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I crossed my arms. “Since you seem so knowledgeable, Nathan, what did the monster do?”
Nathan panicked. “Uh . . . he . . . scared people?”
I nodded slowly. “Okay. That’stechnicallytrue. And when people saw him, how did they react?”
Nathan hesitated, then leaned over to Kyle, a basketball player who wore his jersey to school every day and was just as clueless.
Kyle whispered something.
Nathan straightened. “They, uh . . . thought he was a zombie?”
Jessica made a loud, dramatic groan and let her head fall onto her desk, drawing every eye in the room.
“Oh my God,” she muttered.
I gestured toward her. “Jessica. Please. Save us.”
She lifted her head, looking personally offended by the state of the discussion.
“The monster learned how to speak in these chapters, people!” she said, exasperated. “He literally hid in the woods and spied on a family so he could learn about human nature.”
I pointed at her. “Yes. That. Thank you.”
She smirked, clearly pleased with herself, then began twirling her hair and batting her lashes. That morning, her lips were painted a shiny, bright pink with odd sparkles or glitter. I wasn’t even sure how she’d managed it.
Kyle, however, raised his hand, a confused scrunch to his brow.
“Wait,” Kyle said, squinting. “The monster can talk?”
I exhaled deeply.
Seven, eight, nine, ten.
“Yes, Kyle. The monster can talk . . . because he isnota zombie.”
“That sucks. Zombies are rad.” Nathan frowned, thinking a moment before asking, “If he’s not a zombie, why does everyone hate him?”
I grinned. Finally. A real question.
“Great question, Nathan,” I said. “Let’s talk about that. Why does everyone hate the monster?”
Jessica’s hand shot up, and she grunted like she was having an aneurysm, but I waved her off.
“Someone besides Jessica.”
Crickets.
Then Kyle, bless his struggling heart, took another stab in the dark.
“Because he’s . . . ugly?”
“Exactly.” I gave him a slow, approving nod and had to resist laughing as he gave Nathan a fist bump to celebrate his brilliance. “And because he’s different. They don’t even care who he is. They see him, assume he’s a monster, and reject him.”
A few students actually nodded, like they were getting it.
I leaned against my desk. “So let me ask you this—who’s the real monster in this book?”
Jessica made aggressive finger guns at me.