About the Author
Charles Gilman is an alias of Jason Rekulak, an editor who lives in Philadelphia with his wife, Julie, and their children Sam and Anna. When he’s not dreaming up new tales of Lovecraft Middle School, he’s biking along the fetid banks of the Schuylkill River, in search of two-headed rats and other horrific beasts.
About the Illustrator
From an early age, Eugene Smith dreamed of drawing monsters, mayhem, and madness. Today, he is living the dream in Chicago, where he resides with his wife, Mary, and their daughters Audrey and Vivienne.
Monstrous Thanks
To all the hard-working folks at Quirk Books, Random House Publisher Services, and National Graphics. A special tip of the antennae goes to Jonathan Pushnik, Griffin Anderson and his parents, Ed and Heidi Milano, Julie Scott, and Mary Flack.
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“Just five more m-m-minutes,” Robert Arthur said.
“In five minutes we’ll be dead,” Glenn Torkells said. “We have to go now.”
The outdoor temperature was barely twenty degrees. The boys were dressed in jeans and chorus robes but little else: no jackets, no hats, no gloves, no sneakers, no socks.
And they were trapped on a narrow ledge outside Lovecraft Middle School, four stories above the ground.
A freezing wind pinned them against the stone wall. Robert’s right hand had found a crack in the mortar, the smallest of handholds, and he wedged his fingers inside.
“We can’t just stand here,” Glenn said.
“Someone will s-s-see us,” Robert insisted. “We have to be pa-pa-patient.”
Glenn looked down—all the way down—but didn’t see a single person. The boys were perched on the back wall of the school, high above the empty athletic fields. All of their classmates were indoors, attending a special Valentine’s Day concert in the auditorium.
“This is our last chance,” Glenn said. “If we wait any longer, we’ll be too numb to move.”
Robert worried the moment had already passed. His fingers and toes were tingling, as if all of his hands and feet had fallen asleep. Was it frostbite? Or hypothermia? Which was worse?
“Let’s try yelling again,” he suggested.
“It’s no use,” Glenn insisted.
The boys had already screamed themselves hoarse, but Robert hadn’t given up. “J-j-just a few more tries,” he said. “It’ll warm us up.”
So together they shouted Help! and Please! and Somebody! and Can anyone down there hear us?!? but it was hopeless. No one could hear them. Their cries were lost beneath the blustery winds.
“We have to get to the balcony,” Glenn said. “It’s our only way out of this.”
He was referring to the small railed patio on the side of the building. To reach it, the boys would need to follow the ledge around the corner of the school.
“What about the roof?” Robert suggested. The top of the building was maddeningly close, just inches beyond their fingertips. “What if you gave me a boost?”
Glenn shook his head. “I’ve seen you climb the ropes in gym class,” he said. “You’re not strong enough. Reaching the balcony is our only option.”
“I won’t make it,” Robert said. “I’ll fall.”
“You might fall. But if you stay here—if you do nothing—you’ll definitely fall. So what’s it gonna be?”
Robert looked around for alternatives. At four stories high, the world seemed like it had turned to black and white; there wasn’t a trace of color anywhere in the sky. Just layers and layers of murky gray. The sun had vanished.
“All right,” he decided. “Here goes nothing.”
He eased his fingers from the crevasse and pressed both palms flat against the stones. Almost instantly, a fresh blast of wind whipped beneath his robe, blowing it up and over his head. Unable to see, Robert panicked. He reached out for Glenn, grabbing his shoulder, clinging to him until the wind settled down.
“Take it easy,” Glenn said.
“I can’t handle this,” Robert told him.
“Yes, you can.”
“No, I can’t. I was okay when Professor Goyle turned into a winged demon. When Sarah and Sylvia Price turned into snake-women. When Howard Mergler turned into a giant fly-faced bug monster. All that crazy stuff, I could handle. Heck, I even fought back. But this ledge? At this height? With this wind? This is too much.” Robert shook his head. “This is the worst.”
For a few moments, neither boy said anything.
And then a fluffy white speck twirled out of the sky and landed on the tip of Glenn’s nose.
A snowflake.
All around them, all at once, it was snowing.
“Things could always be worse,” Glenn said.
Some kids might have trouble understanding how two boys could find themselves trapped on a narrow ledge outside their school and forty feet off the ground.
Of course, these same kids have probably never been trapped in their lockers by giant tentacled beasts. Or trapped in their bedrooms with boa constrictors. Or trapped underground with thousands of chirping and chattering insects.
But for Robert Arthur and Glenn Torkells, these kinds of near-death experiences were all just a regular part of seventh grade.
