The Mary Shelley Club Goldy Moldavsky (android based ebook reader txt) 📖

what?” Freddie stammered. “I’m gonna stop talking now and just show you.”

He crawled toward a clunky machine on the windowsill behind his headboard, his bed squeaking with the movement. I wondered what his mom might think if she heard the noise. She might think we were doing something bad, even though we weren’t doing anything bad, but really, would it even be so bad? I let my mind wander, let my face get hot.

I stayed very still.

Finally, Freddie flipped a switch, sending lights dancing on my arm.

“Is that a film projector?” I whispered.

“Yeah.”

Freddie took a sheet off the floor on his brother’s side of the room and flung it over the closet door to create a makeshift projector screen. He turned off the lamp.

The film was black-and-white and there was no audio, but I recognized it instantly. The stark brightness pulled me in like a moth to a flame even if part of my shoulder and head blocked the projection.

“Old film reels and canisters are kind of, like, prized possessions in Film Club,” Freddie said. “One of the guys found this at a flea market. I traded him my reel of Goldfinger for it. But you’ve probably seen this one anyway.”

I watched the scene play out on the wrinkled sheet. Something about how old it was, how silent, made it more magical. “Bride of Frankenstein.”

It was the scene where the Monster walks into the laboratory to meet his mate. Freddie and I had to sit apart so the beam of light could pass between us, but we still caught parts of the images on our bodies, the lightning-streaked tips of the Bride’s hair splayed on my sleeve, part of Dr. Frankenstein on Freddie’s cheek.

I realized that being there with Freddie had helped me shake off the bad feelings from my nightmare. Now I was feeling something else, and I wanted to feel it even more.

Freddie turned to look at me, as if he could hear my thoughts. I didn’t know what images were playing on my face but he couldn’t seem to look away.

“¿Te puedo besar?” he asked.

He smiled, and on his face, Dr. Frankenstein let out a soundless cry. I grabbed him and the doctor both and pulled them toward me. Like Freddie had said, I’d seen this one anyway.

We kissed long enough for the Monster to feel hope and love and rage, the scene playing out against our moving arms and faces, painting us in dramatic grays. Finally, the Monster met his bride for the first and last time, and their silent screams were awash on our skin.

 27

“WHO ARE YOU TEXTING?” Mom asked. She plopped down next to me on the couch and tried to peek at my phone screen, but I held it out of reach.

“No one!”

“Is No One cute?”

I rolled my eyes. “Mom.”

“What? I’ve noticed that your texting activity has skyrocketed exponentially all of a sudden. And I know it’s not Saundra.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you’d tell me if it was her.”

She had me there. I didn’t particularly want to tell her about Freddie, especially since I didn’t know if there was anything to tell. We’d made out in his room. On his bed, to be exact. For a while. But that had been two days ago, and now it was the weekend, which meant that I didn’t get to see him again in school, which meant any number of things could’ve happened. Like, he could’ve forgotten about me. Or changed his mind. Or had a long forty-eight-hour think about how much he really wasn’t into my kissing style.

But at least we were texting. He sent me cute memes and asked about my plans for Halloween, and we chatted back and forth about a whole bunch of topics that were not about how we’d kissed. Hence, all my questions and doubts.

This was probably the kind of thing my mom could theoretically help me sort out. She was starting to ask a lot of questions about where I was running off to most nights. And I was pretty sure she wasn’t buying my knitting club excuse. If I was going to keep lying about the club, I could at least be honest about who I was texting.

“Do you know Freddie Martinez?”

A slow smile crept onto Mom’s face and I was already regretting my decision to tell her anything.

“I taught him last year,” she said. “Are you guys … hanging out?”

“Kind of.”

Mom tucked her lips between her teeth like she was biting back a grin, but a little squeal still managed to slip out.

“Mom!”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“You were thinking it.”

“So Freddie’s the knitting club?”

“Mom.” I grabbed a couch cushion and tried to fuse my face with it, still hearing my mom’s giggles as I did. She pulled the pillow away. “I’m happy you’re … making connections.”

“This isn’t, like, a Craigslist ad, Mom. We’re just friends.”

“Well, do you like him?”

I gave a noncommittal shrug. Which I knew my mom would know how to read. She confirmed that with another little squeal.

“You know, most parents would be wary of high school boys,” I said.

“Well, I know Freddie. He’s a very upstanding gentleman. And most parents don’t have a daughter as responsible and smart and not-quick-to-rush-into-things as you.” She squeezed a hug out of me and leaned her head on my shoulder. I let her because it felt nice, and because my mom deserved a normal moment with me. After last year, I guess this was like her hitting the Normal Teen Daughter jackpot.

“Are you two going out tonight?” Mom asked. “It’s Halloween!”

That was actually what Freddie had just been texting me about. The Mary Shelley Club traditionally halted all proceedings on October 31, but there was a party that lots of people from Manchester were going to. I had my own Halloween tradition, though.

“Gonna watch Halloween,” I said.

“Again?”

“They don’t call it a classic for nothin’.” Also, I needed inspiration for my upcoming Fear Test and I was hoping Michael Myers and Laurie Strode could provide some.

I