The Monster's Ring

  Eddie’s Revenge

  “Now, class, if a vampire has three quarts on deposit at the blood bank, and he takes out a pint and a half, how many cups are left?”

  Russell smiled. For a fifth-grade teacher, Miss Snergal wasn’t bad.

  In fact, the whole week had been all right, considering how it had started. Sure, Henry “The Beast” Rafschnitz had been keeping a close eye on him. But Russell had been his usual quiet self ever since the cafeteria incident, so that was no problem. And he had actually gotten the feeling from Miss Snergal that she was pleased he had stood up to Eddie.

  As for Eddie himself, he seemed to be avoiding Russell. Had he been put off by the tough talk outside the cafeteria doors? Whatever the reason, Russell enjoyed the freedom from fear, while it lasted.

  But the best thing about the week was that Halloween was so close. With its delicious spookiness, the sense of magic in the air, All Hallows’ Eve was Russell’s favorite holiday, better even than Christmas.

  Of course, its arrival meant he did have to deal with his mother’s usual reaction to anything involving lots of sweets. (“Eat all that sugar, Russell, and you’ll have so many holes in your mouth you could pump air through it and play ‘Hail, Columbia’ on your teeth!”) But he was used to that. Besides, for him, Halloween wasn’t candy. It was mystery. Mystery, and a strange tingle, and dreams of ghosts and witches.

  And—this year—a perfect opportunity to use his ring.

  Friday, the day of the class party, arrived at last. In the morning, Russell carefully packed a grocery sack with some old clothes he had snatched from the ragbag. Then he put his books on top of them so nobody would see his “costume.” Finally, he slipped the ring into his pocket and glanced over the instruction sheet to make sure he had the chants firmly in mind. Then he hurried downstairs and slipped into his spot at the breakfast table.

  “What’s that, Russell?” asked his mother, pointing at the bag.

  “Just some stuff,” he said with a shrug.

  She pursed her lips. “So you’re going to wear a costume?”

  Sherlock Mother strikes again, thought Russell.

  “Now, Marge,” said his father. “I wore a costume when I was in fifth grade. Halloween was a big thing for us. I’m glad Russ is going to dress up. There’s a lot to be said for Halloween. Good for the imagination. Encourages kids to let their minds wander in fresh fields for a while. It even makes me stop to think. Didn’t you ever wonder what else might be in this world we live in? What hidden marvels we might be missing? Do we know all there is to know? I hardly think so.”

  Russell listened in astonishment as Mr. Crannaker rambled on. He could not remember the last time his father had actually contradicted his mother. Usually they just talked about completely different things.

  Finishing his breakfast, he pushed himself away from the table. His mother started to say something but was overwhelmed by the flow of his father’s words.

  Russell paused at the door and glanced back at the table. His father, still talking, winked at him. Suddenly Russell understood what was happening: His father was making this entire speech just to keep his mother off his back! He wanted to run to him and hug him. He started back toward the table, but his father made a little gesture with his hand, indicating that Russell should get while the getting was good.

  A minute later he was on his bike, heading for school and feeling wonderful. This was going to be the greatest Halloween party of his life.

  “Going someplace, Crannaker?”

  Russell looked up, and his pleasant dreams came crashing down around him.

  Eddie was standing in front of him. His bike was drawn across the sidewalk, blocking Russell’s path.

  Russell looked around for help. There was none in sight—no one to stop Eddie from turning him into a pulp.

  Eddie grinned. “I owe you one, Crannaker.”

  He let his bike fall and took a step toward Russell.

  Russell fumbled for the ring. He pulled it from his pocket, started to put it on.

  Whack! Eddie knocked the ring from his hand.

  “Hey!” cried Russell, diving for it.

  “Come here, twerp,” yelled Eddie. He leaped after Russell. Just as Russell reached the ring, Eddie landed on top of him with a crashing thump. Russell’s fingers knocked against the ring. It skittered over the curb and into the gutter.

  “Get off me, you rotten bully!” screamed Russell.

