Matt Archer: Monster Hunter (Matt Archer #1) (11 page)

“Dani, Matt knows his actions were unacceptable.” Mike met
my eyes with a firm stare. Major Tannen was back, and still one scary dude.
“And he agreed that he’ll maintain discipline at school. He promised me.”

Mom looked back and forth between us, brow furrowed. “Matt,
did you promise Uncle Mike?”

“Yeah, Mom. I won’t cut up like that again.” Nice and
humble; maybe it would work and she wouldn’t ground me.

“You better not. And to make sure you mean it, you’re
grounded for the next two weeks. School, detention and your room are the only
three stops you’ll be making.”

She did that paradoxical Mom thing where she kissed me on
the forehead after chewing me out, then went to the mud room with a pile of my
dirty clothes from the trip.

What a homecoming for a monster-killer.

It felt weird going back to school. I’d spent the last week
practicing mortal combat skills and today I was in algebra, sitting behind Ella
and her strawberry-scented ponytail. All my daydreams came rushing back. At one
point, she leaned forward to get her book out of her bag, forcing her hot pink
long-sleeved t-shirt to pull up. For a brief moment, I saw a sliver of skin
above the waistband of her jeans. That made my morning, at least until the bell
rang.

After class, Ella turned to me, but she didn’t smile. “So, I
heard you slammed Carter into a locker before break.” Her voice was stiff.

My face got hot and prickly. “Um, yeah, just a little
misunderstanding. He…”

“Matt, I thought you were different,” she said, her tone
softer now. “Other guys spout off all the time, but not you. I’ve never seen
you pick one fight, and I liked you because of that; you were a good friend.”

She picked up her books and left the classroom, walking
fast, before I had a chance to finish saying, “…started it.” Watching her
disappear, I whispered, “I just lost my temper. It won’t happen again.”

“Aw, who cares,” Will said, whacking me in the shoulder with
his math book. “Carter had it coming. You needed to trounce him.”

“I care.” I stared out the classroom door. She’d said she
“liked” me—as if she didn’t anymore. What if she hated me now, all for shoving
Carter when he deserved it?

“Dude, we got bigger things to worry about than your undying
love for Ella.” Will grabbed my bag and pushed me out the door, away from Mrs.
Burns’ superhuman hearing skills. “I bought a spare gas can for the ATV
yesterday and hid it in the garage. You know, in case we get called and have to
roll fast.”

“For a guy who puked six times on Friday night, you sure
seem to be excited about all this.” I shook my head, still upset about Ella.
“No, wait, you sound exactly like I did after I got over the shock. I was
really jacked up, too.”

Will laughed. “I just wish we could tell people, you know?
How awesome would that be? I bet Ella would give you another look, clobbering
her idiot boyfriend or not.”

“Yeah. That thought definitely crossed my mind.” Four hundred
times…this morning.

Carter found us at lunch. Will had been keeping tabs on me
in the hallways, and we’d avoided him all morning. But since we had the same
lunch period, there was nowhere to hide.

“Archer, heard you got detention,” Carter said, an evil
glint in his eye. He shook his blond hair like a model in a shampoo commercial.
“I got off with a warning. Guess talking down the principal gets added to the
list of all the other things you can’t do.”

Uncle Mike started lecturing me inside my head.
What are Carter’s insults going to
do to you? Nothing. You could hurt him if you lose your temper. Keep it
together.

Trying to sound bored, I said, “Maybe I didn’t want to avoid
the punishment. Makes that beat-down I gave you more valuable because I have to
pay for it.”

Carter clenched his fists. “You better watch your mouth or
we’ll finish that fight.”

Will stood up, scraping his chair along the linoleum. He
bunched up his broad shoulders menacingly. “Leave. Now.”

That earned me another withering look from Carter. “Still
letting Cruessan do the heavy lifting, huh, Archer?” he said. “Coward.”

With that one word, Carter almost made me forget my promise
to Mike. I got up slowly, my eyes never leaving his face. “You don’t get to
call me coward.”

Carter took a step back. After one last glare, he turned and
stalked to the basketball table, like he’d put the fear of God into me,
straightening his letter jacket as he went. What a tool.

“Sorry about that, dude. I keep forgetting…you don’t need my
help anymore.” Will sat and stared at his lunch tray looking like I’d caught
him stealing my pocket change.

I felt bad for him—his perspective of me had changed in a
big way, but old habits die hard. “No problem. He just needed to prove he was
still a badass to his friends. Can’t have a freshman giving him crap.”

