A Babysitter's Guide to Monster Hunting 2 Read online

  “How was Heck Weekend?”

  Victor stood beside me, brushing his shaggy black hair from his eyes.

  Victor Cruz. My favorite Taylor Swift song. My supreme pizza with all the toppings. My knight in plaid and denim. My happy dance.

  His smile filled me with sunshine.

  “I’m alive. High five!” I said, holding up my hand.

  He returned the five. “iCalidá! I knew you’d survive.”

  His eyes sparkled with wonder whenever we spoke about the order. Victor wanted to know everything. Not the looking-after-little-kids part—which he said he knew about from growing up with a little brother and sister—just the part about the gory ghoulies.

  “Wow. An official monster hunter,” he said, shaking his head.

  I exhaled heavily. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him that I was not, in fact, voted babysitter of the year. But if you don’t have anything nice to say about yourself, don’t say anything at all, right?

  “Oooooh, Victor, you’re so hot!”

  Victor’s soccer buddies walked by, making kissing noises at us. Victor playfully kicked one of them in the butt, chasing them away.

  “You have to let me babysit with you next time,” he begged.

  “Wouldn’t you be embarrassed if the guys found out you helped me babysit?”

  Everyone at our school treated the babysitters—Berna, Curtis, Cassie, and now me—like social misfits with a highly contagious freak disease. Not because we babysat, but because we were a little different from the rest of the herd. They had no idea how we actually spent our nights.

  “I don’t care what they think,” Victor said.

  I looked at him and sighed. He was so cool.

  My heart fluttered, but then I remembered Mama Vee’s reaction last week when I suggested Victor could come over while I babysat, to learn the ropes.

  “The third law of babysitting, Kelly,” Mama Vee had said with an amused smirk. “Check the guide.”

  Law Number One: protect your charge at all costs

  Law Number Two: see Law Number One

  Law Number Three: no crushes allowed while sitting

  “Sorry, Victor,” I said. “No crushes allow—” I said, catching the words before they could fall from my dumb mouth. “Did you do the chemistry homework? Because I did not.”

  “Huh?”

  I laughed and shrugged. “What?”

  He looked confused and then annoyed. He mumbled something in Spanish.

  “What did you say?” I said.

  “I didn’t say anything,” he said.

  I looked at Victor. So sweet and wonderful. A terrible feeling grabbed me. Madame Moon’s warning. If Victor hung out with me, he could get hurt. I wished I didn’t have to worry about any of this stuff. I just wanted to eat pizza and binge-watch my new favorite TV show A Time of Roses and Cattle (from the producers of the hit South Korean soap opera Tears of Flowers and Fish) with him.

  “Something wrong?” Victor asked.

  I shook my head and tried to smile.

  The stone in my throat got bigger, and I turned away as I wiped away a tear from my eye.

  “Let’s get this party started!”

  Deanna, self-crowned princess and social media mogul, sashayed into the classroom. She was dressed like she was on a first-class ski trip to the Swiss Alps. I sniffed and wiped my faded orange sweater sleeve under my nose.

  “Hola, Vicky,” Deanna said, twinkling her fingers across the room at Victor. Victor rolled his eyes.

  “Oh no! Kelly Ferguson, hast thou been crying, child?” Deanna shouted in mock sympathy. She waved a Kleenex at me, and I flushed red. “Vicky, what did you do to her?”

  “I’m fine, Deanna,” I growled. “And his name’s Victor.”

  “Oooh, triggered!” said Deanna, dramatically dropping the Kleenex. “Some people are such snowflakes.”

  “Don’t let her get to you,” Victor whispered.

  I boiled with anger until I imagined what would happen if Deanna talked to the Mighty Kang like that, and a wicked smile spread across my face.

  “Yo, K-Ferg!” said Tammy, waving at me.

  Tammy, my OG BFF from childhood, walked into class wearing not one but two fancy scarves, glittering jewelry, and a face full of makeup. I cocked my head in confusion. The Tammy I knew wore corduroys and T-shirts that said “Bacon for Everyone!”

  “Tamara!” ordered Deanna. “Sit next to me, fam.”

