by David Lubar
The author and publisher have provided this e-book to you without Digital Rights Management software (DRM) applied so that you can enjoy reading it on your personal devices. This e-book is for your personal use only. You may not print or post this e-book, or make this e-book publicly available in any way. You may not copy, reproduce, or upload this e-book, other than to read it on one of your personal devices.
Copyright infringement is against the law. If you believe the copy of this e-book you are reading infringes on the author’s copyright, please notify the publisher at: us.macmillanusa.com/piracy.
For Jack and Yvonne, who always believed in me
Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Author’s Note
1. On the Nose
2. Lying in the Woods
3. Jumping to Conclusions
4. Hanging Out
5. Hush
6. Here’s Looking at You
7. The Hunter
8. Face-to-Face
9. Howl About That?
10. To the Mat
11. A Wolf in Cheap Clothing?
12. Tents Moments
13. Rabbit Transit
14. Plant Problem
15. Backtracking
16. Splat’s Surprise
17. On the Run
18. Decision
19. Back to Norman
Excerpt from The Gloomy Ghost
Starscape Books by David Lubar
About the Author
Copyright
Author’s Note
I’ve always been a fan of monsters. As a kid, I watched monster movies, read monster magazines, built monster models, and even tried my hand at monster makeup for Halloween. Basically, I was a creepy little kid. It’s no surprise that, when I grew up and became a writer, I would tell monster stories. I’ve written a lot of them over the years. My short story collections, such as Attack of the Vampire Weenies and Other Warped and Creepy Tales, are full of vampires, werewolves, ghosts, witches, giant insects, and other classic creatures. The book you hold in your hands is also about a monster. But it is different from my short stories in a wonderful way. Let me explain.
Years ago, I decided I wanted to tell a tale through the eyes of a monster. That idea excited me, but it didn’t feel special enough, by itself. Then I had a second idea that went perfectly with the first one. What if a kid became a monster? Even better—what if the kid had to decide whether to remain as a monster, or to become human again? The result of these ideas was not one book, but six. It seems the town of Lewington attracts a monsterrific amount of trouble. To find out more, read on.
One
ON THE NOSE
I belong in the woods about as much as a tennis ball belongs in a frying pan. It was absolutely ridiculous for me to be walking along a nature trail, looking at all the marvels that are to be found in the great outdoors. If I want to see a spotted tiger moth, I’ll examine it under a microscope, thank you. But our class was on a field trip, and there was no reasonable way I could get out of going. The trip counted toward our grade. If there’s one thing I treasure, it’s my grades. How else can I keep score?
So, there I was, lagging at the back of the group following Mr. Rubinitsky along the high trail through Miller Forest, soaking up all the beauty and glory of several thousand plants, half of which were capable of making me sneeze, the other half of which were capable of giving me a skin rash. Ah, nature! And lag I did, falling farther and farther behind as I stopped to examine potential specimens. Despite my extreme dislike of the outdoors, I figured there was no reason to waste an observation opportunity. And there were several species of fungi that were extremely interesting. It’s funny how most people don’t even realize what a fascinating life-form fungi are.
So that is how, despite being on a clearly marked trail under the supervision of a professional teacher, I managed to get lost in the woods. I had stopped to examine a particularly alluring variety of fungus and was wondering whether to take a spore sample for later study when I looked up and noticed that I was the only large mammal in sight. One moment, I’m a student; the next, I’m Hansel. I got up and dashed ahead, but the path forked.
“Hey!” I shouted. I listened for a reply. There was none. Now I was faced with three choices.
One: I could stay right where I was and hope they noticed I was missing. That didn’t seem like a practical solution. I’d never been missed in my life. If I had been Adam, I could have left the garden for weeks and weeks without Eve realizing something was different.
Two: I could choose a path and follow it. Since one path was right and one was wrong, that approach had a 50 percent chance of returning me to my classmates. Not the best odds, but at least I could put a number on it. Of course, if the path forked again, the odds would get worse.
Three: I could head back the way we’d come and meet the others by the bus. That was assuming I could find my way back. An amusing assumption—I’ve been known to get lost walking home from school.
I was sure there were other possibilities, but I also knew that the longer I took making a choice, the more unknown factors would intrude. Before I could make my decision, I was distracted by a frantic rustling. A small creature dashed across the path, skittering out of the woods on one side of the trail, then back in on the other side. I caught just enough of a glimpse to know it was a rabbit. I stepped to the edge of the path and stared at the spot where the animal had run.
That’s when I heard the growl.
Actually, it was more of a snarl. Well, it was sort of a half-snarl, half-growl sound. The differences probably weren’t important at the moment. The key feature here was the threatening nature of the sound. This was not some form of animal greeting or mating call. This sounded more like “Hello, lunch.”
I took off, picking the more active half of the fight-or-flight reaction, and stumbled from the path into the woods. Some small part of my mind was amused that I seemed to be choosing the same route as the rabbit. The rest of my mind was busy urging my body to move faster. Running is not my best activity, but I must say I achieved a new personal best speed record as I tore through the underbrush.
