Chapter Text
Lance resisted the urge to scream.
Sweat collected on his brow as he breathed out a heavy breath. He reached up, wiping his forehead. For a few moments, he stood in the darkness of the garage, listening to his own panicked gasps and the quiet garbage bin, from which earlier, raucous banging had been coming from inside.
It banged again, the trash container shaking violently. He threw his whole weight onto it, praying it wouldn’t fall over. It stopped after a few moments. It must be tired. Lance had been at war with it for a good thirty minutes until he found a crushed Nunvill Nummy in his pocket. That was when the battle ended for good. The creature went crazy for it. So much so that it followed the candy all the way inside of the trash container.
His hands were shaking as he checked the padlock on the lid for the umpteenth time. Locked.
“¡Mijo!”
He blew out an unsteady sigh. Mamá could never know about this. Adding more stress to her already stressful life would surely break her. She had a double-shift at the hospital today, for quiznak’s sake. What the heck would Lance even say? Mamá, there’s a monster that looks like an ugly gremlin with glowing yellow eyes in the trash bin and I don’t know what to do with it? It sounded so ridiculous that it made him cringe.
Telling her was definitely out of the question.
Instead, Lance straightened up, dusted off his hands and jacket, and hoped he didn’t look like he would run straight into Mamá’s arms, about to crap his pants, and start sobbing from sheer terror.
“Coming, Mamá!” he called as he made his way out of the garage and back into the house.
Was it him or did his voice sound as weak as his knees felt?
Lance guessed he could blame the monster for being late.
And late on the day of the first major project, for quiznak’s sake. His sneakers squeaked on the tile floor as he ran across the hallway, stopping with a skid in front of the door, where, looking through the small vertical window, he could see Iverson already lecturing the class.
He took a deep breath. All he had to do was enter as quietly as possible. He would probably only get a stern glare, and anyways, Keith had been late before and no one had batted an eye, so how could Lance’s entrance be any different?
It turned out to be very different.
“McClain!” Iverson barked the moment he carefully opened the door and set one foot inside.
Lance slowly looked up and met the stern gaze of Iverson’s one eye. Its intensity could amount to two.
He gave Iverson an unsteady smile. “Good morning, Mr. Iverson.”
Iverson raised two disapproving eyebrows. “Would you like to explain why you’re fifteen minutes late?”
“I, uh, overslept.” That was true, and for good reason: he was terrified out of his mind after encountering that monster-thing. There was no way of getting rid of it without alerting Mamá, and even then, he might die by its hands before he could. It took him hours to finally doze off, and when he did, he’d slept through his alarm, missing his daily morning skincare routine. His morning was not going well. “I’m sorry for being late. I promise it won’t happen again.”
“I expected better, McClain. Sit down.”
The only unoccupied desk was at the back of the class. He’d rather not sit there, but his luck was already running low. Keeping his eyes fixed on the floor, he padded over to the seat, only glancing up briefly to catch Pidge’s and Hunk’s worried gazes, and, accidentally, Keith, that little jerk, who was smirking from the desk beside the unoccupied one.
He settled himself in the chair, crossing his arms. He knew that beside him, Keith was still smirking.
Iverson cleared his throat. “As I was saying, before we were interrupted—”
Lance scowled. Iverson interrupted himself, thank you very much!
“—raising a baby is an integral, but difficult part of life. So, for our first project of Health Class, we’ll be treating these as our babies.” Iverson patted one of the several nondescript bags of flour that sat on the teacher’s desk. “Bring back the bag intact to our next class, and you’ll pass. If you don’t, you’ll have to write an essay on the importance of parenthood.”
Lance resisted rolling his eyes. If he could care for his niece, Nadia—who, he had to point out, could not sit still and did a million annoying and endearing things—an inanimate flour bag was a piece of cake. No pun intended.
“You’ll be in pairs,” Iverson said. He rapped the table in front of him. “This side, look to your right. This side—“ He rapped the column of desks that contained Lance.“—look to your left. You’ll be partners. Pick up your baby at the front. I’ll teach you how to change its diapers.”
As he looked to his left, dread entered him in a rush.
The sight of Keith Kogane, studying Lance with a frown on his face, was not a welcome one.
“Oh, no,” Lance moaned under his breath.
Lance’s luck was really running out today.
Maybe it was Lance’s nerves from his inability to decide on what to do with the monster-thing, or maybe Keith was catching wind of Lance’s jumpiness that his rival decided to lay off his case for a while, but the two were actually working pretty well together.