  Without even looking at me, Tammy sat in the seat next to Deanna.

  I frowned. “Fam”? She’s my fam! And hold on . . . “Tamara”? Tammy hated being called by her full name. She told me she thought Tamara sounded like a mean lady who yells at the butler and treats her prizewinning poodle better than her own children.

  Tammy and I used to hang out every day, but ever since I became a babysitter, I had been spending more time with Berna, Liz, Mama Vee, Cassie, Curtis, and Victor. I didn’t have the chance to tell Tammy the truth about babysitting, and if I’m being honest, I didn’t want to. I needed her help on Halloween, and she bailed on me. Also, if she wanted to hang out with Deanna after Her Highness and her bedazzled tribe had trashed us for so long, then that’s on her. The throbbing pain from warrior training was nothing compared to the scars I had from the mean insults Deanna and her clones had inflicted upon Tammy and me over the years.

  At lunch I sat in the far corner of the cafeteria with Cassie, Berna, and Curtis. There were empty tables and chairs between us and the other students, forming a clear social divide. Cassie said she liked this quiet corner so we could speak freely about monsters, but I knew it was because no one else wanted to sit near us.

  “I can’t believe you failed Heck Weekend,” Curtis said.

  Berna’s elbow shot into Curtis’s side. “Can’t you see she feels bad enough? Don’t rub it in that she failed. She probably feels like a failure, like nothing she does is good enough.”

  “Neither of you are helping right now.”

  “Then I guess we shouldn’t give you this,” said Curtis, sliding a small present wrapped in yellow paper with a bow on top across the table.

  “We had them printed for you for finishing Heck Weekend,” Berna said.

  I tore it open. It was a stack of freshly printed business cards.

  KELLY FERGUSON—BABYSITTER

  [email protected]

  My smile slowly fell. “Thanks, guys.”

  “You’ll get there,” said Berna, patting my hand. “Have a little faith. Right, guys?”

  Cassie and Curtis agreed a little too eagerly. “Oh yeah. Totes! Totesh! Totes!”

  “That’s enough ‘totes,’ guys,” I said.

  I looked across the cafeteria to where Tammy was sitting with Deanna and the Princess Pack.

  Tammy does look pretty with her fancy scarves and her shiny new earrings.

  “Nothing wrong with trying a new look,” said Berna. “But if she starts throwing shade at us like Deanna does, I am not gonna take it.” Berna stabbed her fork into the mystery meat on her plate. “No way José. Berna does not abide.”

  That’s another thing I liked about Berna. Even though she was nice, she took no baloney from anyone. Especially when it came to protecting her fellow babysitters.

  “Deanna’s pretty. Pretty people get away with being mean,” said Curtis.

  “That’s no excuse. I’m beautiful and I’m nice, so explain that,” Berna said with a smirk.

  Cassie puffed out her cheeks. She looked so angry I thought she might pop. “You think Deanna’sh pretty?”

  “Say it don’t spray it, Cass,” Curtis said with a chuckle, scooping mashed potatoes off his plate with his fingers.

  “Ushe a fork, Curtish! Grossh!”

  Curtis slurped the potatoes off his fingers. “What are you, my babysitter?”

  “You wish!” Cassie flung a forkful of his own potatoes in his face.

  “What the hey, Cassie! I was making a point about the balance of the universe. What do you
care if Deanna’s hot?”

  Cassie threw the napkin dispenser at Curtis and stormed off.

  “Ow! What crawled up her chimney?”

  If Cassie liked Curtis, she had an odd way of showing it. Berna narrowed her eyes at Curtis. “Are you okay, Curtis? Like in the head?”

  “I am so glad I’m not a girl,” he mumbled.

  “You should be so lucky,” I said.

  I held up my hand, and without even looking, Berna high-fived it. Boom.

  Suddenly, all our phones chimed at the exact same time.

  Liz had sent us a group text:

  BS RI HQ. After school. Do it.

  Berna scowled. “I can’t. I have a track meet after school.”

  And I don’t care if you have a track meet, Berna. Urgent.

  “How does she do that?” said Berna.