  Eddie laughed. “So you’re not as tough as you thought, huh, Crannaker?”

  Then he mashed Russell’s face into the grass.

  “Leave me alone!” cried Russell. But all that came out was “Leemealun!”

  Frustrated, he began to kick wildly. He felt his right foot connect with Eddie’s back.

  “Oh, you wanna get rough, huh?” screamed Eddie. He smashed Russell a good one, knocking the breath completely out of him.

  Then he climbed off.

  “Remember that the next time you’re thinking of calling me a bozo, Crannaker.”

  Wiping his hands in satisfaction, Eddie hopped on his bike and rode off.

  Russell rolled over and sat up. Eddie was gone, and the golden morning with him. All that remained was a burning sense of humiliation, and a fierce anger that raged in Russell’s heart. He beat his fists against the ground. He wanted to go after Eddie, drag him off that bike, pound his stupid, ugly face in.

  But he wouldn’t, because he was afraid.

  Finally, Russell crawled to the edge of the gutter, hoping desperately that the ring was still there, hadn’t fallen into some unreachable place.

  He couldn’t spot it at first, and began to fear it had just mysteriously disappeared. But at last he noticed a bit of green sticking out of a small puddle. It was the upper edge of the monster-carved stone.

  He picked up the ring, dried it on his shirt, then put it in his pocket.

  He began to sob.

  When the pain had diminished, he picked himself up and pedaled home to get ready for school all over again.

  Russell’s mother fussed over him as if his wounds had been made by bullets instead of fists.

  “Why does this boy beat up on you, anyway, Russell?” she asked as she was driving him to school.

  Russell shrugged. “He hates me.”

  “Why does he hate you?”

  “He hates everyone, I guess.”

  “That’s too bad. Why don’t you try to make friends with him?”

  Russell looked at his mother in astonishment. She had to be kidding. “Make friends with Eddie? He’d kill me, Ma.”

  “I don’t think so, Russell. The next time he wants to fight, just stick out your hand and say, ‘Let’s be friends.’ You might be surprised at what happens.”

  “Yeah. Big surprise. He turns me into applesauce.”

  But Russell thought about his mother’s words throughout the morning. One thing was certain: It would take as much guts to shake hands with Eddie as it would to punch him. Russell didn’t think he could do it.

  Anyway, he wasn’t at all sure he wanted to make friends with someone who had just about killed him a few hours ago.

  Russell’s anger simmered within him through the day. And it was a long day. The hours seemed to drag. All he could think of was the party, and using the ring once more.

  At last it was time to put on the costumes. Miss Snergal sent those kids who had a lot of changing to do out of the room.

  Jack and Jimmy went with Russell to the big bathroom down the hall. (Jimmy had decided against being a pimple. He was dressing up like broccoli, instead. He said it was the most frightening thing he could think of.)

  While Jack and Jimmy were putting on their costumes, Russell went into one of the toilet stalls. He slipped out of his school clothes, then donned the ragged shirt and trousers he had brought. Next he put on a pair of dirty, worn-down work boots that used to belong to his cousin Sidney. When everything was in place, he took out the ring and slipped it onto his finger.

/>   He stared at it for a moment, wondering who had made it. The monster on top seemed to be looking back at him.

  Suddenly Russell was more eager than ever to be a monster himself. His thoughts went back to that morning. Immediately his anger at Eddie welled up again. With it came an aching urge for revenge.

  He made his decision.

  Taking firm hold of the ring, Russell chanted the verse from the instruction sheet.

  As he did, he turned the ring.

  Twice.

  SIX

  Double Whammy

  Russell felt as if he had been kicked by a mule then dropped into a vat of ice water. Everything that had happened before was happening again, but twice as fast. He grew hot and cold by turns. There was a terrible itching under his skin, almost as if something were crawling around just beneath the surface. He could feel horns and hair bursting through.

  Though he was vibrating with energy, he forced himself to wait. He couldn’t leave the stall before the change was done. It wouldn’t do to have Jack and Jimmy see his horns growing right before their eyes!

