  “Don’t pay any attention to them,” Mr. Morton said. “They fight all the time and wrestle and scrap.”

  “Yes,” Mrs. Morton chimed in, “they’re little monsters.”

  Uh-oh.

  Monroe was very quiet around his family. Maybe because his brother and sister were so noisy.

  The bedrooms were off to one side of the apartment. Monroe’s room was at the very back. It was small, about the same size as mine.

  I saw bunk beds against the far wall. He had a small desk and a laptop, a low dresser, and a green leather chair with a tear down one arm.

  “You need some posters on the walls or something,” I said. “These bare gray walls …”

  “It looks like a prison cell,” he said. “You’re right. But we just moved in. A lot of stuff hasn’t been unpacked yet. Like my sports posters.”

  I was trying desperately to act normal. I kept thinking I could just take off. Run away. Stay in the woods for a week. But, of course, I couldn’t.

  I could hear Marni and Mickey arguing about something down the hall. Monroe and I worked on our math homework side by side at his small desk.

  I kept glancing around the room, looking for clues. But there was nothing to see. His room really was as bare as a prison cell.

  It was late when we finished. He motioned to the bunk beds. “Which one do you want? Top or bottom?”

  I couldn’t decide. I’d never slept in a bunk bed. “Which one do you usually sleep in?” I asked.

  He pointed to the bottom. “I toss and turn and roll around a lot at night,” he said. “So I sleep in the bottom bunk.”

  “Okay,” I said. “I’ll take the top.”

  Will I be safer in the top bed? Will it be harder for him to reach me if he turns into a monster?

  We changed into pajamas. I climbed to the top and got settled in the bed. Monroe clicked off the light and climbed into his bed.

  “This is cool,” he said.

  “Totally cool,” I lied. I had my phone hidden under my pillow. In case I had to call someone for help. I pulled the covers up to my chin.

  I suddenly thought about my nightmare. Would I have my monster nightmare tonight?

  I was living the nightmare. Why should I dream it?

  Beneath me, I heard Monroe roll over. He groaned.

  Maybe I should try to stay up all night, I told myself. Stay alert in case he attacks.

  But all the stress had made me tired. I yawned. My eyelids felt heavy. I shut my eyes and drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  Sometime later, a noise made me wake up. I sat up and banged my head on the ceiling.

  “Oww.” It took me a few seconds to remember where I was. I reached for my phone to check the time. Two thirty in the morning.

  “Monroe?” I whispered. I leaned over the side of the mattress and peered through the heavy darkness down to Monroe’s bed.

  Empty.

  He wasn’t there.

  I heard a fluttering sound. The window curtains flying into the room. I turned and stared. The bedroom window was wide open. Nothing but darkness on the other side.

  My heart started to thud in my chest. The breeze from the open window chilled me.

  Monroe was gone. The window was open. He must have sneaked out. Sneaked out at two thirty in the morni
ng.

  Did the monster go out to prowl?

  I grabbed my phone and swung myself down to the floor. I changed back into my clothes as quickly as I could pull them on.

  I knew what I had to do. I had to follow him.

  I swung one leg over the window ledge and stepped out onto the pavement. I could feel the darkness sweep over me like a blanket. There was no moon. No light here at the back of the apartment building.

  I took a deep breath, sucking in the cold night air. I waited for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. But I could see only shades of gray and black.

  I took a step away from the building. Then another.

  I froze when I saw something move to my right. A figure, black against the black wall. Yes. Someone moving rapidly away from the building.

  I forced my legs to move and started after it. It was lumbering heavily, moving toward the street.

  I stayed back. I tried to move as silently as I could.

  It turned suddenly, into an alley that ran behind a row of small houses. I knew the alley. Sometimes Lissa and I use it as a shortcut home from school.

  I ignored the chills running down my body and followed silently. The lumbering figure knocked over a metal trash can, and the lid banged noisily as it rolled away.

  I stepped into a patch of soft mud. I clapped my hand over my mouth to stop my cry of surprise.

