Case File 13 #2 (2 page)

“Frankenstein,” Angelo whispered. Cody Gills, known to most of the kids at Pleasant Hill Elementary as Frankenstein, was at least twice as big as any other kid in the school. For years he'd terrorized the other kids—especially Nick, Carter, and Angelo. He'd gone out of his way to find the three of them and beat them up. But ever since they'd tricked him into thinking he'd seen Nick come back from the dead, something had changed about him. Now he seemed to be scared of everything, and he'd gone from being the biggest bully in the sixth grade to being the biggest tattletale. The big boy was pacing slowly back and forth as though waiting for someone.

“Do you think he knows we're here?” Carter asked.

“How could he?” Nick said. “We were careful to make sure he didn't follow us when we left our houses.”

“He's sneaky,” Angelo said. “Like a cat.”

“A cat with huge muscles and premature facial hair,” Carter said.

Nick pointed down the side of the hill to a run-down house with grass that hadn't been mowed in months. “If we sneak through Mr. Dashner's backyard, we can get to the street without Frankenstein spotting us.”

Carter swallowed hard. “And if Old Man Dashner sees us, he'll call the cops. He hates kids.”

“The windows are dark,” Angelo whispered. “Maybe he isn't home.”

Carter bit his lower lip. “Or maybe that's what he wants you to think.”

Nick checked on Cody, who had stopped pacing and was looking directly at them, almost as if he could see through the dark. “I don't know about you, but I would seriously rather take my chances with Mr. Dashner than deal with the new Frankenstein.”

Carter and Angelo nodded. Keeping as low as they could, they crept down the side of the hill until they were almost at the edge of Mr. Dashner's backyard. “Do you see anything?” Nick asked, peering at the dark house.

“I wish I did,” Carter said. “When you
can't
see him is when he's the most dangerous.”

Angelo pointed to the left side of the yard. “Let's stick close to the fence. That way, if he's home, it will be harder for him to see us.”

“Or easier for him to
trap
us,” Carter muttered.

One at a time, they crawled into the deep grass. The yard smelled like dog doo, although Nick was pretty sure Mr. Dashner didn't have a dog. The fence was old and saggy looking. Nick made sure not to touch any of the boards, afraid that if he did the whole thing might fall over.

“I think I saw a bear trap over there,” Carter said.

“Shush.” Angelo pointed to a row of tall pyracantha bushes along the side of the house. “Stick close to those,” he whispered. “But don't touch them. The thorns are like needles.”

Nick and Carter followed Angelo as he crawled across the grass, past the bushes, and out to the driveway. Once they were there, they got to their feet and ran to the sidewalk.

“We made it,” Carter panted, stopping in the glow of a streetlight.

Nick grinned. “Dashner, zero. Frankenstein, zero. The Three Monsterteers win in a landslide.”

At that moment a shadow fell across the three of them. They turned to see Cody standing less than three feet away.

“C-Cody,” Carter stammered, backing away. “What are you doing?”

“Angie and her friends told me I might find you here.”

“What do you want?” Nick asked, afraid to hear the answer.

“Do you know how much trouble you can get in for trespassing on private property?” Cody asked. “And it's way too dark to be hiking around the park. Someone could sprain an ankle or trip over a log. You would never know it, but most accidents happen within ten blocks of home.”

“Yeah, we'll be more careful next time,” Carter said.

“I hope so.” Cody rubbed his hands together anxiously. “Because I'd hate to have to tell your parents on you. Even though it would be for your own good.”

Nick sighed. He kind of wished for the good old days when all they had to worry about was getting beat up.

“Hey, Mrs. B,” Carter said the next morning as Nick's mom walked into the kitchen. It was Friday and the boys were sitting around the table before school, planning their activities for the night.

“I'm thinking we should film the cat scene,” Nick said, eating a bowl of cereal. “I know a couple of neighbors that have, like, twenty in their yards.”

Carter, who had just finished his third bowl of apple cinnamon Cheerios, slurped down his sugar-laden milk and burped. “Sorry, Mrs. B.”

“Don't forget the mummy marathon,” Angelo said.

“What's this about mummies?” Mom asked, sticking two slices of wheat bread into the toaster.

“Twelve hours of back-to-back mummy movies, commercial free,” Carter said. “It's gonna be awesome sauce.”

Mom got a look on her face Nick recognized immediately and he quickly jumped in. “All of our homework's done. It's not a school night, and you said Angelo and Carter could sleep over. Remember?”

“I said they could
sleep
over, not stay up all night watching that . . .
garbage
.”

Angelo choked on his cereal.

Nick could see a train wreck of epic proportions coming if he didn't do something fast. “It's not garbage. It's educational. You learn about Egyptian culture, the pyramids, history, hieroglyphics . . .”

Mom shook her head and got out a jar of peach marmalade. “All while innocent people get slaughtered by mummified corpses.”

“Oh, yeah.” Carter rubbed his hands together. “That's the best part.”

Nick shot Angelo a look of desperation. The bridge was out and the train wasn't slowing down.

“Of course we'll be working on our project for the young authors and artists contest first,” Angelo said.

Mom perked up. “Really? That sounds interesting.”

Could it be the wreck had just been averted? Nick winked at his friends. “Yeah, we're totally into building a brighter tomorrow.”

