Prologue
Don’t Let the Monsters Get You
Lavender
Age 6
“IT’S SUPER FUN in there, Lavender. You’re going to love it!” my big brother Maverick assures me with a grin and a wink.
I smile back up at him. He thinks everything is fun, and most of the time he’s right.
“The mirrors are the best!” Kodiak announces. He’s Maverick’s best friend, but he’s my friend too. “We’ll make sure you have a great time.”
I nod and wrap my arms around myself, trying to keep my shiver of worry inside, but it doesn’t work.
“Lavender, honey, are you cold?” Daddy asks. “Where’s your jacket?”
Mommy checks her purse. “We must have left it in the car. I can run back and get it. I’ll only be a minute.”
“Ah, man,” Maverick mutters. He’s quiet enough that our parents don’t hear, but I do. His frustration is a thick blanket, heavy on my shoulders. Maverick doesn’t like to wait, and they’ve already spent five minutes trying to convince me to come with them.
“It’s okay. She can wear my hoodie.” Kodiak unties it from around his waist and holds it out to me.
I take it with a small smile and slide my arms through the soft fabric. It’s warm and smells like laundry detergent. The hoodie has the hockey logo from the team my daddy coaches and Kodiak’s daddy plays for. I slip my hands into the pockets, and my fingers brush candies and a few empty wrappers. Kodiak always has Jolly Ranchers. They’re his favorite. My favorite are the marshmallows in Lucky Charms, even though it’s really cereal, not a candy.
“You’re sure you want to go?” Mommy asks quietly as she helps me roll up the sleeves.
I nod, but don’t use my words. I don’t trust my voice right now. Besides, Mommy said we could have funnel cake after the fun house, and I don’t want to be the reason we don’t get to.
Mommy and Daddy look at each other. They talk without words all the time. Me and River do that too. It’s different because River is my twin, but also the same in a lot of ways. We don’t always have to use words to know how the other feels, which is good since sometimes my words get stuck in my mouth.
“River, you keep hold of Lavender’s hand the entire time, okay? That’s your job,” Daddy says in his firm voice. “You hold her hand the whole time.”
It’s the voice he uses with River a lot, but he never uses it with me.
“I hold Lavender’s hand. I don’t let go. I keep her safe,” River repeats.
Daddy nods solemnly and turns to me, his expression shifting. His face is like a fresh marshmallow, softening, so much nicer. “You tell River if you don’t like it in there, okay? Robbie, Mav, and Kody will be with you.”
I nod and whisper okay. Daddy kisses me on the forehead and grips River’s shoulder. “Take care of your sister, and stay with your brothers.”
River nods and holds my hand so tight, it almost feels like the bones are bending. I want to tell him it hurts, but everyone is running toward the fun house, and I don’t want to ruin it, even though I’m already frightened.
Everything scares me.
Too much noise. Too many people. Especially too many people I don’t know.
There are a few people and things that make me feel safe.
Most of the time River is one of them, but tonight I feel like I’m on a merry-go-round and there’s no way off. I want to have fun. I want River to have fun. But the noises and the people are too much.
I stick close and hold his hand tight. My palm is damp and slippery. I feel cold and hot.
I should tell him I want to go back and stay with Mommy and Daddy, but it’s too loud and my voice is stuck. I remind myself that after this, there will be a treat, and I’ll be back where I feel the safest. And I like how proud Daddy looked when I said I wanted to go inside the fun house.
Robbie, Maverick, and Kodiak rush ahead, moving through a maze of mirrors. Kodiak looks over his shoulder, brows pinching together. He grabs Mav’s shirt and tries to get him to slow down, while River rushes to keep up with them. Maverick laughs and disappears around a corner. Kodiak hesitates, looking back one last time before he disappears too, and River urges me to move faster.
I bump into my own reflection and grip River’s hand even tighter. We’re reflected all over the place. River’s eyes are bright with excitement, his smile wide. “You’re okay, right?” he asks, eyes still focused ahead, to whatever lies around the corner.
I nod, because there’s loud music and he won’t be able to hear me. When we move away from the mirrors, some of the fear disappears, but then we have to walk through a bunch of what look like Daddy’s punching bags in our gym at home, except they have clown faces on them. I don’t like those, so I close my eyes and let River pull me along. I bump into things, and someone bangs into me from behind. I stumble and lose my grip on River, falling to my knees. Someone trips over me and a foot hits my side, so I scramble to get out of the way.
There are flashing lights in here, and every time they flicker on and off, it makes it hard to figure out which way I’m supposed to go. The hanging clowns swing above me, knocking me over when I try to stand.
River is calling my name, but my fear makes the world murky and unclear, and I feel like I’m underwater. I can’t breathe, or see, or speak anymore.
This is why Daddy wanted River to hold my hand the whole time. When I get scared, my words get stuck, and I feel frozen. It makes it hard to find me, especially in a place like this. The panic monster gets bigger in my head, taking up all the space, and I suck in shallow breaths. I try to remember all the things my art teacher, Queenie, tells me to do, but my mind is racing, racing, racing, and all I want is my mommy and not to be here anymore.
I scramble away from the feet and the bigger kids stomping and pushing their way between the hanging clowns. I bump my cheek on something hard. It brings tears to my eyes, but when I look up, I see a door with a sign that reads EMPLOYEES ONLY. I don’t know what that means, but I decide I would rather get in trouble than stay in here. I turn the knob and peek through the crack. It’s a hallway and stairs. I glance over my shoulder at the hanging clowns. I can’t go back through there.
I step out into the hallway. I feel better and worse. I just want my mommy. I want to go home and snuggle in bed with her and Daddy where it’s safest.
The walls in the hallway are yellow and dirty. People have written on them in marker. I hurry toward the stairs and stumble again, falling on my bottom and sliding down a few of the steps. They’re dirty and wet, and now so are my clothes. Tears prick my eyes because my mommy made me this dress, and I don’t want it to be ruined.
There’s a big door at the bottom of the steps. It’s red, but the paint is flaking, exposing brown underneath. It looks like dried and fresh blood. In the corner is a chipmunk, scratching at the door, trying to get through a small crack. We have chipmunks up at the cottage where we go in the summer. We feed them peanuts, and they’re so friendly, they climb right in our laps to get them. But my mommy always makes sure we don’t touch our faces, and we wash our hands after we feed them. I think this one is too scared to be friendly. He wants out, just like me.
“Hi, little guy.” My voice is barely a whisper. “I can open the door for you.”