Or, as well as Lance expected them to work together. They had successfully put on their flour baby’s diapers, and suffice to say, Keith looked quite pleased with himself, although both of them were sparing in their words and jerky with their movements in the diaper-changing process.
“Uh, good job,” Keith said, like he was unsure if he should say it.
“Thanks, Mullet,” Lance answered. And because he was feeling good about this and kind of regretted calling Keith by his silly nickname that he added, “Got plenty of experience from my niece.”
Keith’s lips quirked. “Yeah?”
“Yup. She was a monster,” Lance complained. Speaking of monsters… “Don’t want a repeat of that.” He shivered, remembering the creature in the trash container. He definitely did not want a repeat of that creature from last night.
“Thank God this is a bag of flour.”
“This bag of flour is our baby, thank you very much, so you better treat it like one,” Lance reminded him. Keith’s lips quirked higher.
“Right.”
It was a wonder they were holding a civil—albeit awkward—conversation. Usually, they would break out into full blown arguments—much to the exasperation of anyone who was present—but Lance couldn’t help it. Riling up Keith gave him this mysterious, ubiquitous joy that swelled like a helium balloon inside of him every time he did it.
To experience that joyous swell—and sometimes a small fluttering in his stomach—Lance wasted no opportunity in making fun of him. Usually because the stuff that Keith talked so passionately about was extremely bizarre and highly improbable, like the time he said that he had seen a UFO, leading to his conclusion that aliens existed somewhere in their town. Or that hulking, ancient creatures lived underneath their very feet. Or that time he showed a photo of some weird glob that had been run over by a truck, its spindly legs and arms sticking out—hang on a second…
“Keith?”
“Yeah?” Keith turned to him, a marker poised in one hand, the flour bag held in the other.
“Do you—wait. Did you honestly just draw a mullet on our baby?” Lance pointed at the scribbled on drawing of hair that looked identical to Keith’s.
“It’s not a mullet,” Keith told him.
“Oookay. Whatever. Moving on. You know those… conspiracy theories you’re into?” If Keith had the answer, Lance might just swear off teasing him altogether. He might even, shockingly, be nice to him. It was a bit of a reach, but the fiercest believer of anything supernatural would help Lance get rid of a mysterious monster even if they were adversaries, right?
Keith raised an eyebrow as he shaded the flour baby’s hair. “Yeah, the ones you always make fun of me for? Of course. Anyways, they’re not theories if they’re real.”
“Well, buddy, you’re in luck. Because I might have the evidence to prove them.”
Keith’s hand stilled. He turned to Lance, scowling, which, before, would have given Lance the biggest satisfaction ever, but now only filled him with anxiety. “You’re making fun of me.”
That was not at all what Lance expected him to say. “What? No, I’m not. I’m being serious, Keith.”
Keith pursed his lips. “I know what you’re doing, Lance. So, stop.”
“Hey, I’m completely serious! Look, this—this creature’s just sitting in the trash bin in my garage and frankly, I have no idea what to do with it. So, whatever it is—it’s just there, alright? So maybe—maybe you can help me get rid of it. Because I’m really quiznaking terrified.” A horrible thought flashed in his head. He took ahold of Keith’s shoulders, roughly shaking him. “What if it eats me, Keith? What if it eats me, and the last thing I see is its gremlin-y looking face?”
Keith calmly plucked his hands off him. “Lance, you’re not going to get yourself eaten.”
“I probably will, if you don’t help me!”
There was still doubt on Keith’s face, lips set in a scowl, but his grey eyes had softened, his dark brows bunched in thought.
“Keith—“
“I’m thinking,” he said quietly. Lance held his breath. Then: “I’ll check it out.” He released a relieved breath out although Keith continued, “But if I get so much as an inkling that you’re messing with me, I’m poking holes in the flour baby and we’re both writing that essay. Deal?”
“I’m not messing with you,” Lance assured him the same time the bell rang shrilly. The people around them sprang up from their seats as Iverson yelled about giving back the diapers above the scraping of chairs and squeaking sneakers. Only he and Keith stayed put.
“Take it or leave it, Lance.”
Lance could not fathom why Keith was doubting him. “Jeez, Mullet. Fine.”
“Then, it’s a deal?”
“It’s a deal,” Lance agreed. They shook hands, cementing their strange partnership.
Maybe, just maybe, this would work out.