Unfortunately, whatever was chasing me had a lot more experience in this version of tag. The growling sounds got closer. They were right behind me. Then they were right on me. Something slammed into my back.
I fell face forward. The force made me roll right over. It was the first time in my life I had ever done a somersault. I didn’t like it. As I slid to a stop, my glasses bounced from my head. I panicked at the thought of losing them, but I got lucky. When I groped through the leaves that surrounded me, I felt the frames right away.
Before I could put on my glasses or stand up, something gray and sleek and fast landed on my chest. It was so close to me that it was mostly a blur, but it was a blur with a mouth and a tongue and teeth—especially teeth. Even without my glasses, I could tell that the blurry teeth ended in blurry points of the kind designed to make holes in just about anything. The teeth appeared about ready to bite my face. This wasn’t a good thing.
I raised my hand as the animal lunged closer—the mouth so wide, it looked like my whole head would disappear inside. A wave of hot, raw animal breath washed over me.
“Norman!”
The shouts from the path must have startled it. The head jerked back as the jaws snapped shut. “Yeeyouch!” It nipped my nose. Then it leaped away from me. With one powerful spring, it hurtled far off through the underbrush. I put on my glasses and looked to the side in time to catch a glimpse of something gray and fast. It was gone before I could determine what it was. I
t seemed to move through the woods with barely a sound.
“Norman!” More voices joined the search. The footsteps came closer.
“Here!” I shouted, carefully feeling my face to see if my glasses still had a nose to lean on. Ick. My head was pretty well slobbered up, but my nose seemed okay, though it was a bit sore at the tip.
With all this going on, the oddest thing is how only one aspect of the experience remained clear in my mind. Despite all that had just happened, I mostly could recall a tiny sensation that, at the time, seemed unimportant. My palms itched. They itched fiercely.
Two
LYING IN THE WOODS
Sebastian was the first one to reach me. Everyone calls him Splat for a rather silly reason. It’s a tale best saved for another time. The rest of the class wasn’t far behind. They all managed to crowd around and stare at me like I was some sort of traffic accident that had suddenly appeared in the middle of the woods, and not just a kid who was lying on his back amid the greenery. People’s faces look really odd when you’re lying on the ground, looking up. Everyone becomes mostly nostrils and lips.
“Norman, where’d you go?” Splat asked.
I looked around. Why do people ask such silly questions? It was obvious where I went. I went right to the spot where I was. But I didn’t answer him. Part of me still wasn’t thinking clearly. There’s something about being chased like a bunny through the woods that gets in the way of calm thought.
“Are you okay?” Dawn asked, stepping forward from the mob. Despite carrying the burdens of being both extremely pretty and extremely popular, she somehow managed to also be extremely nice.
“Yeah, thanks. I’m fine.” I sat up and, realizing that I needed some excuse for being flat out on the ground, pointed over my head toward the branches. “Fractal designs,” I said.
Mr. Rubinitsky had joined us. “What’s that, Norman?”
“Fractals,” I said again. “Look at the branching patterns of the trees. It’s a classic example of fractals. You know, repeated patterns that get smaller and smaller. Branches, crystals, shorelines, that sort of thing.” Kids started to drift away. Mr. Rubinitsky hung in, but I knew that he’d only last for a few more sentences. “I was trying to observe the exact structure of the branches, and the best position seemed to be the one in which you found me. It’s quite fascinating, really, the way that—”
“Okay, okay, just don’t wander off again,” Mr. Rubinitsky said as he gathered the class and headed back toward the trail.
I couldn’t help letting a small smile slip onto my lips. The best way to avoid attention was to talk about what interested me. It worked like magic.
“Fractals?” Splat whispered as we left the woods. He gave me a grin that showed he knew my trick. “What were you really doing?”
I wouldn’t have told anyone else, but Splat and I had been through a lot together. I thought back to the sleek gray shape. It could only have been one thing. “A wolf was chasing me,” I said. “It knocked me down, and I’m fairly positive it was about to dine on various portions of my body.”
“Or maybe it just wanted the basket of goodies you were taking to Grandma,” Splat said.
“Very funny. I’m serious. It was definitely a wolf.”
Splat shrugged. “Whatever you say.” Then he stared at my face. “Oh, gross. Did you know you’re bleeding?”
I touched the tip of my nose. All I felt was a small scratch. “That’s where the wolf bit me.”
“Yeah.” Sebastian nodded. “I saw that on television. Wolves always bring down their prey by the nose. It’s a standard hunting technique. Once you’ve got control of the nose, the body has to follow. That’s why wolves are so good at hunting elephants.” He laughed.
I sighed. Splat was my friend, but he didn’t take me very seriously. “Hey, I think Dawn was smiling at you,” I told him.
“Really?” Ever since she’d stopped trying to get his attention last year, he’d started noticing her. But she pretty much acted like he didn’t exist.
I nodded. Splat looked up toward the front of the line where Dawn was, then asked, “You mind?”
“Nope. Go right ahead.”
He ran to catch up with her. I felt a little guilty about telling him something that wasn’t true, but I wanted to walk by myself for a while. I wasn’t in the mood for his jokes. It was bad enough to have the whole class find me lying in the middle of the woods. Of course, this one small incident wouldn’t make much of a difference in the way I was treated by my fellow students. Most of the kids already thought I was a bit on the strange side.