  And then pale light seeped down as a tiny sliver of a moon poked out from behind heavy clouds. And in the dim light, I saw it.

  Saw the monster.

  Yes. A fur-covered beast. Big and wide. Banging through the alley, bumping against fences, knocking trash cans on their sides.

  I could see it clearly. Proof. Proof that Monroe is a monster, a monster out on its nightly prowl.

  I stopped and pulled the phone from my pocket. I raised it close and made sure the flash was turned off. Then I clicked a photo of the creature. Then another and another.

  I took a step closer. Then I pulled back as the creature suddenly bent down.

  It grabbed at something. I squinted into the misty light. Squinted hard. And saw the dead rabbit in its paws. Yes. It grabbed a dead rabbit and pulled it to its mouth.

  And began to eat.

  Monroe the monster was feasting on a dead rabbit.

  My body trembled with the horror of what I was seeing. And I couldn’t help it. I let out a moan. “Ohhhh.”

  The monster dropped the rabbit corpse and spun quickly. Spun to face me.

  “Nooo!” I cried.

  I stumbled. I landed on my knees in the dirt.

  It moved so fast. It pounced. It pressed me to the ground. Pushed me hard into the dirt. And whispered: “I told you. You’re NEXT!”

  It pressed its knee into my back, holding me down. It weighed a ton. I struggled to breathe.

  “Please —” I choked out.

  I could hear it grunting, breathing hard.

  “Please — let me up,” I begged.

  “I warned you,” it snarled. It lifted its knee. The big creature climbed to its feet. It grabbed me by the arms and hoisted me up.

  “Let me go….” I whispered.

  It backed me against the alley fence. It pushed me hard against the rough wood planks.

  “I warned you.”

  I raised both arms in front of me, like a shield. But I knew there was no way I could defend myself.

  It stood over me, eyes blazing, big stomach heaving up and down as it panted. Its hot breath brushed my face and made my skin burn.

  “Monroe — please,” I said in a trembling voice. “Please. I’m your friend. We’re good friends — right?”

  It stared at me with deep red eyes and didn’t reply.

  “Monroe, why are you doing this? Why do you want to hurt me?”

  It still refused to answer. It ground its huge teeth as if preparing to bite.

  “Please,” I begged. “Monroe — please don’t hurt me.”

  And then the monster tossed back its big gorilla head and burst out laughing. A roaring laugh that shook the trees all around.

  Tears of laughter poured from its eyes. Its whole body quivered. The sound of the booming laugh echoed down the dark, empty alley.

  And as I stared, confused, trembling in fear, the monster began to change.

  The thick fur stood straight up on end. Then it appeared to slide into the creature’s skin. In seconds, the fur vanished and I could see pale skin.

  The monster began to shrink. Its wide body pulled in, became slender, and it grew shorter … shorter … until it was about my height.

  Its shoulders pulled back. Its arms grew shorter.

  With the fur gone, I could see that it was wearing clothes. Human clothes. Jeans and a dark top.

  It had its head down. Long hair covered its face.

  Slowly … slowly … it raised its head. It raised its face to me. The pale moonlight washed over it. I could see its face so clearly.

  Trembling in fear, unable to breathe, I stared.

  Stared at the human in front of me.

  And finally, I choked out, “LISSA! It’s you! Lissa!”

  She brushed back her hair with both hands. She straightened her black T-shirt.

  “It was you all along,” I said. “Lissa, you are the monster!”

  A strange smile spread over her face. She nodded slowly.

  “I-I’ve been accusing the wrong person,” I stammered. I pressed my back against the fence, struggling to stop the shudders that ran down my body.

  “It was you,” I said, “in the hamburger restaurant, at the pet store, in the swimming pool.”

  She nodded again. A cool gust of wind fluttered her hair. A cat cried somewhere in the distance.

  “And I left the dead gerbil in your room, Bean. I told your dad I had to leave some homework for you. And I left it in your room.”