“I saw you got partnered with Keith,” Pidge remarked during their lunch break, a suspicious grin on her face. Lance rolled his eyes, giving Hunk his best I-can’t-believe-she’s-telling-me-this face.
“Yeah? So what?”
Pidge wiggled her eyebrows. “You’re working pretty well together.”
“You even put on a diaper before us,” Hunk observed. Lance tamped down a groan. He couldn’t believe Hunk was working against him!
“That’s because you guys are incompetent when it comes to baby stuff,” Lance replied, scowling as he picked at his empanada with a fork.
“That’s not true,” Hunk countered. “Nadia loves when I come baby sit.”
“Okay, fine,” Lance admitted. His niece did love Hunk. She was always asking about when Hunk would come over. “But you’re partnered with Pidge.”
“Hey!” Pidge looked offended.
Lance held out his hands. “Just saying!”
“Well, you did put the diaper on Albread Einstein’s head,” Hunk said to Pidge, patting the inanimate sack of flour on the table. “And you almost burned him when you placed him on your overheating laptop…”
“Hunk,” Pidge warned.
“Hey, hey, I didn’t say you were bad, though! Just… complacent?”
Pidge frowned. Hunk looked sheepish, rubbing his neck. “Anyway,” Pidge said, turning her attention to Lance. “How’s Keith? How’s co-parenting?”
“He’s fine, and Flouria’s with me for the afternoon,” Lance answered absently. Sitting motionless beside him on a spare chair, was his and Keith’s flour baby, Flouria Estefan McClain. The smile he drew on her was a little wonky and Keith’s crayoned mullet didn’t do much to bring out her lopsided eyes, but she was indubitably loved by Lance regardless. “Why are you so interested anyways?”
“Nothing, nothing,” Pidge said slyly.
Lance narrowed his eyes. “Doesn’t sound like nothing.”
“Oh, you know. I just find it interesting that you and your—ahem—rival are working well together. That’s all.”
That grin again. Lance wanted to rub it right off her face.
“I don’t want to write an essay,” Lance told her. “And anyways, Keith said he would’ve poked holes in Flouria if he thought I was lying to him.”
Pidge furrowed her brow. “Lying about what?”
Oh, quiznak. He hadn’t actually told them yet. It was probably Keith’s acceptance of the whole thing that made him forget about the trapping-a-monster-in-the-garbage-bin situation that his mind had instead hyper-focused on the fact that he was going over to Keith’s place after school. When class ended, Keith had asked him if he could bring the monster over to his house, since his brother would be out. Naturally, Lance agreed, but really, he just never expected himself to ever step foot on enemy soil.
Lance placed his fork down. He sighed. If he told them about the monster, Pidge would start freaking out and insisting that what he saw wasn’t real, and Hunk, well… he really didn’t know how Hunk would react. Lance hoped Hunk believed him, because he was about to tell them now.
“Okay, don’t freak out but…” He paused. Concerned gazes met his own. “I saw something last night.”
“‘Something’?” Hunk repeated worriedly. “Do you mean you saw, like, a murder?”
“No!” Lance almost yelled, then noticing his friends’ raised eyebrows, composed himself. “It’s nothing like that. It's just…” He took a deep breath. “There’s a monster in my garage.” That was good. Blunt. To the point. “I’m bringing it over to Keith’s house so that we can figure out how to get rid of it.”
There was silence, paired with two incredulous stares. Lance stared back, waiting.
Suddenly, Pidge collapsed into a fit of laughter, a hand over her belly.
“You know you don’t have to lie to your crush to be invited over, right?” she said, grinning.
Wait—what?
“A ‘crush’?!” Did he have to clear his ears of earwax? “What the cheese? I’m talking about the monster in my garage, hello?”
Pidge’s grin dropped. “Oh, you were serious?”
“Yes, I was serious!” Lance replied, irritation itching at him. “There’s a monster in my garage, in the garbage bin, and I trapped it and now, I’m going to get rid of it with Keith’s help.” He paused. “Wow. That really does sound crazy.”
“What do you mean by ‘monster’?” asked Hunk, concerned.
“It’s like this weird, gremlin-y looking thing. It wasn’t any animal I recognized. It had these yellow, glowing eyes, which freaked me out—“
“It could have been a raccoon,” interjected Pidge.
“Raccon’s eyes don’t glow!”
“Your eyes might’ve been playing tricks on you in the dark,” she countered. “It’s a known scientific phenomenon. ”
“I know what I saw, Pidge.”