They didn’t understand me. They didn’t understand that I was interested in everything. I just loved learning new facts and knowing about all kinds of things. For some reason, they thought this was peculiar. As a result, nothing I could do would surprise them. I guess nothing I did would surprise me, either. At least, that’s what I thought. It’s funny how quickly things can change.
Three
JUMPING TO CONCLUSIONS
The bus ride back to school went fairly smoothly. Several kids made jokes about me. Someone asked if I was taking up cloud watching. Someone else said I’d finally found the perfect spot to hang out. There were a few other comments, all equally lacking in humor. Well, to me they were lacking in humor. To everyone else on the bus, they must have seemed funny, since there was a lot of laughter. Had it happened to someone else, I would have made a comment like “Hey, congratulations on your new position.” But nobody would have gotten the joke, even though it’s pretty obvious that when you lie down, you end up in a different position than when you’re standing. And a job is called a “position.” So, when someone gets a new job, they get a new position. As it was, I just ignored them and looked out the window. Slowly, the woods gave way to shops and houses and other signs of civilization.
After a while, Splat plunked down in the seat next to me. He’d been at the back of the bus with the cool kids, trying to get Dawn’s attention. Apparently, he’d failed again. We weren’t supposed to walk around when the bus is moving, but that doesn’t stop Splat.
“Hey, Wolfgang,” he said, grinning.
“Want to do something after school?” I asked him, ignoring the feeble joke.
“Sure. How about a movie?”
“Sounds good. I don’t have too much homework, so we can make the early show.” There was a new picture playing in town—Return of the Brain-Sucking Leech People. I’d never seen the first Leech People film, but that didn’t matter. It was just something to help pass the afternoon. Splat and I both preferred the older movies, the classics like the original versions of Frankenstein and Dracula. Some of the best and scariest movies I had ever seen were the old black-and-white ones. But the new stuff was okay to help kill an afternoon.
The bus rolled into the lot at the side of the school and we got off. We went inside to be dismissed, then left the building. I walked with Splat toward our part of town until we reached the corner of Maple and Spruce, where I had to turn off for my house. “See ya,” I said as we split.
“Bye.” Then he howled like a wolf and laughed.
I swear, despite the fact that he’s my friend, he can be a real pain sometimes. He probably doesn’t even know how his comments make me feel. I went the final two blocks toward home. On the way, I felt my nose again. There was a scratch, but it didn’t seem bad. As I went up the front steps, I could smell something wonderful coming from inside. I realized Mom must have gotten an order. She works as a caterer, making food for parties and weddings and other occasions. She’s such a good cook that I sometimes wonder why I don’t weigh three hundred pounds. Now, there’s a frightening thought. That would really kill what little social life I have. I guess I’m just lucky.
“Is that you, Norman?” she asked when I came in.
“Nope,” I said, strolling into the kitchen. “It must be someone else who just happened to walk in at the very same time your dear son usually comes home from a hard day of school. I’m a pro
fessional Norman impersonator. This is how I make my living.” Sometimes my mouth gets ahead of my brain. Or maybe my mouth and brain just get ahead of my judgment. Either way, I end up sounding like a wise guy far more often than would be wise.
Mom barely looked up from the pot she was stirring. “Well, whoever you are, would you like a taste?” She understands me—or she’s just used to me.
“Sure.” I took a taste.
It was good. It was always good. Mom could close her eyes, grab two or three things from the fridge, and make an incredible meal. She just had that gift. As for me, I’m not allowed to use the oven anymore after that time I tried to create a new type of plastic. It didn’t work out quite the way I expected. But that’s another long story that’s too painful to remember.
“Beef?” I asked.
Mom shook her head. “Nope. It’s lamb with curry. Very Indian.”
“Very delicious, too.” I took another taste, then went up to my room. There was something I had to check out. I pulled down my book on North American mammals. Yup, just as I’d thought, there were no wolves in this area. Their range didn’t come within five hundred miles of here. That left several explanations. Most likely, the creature was an escaped pet or an abandoned animal. That would explain why it hadn’t gone completely wild when it attacked me. Perhaps it had escaped from a zoo. But then there’d be something on the news. That would be easy enough to find out. I went online to a local news site and searched the headlines for the keyword wolf. I found nothing.
I stopped surfing and turned my attention to scratching. My neck itched. It felt almost like I had just gotten a haircut. I turned off the computer and dragged my books out of my backpack so I could do my homework.
“Just a pet, not a wild wolf,” I said as I started to work. My stomach growled in agreement.
I opened my math book to the page with the homework problems. Even though it was nothing difficult, I enjoyed it. I’ve always liked numbers. They’re almost as much fun as toys, in their own way. Take my phone number, for example. The last four digits are 2816. Now, at a glance, there’s nothing special. But two times eight is sixteen. Two, eight, sixteen. I think that’s interesting. Splat’s number is 3924. Three times three is nine, and two times two is four, so each number is followed by its square. I think that’s extremely cool. I’d love to trade phone numbers with him.
