Let the Monster Out

Lucas Chad Lucas

Description

An equal parts heart-pounding and heartfelt middle-grade mystery about facing--and accepting--your fears, perfect for fans of Stranger Things and The Parker InheritanceBones Malone feels like he can't do anything right in his new small town: He almost punched the son of the woman who babysits him and his brothers, he's one of the only Black kids in Langille, and now his baseball team (the one place where he really feels like he shines) just lost their first game. To make matters worse, things in town are getting weird. His mom isn't acting like herself at all-she's totally spaced out, almost like a zombie. And then he and his brothers have the same dream-one where they're running from some of their deepest fears, like a bear and an eerie cracked mirror that Bones would rather soon forget. Kyle Specks feels like he can never say the right thing at the right time. He thinks he might be neurodivergent, but he hasn't gotten an official diagnosis yet. His parents worry that the world might be too hard for him and try to protect him, but Kyle knows they can't do that forever. Even though he's scared, he can't just stand by and do nothing while things in this town get stranger and stranger, especially not after he and Bones find a mysterious scientist's journal that might hold answers about what's going on. But when faced with seemingly impossible situations, a shady corporation, and their own worst nightmares, will Kyle and Bones be brave enough to admit they're scared? Or will the fear totally consume and control them?

Informations

• Publié par: ABRAMS BOOKS
• Date de parution: 17 mai 2022
• Nombre de lectures: 1
• EAN13: 9781647005429
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

PUBLISHER S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cataloging-in-Publication Data has been applied for and may be obtained from the Library of Congress.
ISBN 978-1-4197-5126-4 eISBN 978-1-6470-0542-9
Text 2022 Chad Lucas Book design by Chelsea Hunter
Published in 2022 by Amulet Books, an imprint of ABRAMS. All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the publisher.
Amulet Books are available at special discounts when purchased in quantity for premiums and promotions as well as fundraising or educational use. Special editions can also be created to specification. For details, contact [e-mail] or the address below.
Amulet Books is a registered trademark of Harry N. Abrams, Inc.