  “But … but …” I sputtered. “Why? Tell me. Why?”

  She gazed hard into my eyes. “I had to scare you,” she said finally, in a soft whisper.

  “Huh? Scare me? Why?”

  “To help you.”

  It was my turn to laugh. A hoarse snicker escaped my throat. “You scared me to help me? That’s crazy!” I screamed. “You are my monster problem, Lissa! You weren’t trying to help me. You were trying to terrify me!”

  “Listen to me, Bean —” She tried to hold me against the fence. But I slid out of her grasp.

  “Do you think I’m an idiot?” I cried. “You’re a monster. And all you wanted to do is terrify me.”

  I didn’t give her a chance to say anything else. I swung away from her and took off running. My shoes thudded the ground. I had to get away, to get back to the safety of Monroe’s apartment.

  Running hard, I glanced behind me. Lissa wasn’t following me. But her shout rang in my ears:

  “I’m warning you — don’t tell anyone!”

  I didn’t answer. I lowered my shoulders and ran.

  “Don’t tell anyone!” Lissa screamed again. “Friends don’t tell on friends!”

  Friends?

  “Friends don’t terrify friends,” I muttered. “Friends don’t turn into monsters.”

  I didn’t slow down till I ran into the deep shadow of our apartment building. Gasping for breath, I spotted Monroe’s bedroom window along the back.

  I grabbed the ledge and hoisted myself into the apartment.

  The bedroom light was on. Monroe sat on the edge of his bed.

  He looked up as I burst into the room. “Where were you?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at me.

  “I — I thought you went out,” I said, struggling to catch my breath. “I saw the open window. I … I followed you.”

  Monroe shook his head. He tugged down a sleeve of his pajama shirt. “I didn’t go out, Bean,” he said softly. “I went to the kitchen for a glass of water. When I came back, you were gone.”

  My legs were trembling from my long run. I dropped to the floor. “I … I’m sorry,” I stammered. “I had it all wron
g. Everything. I had everything wrong.”

  I saw his water glass on the desk. I grabbed it and drank it down.

  “What are you talking about?” Monroe asked. “What were you doing out there?”

  I held my breath. Should I tell him about Lissa? Should I?

  I had to tell him. I had to tell someone. I had to make someone believe that I wasn’t going crazy.

  Monroe could help me, I decided. He was my friend. He could help tell my parents. He could help keep me safe from Lissa.

  I told him everything. How I followed the monster down the alley. How I snapped photos with my camera. How the monster changed into Lissa.

  When I finished talking, I was breathing hard. I stared at Monroe, waiting for him to react.

  To my surprise, he started to laugh.

  “No, Monroe,” I said. “It isn’t funny. It isn’t a joke. Here. Let me show you. I have proof.”

  I grabbed my phone. I brought up my photos. My hand trembled as I flipped through them. “I have proof. Right here.”

  No. I didn’t have proof. “Oh, nooo,” I groaned. The photos were solid black.

  Monroe laughed harder.

  “Stop it!” I begged. “Please — stop laughing. The monster is real. Listen to me. You’ve got to believe me. Lissa is a monster!”

  That made him totally lose it. He laughed so hard, he started to choke. That made him laugh even harder. He laughed till tears ran down his cheeks.

  I couldn’t stop myself. I grabbed him by both shoulders and shook him. “Monroe — stop. It isn’t funny. Why are you laughing?”

  His smile faded. To my surprise, he leaned forward. He brought his mouth close to my ear. And he whispered: “Bean, friends don’t tell on friends.”

  I gasped. I let go of him and stumbled back.

  What did he mean by that?

  How did I sleep that night?

  I didn’t. I thought I might never sleep again. Lissa was the monster. Lissa was the one who had pointed at me and said, “You’re next.”

  Monroe slept soundly in the bunk under me. He didn’t seem to care about any of my problems. For some reason, he thought it was all a joke.

  Trust me. It was not a joke.

  Did I feel like going to school for the pet fair the next day?