“It is the form I choose most to walk in.” Conor frowned. “That’s not really an answer.”
The monster just gave him that evil grin. Conor’s grandma had driven him back to her house
when his mum had fallen asleep after not eating her dinner.
His grandma still hadn’t spoken to him about the destruction of her sitting room. She’d barely spoken to him at all.
“I’m going back,” she said, as he got out of the car. “Fix yourself something to eat. I know you can at least do that.”
“Do you think Dad’s at the airport by now?” Conor asked. All his grandma did in response was sigh impatiently.
He shut the door and she drove away. After he’d gone inside, the clock – the cheap, battery-operated one in the kitchen,
which was all they had now – had crept towards midnight without her returning or calling.
He thought about calling her himself, but she’d already yelled at him once when her ringtone had woken up his mum.
It didn’t matter. In fact, it made it easier. He hadn’t had to pretend to go to bed.
He’d waited until the clock read 12.07. Then he went outside and said, “Where are you?”
And the monster said, “I am here,” and stepped over his grandma’s office shed in one easy motion.
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