ABRAMS The Art of Books 195 Broadway, New York, NY 10007 abramsbooks.com
For the kids who are learning that other people s eyes are not mirrors
PROLOGUE
The Crows Laughed
Branches lashed Wade Elliott s face as he hurtled through the forest. Thick clouds hid the moon. He d already lost his bearings in the dark, but he didn t slow down. He skidded down a bank, scrambled to his feet, and kept moving. He had to get as far as possible from that room. The room he d helped build.
No. No . He was only trying to fix things, to help people. But they d turned it upside down.
Pain stabbed his side. His throat burned with the metallic taste of blood. He fell at the base of a pine tree, panting.
Gradually, his pulse stopped pounding in his ears. He heard the trickle of a brook, the rustle of wind tickling the treetops. He rested his head against the tree trunk. He could hear, taste, touch. This was the real world.
Exhaustion set in, but when his eyelids drooped, the things he d seen in that room came back.
No . He had escaped. He had to fight it. He couldn t let-
A crow s caw stirred him. He gathered his bearings: He was outdoors, in a forest, under a misty gray sky at the break of dawn. He shivered. Had he slept? Was this real?
He stood and paced, shaking stiffness from his limbs. He had to know for sure he was here-and that here wasn t all in his head. Balling his fist, he punched the trunk of the pine. His knuckles split and pain pulsed through his hand.
It hurt. He felt it. He smiled.
He punched the tree again. Again. Again. He stepped back and stared at his hand. The flesh swelled and reddened. He savored the steady ache. This had to be real. He threw back his head and laughed and laughed.
The crows laughed too.
Wade looked up. A dozen of them sat in the trees, mocking him.
No! he shouted at the birds. You can t do that! Shut up!
Ha ha ha, they cackled. Isn t this fun? Let s all go into town and watch it burn.
Shut up! he shrieked.
Come with us, Wade. It s such a fun game. A murder of crows, a-murdering we go.
They rose from the branches and circled the clearing, above his head. A murder of crows, a-murdering we go . Soon there were two dozen, forty, fifty, a hundred. The sky darkened under a vortex of swirling black birds.
Wade wept. It wasn t over. It would never be over. Not for him.
He brought his aching, trembling fingers to the inside pocket of his jacket. Good. His journal was still there. He had to deliver it, show them the proof, before everyone saw the things he d seen. If that happened, it would be too late.
So he ran.
1.
TRYING
Bones Malone didn t punch Tony Spezio in the face.
Not after he found Tony picking on his little brothers. Not even after he told Tony to knock it off, and Tony responded by saying something unrepeatably gross about his mother.
Sure, he did shove Tony against the basement wall and yell, Talk about my mom again and I will end you . But that was better than throwing fists, right?
He was trying. That counted for something, right?
Not in Eileen Spezio s book. She thumped downstairs just in time to hear the end you part and blamed everything on Bones, as usual.
You will not behave like a thug in my home! she screeched.
Bones saw red. A white lady calling him a thug was not OK, but he held his tongue. Well, almost.
Teach your kid some manners, before he gets himself beat, he shot back.
Mrs. Spezio s eyes bulged and spit gathered at the corners of her mouth as she lost her mind. Tony smirked over her shoulder the whole time, while heat built in Bones s chest. He couldn t stop picturing how satisfying it would feel to shove past Mrs. Spezio and knock that smug grin off Tony s extremely punchable face.
But he didn t. Not this time. He was trying, for his mom s sake.
But that didn t count in her book either. She got an earful from Eileen when she picked up the boys after work. Bones could hear every word with his ear to the door of the spare room where Mrs. Spezio had banished all three Malone boys, even though Raury and Dillon hadn t done anything wrong.
I know you re new in town, and I was happy to open my home to your boys, but that oldest of yours is so disrespectful , so aggressive . . .
Bones couldn t hear his mom s reply, but he recognized its tone: weary. It wasn t the first time she d apologized on his behalf. When she opened the bedroom door, all she said was, Let s go. The boys hurried to catch up as she marched out of the Spezios house and down the sidewalk, each step radiating fury.
Is the car still broken? Dillon asked.
Yep. She practically hurled the word to the sidewalk.
Bones was only-
We are not discussing this now.
She met Bones s eyes for half a second. If I have to give that woman a raise to let you stay, she murmured, you best believe it s coming from your allowance.
Bones waited as long as he could stand it. He made his brothers wash up and set the table before he approached his mother. She didn t lift her eyes from the pot of spaghetti boiling on the stove, but her shoulders rose.
Not now, Quentin.
Ugh. He hated his real name. She usually reserved it for formal situations, like the first time they met with a lawyer. When she used it at home, it was a warning.
He swallowed all the things he wanted to say: He was only defending Raury, again ; the Spezios had been awful since day one; he d be thirteen in September and he was perfectly capable of watching his brothers, so she should stop paying a useless babysitter anyway.
All of it was true, but he held his tongue. Adults weren t always ready for the truth.
I only want to say sorry, he said instead. No excuses. But you won t make me stay home tonight, will you?
She froze. Bones realized she d forgotten he had a baseball game. He was surprised how much that stung.
You definitely have a punishment coming, she said. Maybe if you missed a game, you d actually get the message.
Mom, please! It s my night to pitch. Everyone s counting on me. Ground me, take away my phone, make me sleep in the shed if you want. Just let me have baseball.
His mother gasped. Quentin Malone.
Two Quentins in one conversation was bad news. He forced a fake laugh. I was joking about the shed.
Not funny. She turned back toward the stove. Go to your game. But I want you home straight after. You are not off the hook.
Thank you! Bones paused. You re not coming?
His mother loved baseball. She was the one who taught him how to throw a slider. They watched Blue Jays games together, and she yelled at the TV when Toronto s manager made bad decisions. She d only missed one of Bones s games last year, when Dillon had to go to the walk-in clinic with a raisin stuck in his nose.
She exhaled. Not tonight. I m still waiting for the mechanic to call about the car. And I just don t have the energy.
Oh. OK. He tried to sound like it was no big deal that she was staying home.
She carried the pot of boiled spaghetti to the sink. Watch your release point. Remember, you were missing high last weekend because you were letting the ball go too early.
Right. Thanks.
He lingered in the doorway. She still wouldn t look at him.
Even as he opened his mouth, he knew he should accept the small victory and walk away.
I didn t even hit him, he muttered.
As she drained the hot water from the pasta into the sink, his mom released the kind of sigh only a mother can make, a sustained breath declaring, Boy, you don t even know . From Bones s viewpoint, the cloud of steam rising toward the ceiling appeared to pour directly from his mom s head.
You shoved him into a wall, Bones. You threatened him.
Threatened? Bones scoffed. I m half his size. Tony was three years older, a head taller, broad across the chest where Bones was still, well, bones. He had a sacred rule about never fighting anyone smaller. But he was short for his age, so that left lots of leeway.
His mother sighed again. Like that has ever stopped you. We ve only been here for two months, and I feel like I ve apologized to half the parents in town.
That was a huge exaggeration. He d only been in two real fights in Langille-Tony didn t count-and Bones hadn t started either one. He also had a rule about not starting fights. They just found him, the way some people attracted mosquitoes. Or lightning.
His first fight after the move was a matter of establishing order. He was new, he was small, and this big kid cornered him after gym and said, I forgot my lunch money. You need to make a donation. Bones suggested something he could eat instead, and the kid pushed Bones into the lockers. Two quick jabs made it clear Bones Malone was not bully fodder.
The second fight, he was cutting across the soccer field when he saw a group of ninth graders yelling crude stuff at a girl. He told them to grow up and leave her alone, they told him t