A few months earlier, the boys had discovered that Lovecraft Middle School was constructed from the recycled remains of Tillinghast Mansion—a crumbling estate that was once home to the mad physicist Crawford Tillinghast. Because of a botched experiment, the mansion still existed in a parallel dimension; Robert and Glenn could pass from the school to the mansion and back again through hidden portals called “gates.”
The boys soon learned that Tillinghast was capturing teachers and students, placing their souls in ceramic urns, and then using their flesh and hair as disguises for an army of bizarre monsters. The school was slowly being infiltrated by demons, snake-people, giant insects, and other ancient creatures summoned from distant dimensions.
Armed with this knowledge, Robert and Glenn went to school every day determined to stop Tillinghast and always expecting the worst. Yet nothing could have prepared them for the strange events of February fourteenth.
The day began with an announcement from the principal inviting all students to a surprise Valentine’s Day concert by the music department. As Robert followed his classmates into the auditorium, teachers gave out programs listing all the songs.
Glenn read the titles aloud in disbelief. “‘Love Me Tender’? ‘Eternal Flame’? ‘You Are the Sunshine of My Life’?” He crumpled the program into a ball. “This is going to be torture!”
“Well, don’t spoil it for the rest of us,” said Karina Ortiz. “Robert and I are looking forward to it.”
“Are you kidding me?” Glenn said, laughing. “Robert hates Valentine’s Day even more than I do!”
Robert just shrugged. A year ago, he would have agreed with Glenn that Valentine’s Day was a dumb holiday designed to sell overpriced chocolates. But since arriving in seventh grade—and meeting Karina—his feelings had changed. Karina loved Valentine’s Day and she was one of the coolest people Robert had ever met, so how bad could it really be?
The kids found seats at the back of the auditorium, far from their classmates.
“Well, I don’t care if you like it or not,” Karina continued. “I got you both presents, anyway.” She whistled for Robert’s pets, a two-headed rat named Pip and Squeak. They wriggled out of his backpack carrying two chocolate hearts wrapped in red foil. “One for each of you.”
The rats crawled onto the armrest, passing out the gifts and happily chattering their teeth.
“Thanks,” Robert said. “How did you get these?”
“Second-floor vending machine,” she said. “Pip and Squeak fished them out for me.”
Glenn studied his candy and discovered the rats had already taken a huge bite from it. He unwrapped the foil and ate the rest of the chocolate, anyway. “Isht preddy goot,” he said, chewing through the caramel center. “Thanks.”
Robert and Glenn were the only ones who knew that Karina had been dead for thirty years and that her spirit was confined to the property of Lovecraft Middle School. She may have looked and acted like a regular seventh-grade girl, but in truth she couldn’t hold a pencil or even turn on a computer. That was why she did all of her holiday shopping from school vending machines, with a little assistance from a two-headed rat.
Karina looked pointedly to Robert, as if she were expecting a gift in return. Fortunately for him, the houselights dimmed just in time.
“The show’s starting,” he said.
High above the stage, a giant cardboard Cupid descended from the rafters; it was dressed in a diaper and holding a bow and arrow. A handful of students applauded, but Glenn just moaned. “Let the torture begin.”
“Shhhh,” Karina said.
He pulled on his hood and slumped in his chair. “Wake me when it’s over.”
The boys and girls chorus walked on stage singing “Can You Feel the Love Tonight?” from The Lion King, and their soaring voices drowned out Glenn’s complaints. Karina leaned forward in her chair, enchanted by the performance. After thirty years of confinement in Tillinghast Mansion, she enjoyed any chance to be a regular kid again. She was delighted by all of the everyday things that Robert took for granted: surprise fire drills, the smell of freshly sharpened pencils, and especially school assemblies.
Pip and Squeak were enjoying the concert as much as Karina, maybe even more. They sat perched on Robert’s shoulder, swaying back and forth, dancing to the music.
Suddenly, Glenn sat up straight in his chair.
“I thought you were napping,” Robert said.
He pointed at the stage. “Look what they’re wearing!”
Robert was confused. The members of the chorus were dressed in shiny red robes. “What’s the big deal?”
“They’re the same robes from the mansion! The cloaks worn by Tillinghast’s servants!”
Karina blinked. “Oh my gosh. He’s right.”
“So what?” Robert asked.
“If we got some,” Glenn continued, growing excited, “I bet we could explore the whole mansion without getting caught. We could disguise ourselves as servants. Maybe we’d find a way to close the gates once and for all!”
“Maybe,” Robert said, but Glenn was already standing up and gathering his things. “Where are you going?”