“Now that sounds like something worthwhile,” Mom said. “You should do more things like that.”

Disaster averted.

“I turn into a mutant rat and eat all the cats in the neighborhood,” Carter said, before Nick or Angelo could stop him. He might as well have placed a bomb directly under the railroad tracks. Mom's lips pressed so tightly together they nearly disappeared.

Nick quickly grabbed the contest guidelines. “We're making a movie,” he said. “About curing diseases. There are a bunch of schools competing. Even some private schools. American Leadership Academy, Walnut Creek Christian, Sumina Prep.”

“Sumina?” Angelo said. “That's the school Pleasant Hill High is playing tonight.”

“Playing?” Mom edged nearer to the table and Nick sensed a trap.

Angelo nodded, completely unaware. “Yeah, it's the last football game of the regular season. It's supposed to be a blowout. Pleasant Hill hasn't lost a game all season, and Sumina is a small private school that's only been around a couple of years. Some of the kids were talking about going.”

Mom grinned evilly.

“But
we
can't!” Nick blurted. “We have to make our movie.”

“I understand,” Mom said, spreading the marmalade on her toast. “The arts are very important.”

They were right at the bridge and the train was still in danger. Was there any way to avoid going over? Nick nodded. “Um, right.”

“Just be aware that you won't be watching any mummy movies until you go to the football game and bring me back a full report. I'm going to get you out doing real activities if it kills me.”

Crash and burn.

“Come on, dude, loan me a buck and a half,” Carter begged Angelo, clasping his hands in front of his chest.

“You still owe me five dollars from all the frozen bananas I bought you last summer,” Angelo said as he, Nick, and Carter walked along the Pleasant Hill High School bleachers looking for a place to watch the night's football game.

Nick glanced toward the field and scowled. He couldn't believe his mom was making him miss a mummy marathon to watch a stupid football game. At least Cody wasn't here.

“According to the paper the Fighting Rams might win state,” Angelo said.

“Who cares?” Nick muttered. “We're talking about twelve straight hours of mummies. Are you telling me you'd rather watch a bunch of guys smashing each other to the ground than
Bubba Ho-tep
? Elvis and JFK fight a mummy.”

Angelo shifted the monster notebook from his left arm to his right. “Technically, the character played by Ossie Davis only
thinks
he's JFK, dyed black and left in a nursing home by Lyndon Johnson. The viewer is left to assume Jack is delusional. Although there
is
that scar . . .”

Nick shook his head. Angelo definitely knew his monster movies. Maybe a little too well at times. But none of that mattered now because they were stuck here, watching a
real
activity.

The Pleasant Hill football players were busy stretching and going through their pre-game warm-ups under the stadium lights while the Pleasant Hill band marched around the field. His mom might call this real, but Nick called it really boring. A bunch of jocks fighting over a dumb ball. Now if they were vampires and genetically altered gorillas fighting over an anti-matter bomb,
that
would be exciting.

As the boys worked their way along the home side of the stadium, Carter turned to Nick. He ran his fingers through his short hair. After school he'd dyed it half light blue and half orange—PHHS's school colors—and it looked like someone had attacked the back of it with a pair of hedge trimmers. “What do you say, Nick? Lend me a dollar and a half. Can't you smell that meat grilling at the snack shack? I'm dying here.”

“I thought hamburgers were a dollar.”

“They are.” Carter bounced from one foot to the other. “And I have fifty cents. So if you give me a buck fifty, I can buy two.”

“You just ate dinner,” Angelo said.

Carter, who was a good foot shorter than Angelo and as skinny as a post despite eating almost nonstop, rolled his eyes. “That was almost an hour ago. I'm
star
ving!”

“I think you must have been bitten by a mosquito when you were a baby,” Nick said. “Did you know they can eat four times their own weight in blood?”

Carter's eyes lit up. “Rob Wells says if you tense your muscles once a mosquito starts sucking, you can make it blow up.”

“Whatever.” Nick chuckled. Rob Wells was the biggest liar in sixth grade. He once claimed for over a month that he would be leaving soon because he'd been invited to attend wizard school.

“No. Totally serious!” Carter drew an
X
over his heart with one finger. “Rob says he did it at camp. The mosquito couldn't get loose from his arm, so it kept sucking and sucking, swelling up until it was the size of a baby sparrow. Then, bam! Blood and mosquito guts everywhere!”

Angelo clicked his tongue. “That's an urban legend. Mosquitoes draw blood from capillaries on the outer layer of the skin. They don't get anywhere near muscles.”

Nick pointed to an open bench. “This looks good.”

The boys were just sitting down when a bossy voice called out, “Hey, if it isn't the Three Mouseketeers.” Nick turned to see Angie Hollingsworth and her friends Tiffany Staheli and Dana Lyon sitting right behind them.

“That's Monsterteers,” Carter said. “But I can understand the mistake since the three of you are probably terrified of mice.”

Angie, a short girl with flaming red hair and a take-charge expression in her bright green eyes, was one of the most annoying people Nick knew. She and her friends were in the same sixth-grade class as the boys and were constantly trying to prove they were smarter, stronger, and better. That would have been obnoxious enough, but what made the girls almost unbearable was their belief that they were even bigger monster fanatics than Nick and his friends.