Valentina Salazar is not a Monster Hunter Read online

  “Oh.” I don’t know why, but I felt my eyes burn. I blinked super fast as I took my plate to the sink and washed it clean.

  “I know you wanted this monster to be real,” Lola said softly. “But even if it was, it’s not an excuse to trick us. Besides, that’s not our problem anymore. You can’t keep doing this. You can’t keep looking for monsters when there aren’t any.”

  I looked to Rome for some support, but his face was scrunched up with that little frown between his brows. All he said was “We promised when we moved here that we were done with that—stuff. ”

  How could Rome call our life’s work stuff? Like it was the tricycle we all outgrew or the camping gear we hadn’t touched for eight months.

  “I didn’t.” My voice felt small and tight.

  At that moment the front door opened and Ms. McCall’s tense voice called out, “Hello?”

  Rome put his headphones back on, and Lola poured Mom’s coffee into a silver travel mug, then filled a second one, which she offered to Ms. McCall. After several months of the same routine, Lola had timed it down to the moment when Ms. McCall stepped into the kitchen. She thanked my sister and took a quick sip.

  “Sorry for barging in,” Mom’s friend said, as usual. Her green eyes darted around the kitchen like she was waiting for a zombie to appear or something. She always looked nervous coming here, and I wondered if she was secretly hoping to find out if the rumors about the Salazars being “witches” and “occult chicken worshippers” were true. She took a sip of the coffee and sighed like she was getting a video game power boost.

  Lola turned on the sweet smile she reserved for teachers and adults. “Mom’s getting ready.”

  “Good stuff,” Ms. McCall said, and I could swear her eye twitched. “Another ten minutes and we’re going to be late.”

  Ms. McCall worked with Mom at some fashion magazine in Manhattan. Her silky black clothes looked out of place in our kitchen, with the terrariums hanging from the windows, orange wallpaper, and pictures of Great-Aunt Hercilia’s cats, which were buried in the backyard pet cemetery. I caught Rome staring at her, and his cheeks turned pink. He got up and offered her his seat, then quickly washed his dish.

  “Thanks, sweetheart,” she said, and rested her purse on her lap. “I used to wear that same uniform, Lola. Go Grizzlies!”

  Lola repeated the chant and finally sat down to eat. She glanced at her watch, then nervously eyed the kitchen entrance. Mom was always running late, but that day she seemed unusually flustered. “It’s so funny that they’d choose a grizzly as the mascot. There aren’t even grizzlies in the neighborhood.”

  “Funny isn’t the word I’d use,” I muttered. “This place is called Missing Mountain and there isn’t even a mountain. Like, how does a mountain go missing?”

  “That’s part of the charm, dear.”

  “What charm?” Everyone who lived in Missing Mountain called it charming, but what was I missing? Lola glared at me. I knew we weren’t supposed to be rude in front of guests, so I kept quiet.

  Ms. McCall grinned but ignored me and pointed to Lola’s wrist. “What a beautiful piece. Is it vintage?”

  Lola chuckled nervously. The watch was more than vintage and it did more than tell the time, not that we could tell Ms. McCall that. “Sort of. It’s a family heirloom.”

  “Like Valentina’s signet ring,” Ms. McCall said.

  I snatched my hand away before she could try to inspect the family ring on my middle finger.

  “Exactly,” Lola said.

  I wanted to tell Lola that she was lying by omission to Ms. McCall’s face, and how was that any different from me trying to get them to take me to the lake? I get it. Fine, I shouldn’t have tried to trick them, but it was my last resort. And anyway, I wasn’t going to do any monster-related tracking or research, honest. We could rent a canoe and while we were there I could investigate the claim. That was all. Mom always said that multitasking was a skill.

  Speaking of Mom, Ms. McCall was drumming her fingers anxiously on the table and checking her phone when Mom darted into the hall. Even all those months later, I still wasn’t used to seeing her in business work clothes. She wore a navy-blue pantsuit, delicate pearl earrings, and a tiny ruby on a thin gold chain. That necklace was the only thing about the Before Times that was the same. Dad had given it to her, and she never took it off. Her black hair was swept into a low bun, and two wavy strands framed her face. She didn’t wear any makeup, except for mascara, which made her long lashes look like spider legs. Her honey brown skin was smooth, but I noticed the dark circles under her eyes, like she hadn’t slept at all. Again.

