Page 17 of Monsters

Chapter 5

THEN

“The Blackwells are hosting the annual street party this year. God save us all,” my mother began, shaking her head in disbelief.

We were nearing the end of our four-hour road trip back home after a week’s holiday in New Jersey. Pulling into Little Valley, my father navigated the streets at the regulated forty miles per hour allowing my mother plenty of opportunities to whine about the Blackwells. “Do you know there’s a rumor Shelley Blackwell was responsible for the food poisoning outbreak with her chicken casserole last year, and now she’s in charge of organizing this year’s!” My mother’s voice became high pitched toward the end, incredulous over the anointing of the newly-in-charge.

“I, for one…” she continued as a matter of fact, “… will not be risking a weekend locked in the bathroom because of her lack of hygiene.”

“I ate the chicken casserole last year, and I never got sick,” my father bravely interjected.

I watched from the middle back seat as my parents dueled it out, but I was more eager to pull into Dangerfield Drive and see Lucas.

Less than a minute later we turned left into our street. Sprinklers were casting their watery halos over already plush green grass, and the smell of fresh cut lawns gave the feeling of home. The Carter residence no longer looked a part of the neighborhood, ever since Mr. Carter left. The grass was never watered, and the roses Mrs. Carter once took pride in were nothing but short, undernourished twigs. But there, up ahead standing at the end of the driveway, was Lucas. I smiled excitedly when he waved, my father’s humored eyes catching mine in the rearview mirror.

“He could smell you coming from down the street,” he teased.

I gently punched his arm, and he feigned injury like he’d been hit by a professional boxer. Giggling at his response, I slipped over to the left side of the backseat and gave Lucas a small smile as we turned into our drive.

Before we had come to a complete stop, I was out the door and crossing from my yard to his. Lucas’s smile widened when we met with open arms, and he wrapped me up tightly. We were more than just friends. We were kindred spirits. Lucas had lost weight. More than he should have lost within the timeframe I was gone.

“That was the longest week ever,” I mused against his neck.

“I barely noticed you were gone,” he quipped, which earned him a poke to the ribs. We pulled away, and it was then I noticed Mason. He was sitting on the driveway behind his upturned bike which was currently minus one wheel.

“Hi, Mason,” I greeted quietly and without the fanfare given to Lucas.

“Hi,” was all he replied, hardened eyes meeting mine through the wheel spokes.

“Can we go?” I asked, turning my attention back to Lucas.

“Your chariot awaits.” He kicked up the stand, and I hopped onto the handlebars while he kept the bike steady. As we cruised down the drive and onto the street, we both turned at the sound of a crash, metal against concrete followed by cussing. Mason angrily kicked at his bike that now sat in a deformed heap.

My parents who were still unloading the car stopped momentarily to watch the display. Mason Carter’s behavior was not news to anyone on the street, especially to my parents.

“Should we help him?” I offered, a little terrified of the answer.

“No.” Lucas had grown suddenly distant while keeping his eyes glued over my shoulder. “You wouldn’t want to be around him at the moment.”

~

We made it to the lookout just as the sun was beginning to set over the valley. We’d hiked through the woods in relative silence, Lucas offering his hand when crossing deep trenches and fallen trees. He was reserved, lost in contemplative thought, and I feared I was losing him to a hidden darkness. When we settled next to each other on the grassed overhang, thighs touching, we watched as slashes of orange marred the sky contrasting against the murky gray storm clouds forming in the distance.

“So,” I chirped. “What’d I miss?”

Lucas exhaled heavily like he was preparing the stories. “Old Mr. and Mrs. Smith went door knocking searching for their yappy sausage dog and blaming each and every person on the block for illegally hoarding him. Turns out, little Franklin had gotten himself stuck between the shed and the fence, his tiny legs tearing at the grass to free himself. The Blackwells are busy preparing for tomorrow’s street party and bossing everyone around. She has this vein in her neck that twitches whenever someone asks her if she’s making a chicken casserole.”

“Oh, sounds hectic,” I replied, smiling. “And what about you?” I threw a casual glance his way. “What’d I miss?”

By now the sky was cut in half. Half was the brewing storm clouds in the distance, the other was the faint glimmer of stars.

“I’m fine,” he stated quickly. “Mrs. Burnett said that she won’t be cooking if—”

“Lucas,” I calmly reprimanded. “I want to know about you.”

He turned his face away from me and pulled at some blades of grass. “Mom has a boyfriend.” His tone was caught somewhere between scathing and defeated. “She’s been seeing him for a while apparently.”

“Have you met him?”

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