CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

BEK AND CALL

Melody’s finger hovered over the doorbell. Pushing it meant more than possibly waking some people up. It meant she had chosen a side.

She pressed the button and stepped back. Her heart began to accelerate. She wasn’t afraid of the door that was about to open. Rather, the one about to close.

“Who is it?”

“Melody Carver. I’m a friend of—”

“Come in,” said Ms. J, wearing a black chenille robe and clutching a balled-up tissue in her hands. She peered over Melody’s shoulder and then quickly locked the door with a chain. The back of her bob had been pulled into a squat ponytail, and mascara smudges marked her cheeks like Rorschach inkblots. Without her hard-edged Woody Allen glasses, she looked like a regular worried mom.

Melody peeked inside the dimly lit home. The dark funeral-parlor-style furniture seemed to sag more than Melody remembered. Like there was sadness in its dusty fibers. “Is Jackson home?”

She lifted the tissue to her lips and shook her head. “I was hoping you knew where he was. He should have been back already. And with everything that’s… I’m just worried, that’s all. It’s complicated.”

“I know.”

Ms. J smiled in appreciation of Melody’s sympathy.

“No.” Melody touched the soft chenille sleeve of her robe. “I mean, I know about Jackson.”

“Excuse me?” Her expression hardened.

“I know what happens to him when he sweats. I know what he becomes, and I know why.”

Ms. J’s hazel eyes became shifty. Like she couldn’t decide whether to club Melody over the head with a fire poker or run. “How? How do you know?”

“He told me,” she lied. “But don’t worry.” Melody took her hand. It was cold. “I won’t tell a soul. I’m here to help. I’ll find him.”

“Melody, you don’t understand what’s at stake if word about Jackson gets out. It’s more complicated than you know. More complicated than he knows. A lot of people could get hurt.”

“You have my word.” Melody raised her right palm, ready to commit. Not because she had a crush on him. Or because his kisses woke her insides like a bite of chocolate cheesecake. But because finding Jackson meant saving him from himself, and the “self” was Melody’s greatest adversary as well. The boyfriend-stealing monster, however, was Bekka’s fight. And if “friends first” was truly her credo, she’d understand.

Melody raced across the dark street to get her bike and a flashlight. Asking her parents or Candace for a ride would mean violating Ms. J’s trust. And she couldn’t do that. She wouldn’t do that. Finding Jackson and bringing him home safely was going to be her first big accomplishment. And it would have nothing to do with symmetry, noses, or being related to Candace. This rescue mission would show Melody what she was made of. As opposed to what Beau could make of her.

“How was the dance?” Glory called from the living room. She lifted her teacup off the side table and walked into the kitchen.

“It was good,” Melody said, following her. “Do we have a flashlight?”

Glory shook her head. “We’re using lanterns now. They’re in the garage in the plastic bin marked OUTDOOR LIGHTING. Candles should be in there too. Why?”

“I wanted to go for a little walk. The dance was stuffy, and it’s so hot in here.”

“Are you sure it’s safe?” Glory rolled her aqua-blue eyes. “The monsters are loose.” She placed her cup in the sink. “Can you believe it? It was all over the news.” She snickered. “You gotta love small-town living. They don’t know real monsters until they’ve visited our old neighborhood. Am I right?”

“Totally,” Melody said anxiously. “Okay, good night. I won’t be late.”

Glory blew her daughter a kiss and then headed for her bedroom.

Melody hurried for the door. Eager to start her search, she pulled it open and bashed right into Bekka. “Oh my god, what are you doing here? Is everything okay? How’s Brett?”

Did she sound as guilty as she felt?

“He’s stable. But he had a hysterical breakdown and can’t speak.”

Melody pulled Bekka in for a hug. Bekka allowed it, but she didn’t hug back. “You must be so worried.”

“I am,” Bekka said. “So, um, why aren’t you out looking for the monster?”

“I was actually just on my way out,” she said, proud of her non-lie.

“Good,” Bekka said, without the slightest sign of relief. “Here.” She handed Melody her khaki backpack. “You left this in my dad’s car.”

“Oh, thanks. You didn’t have to bring it by tonight.” Melody cringed at the unnaturally high pitch of her guilt-laced voice.

“You know my rule.” Bekka smirked. “Friends first.”

“Yup, friends first,” Melody repeated.

“Friends first.” Bekka smirked again.

Something had changed. It was more than the shock of seeing her boyfriend allegedly kiss a monster. More than Melody’s guilt for not chasing a special effect. The different thing wasn’t in the air. It was behind Bekka’s green eyes.

“You also left this in the car.” Bekka handed Melody her iPhone. But when Melody reached for it, Bekka pulled it back and double-tapped the screen. “Look what I stumbled upon.”

The video of Jackson turning into D.J. Hyde began to play.

“D.J.… D.J. Hyde. As in Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Just like my great-grandfather… who was super-freaky, by the way. I found some papers in our attic, and it looks like he did all these weird experiments with tonics back in the day—experiments on himself! After he drank these potions, he turned into quite a wild man. I’m not into drinking, but I do like a good dance party.… Got any music?”

Melody’s stomach lurched. Her mouth went dry. Her breathing was labored.

“You snooped?” she managed. It was all she could think of to say.

“No, Haylee did. She questioned your loyalty.”

Why didn’t I think to erase that? Melody could feel her heart beat in her brain as she thought of how Bekka’s discovery would affect Jackson and his mother. Bekka was no longer the friend who tipped her off to Brett’s scary pranks or brought her inhaler just in case. She was the enemy with a monstrous upper hand.

“Give it back,” Melody insisted.

“As soon as I e-mail the video to myself.” Bekka tapped the screen and waited for the confirmation.

Boop.

“Here you go.” She smacked the iPhone down in Melody’s icy palm.

“That video was a joke,” Melody tried. “We were making a movie. Like Brett’s!”

“Lies!” Bekka snapped her fingers. Haylee appeared from the side of the porch. The dutiful helper opened her green attaché and pulled out Melody’s signed contract. The one that said she would never flirt with Brett Redding, hook up with Brett Redding, or fail to pummel any girl who does hook up with Brett Redding. She tore it to confetti and then scattered it all over the DID YOU REMEMBER TO WIPE? doormat.

It hurt much more than Melody had ever expected it would. In spite of all their quirks, she really liked Bekka and Haylee. They were her first real friends.

“Bekka, I am so—”

Haylee presented another document.

“Silence, monster sympathizer,” she snapped. “You obviously hang with that crowd, so you obviously know where she is.”

“Bekka, I don’t, I swear,” Melody pleaded. “I don’t even believe this monster girl is real.”

“I know what I saw.” Bekka took the document from Haylee and handed it to Melody. “You have forty-eight hours to find her. Failure to do so will lead to a video leak of Paris Hilton proportions.”

Haylee handed her the silver-and-red ballpoint.

“I’m not signing this.” Melody stepped back.

“Then I’ll leak it now. It’s your choice.”

Melody grabbed the pen and scribbled her name at the bottom.

“Date it,” Haylee insisted.

This time, Melody pressed so hard she punctured the page.

Haylee pulled a yellow egg timer from her case and turned the dial all the way to one hour.

Tick-tick-tick-tick-tick…

“Forty-seven more turns and we’re coming for you,” Bekka said.

Haylee lifted her case, and the girls stomped down the steps toward Mr. Madden’s Cadillac.

Tick-tick-tick-tick-tick…

They pulled away, leaving Melody with an unobstructed view of Jackson’s cottage. The cheery facade looked back at her with the warmth of a trusting puppy—a puppy she was about to put to sleep.