“Then—I don’t know! It might’ve been some animal other than a raccoon!” she exclaimed.
They glowered at each other. Pidge sat as tall as her small frame could, clearly not wanting to back down, but Lance wasn’t either. He gritted his teeth. “I swear I’m telling the truth. Why don’t you believe me?”
Pidge crossed her arms. “Because I believe in science. And science says that no such creature exists.”
“Well, there are some things that science can’t explain!” Lance said, voice rising.
“So, now you’re a conspiracy theorist?”
“Guys, please,” Hunk pleaded. At the sound of his voice, they both turned to Hunk at the same time. He looked nervous, wringing his hands. Lance bunched his fists. If there was anyone who had his back, it would be Hunk.
“You believe me, right, Hunk?” he asked.
Hunk was worrying his lip. His eyes darted between Lance and Pidge before saying, “I don’t know yet, Lance. I need the full picture. I need proof.”
“I have proof,” Lance insisted. “You can come by Keith’s after class—“
“I can’t, I have baby sitting duty,” Hunk told him, an apology in his face. “But tell you what—maybe you can snap a picture and send it to me?”
That was better than nothing. Lance gave Pidge a triumphant look.
Pidge scowled. “I can’t go because my brother’s showing off his rock collection at the Town Museum for the annual rock show. So you’d better send me that picture too.”
“You got it,” Lance said. “And I’ll be doing my victory dance once you see it.”
Pidge continued to scowl. Soon, Lance would bust out his best moves in front of Pidge as she admitted to his face that what he saw was real. He couldn’t wait.
Keith’s house was only a few blocks from Lance’s place, so he ended up walking. The trip was quick, with Flouria hitching along for a ride in his backpack, while he carried the kennel containing the monster in his hand. The kennel used to belong to his old cat, Blue, but it was a strange feeling knowing he was transporting some unknown biological organism that no one had ever studied before. It didn’t belong here—shouldn’t be here—in the quiet, suburban streets of Altea.
There was a shrill ring when Lance pushed the doorbell to his rival’s house. He heard loud barks and scratching behind the door, before it swung open.
A humongous, black dog launched itself at Lance, all wet tongue and shaggy fur. He held the kennel up in the air as the dog jumped on its hind legs trying to get to his face, its tail wagging happily.
“Kosmo, no! Down! Sit!” Keith ordered sternly from the doorway. The dog calmed, sitting obediently beside Lance. Keith gave him an apologetic look. “Sorry. I thought he was sleeping in Shiro’s room. He still needs training.”
“That’s all right.” Lance bent down and patted Kosmo’s head. "I didn’t know you had a pet.”
“I’m full of surprises,” Keith answered dryly. He eyed the cage Lance was carrying in his left hand. “Is that… it?”
“Yeah.” He gave the cage to Keith, who took it graciously, while Lance slipped off his shoes. Keith held up the opening of the cage to his face, frowning as he did so.
“I can’t believe you actually caught one.”
“Yeah, me neither,” Lance said, placing his shoes neatly beside the door. “It took ten Nunvill Nummies to get it in there, so you owe me that.”
Nunvill Nummies were his go-to candy and having to sacrifice so many to lure the monster into the kennel was not fun. With each wrapper he opened and candy devoured by the gremlin, he felt a small stabbing pain in his heart. But it had to be done.
Keith gave him an amused look. “I’m the one helping you out here.”
Lance sighed. “Fine. Whatever.”
“Besides, I have some snacks in my room upstairs. That can make up for the Nunvill Nummies.” Lance made to step towards the stairs but Keith said, “Wait, before we go up, I need to put Kosmo in his pen—“
“It’s fine, he can come with us. Oh, yes, he can, can he?” Lance cooed at the dog, scratching his chin. Then remembering, he unzipped his backpack, and took out Flouria.
“Look! It’s your sister!” Lance said, waving the bag of flour in the panting dog’s face.
“Be careful," warned Keith.
“Oh, Kosmo’s not going to hurt her. Right, Kosmo?” The dog lolled its tongue in answer.
“Right. Come on.”