  9

  Shrill echoes of death metal sped toward us. The school crossing guard craned his neck to see what the racket was. The babysitter mobile careened into view. A mismatched patchwork of metal siding covered up the bites and claw marks that had been ripped out of the van in the battle against the army of nightmares.

  “I can’t believe this thing still runs,” said Curtis.

  We waved good-bye to gawking teachers and piled into the back. Our monster buddy, a stout hobgoblin named Wugnot, high-fived us with his tail.

  “Buckle up, babysitters,” said Wugnot.

  His claw stomped on the gas, and we shot off, spraying our middle school with a geyser of black exhaust.

  “You really need to get a new ride, Wuggie,” I said. “It looks super shady getting picked up in this thing.”

  “You wanna walk? Be my guest,” Wugnot said, veering us through traffic. “Besides, windows are tinted. They can’t see my beautiful mug.”

  “I love this car,” said Curtis, slapping the warped dashboard. “Can’t wait till I’m old enough to drive so I can take it for a spin.”

  “Any time you want a lesson . . .”

  “Wuggie, you are the last person who should be giving driving lessons,” said Berna, almost vomiting in the back seat.

  The hobgoblin let out a gruff chuckle.

  We drove east, into the marshland. The van’s giant tires splashed off road, bumping over rocks and ruins.

  “Any idea what Liz needs to talk to us about?” I asked.

  “Dunno. She won’t say. She’s in a real mood.”

  “When ish she not?” said Cassie.

  “Cut her some slack,” said Wugnot. “She’s going through some things.”

  As we hurtled toward a wild thicket, Wugnot’s tail pulled a knob on the dash marked “Voix Céleste” and a hornpipe on the van emitted a birdlike whistle. The thicket parted just in time for the van to fly through, thorns scraping the doors.

  The van spun to a stop in front of HQ. A fluorescent green, off-road motorcycle was parked near a lion statue.

  “Looks like Liz got a new ride from the PennySaver,” said Curtis. “Suh-weet. Think maybe she’ll let me take it off a few jumps?”

  “No,” we all said in unison.

  Wugnot pulled open the big front door into a whirlwind of shouting from Liz and Mama Vee.

  “I’m going! You can’t stop me!”

  “Oh, yes I can!”

  Liz and Mama Vee were arguing in the living room. Mounds of Liz’s research materials were scattered around them. The terrifying 1793 portrait of Serena was leaning against the wall near the Christmas tree.

  “I found where she’s hiding, Vee!” screamed Liz. She slapped the map. “The cave of the Bell Witch. Tennessee. We need to go there right now.”

  “Wasn’t her last marriage in New York?” I said.

  “Divorce by death,” Liz said quickly. “She was last seen down south.”

  “LeRue. Take a deep breath and calm down,” ordered Vee.

  Liz remained on her feet, panting. Mama Vee noticed us standing there and did a double take.

  “What are you four doing here?” Vee asked.

  We collectively shrugged.

  “I called them here,” said Liz.

  Mama Vee shook her head in disbelief at Liz’s blatant disregard for her rank. “One, this is in Tennessee. I cannot authorize you traveling that far without supervision.”

  “I don’t need supervision—”

  “Two, you have to babysit tonight.”

  “Someone else can fill in for me.”

  “Three, according to the head council, we cannot just barge into a Boogey’s lair unprovoked.”

  “What do you call what we did on Halloween?”

  “We had evidence. Read the bylaws.”

  “I’ve read the bylawsh,” said Cassie, raising her hand like the teacher’s pet.

  “Not now, Cassie,” said Mama Vee.

  “This is an emergency,” Liz said through her clenched teeth.

  “We don’t know that.”

  Liz leveled her eyes at Mama Vee. “Kevin’s with her,” she said.

  “So let’s gather intel first. We’ll call the southern babysitters and have them take a look and report back. Then we’ll strategize a plan and approach this the right way.”

  Liz’s fingers curled into fists. “You don’t think he’s alive.” Her voice was trembling.

  I finally understood why Liz was so upset. She was holding on to a string of hope, and everyone else was telling her to let go.

  “I never said that,” Mama Vee replied gently. “This is dangerous territory, Liz. We have to be smart.”

