The Game of Boys and Monsters Read Online Free PDF

watching that happen and not stopping it.
    â€œShe’s not on drugs,” I said. “I don’t think I— Evy doesn’t tell me everything the way she used to.”
    â€œI’m sorry,” Ben said. I’m sure he could hear the emotion in my voice.
    â€œI’ve . . . I’ve been really lonely since the Marsh boys came.”
    He reached over to put his hand on my hand and squeezed.
    â€œI’m sorry,” he said again. “I know you and Evy . . . That sucks.”
    I swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and made myself focus on the warmth of his hand. “It really does.”
    He turned down the narrow road that would take us to the Thorn Bridge. It had been a bad idea maybe, to take him to a place I associated with Evy and the Marsh boys. What was I thinking? It was like asking to make the day turn sour and sad.
    But I wanted to be there, to see the place and to see, I don’t know, if there was anything, any sign, of what happened down there. Anything I could use.
    We pulled up to the Thorn Bridge, not onto it. There were no warning signs or guardrails, but the bridge didn’t look sturdy enough for a car. And there wasn’t any reason to drive across—the road beyond the bridge had been reclaimed by woods long ago.
    The bridge, of course, was supposed to be haunted. By the ghosts of a pair of lovers who’d committed suicide because they couldn’t be together. By the ghosts of children who had died as the bridge collapsed under the weight of their wagon. People said if you parked on the bridge in neutral, ghost children would push you to safety with their little hands, but no one would risk their car to test that theory, so of course it stayed true.
    Ben opened his door first. I hadn’t expected to feel so off balance here.
    The place felt like Evy. When the wind rattled the dying leaves of the big oaks and maples that arced across the river, it reminded me of Evy’s fingers shredding bay leaves for a tea. Where the water reversed itself against a huge boulder near the bank, the shiny chaos made me think of Evy’s hair.
    Evy was haunting the Thorn Bridge.
    Ben and I stood at the opening. Weirdly anachronistic graffiti decorated the walls, but at the bridge’s center, darkness swallowed all detail, allowing a crosser to slip back in time.
    We stepped onto the bridge, and I imagined the wood bending under our feet, giving way. A lot of the graffiti was vulgar, but there were love messages too, including one deeply carved heart with initials that were supposed to belong to the lovers who haunted the bridge. I traced that one with my finger and said, “It’s supposed to be good luck.”
    So Ben traced it too, meeting me at the heart’s point and taking my hand.
    He pulled me to face him, and I put the finger that had traced the heart on his chest, traced his heart while he watched.
    â€œYou’re different,” he said, in a whisper.
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    I locked eyes with him, and the life in me, my overflowing life, danced in the space between us.
    â€œThis. You’re . . . less shy. You’re . . . well, you’re all lit up,” he said.
    I reached for his lips with my lips, and he met me. His were warm and firm, and he tasted like fall.
    Then we hugged. He held me and rocked me on the Thorn Bridge, and I put a hand out to brace myself against the wall, needing to feel something steady. I was sobbing.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” he said. “What did I do wrong?”
    â€œNothing. You’re wonderful. It’s just—I’m happy. And I—I would talk to Evy about you, about this. She’s the only person I would talk to,” I said quickly, not wanting him to think I was the kind of girl to kiss and tell. “But I can’t talk to her anymore.”
    â€œI’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said, and he held me tight and kissed my tears, and