I went back to wolfing down my double cheeseburger, not
giving Carter another thought. When I finished a bite and reached for my milk,
I noticed Will staring at me. “What?”

“I don’t know what’s happening to you, but when you stared
Carter down, you could’ve melted a hole in his forehead with your eyes.”

Will glanced at the basketball team table. Carter must’ve
felt our stares, because he flipped us the bird. When I didn’t do anything
other than glare at him and eat French fries, he turned his back on us.
Grinning, I picked up my cheeseburger again. I must’ve learned more than I
thought last week.

“Well, guess this means I’m off hall patrol.” Will leaned
his chair against the wall, resting it on two legs, and swung his feet in the
air. “Maybe you should cover
me
during passing period.”

“Whatever, man. Happy to help you out. Oh, and save me a
spot at the weight rack tomorrow. I’m ready to try the fifteen pound dumbbells
after detention. We need to keep in shape, so we’re ready when we get called.”

Will gave me a fist bump across the table. “Rock and roll,
dude. Rock and roll.”

* * *

I wrapped up detention with Mrs. Stevens in mid-November.
During my two weeks in her office after school, she made me read
To Kill a Mockingbird
and write an essay about tolerance and loyalty. I got a laugh out of it because
if anyone needed that particular assignment, it was Carter Jacobs.

But as the month went on, any confidence I’d felt after my
training wore off. I didn’t have a chance to prove myself by killing another
monster because the Army hadn’t called. Strange that the activity just stopped.
I wondered if my kill had scared the Bears off, but that didn’t make sense. I
had more pressing things to worry about, though. Mike was leaving December
first.

“That’s great, Ryan….Yes, the Saturday after Thanksgiving,
at Brownstone….Wonderful, see you then.”

Mom ended the call and crossed something off her checklist.
Our kitchen table, a large wooden rectangle that could seat six, had become
party central. She was always parked there and had so much stuff spread out we
usually had to clean papers off its top to eat.

“More RSVPs?” I asked. Mike’s send-off was getting bigger by
the day, between the catered dinner and the twenty million people showing up.

“Yes. Mike’s friend, Ryan Black, can make it.” She smiled at
me. “I don’t think you’ve ever met him. He’s a colonel out at Fort Carson. I
met him a few years ago; really interesting guy. You and Brent will like him.”

Mom knew Colonel Black? That could be a problem.

She noticed I wasn’t entirely there. Her smile faded. “Matt,
sweetie, are you okay? You haven’t been yourself lately…”

Crap. “I’m fine, Mom.”

Her eyes searched mine. “If there’s something you need to
tell me, I promise I’ll understand and try to help, no matter what it is.”

Understand the fact that I was part of an elite military
unit that hunted and killed deadly monsters? Somehow, I didn’t think so. “Mom,
really, it’s nothing. I’m just…tired. I think I’ll go lie down for a while.”

I escaped to my room and flopped on my bed. There was a
spider building a web in the corner above my closet. Spiders were cool; they
ate bugs. I didn’t mind sharing my space.

“You don’t have much to worry about,” I told it. “Steady
supply of flies, nice warm web…bet your uncle isn’t going to Afghanistan.”

Mamie peeked through my cracked bedroom door. “Who are you
talking to?”

She opened the door wider, wearing a sympathetic smile.

“A spider.” I kicked off my shoes and pulled my knees up to
give Mamie a place to sit at the foot of my twin-sized bed.

She had her holiday ribbons tied to her pigtails. Brown and
orange for Thanksgiving today would give way to red and green on Friday. I
wondered if anyone at school made fun of her braids. If they did, they were
jerks. Mamie without pigtails would be like Christmas without snow. It was a
constant, and had been since I could remember. I needed constants right now.

“It say anything back?” Her voice was light.

“Nah.”

“Matt, I know you’re hurting. But, it’s the holidays,
school’s out for a week. We should be having fun, even if we don’t feel like
it. Want to play Wii Tennis with me?”

I laughed. “Wow, you really are trying to cheer me up. I
clobber you at tennis.”

“Whatever it takes…so let’s go. Maybe I can beat you once.”

I rolled off my bed and stretched. “Not a chance…”

Mamie’s eyebrows shot up. “Matt, when did your arms get so
huge?”

Surprised, I flexed to see what she was talking about. My
muscles were definitely bigger than they had been, and I had that awesome line
running down the middle of my upper arm where the bicep separated from the
tricep. Look at that—welcome to the gun show. That got me thinking…maybe I
could accidentally-on-purpose pick up something heavy right in front of Ella.
She’d be sure to notice that, right?