  I missed what I thought of as the Before Times Mom, with her blue leather jacket and vintage shirts. The mom who could recite poems from memory and break down a campsite in less than five minutes. My mind couldn’t make the Before and After fit.

  “Lauren!” Mom said, hurrying into the kitchen. She kissed Rome on his forehead, and he rolled his eyes. Then Lola, then me, and finally she squeezed Ms. McCall into a hug. “I’m so sorry I’m late. It’s been a day.”

  I wanted to point out that she’d been giving the same excuse for eight months’ worth of days, but I decided to be good.

  Ms. McCall wasted no time in hurrying them out the door. Mom called out a final “Be good! See you at dinner!”

  In the Before Times, Mom did work, but she was an “environmental law consultant” and she did it over the phone and in her pajamas. In the After Times, she wore fancy suits and made sure her magazine didn’t get sued.

  I guess everyone in my family was different now, even my sister Andromeda. You might have noticed that she wasn’t in the house. You see, a few months ago, Andie ran away to go live with our uncle and the hunters. Mom kept saying that Andie needed time. But it had been eight months since Dad’s funeral, and she hadn’t come back. Things weren’t how they used to be, but they also weren’t getting any better, in my opinion, even though no one seemed to ask for my opinion.

  Lola handed her dish to Rome and he washed it. That was the rule. Whoever cooked didn’t have to clean up. My sister turned to me and raised her brow. I was still sipping on my coffee and pouting as I reread the Gazette article about the prank.

  “What?” I slathered honey and jam on a piece of toast.

  “You just ate,” Lola said. “And you have ten minutes to get ready or you’re walking to school with your nemesis.”

  “Fine. I’ll be ready in two seconds,” I assured her. “But what about the lake? If the monster is a hoax, then you won’t have to worry about me looking for a mission.”

  “I don’t know, Val—”

  “Please. Pretty please. I won’t bother you for the rest of the summer. You can go back to whatever you do that doesn’t include me.”

  “That’s not—” Lola started, but she stopped and stared at Rome and me. For a split second, her eyes filled with sadness, but she tried to play it off. What did Lola have to be sad about? Her life in Missing Mountain was perfect. Then she finally relented and said, “If we make it to school on time, we’ll go to the lake after.”

  I raised fists of victory in the air. “Yes!”

  Rome held up his finger, looking more like Mom than he ever had before. “Just for canoeing.”

  “And corn dogs and sundaes,” I added. “All that canoeing works up an appetite.”

  Lola sighed and held out her hand for me to shake. “Deal.”

  I ran upstairs, taking the steps three at a time. I left the slice of honey toast on my dresser, then hurried to our shared bathroom. I put on a shower cap and took a fast shower, then brushed my teeth. I used Lola’s lotion, the kind that smelled like peaches and flowers, even though she wrote DO NOT TOUCH on it with black marker. It’s not my fault that it smelled so good. Plus, I was kind of mad at her for discovering my original plan.

  When I returned to my room, the toast was gone. Only crumbs were left behind.

  But I wasn’t worried about that. I was too excited tha
t we were going to the lake after school. I yanked on my favorite T-shirt. It was from a gift shop in Missoula, Montana, and it said I BELIEVE in neon-green letters and had spaceships and moons and stars and rainbows on it. I hopped into my jeans, smelled the socks on the ground, and found two mismatched ones that didn’t stink.

  “We’re heading out the door!” Lola shouted, then sneezed loudly. “Ticktock!”

  I snatched my backpack from my bed and slid down the banister. I landed in front of the shoe rack and tugged on my sneakers.

  “Burp!” said a little high-pitched voice. It wasn’t Lola or Rome and it definitely wasn’t me, honest.

  “Excuse you.” Lola laughed, pulling on her backpack.

  “Sorry.” I chuckled, taking the blame.