With Kosmo trotting close behind them and Flouria held at the crook of Lance’s arm, they ascended the staircase, going straight to a door with a poster of some alien movie Lance had once seen—the Liberation of Arus, or something—and when Keith pushed the door open, Lance didn’t comment on how tidy Keith’s room was, or the glow in the dark plastic stars littering the wall, or the half-finished lego model of the International Space Station on his beside table. No, instead he stared at the end of the room, where a cork board hung, overflowing with pins, maps, and sticky notes, numerous lines of red string leading to newspaper clippings, to drawings, to photographs. Lance closed his mouth, which he did not realize had fallen open.
“What in the quiznak is that?” he asked, pointing to the chaotic mess on the wall.
“It’s all my research.”
Lance couldn’t help but gape again, but this time at Keith. “Research on—what? On monsters? How do you even get your information on that?”
Keith smiled as he admired his handiwork, hands on his hips. “By having my eyes open and being vigilant.” He turned to Lance. “You can sit on the bed while I explain. We need surveillance on Mothman just in case Kosmo tries to eat her.” He was pointing at the bag of flour in his hands. It took Lance several seconds to figure out what he meant.
“Her name is Flouria!” Lance cried incredulously, placing her neatly beside him on the bed.
But Keith did not hear or he chose not to, because he had turned off the lights, the room only illumined by the warm glow of the desk light and a lava lamp, and then with a click, switched on a flashlight in his hand. His grey eyes took on a gaunt quality, long shadows casted on his face. When Keith spoke, his voice was low and serious.
“It may not be obvious to the normal person, but there exist many hotspots of supernatural activity all around the world. I’m sure you can name a few of them. Area 51. Roswell. The Bermuda Triangle. But one place is always overlooked.” Lance startled as Keith slapped his gloved hand on a map brochure that Lance was all too familiar with. “The small, suburban town of Altea. How do I know this, you may ask? Well, something happened to me two months ago, just after I moved in.” He paused for dramatic effect. Lance didn’t even realize he was holding his breath. “I saw… them.”
Lance found himself speaking in a hush. “Like, one of the weird gremlin things?”
Keith’s mouth was a straight line. “No. It was something weirder. They were big, and purple, and, most importantly, they were very dangerous. I saw them running on the street from my window. I told my brother Shiro what I saw the following morning, but he dismissed it because I was up late that night.”
“But you did see it?” Lance asked, very carefully.
“I know what I saw, Lance.”
The way Keith said it was so sincere that Lance couldn’t help but actually believe him. It was ridiculous, how all of it sounded, and yet it was all real. It was a lot to take in.
“But—you told me you saw one of these before.” He pointed at the kennel. Kosmo had taken to sniffing the monster-thing inside of it. It was jiggling slightly.
“Yeah, but it was already dead. Ran over. Here.” He pointed at a picture on the board, of a blurry, blue-green splatter on the pavement. If Lance scrutinized it hard enough, he could see the legs and arms, similar to the one that was currently confined in Blue’s kennel. “This was when I found it. The creeper.”
“'Creeper?'”
“Things that creep in the night. I was alone at home that night and I didn’t know anyone yet, so I took a picture for evidence. I hoped that it would still be there the next morning so I could show Shiro when he came back, but, no—it was gone. Not even a splatter was left on the cement. I showed Shiro the picture but he thought it was just a blob. So, I had to do things my own way.” Keith had a determined look on his face. “‘Cause I think someone’s covering this all up.”
“Woah, woah, woah! Don’t you think you’re jumping a bit too far ahead with that?” Lance asked nervously. He knew a clean up was one thing, but suggesting that someone else knew more than them and was putting in the effort to hide everything? Now, that was scary. It sent shivers down his spine.
“No, Lance.” Keith shook his head solemnly. “There are too many coincidences for it to not be a pattern.”
Kosmo began to whimper. They turned their attention to him, only to find the door of the kennel wide open. The gremlin-monster-thing had perched itself on the other side of Keith’s bed, staring right back at them with a big grin on its ugly features.
“Holy shit on a stick!” Lance screamed, jumping away from the bed. Lance was not the swearing type, what with living with Nadia and Sylvio, but he thought that this one time he was allowed. Quickly, he snatched up Flouria from her spot before anything could happen to her.
Keith had already closed the door of his room with a slam, removing any chance for the monster to escape. It was quick thinking that Lance was thankful for. At the same time, he thought of the terrible possibility that Gremlin might start scratching their faces and eating their eyeballs. He trembled.
Lance didn’t want to die.
“Nunvill Nummies,” Keith said quietly.
“What?” Lance was panicking. Kosmo’s constant whimpers were exactly how Lance felt. He clutched Flouria tightly to his chest. He couldn’t believe he might die holding a bag of flour in his sworn rival’s room. He couldn’t bear it if it ended this way.
