The Game of Boys and Monsters Read Online Free Page A

“I have a lot of work to do.”
    Jack was in front of me in a blink, peering down.
    â€œWhat are you reading, Les?” he asked. His lips parted, so I could see his teeth. His canine teeth, they weren’t anything to be afraid of, perfectly normal, but the tilt of his head, his eyes on my throat . . .
    I stepped back, and he didn’t follow. Just watched me retreat from him. “Never mind,” I said.
    Hap stood and shook himself, stretched in every direction. From the laundry room, Grizzbee’s growl thickened.
    â€œIt’s a full moon tonight,” he said. “Think we’ll be able to see it through the clouds?”
    â€œEvy’s coming out with us,” Jack said. “She’s just resting up first. What’s wrong, Les? Won’t you come?”
    He was moving toward the door, and the weird charge that had hung in the air fizzled. This was Jack, a guy from school, a kind-of friend. I’d been reading too many scary novels.
    I didn’t see Evy that night. She didn’t call.
    I tried to let it go.
    I’d been invited. I knew where she was. Who she was with.
    I called her at two p.m. on Sunday. She answered but sounded dead tired.
    â€œDid I wake you up?” I asked.
    â€œYeah.” I heard a smile in her voice. “But I was up late. Les, you should have come.”
    â€œWhere did you go?”
    â€œWell, we started off down by the Thorn Bridge.” That was an old covered bridge that stood on spindly legs over Thorn Creek, in the middle of the woods, in the middle of nowhere. “But we went everywhere,” Evy said.
    â€œI miss you,” I said, before I could catch myself.
    â€œOh, Les, honey, I miss you too, but you don’t have to miss me. Just come with me.”
    â€œYou’re changing, Evy.”
    With a low, musing hum, she laughed.
    â€œI told the Marsh boys about our game,” she said. “Vampires and werewolves, I mean, not my plan to make them fight over me. That was a no-go. Nothing’s coming between those two. Anyway, they thought it was funny. They said there were two types of girls.”
    â€œOh yeah?”
    â€œMm-hmm. And that you and I were each a type, but they wouldn’t say who was which.”
    I almost didn’t want to know. Almost. “What were the types?”
    â€œWell, some girls, they said, are witches, and some girls are ghosts.”
    Witches, I got. That was a female archetype, but . . . “Ghosts?”
    â€œThe woman in white, haunting your dreams, the banshee, the wraith.”
    â€œOkay, but what about fairies, or mermaids, or . . .”
    â€œOr warlocks or Frankensteins . . . it’s no fun to muddle it up. Don’t overthink. It’s just a game.”
    â€œOkay,” I said, “so which one am I?”
    I was the ghost, of course, the invisible one who doesn’t belong in their world. Insubstantial and innocent, too innocent to keep up with Evy.
    Of course, ghosts have one more special trait, and thinking about that gave me chills. Ghosts are dead.
    â€œThey won’t tell me who’s who,” Evy repeated, “but Les, it’s so cute and dumb. They think this game’s hilarious.”
    So did we, I wanted to say, only weeks ago. We loved our game.
    â€œDo you want to hang out later?” I asked, the sickness in my gut already telling me the answer.
    â€œOh, Les, we’re going out again tonight. The moon’s past full, but last night was so cloudy. Tonight should be bright, bright.”
    â€œWhat about school?” I said. “Won’t you be exhausted on Monday?”
    â€œI’ll be tired in the daytime, but at night, once the sun goes down, I can’t sleep even if I want to. It’s the strangest thing.”
    Yes.
    â€œI want to be outside. I want to drink up the night. I want to run.”
    I felt like I’d swallowed a fist, like I needed to vomit, but if I tried I