  We filed out the door. Lola locked up, and I let go of the breath caught in my chest. I leapt down the porch steps and landed in the tall, unkept grass in front of our house. I could feel something—someone—moving in my backpack.

  Lola might have found out one of my secrets by uncovering my hiding spot, but I had another one. A secret my family couldn’t find out about. Ever. A secret that broke one of the first rules of the Salazar handbook.

  You know how I said that my family protects monsters? Well, that’s mostly true. We find them, save them, and help them get back to their realm—Finisterra.

  Confession #4: I kept one.

  I should have known things were going to go downhill from there when the first people I saw on the way to school were Maritza Vega and her friends. They were dressed in brand-new matching purple outfits. When she saw me, Maritza trained her stare on my messy hair, then my sneakers, and rolled her blue eyes.

  Here’s the thing about Maritza. She likes to talk about people really loudly, to make sure everyone hears the mean things she says. I didn’t really see the point. Why not just say something to someone’s face?

  “Surprise, surprise,” Maritza said. “Another bargain bin cartoon T-shirt.”

  “How is she even related to Lola, who’s, like, the coolest human ever?” Harmony asked.

  “And Rome,” Sunny said, and made a little sighing noise, like a balloon that let out all its air at once. “He’s so dreamy.”

  I did what Mom told me to do. Be the bigger person. Ignore them! I tugged on the straps of my backpack and felt movement within—and a tiny little growl.

  “Let me at ’em!” said the high-pitched voice coming from my backpack.

  “Shhh,” I hissed, and walked faster. But not as fast as Lola and Rome, who were vanishing down the street.

  I tried to catch up with them, but they had longer legs and didn’t even wait for me. Typical. Besides, when we turned the corner, Lola’s cheerleading squad absorbed her into their hive, and Rome blended in with the other angry kids sporting big headphones dressed in all black. It gave Maritza and her friends time to catch up to me right at the steps to the school. It was even too late for me to blend into the groups of Missing Mountain kids trying to make the first bell.

  “Who is she always whispering to?” Harmony Holiday asked.

  “Didn’t you know?” Sunny Ramnarine said. “Ghosts are real.”

  “I believe.” Maritza made her voice all funny, and when I turned around to look at her, she was holding her index fingers on top of her head like antennas.

  In the Before Times, I never had to deal with bullies at school because we didn’t have to go to real school. Since ignoring them wasn’t working, I turned around and confronted them, just like Rome said. Although Rome used different words that forced him to add his entire allowance to the swear jar.

  “I do believe,” I told them.

  If Lola and Rome had waited for me, this never would have happened. Though, if they were with me, they wouldn’t approve of me talking about monsters to regular kids. Another rule of being a Salazar protector was secrecy. But these girls already thought I was weird. I figured I’d just lean into my best quality.

  The trio of girls stopped. They glanced around, but the kids just parted around us and went inside the building. I hopped up on the bottom step and leaned against the railing.

  “If you knew everything I do, you wouldn’t get out of bed. You’d go to sleep every night with a flashlight under your pillow because there are monsters out there, real ones that are waiting to bite your toes and fingers off. There are creatures that used to be part of another world, but they’re stuck here and can’t get home. They hide in forests and in lakes. They can see you when you’re not looking. Some of them are sweet and friendly. Others … well, consider yourself lucky that you don’t believe.”

  For a moment I saw a flash of fear in their eyes. But then I realized they weren’t looking at me. They were looking past me. Slowly, I glanced over my shoulder to find Principal Connolly. Before him, I’d never had a principal, so I don’t know what they’re like at other schools. But Principal Connolly always looked like he’d just watched a pigeon fly into his office and poop in his sugar-free Cream of Wheat. He had thinning curly hair the color of dead grass. His eyes were always scrunched up, like the sun was in his face. I don’t think I’d ever seen him without his arms crossed over his chest. You know what I mean. When grown-ups get real mad and they cross their arms and tap one of their feet to let you know you’re about to get in trouble. That’s what Principal Connolly was doing.

  “Good morning, Principal Connolly,” Maritza and her friends said in voices as sweet as pancake syrup.