With a pleased laugh, I said, “I’ve been working out with
Will. Trying to bulk up, you know?”

Mamie continued to stare, amazement giving way to suspicion.
“Uh huh. Why this sudden interest in physical fitness?”

“Physical fitness? Mamie, you sound like a dictionary.” Time
to start wearing long-sleeves around the house; I couldn’t give the bloodhound
any more clues. “I just felt like it, okay? Now quit stalling—you threw down;
it’s time for you to lose.”

She wasn’t convinced, I could see that, but she stopped dogging
me.

Tennis went as predicted, and Mamie lost gracefully five
times out of five.

* * *

The scent of Mom’s pumpkin pie hung in the air–spice and
cinnamon. Too bad I hated the flavor and texture of pumpkin pie filling,
because it smelled great. Mom had decorated the dinner table with her good
tablecloth and napkins, complete with one of those stupid paper turkeys with
the fan shaped tail, but none of us really felt like celebrating. Either way,
it wasn’t Thanksgiving dinner without a pie browning in the oven, even if we
were miserable.

“Brent, can you put the cell phone down long enough to
finish dinner? It’s Thanksgiving, for goodness sake.” Mom jabbed her fork in
his direction.

Mike gulped down a mouthful of green bean casserole,
obviously trying to head Mom off. “Dani, I think you should cut him some
slack.”

“Yeah, Mom, listen to Mike.” Brent slid his phone into his
lap and hunched down over his plate to shovel a few bites into his mouth.
Something was eating him. He hadn’t finished his first plate, with smaller
portions than usual, and I was already on seconds.

“That’s
Uncle
Mike to you,” Mom said, scowling. “And it’s certainly not okay for you to sass
me at the dinner table, young man.”

“Dani….” Mike’s tone held a note of warning.

That got through to Mom and she saw it, too. Her scowl
melted into a frown. “Sweetheart, are you getting sick?” She reached across the
table to feel Brent’s forehead.

“Mom’s right, you do look off,” Mamie said. “Do your joints
ache?”

Mom followed up. “And if they do, is it sharp and stabbing,
or dull?”

Mike shot pointed looks at the mother-hens, but neither of
them noticed. They were too interested in smothering Brent with concern. Mike
looked to me for help and I shrugged. How would I know what it took to stop
them from overdoing the love?

“Damn it, just leave me alone!” Brent shoved his chair back
so hard it toppled over and stormed from the kitchen. I heard his door slam a
few seconds later.

The mother hens jumped like they’d been caught napping by a
fox. Mamie’s lips quivered; it didn’t take much to reduce her to tears these
days. I got up to pat her shoulders.

“He’s just stressed out or something, Mamie. Playoffs didn’t
go well–he’s probably still mad about that.”

“No, that’s not it,” Mike said. He wouldn’t look at us, spending
time cutting his cranberry sauce into smaller and smaller chunks with his fork.
“He, uh, he’s having a rough day.”

We stared at him, astonished. Brent had “grown out” of
confiding in Mike years ago.

Mike tugged at the collar of his sweater. “His girlfriend
broke up with him this morning. By text. He didn’t want anyone to know, but
he’s pretty upset about it. He was trying to convince her to take him back.”

Mamie went on red alert. “You’re kidding me! By text? When I
see that little…well, that was just mean!” She sniffled angrily and wiped her
nose with one of Mom’s good linen napkins.

Mom sighed, her eyes focused on a spot outside the kitchen
window. “Honey, let’s leave it to him. He’s usually the one to break it off
with a girlfriend. Far as I know, this is a first for him.”

She picked up Brent’s plate and carried it upstairs. We
could hear his voice rise and fall, telling her about it. While we sat around
the table, waiting for Mom to come back, the pumpkin pie started to smell
burned. Tears streamed down Mamie’s face again.

“So,” I said, to break the tension, “anyone want to play
Boggle?”

Mamie cracked up while crying at the same time. That made
her blow a snot bubble and it was over. I gave her a fist bump for upping the
gross factor. Mike shook in silent laughter with his eyes squinted shut until
he ran out of air. He finally gave a great, gasping wheeze and collapsed
howling against the table top.

Best Thanksgiving ever.

* * *

“All right, present, check. Photo album, check. Index cards
for bon voyage messages, check. Email list for Mike, check.” Mom muttered these
little reminders to herself while she ran around the living room wearing one
shoe and trying to put an earring in. She paused in front of the decorative
mirror on the entryway wall to finish with the jewelry. “Make-up, good. Hair,
well, it’ll do.”