Read The Game of Boys and Monsters for Free Online

“What’s happened?” he asked.
    But I shook my head. “Not now. I can’t,” I said, and walked away.
    I tried visiting her house in the afternoon, but all the lights were out and nobody answered.
    When I called Evy’s cell, I got her message. It hurt to hear her voice, recorded months and months ago, sounding so Evy, so alive. When it beeped, I almost hung up right then, but I listened to the silence for a second or two, and then said all I knew for sure to say: “It’s me, Les.”
    When I called Evy’s house, her mom seemed confused—maybe she was drunk, but I didn’t think that was all. She said, “Evy? I don’t know who you’re talking about. Are you . . . Are you a prank caller? I report prank callers.”
    I hung up, and I didn’t call back.
    That night, I borrowed Mom’s car, told her I was going to study with Ben, and drove down to the Thorn Bridge. I parked with the high beams on to light up the dark tunnel at least partway, and I grabbed Mom’s giant Maglite from the glove box.
    I found I didn’t want to make any noise even though the lights blazoned my presence, and I left the door hanging open so as not to have to slam it shut. I stepped onto the gravel road and listened.
    The forest animals were having a party. There were chirrups and rustlings, singsongs and creakings. A barred owl called his “Who-who-huh-WHO-owl!”
    On any other night, I would have answered the owl’s call, to bring him closer, keep him going, but this night, my voice froze in my throat.
    The sheer amount of noise told me no one else was near.
    I had to step onto the Thorn Bridge.
    At night, with the headlamps picking out every bit of moisture swirling in the air and making the shadows darker, it felt even more haunted. But it wasn’t just the light. The place had an aura about it, extra energy—it was simply the feeling, I realized, of another person, or persons, present and watching. That no one—no one visible—was there made the feeling uncanny.
    With my first step onto the bridge’s wood floor, a wave of vertigo made me put a hand to the wall. The planks where I stood lay over solid earth—safe.
    I steadied myself and kept going, letting my fingers feel along all the carvings in the wall. When I got to where I thought my carving should be, I started searching with the Maglite.
    It was right in front of me, the sideways figure eight with an E. and an L. inside.
    Except something had changed.
    The swooping curves of the infinity symbol, which I had been so careful to make curves and not slashing straight lines, were wet, shiny, and black under the harsh light.
    I reached up and touched the shape I had made. Against my skin, the blood showed up for what it was. But whose?
    Evy’s? Had she found my gesture and signed it in blood?
    I wiped my finger against the rough wall, the blood mingling with dust—not really coming off, just blending.
    I rubbed my finger against my jeans.
    And then a rush of air made me swing my light to the opposite end of the Thorn Bridge.
    They stood in a row, the three of them, Jack and Evy and Hap.
    Each one had a wide stance, and their faces—at this distance, the light couldn’t show me details, but their faces seemed sharper, eyes blacker. There was no reflection of light, I realized. Their eyes soaked it up.
    â€œYou came,” Evy said. “To see me off? That’s sweet.”
    Her voice was hoarse, shredded, but she sounded more alert than she had in weeks.
    I felt self-conscious about the blood on my finger, as if she could tell from that distance, see in the dark, scent across space, or read my mind. Who knew what this new Evy could do?
    â€œWhere are you going?” I said dumbly.
    Evy smiled, and I tried to see her teeth.
    Within a second, she was on me, had taken the light from my hand and tossed it behind her to Hap, who caught it without even taking a step