  Liz threw a stack of papers across the room. They fell like dead leaves.

  “Smart? I found where she lives! What have you done?”

  Mama Vee scowled. “My job. Which is to protect you, and if I say something is not right, it is not right. Now, look. You’re too emotional and too obsessed. You lock yourself in the library all day and night. You stare at this creepy painting. You need to step back.”

  Liz grew eerily calm as she squinted at Mama Vee. She nodded to herself, as if she had made up her mind. She breezed past me and I reached out for her.

  “Liz,” I whispered.

  Her eyes were fire. “You coming or what?”

  The breath caught in my throat. On Halloween, I made her a promise and wanted to help her so badly, but something held me back. Maybe it was the fact that Tennessee was light-years away or maybe—and I know this sounds super selfish—it was because I didn’t want to spend Christmas getting into deep, dark trouble.

  “I’m not even a real sitter yet,” I said.

  She sneered sarcastically. “And you never will be.” She grabbed her book bag and shoved open the front door.

  “Liz LeRue, don’t you dare!” screamed Mama Vee as the sound of the dirt bike engine revved to life outside.

  I ran through the front doorway and caught a faceful of gravel from Liz’s spinning back tire. In a streak of green and black, she was gone. Mama Vee’s angry shouts broke our stunned silence.

  “Stop her, Wugnot,” demanded Mama Vee.

  Wugnot slid across the hood of the van and scrambled into the window. He sped off in a blast of death metal. Mama Vee turned on her heels and marched back inside.

  “Liz wouldn’t go all the way down there on her own, right?” said Berna, trying to assure Mama Vee. “I mean, all the way to Tennessee? On a motorbike. That’s crazy. Even for Liz. She could get bugs in her teeth.”

  Mama Vee angrily cleaned up the mess Liz had made. The dog-eared books on spiders, the scattered obituaries, the maps. With each pile, she grew angrier, finally grabbing the leaning portrait. She was about to break it over her knee when she stopped and looked at its chilling crystal eyes. Serena seemed to be staring at Mama Vee with a knowing smile.

  10

  On the news the old farmer stood in a field of cows.

  “I was sleeping last night when I heard the cowbells clanging,” said the white-bearded farmer on TV. “I stumbled out of bed, grabbed my pants and my double-barrel, and I headed out here. That’s
when I seent it.”

  The old farmer pointed a shaking finger across a field of grazing cows.

  “Must have been eight feet tall. Covered in brown and black hair.” The farmer twisted his fingers around his forehead. “Two big ole horns. Didn’t budge none. Just hid there, behind the trees, looking at me with them eyes. Thought ’twas a nightmare, till I found Bessie.”

  The news crew followed the farmer behind his barn, where they found a mass of black flies buzzing around a sinewy pile of cow bones. The hide lay in the grass nearby like a discarded piece of black-and-white laundry.

  “Now, you tell me, what kind of animal does that?”

  “Oooooh,” my dad said, his eyes glued to the TV in the living room. “Bigfoot’s in Rhode Island!”

  “It’s probably some hoax,” said my mom.

  “Wouldn’t that be cool, Kelly? Bigfoot in our own backyard!”

  I forced a smile, but a dark fear crept inside me.

  They’re looking for you, Kelly.

  On TV the disgusted reporter swatted flies with his microphone, sidestepping cow bones. I silently made a note: Smithfield Farms. Seventy miles from here. Have to tell Mama Vee about this.

  “Turn on some real news,” my mom said, adjusting an ornament on our thin Christmas tree.

  “C’mon, Alexa. Kelly loves this stuff. Used to, anyway.” My dad chuckled. “Remember when you were little, Kelly? We’d catch you staring out of your window, middle of the night. ‘Daddy, I saw a monster.’ So cute.”

  “That’s me,” I said, trying to sound cheery.

  Our clock was draped with plastic garland and tinsel. It was twenty minutes to seven. “Shoot, I’m gonna be late.”

  I caught my mom and dad exchanging worried looks as I started for the dining room to clear the table.

  “You’re not babysitting tonight,” said my mom, stretching up to straighten the crooked angel atop the evergreen.