The Monster Variations by Daniel Kraus Read Free Book Online

inside), and a marker just in case they wanted to leave any mysterious messages inside the desks of any teachers—just to drive them nuts.
    “It’s going to be a little tricky,” he admitted, “because we’re not even supposed to
be
there. So step one is we’re going to have to sneak in.”
    They would use their usual alibi. Willie would tell his parents he was sleeping over at James’s house. James would tell his parents he was sleeping over at Willie’s. Reggie, whose mother worked too late to chaperone any sleepovers, claimed he could do whatever he pleased, and whenever, and so had no use for their lies.
    Willie and James were roped into the plan before they had a chance to protest. When James saw thatReggie had already spent his meager allowance on spare batteries, he got that sick feeling in his gut again. This was really happening. If they were caught for trespassing, could they be expelled? Or even arrested? James didn’t know, but his stomach roiled when he thought of disobeying his parents. As exciting as Reggie’s plans were, he knew full well that they were part of the hole, not the donut. There was still one hope: it was conceivable that Willie’s parents wouldn’t permit Willie to sleep over, and James was counting on this to disrupt Reggie’s plan. Unfortunately, Willie’s parents thought it would be rude to turn down James Wahl’s invitation—the Wahls were so respected, after all, and they had such a big, pretty house. In fact, Mrs. Van Allen was sewing shut the left arm of a pair of Willie’s pajamas especially for the occasion.
    “We’ll ditch your pj’s on the way,” said Reggie impatiently.
    Naturally they would have to break the brand-new curfew. For some reason this detail went unspoken among the three friends, though it haunted James. Such concerns did not touch Reggie: he chewed his fingernails, swiped away pink eraser particles, and revised his two-page inventory with a stubby pencil clamped between his knuckles. Frowning, he crossed off “roller skates.”
    The plan was set for Friday. That way, when Saturday morning arrived, the school would be deserted and they could just crawl out a window, feel the warm summer sun heat their necks, and smile in the knowledge thatthey had just pulled a fast one—on their parents, their school, the curfew-makers, the hit-and-run driver, everyone.
    “If this is our last summer,” Reggie reminded them, “I don’t want to die without knowing what’s behind all those doors.”
    * * *
    Late Friday afternoon, James walked to the Van Allen house to pick up Willie, as always keeping an eye on every truck that rumbled down every side street. When he got there the sky was orange. The deserted tree house towered over him as he climbed the front stairs. James looked at it, saw branches move, heard boards whine.
    “That tree house has got to go.”
    James jumped. Mr. Van Allen was standing on the other side of the screen door, also gazing up at the tree. James felt his heart pound; he had not yet knocked. Mr. Van Allen said nothing and inspected the tree house, perhaps remembering when he’d built it: the coarse feel of the two-by-fours, the temperature of a nail after being struck by a hammer. James glanced at Mr. Van Allen’s hands. Thick curly hair swallowed up a giant class ring. The fingernails were notched and dirty. The hand gripped a beer can but had forgotten it—it tipped precariously and James tensed, waiting for liquid to start dribbling.
    “How are you, James?” It was said so quietly, James thought he might have imagined it.
    “Fine?” James answered.
    Mr. Van Allen nodded vaguely, his eyes still searching the tree house lumber.
    “You know I love you boys,” he whispered.
    James held his breath and watched beer gather at the rim of the can.
    “You know that. I know you know that.” Mr. Van Allen drew a long breath, jutting out his bottom jaw in an apparent attempt to summon strength. “We all make mistakes, James. Every