  Principal Connolly’s face softened just a tiny bit. “Good morning, girls. Shouldn’t you be in homeroom?”

  They snickered as they ran up the steps. I started to follow them, but the principal shuffled sideways like a crab and blocked my path. His nostrils flared, and because he was standing so high above me, I could see all the hairs and boogers in there. I felt a movement in my backpack and reached back and tapped it.

  “You,” Principal Connolly said, like he was the big bad wolf trying to blow a house down.

  “Me,” I said. “Uhh—good morning. I was just heading to class.”

  He took a deep breath. I could smell the chive cream cheese he’d had for breakfast as he exhaled. I didn’t move. I’d seen monsters in the wild and I knew not to provoke them.

  “Miss Salazar, what did we say about bothering the other students with your overactive imagination?”

  My mouth went all dry and nerves made my fingers restless. I shrugged. “Not to do it?”

  “That is correct.” Principal Connolly pinched the bridge of his nose.

  Jeez. All I did was write one little essay for world history about how unicorns must have existed in Scotland since they’re the literal national animal, and then when Ms. Younger made me read it out loud, everyone started saying that I still had imaginary friends and believed in aliens and stuff. I mean, they weren’t far from the truth, but I wasn’t going to correct them and expose our secret life as monster protectors. Ex–monster protectors.

  “I’ve tried to be patient, Miss Salazar,” he continued. For someone who really wanted me to get to class, Principal Connolly sure liked to talk at me a lot. “Your brother and sister are exemplary, well-behaved students. They’ve been through the same—ordeal—as you and they’ve excelled in their short time at Missing Mountain School.”

  I wanted to tell him that I wasn’t Rome and I wasn’t Lola. I was Valentina Salazar, the one and only. But I’d already been to his office too many times in the eight months we’d been in town. The one thing that sucked about being homeschooled practically my whole life was that when we enrolled in the Missing Mountain school system, there were too many rules and I couldn’t always keep track of them.

  “I’m sorry, Principal Connolly.” I didn’t bother to tell him that Maritza, Harmony, and Sunny were making fun of my clothes for almost seven blocks. Who was he going to believe? The three girls in matching new clothes who always smiled and followed the rules, or little ol’ me?

  “It’s the last day of classes, Miss Salazar,” he remind
ed me, as if I wasn’t already counting down the hours. “Let’s get through the day in one piece, shall we?”

  I nodded quickly and hurried inside. My first few months at school I kept getting lost. Even though Missing Mountain was a small town, the school encompassed grades K through twelve in one big building. It didn’t help that every hallway was full of the same beige doors and rusted green lockers. I raced through the corridors, which I was pretty sure was against the “no running” rule. Thankfully, the monitors were too busy looking at their phones to notice me sliding from one hall to the next.

  With my heart pumping loudly in my ears, I squeaked to a stop right in front of the door. I was about to step inside when the bell rang.

  “Valentina Salazar, you’re late,” Mrs. De Bernardo said. Her dress was the color of the cold salmon Lola liked to eat on a bagel. She wore a black hat with a net that half covered her eyes and matched her lipstick color.

  “Principal—”

  But she wouldn’t let me finish. She made a “harrumph” sound and let me pass. Everyone was already at their desks. I didn’t try to explain to her that it wasn’t my fault. I’d broken rule #1 (students must be in their seats in time for the morning announcements and after lunch and recess break) lots of times. What was one more?

  I made my way to my desk in the back of the room against the windows. I unzipped my backpack and a tiny purple hand with sharp black claws poked out. I pulled the backpack shut and slammed my palms on the desk. The noise was so loud that everyone turned to look at me.

  “Notebooks out,” Mrs. De Bernardo said, sounding like one of those mechanical dolls with low batteries. “Today is a free-writing period. Pass forward last night’s assignment.”

  “Uh-oh,” I whispered. I had my journal, which was rule #2 (students must always be prepared with appropriate supplies and completed homework). But I didn’t have the second part. Last night I’d been too excited to sleep. I kept thinking about the Honey Hill Lake monster. A fat load of good that did me.