  “Hey, Russell!” yelled Jack. “Hurry up! We’re ready to go!”

  “I’m coming,” he growled. “Hold your horses.”

  He touched his horns. They had stopped growing. He looked at his hands. They were covered with thick black fur. Suddenly his fingernails began to morph into sharp claws. He watched them curl down from the fingertips, fierce and shiny.

  He waited another moment, to see if there were any more changes, then stepped out of the stall.

  “Holy Moses!” cried Jack. “That’s incredible, Russell!”

  “Where did you get it?” yelled Jimmy.

  Russell was delighted to hear the jealousy in their voices. His “costume” was the kind of thing every kid dreamed of.

  He shrugged. “I made it—from stuff we had around the house.”

  He sounded like a gorilla with a sore throat.

  Jack and Jimmy gaped. “How did you do that voice?” Jack cried.

  Russell smiled. “It’s a secret.”

  He stepped to the mirror to examine himself and almost screamed.

  He was ten times as ghastly now as he had been after the first change. His horns were longer and a brilliant fire-red. Hair sprang out all around his head, almost like a lion’s mane. His nose was flat and shiny. And large fangs gleamed in his mouth—sharp things, deadly looking, made for ripping and tearing.

  He remembered the lines on the instruction sheet:

  Twist it once, you’re horned and haired;

  Twist it twice and fangs are bared.

  But it was his eyes that really did the trick. They seemed to be twice their normal size and set more deeply into his head. Dark, evil-looking rings surrounded them, and thick, bloodshot lines ran in from the corners. Most incredible of all, the irises had turned red!

  “Come on, Russell!” urged Jack. “I can’t wait for Miss Snergal to see this!”

  He threw his arm around Russell’s shoulder. Jimmy did the same thing. This monster was theirs.

  Russell was delighted. But as they were walking toward their classroom, something happened that should have made him worry. Without warning, without knowing why, he lifted his head and let out a long, mournful howl that echoed down the corridor.

  Doors flew open and heads popped out as teachers looked for the source of the sound. Their faces were priceless. Jack almost fell over laughing, and Jimmy had to hold on to Russell’s arm to support himself.

  Outside their own room, they paused to prepare a grand entry. Jack swung the door open. Jimmy stepped in and bowed. “Ladies and gentlemen!” he cried. “Allow me to present to you the real Beast of Boardman Road!”

  Russell was supposed to step into the room and stand there so everyone could ooh and ah over his fantastic costume. At least, that was the plan. Instead, without even intending to, he leaped through the door, growling ferociously. A second leap and he was crouching atop Missy Freebaker’s desk, snarling fiercely. He turned warily about, baring his fangs, ready to attack the first thing that moved.

  His effect on the class was electric. The girls screamed, half of them because they loved screaming, the other half because they were genuinely frightened.

  The boys squeaked.

  Missy bolted from her desk and ran to Miss Snergal.

  The teacher clapped her hands and suddenly the spell of terror was broken. “All right,” she said. “That’s enough. Settle down, everyone. Russell, that is certainly the most magnificent costume I have ever seen. But it does not justify this outrageous behavior. Get to your seat. Now!”

  Russell shook his head. He looked around and saw the horrified faces of his classmates.

  “Sorry, Miss Snergal. I got carried away.”

  She jumped at the sound of his voice.

  “I should say so,” she said, looking at him curiously.

  Suddenly the class came to life. Before Russell could get down from the desk, they surged forward to examine him.

  “Take off the mask, Russ!” said Georgie Smud. “I want to see how it fastens on.”

  “How’d you do the ears?” cried someone else.

  “Where did you get those teeth?”

  “Tell me how you put on the fur!”

  “Now, class,” said Miss Snergal, “perhaps Russell has some professional secrets that he would rather not divulge.” She gave Russell a wink.

  He smiled back, showing her a mouthful of fangs.

  She looked startled, but went on addressing the class. “Clear your desks, everyone. As soon as the parade’s over, we’ll have our party.”