“Do you still have Nunvill Nummies?” Keith asked calmly.
“In—“ He was shaking so hard that his voice was too. “In my pocket.” He swallowed. “I only have three left.” His fingers enclosed on one of the foil-wrapped candies in his back pocket. He caught Keith’s eye. Keith gave him an almost imperceptible nod. Bringing the candy carefully in front of him, Lance allowed the wrapper to crinkle loudly. Gremlin’s hairy ears perked up, setting its glowing eyes on the sweet.
Keith gingerly made his way to the kennel, but not before snatching up a padlock strewn on his desk. Lance was waving around the unopened candy in front of Gremlin, who stood crouched on the bed, a few feet away from him. It really was ugly. It even had what looked like thick, matted sideburns on its face. Gross.
“You want it, right?”
Gremlin nodded.
His eyes widened. “You can understand us?” Lance breathed out in terror. His heart was in his throat.
Gremlin nodded again.
“I’ll give it to you if you don’t kill me. And Flouria. And Kosmo.” From behind the creature, Keith shot him an unamused expression. “And Keith too, I guess.”
Gremlin only smiled.
Oh, he was not in the mood to bargain with some devil spawn right now.
“Now, Keith!”
Keith threw the kennel wide open, and Lance propelled the Nummy with a prayer running through his mind, promising whatever higher entity that existed that he would start believing if it granted him this one thing. The candy sailed in the air as if in slow motion, with Gremlin jumping after it, launching itself from the bed. It seemed Lance’s prayer was answered, because the Nummy went through the kennel opening, as well as Gremlin. There was a loud bang as Keith hurriedly swung the metal door shut and neatly secured it with a click of the padlock. Snarls came from the inside, the door shaking violently as Gremlin hurled itself against it. The padlock held strong.
Lance collapsed on the bed, cradling Flouria Mothman Estefan McClain for comfort, while Keith was bent over beside the kennel, holding his knees and breathing heavily.
“Oh my God,” Keith said, breathless. “I can’t believe that worked.”
“Me neither,” Lance agreed, heart still thudding in his throat. “Do you have the key?”
Keith held it up in answer.
“Give it here,” Lance said, straightening up. Keith reached over and placed it on Lance’s palm. Lance immediately tucked it in his back pocket with the two remaining Nunvill Nummies.
“We have to tell your brother,” Lance said, after a quick pause to gather their breath. Kosmo had wandered up to them, seeking attention by whining and nudging their legs with his nose. Keith crouched down to hug his dog.
Keith shook his head. “I can’t. Shiro already has enough on his plate as it is.”
“Keith, are you crazy? You have evidence right here! Cold, hard, physical evidence that I handed to you on a silver platter! We have to tell someone!”
“Well, we’ll have to wait,” Keith said, scratching Kosmo’s head. “Shiro’s on a date at the museum.”
“This is an urgent matter, Keith,” Lance said solemnly.
Keith shrugged. “They’ll be back after ten.”
“Nuh uh. I am not staying up past my bed time.” Suddenly he remembered. “Which museum did they go to?”
“Where else? The Town Museum is the only thing around here.”
“That’s where the rock show is,” Lance said. He thought back to his conversation at the cafeteria. An idea alighted in his mind. “Pidge and her brother are there. A lot of people will be there!”
Keith’s eyes were widening, catching onto what Lance was thinking. “So, instead of showing it to only Shiro—“
“—we can show it to everyone in Altea!” Lance finished excitedly. “We can show it to all of them—and then no one can’t not believe us!”
“Okay, it’s a good plan, but we’re also putting a lot at risk here. You really think people will believe that’s a real monster?” Keith said, pointing at the shaking kennel. “People didn’t believe me before.”
“Trust me when I say they will now,” Lance assured him. He sure started to believe when he trapped it in the garbage bin yesterday. “Come on, we should go.” He was already standing up, placing Flouria on the bed and tucking her under the blankets. She looked back blankly at her two fathers, an equally blank smile on her face. “We don’t want to be late.”
“Wait.”
Lance turned to him. “What?”
Keith’s face was serious. “We have to prepare.”
“What?” Lance repeated, anxious. Before, he would have dismissed him, but circumstances have changed.
“We,” Keith said with the solemnity of a person doing something incredibly important, “need to put on our Creeper Gear.”