“To the Music Room.”
“Right now?”
“We’ll never have a better chance,” Glenn said. “Everyone’s here watching the show!”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Karina said, crossing her arms over her chest. “The concert just started.”
Pip and Squeak leapt onto her armrest and nodded their heads. They weren’t going anywhere, either.
Glenn turned to Robert. “What’s more important?” he asked. “A stupid Valentine’s Day concert or saving the world from an army of ancient monsters?”
When Glenn put the question that way, Robert felt as though he had no choice. “I guess saving the world.”
“I’ll save your seats,” Karina offered. “Have fun.”
Robert and Glenn slipped out the back door and went straight to the Music Room, a large rehearsal space cluttered with folding chairs and music stands. Perched on a shelf were white marble busts of Mozart and Beethoven. Apart from the two famous composers, the boys had the whole space to themselves.
Glenn opened a door marked WARDROBE and they entered a cramped, narrow passage. It was flanked by theater costumes, marching band uniforms, and—all the way in the back—a rack of abnormally sized chorus robes. Glenn flipped through the hangers, checking the tags. “They’ve got extra-small or extra-extra-large,” he said. “Which do you want?”
Robert glanced around anxiously. He worried that one of the music teachers would catch them red-handed. “I don’t care,” he whispered. “You pick.”
Glenn grabbed a 2XL, pulled it over his head, and fit his arms through the sleeves.
“Why are you putting it on?” Robert asked.
“We’re taking a test-drive,” Glenn said. “Look.”
He parted the robes, creating a gap in the middle of the clothes rack. Hidden behind the gowns was a small whirling vortex: a new gate into Tillinghast Mansion.
“No way,” Robert said. “We can’t ditch Karina at the concert. She’s waiting for us.”
“We’ll be back in five minutes,” Glenn promised. “I only want to take a quick peek. To see where we end up. If there’s any trouble—”
“There’s always trouble. Every time we cross over, something tries to eat us.”
“If we see anything dangerous, we’ll come right back.”
Robert didn’t share any of Glenn’s curiosity. He had no desire to return to Tillinghast Mansion. The house was a giant labyrinth of cobwebbed corridors, twisting stairs, and mysterious passages. All of its doors were identical and unmarked, so it was impossible for visitors to find their way, and strange creatures lurked around every corner. Robert would have been much happier listening to love songs from The Lion King.
But Glenn insisted on going, and Robert couldn’t let his best friend cross over alone. There was no telling what might happen if he did.
“Five minutes,” he said. “Not a second more.”
Robert pulled a robe over his head and wiggled his arms through the sleeves. The fabric hung past his fingertips, but it would have to do.
Glenn sat down on a box and unlaced his boots. “Don’t forget to take off your shoes,” he said. “All the servants walk barefoot.”
“Right.” He pulled off his sneakers and socks and tucked them with his backpack under a shelf.
“See you in the mansion,” Glenn said, and then he ducked between the robes and tumbled into the vortex.
Robert took one last look around the closet, nagged by a sense that he was making a terrible mistake.
Then he stepped into the gate, anyway.
And suddenly he was outside.
In the cold.
Very high off the ground.
If there hadn’t been such a strong wind blowing at his back, Robert would have tumbled right off the ledge. He had no idea what was going on. He looked down and nearly swooned.
Glenn reached over and steadied him. “Don’t look down!” he said, shouting over the blustery winds. “We need to find a way into the mansion!”
“We’re not outside the mansion,” Robert said. In his brief heart-stopping glimpse down below, he had seen a softball diamond and a 400-meter athletic track. “We’re outside the school!”
It didn’t make sense. Gates in Lovecraft Middle School were supposed to lead to Tillinghast Mansion. They weren’t supposed to lead to other places in Lovecraft Middle School.
And yet this one had. The remains of the vortex lingered in the air above their heads, just beyond reach. Returning through the gate was not an option.
Glenn insisted on walking to the balcony, but nothing could convince Robert to move, not even the arrival of snow. The flakes accumulated quickly on his head and shoulders, but he didn’t dare reach to wipe them away. He was frozen with fear—and soon he would be frozen, period.
“I want you to tell my mother everything,” Robert said.
“What do you mean?” Glenn asked.
“If I fall. I don’t want her to think I went crazy and jumped off the roof. You need to tell her the truth.”
A few weeks earlier, Robert’s mother had begun working as head nurse of Lovecraft Middle School. She had no idea it was the sort of place where students would find themselves mysteriously transported to a narrow ledge four stories above the ground. She thought it was just a regular middle school.