  A cheer went up. Before long they were heading outside for the schoolwide costume parade. The kids not in costume were to sit on the curb of the traffic circle in front of the school while the rest of the kids—namely, all of the first and second graders, most of the thirds, about half of the fourths, and a handful of the fifths—went on parade to display their costumes.

  Russell, Jack, and Jimmy took their places near the end of the line.

  The parents cheered and clapped at Russell’s “costume.” But when Mr. Rafschnitz approached to award him first prize, the hair on the back of his neck stood up and his lip began to curl. A snarl was welling up in his throat and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Stretching out his claws, he began to snap at Mr. Rafschnitz.

  The principal looked horrified—and it was not an act.

  It was Jack who saved the day. Thinking that Russell was playing, he decided to get in on the fun. “Down, boy!” he shouted. “Down! Supper is waiting in the dungeon. Down. Down, beast!”

  Russell gave Mr. Rafschnitz a snarl for good measure, accepted the blue ribbon, then let Jack lead him away.

  “I’ve got to hand it to you, Russell,” said Jack, once they were back inside. “You’ve got more guts than I have. No one else would have dared to growl at The Beast like that, not even Eddie.”

  They followed the class back to their room. When Russell bounded through the door, Mrs. Elmore, the room mother, took one look at him and almost dropped the tray of cookies she was carrying.

  The party started. The kids swarmed to the goodies like starving hamsters let loose in a vegetable bin. But Russell wasn’t interested. He did try a candy pumpkin, but it stuck in his fangs, and after that he just sat there growling and snorting.

  It was the games that really started the trouble. The first hint of disaster came when they played Bite the Apple. Mrs. Elmore had threaded apples on strings and hung them from the ceiling. The kids were supposed to stand face-to-face and try to catch the apples with their teeth.

  Russell was teamed with Frieda Mollis. When the apple slipped away from him, he got angry and started snapping at it. Then he started snapping at Frieda. She screamed. Miss Snergal ran over, crying, “Really, Russell, you must control yourself!”

  “Sorry,” he growled.

  But he wasn’t. He had enjoyed it. He wanted to growl and snap some more.

 
He wanted to run around and howl.

  He wanted to scare the living daylights out of people!

  And he got his chance. The next game was called Ugly Face. The class split into two lines facing each other. Then everyone had to make the ugliest face they could. Whoever laughed was out.

  Russell thought this was a good idea. When the game started, he looked at Georgie Smud and curled his lips. Georgie didn’t laugh. In fact, she looked scared. That was fine with Russell. He curled his lips even more and snarled. Georgie yelled. Russell began to jump up and down. He ran along the line, snarling and growling, trying to scare the entire other team at once.

  “Russell!”

  Miss Snergal again.

  He held in his growl and bowed his head.

  “Sorry.”

  “Just watch it.” She turned to face the rest of the class. “I think it’s time for the story.”

  Everyone cheered. Halloween was the best day of the year for stories, and Miss Snergal had already explained her plans to them.

  First she drew the blinds and turned off the lights. Then she lit the jack-o’-lantern. Wrapping a cape around her shoulders, she hobbled to a corner and sat down. She crooked a finger and said in a creaky voice, “Come, children. Come to the Halloween corner to hear a tale of terror.”

  She was a good actress, and the combination of the dark, her voice, and the day made it easy to pretend that she really was a wicked witch.

  “Once upon a time, there was a witch who lived in a cottage in the forest. Late at night, when the moon was high and shining on her hut, she would dance around her crackling fire and stir her bubbling cauldron.”

  Russell, who was sitting on a desk toward the back of the group, felt a howl begin to bubble inside him.

  “One day a handsome prince came riding up to the cottage. He was dressed all in white and carried a sword at his side.”

  Russell’s lip began to curl as he took an instant dislike to the handsome prince.

  When the witch gave the prince a magic sword in place of his regular one and sent him on a quest for a monster, Russell began to squirm.