“Also, there’s an envelope in my backpack,” Robert continued. “I need you to give it to Karina.”
“What kind of envelope?”
“It’s red. Sort of card shaped. You can’t miss it.”
“A red card-shaped envelope?” Glenn might have had a reputation as Dunwich’s biggest and meanest bully, but he wasn’t stupid. “You got Karina a valentine?”
“It’s just Garfield. We’re not dating or anything.”
“Garfield the cat? From the comics?”
“He was her favorite character back in 1982, when she was still, you know,” Robert explained. “She talks about Garfield all the time.”
“Why didn’t you give it to her before?” Glenn asked.
“I haven’t had a chance.”
That wasn’t exactly true. Robert had had plenty of chances, but he’d spent all morning trying to work up the nerve. Even though it was just a Garfield card with a silly caption, he still felt nervous giving a valentine to a girl.
“You should’ve given it to her at the concert,” Glenn said. “After she gave us the chocolates.”
“I know.”
“That was the perfect chance.”
“I know. Will you please just give it to her?”
“Fine,” Glenn said, “but I’m going to read it.”
“You’re not allowed to.”
“Why not? I like Garfield. He’s funny. Besides, if you fall off this ledge, everyone in school’s going to read it. They’ll publish it in the school newspaper under your photo. It’ll be like your last will and testament.”
Robert hadn’t anticipated this, but he knew Glenn was right. Three months ago, when Nurse Mandis and Howard Mergler drowned in a lake that mysteriously sprang from the soccer field, the school mourned their deaths with all kinds of tributes and memorials. Everyone would want to read Robert’s last words.
“But it’s cool,” Glenn said. “I mean, I’m sure you didn’t write anything embarrassing, right?”
Actually, Robert had. Instead of signing the card with “from,” he had written the word “love”—but he would rather die than admit this to Glenn or anyone else.
Suddenly, it seemed very important that he deliver the card himself.
“I’ll try walking one more time,” he decided.
Robert inched toward the corner of the building, taking the tiniest of baby steps. When that didn’t kill him, he took another.
“All right,” he admitted, “this isn’t so bad.”
“You’ve gone three inches,” Glenn said.
The ledge was already covered with a thin layer of snow, but Robert managed to take bigger steps without slipping. The wind was blowing at his back, pressing him against the stone wall, almost propping him up. Robert told himself it was just like walking on a sidewalk curb—if there was such a thing as a forty-foot-tall sidewalk curb.
They soon arrived at the corner. The ledge wrapped all the way around the building—it was a square corner—but Robert would have to step away from the wall to make the turn.
“Be careful,” Glenn said. “I bet the crosswinds are pretty rough.”
“What are crosswinds?” Robert asked.
“All the wind on this side of the building? It’s coming from the north,” Glenn explained. “And all the wind around the corner is from the east. But when you make that turn? And step out on the corner? You’ll have two winds blowing at the same time. In different directions. Crosswinds.”
Robert shook his head. “And meanwhile you’re failing three classes. How do you know this stuff?”
“My grandfather was a sailor.” Glenn shrugged. “All he ever talked about was wind.”
“So what should I do?”
“Be quick. And don’t look down.”
Robert knew that if he tried to think of a better strategy, he’d never move. He stepped out onto the corner and the crosswinds snapped at the bottom of his robe, shaking him like a ragdoll. He pivoted on his left heel, spinning around, his other leg swinging out in midair.
To Glenn, it looked like his best friend had done a ballerina spin right off the side of the building.
“Robert!” he shouted. He leaned over, peering around the corner, relieved to find his friend clinging to the wall, practically kissing the stone. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fi-fi-fine,” Robert said. “Give me your hand.”
He helped Glenn navigate the corner, and then the boys continued side-stepping along the ledge. On this side of the building, the snowdrifts were accumulating more quickly; some were already two and three inches high. The boys were close enough to see the balcony. It extended from the side of the building, a ten-by-ten platform surrounded by an iron railing.
Robert quickened his steps. He was no longer thinking about falling. He was thinking about hot chocolate in the cafeteria and the warm socks he’d left in the Music Room. He was thinking about the knitted hat and gloves on the top shelf of his locker. He was thinking he might wear them for the rest of the day, even in class, even if he looked ridiculous.
As he hurried along, looking forward to all these things, he didn’t notice the cracked rain gutter near the roofline, or the thin vein of ice trailing down the wall. He didn’t even notice the janitor in the hooded parka, carrying a snow shovel, until the man stepped to the edge of the balcony and hollered, “What are you idiots doing?”
Robert was so startled, he slipped off the ledge.