Read Online The Boy Who Drew Monsters: A Novel by Keith Donohue - Free Book Online Page A

shake slightly in its slides as though something inside wanted to get out. Her fingers flew to her mouth to trap in her apprehension. They waited, still and quiet, until the scrabbling began again.
    “You’ve got a little visitor, Jack.”
    He hugged himself, his thin, bare arms as pale as his undershirt. “What is it?”
    The drawer jerked lightly on its rails.
    “Sounds like a big mouse.” She smiled and joked, “Or a small rat.”
    Gathering the fabric into a circle, she guided the sweater over his head, and he smiled, as always, once he’d pushed his way through the opening. As he worked his way into the sleeves, Jack Peter asked, “Aren’t you going to see what’s in there?”
    “Are you kidding? I have no intention of opening that drawer. Would scare me half to death, whatever’s in there. I’ll have your father take a look. That’s why I keep him around—to kill spiders and get rid of mice.”
    “But don’t you want to know?”
    “I do not. Now, do you think you can put on your pants by yourself and some socks and shoes and march down to breakfast?”
    He nodded, so she kissed him on the forehead. She lingered a moment at the foot of the bed, regarding him with tenderness and a short smile, and then she was gone. Jack Peter gathered the blankets around his legs and listened to the next part of the morning routine.
    Through his open doorway floated the familiar rhythm of his parents’ fleeting conversation. His mother roused his father from his slumber and readied herself for work. Reminders of the day’s schedule were exchanged, and this morning, words about a mouse in a drawer. She hurried downstairs, poured herself a mug of coffee for the trip to the office, and left, closing the front door with an emphatic click. Some days, after his mother had gone, a brief interval of silence returned to the house, a sure sign that his father had gone back to bed. No such luck today. Down the hall, the pipes rattled and the shower gushed. He had seven minutes before his father would arrive.
    As he quickly dressed and straightened his sheets and blankets, he stole glances at the desk drawer to make sure it did not suddenly pop open and release its contents. He sat on the smoothed quilt and counted off the remaining minutes, tapping his left foot on the floor to keep time. At the seven-minute mark, he got up and went to the doorway, anxious for the schedule to be maintained. Even though he knew it was coming, when the door swung open, he was caught by surprise. Clad in a yellow robe bright as a canary, his father stepped out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam that trailed him to the bedroom door. “Up and ready to get cracking? We have Dr. Wilson this morning.”
    “I don’t want to go. I don’t like Dr. Wilson.”
    “Look, I had to call and get them to squeeze you in this morning. I know you don’t want to go, but it’s mandatory, I’m afraid. No Dr. Wilson, no magic pills.”
    “I don’t want to take the magic pills.”
    His father scowled at him. “Jip, I’ve told you a hundred times, that’s not an option. Now hurry and get ready. We’ve barely enough time for breakfast.” Just as he was about to leave, the scrabbling and bumping in the drawer began again.
    “Wait!” The boy held out his arms like a toddler. “Didn’t Mommy tell you about the noise in the drawer?”
    “The mouse?”
    Jack Peter took two steps back into the room, hoping to entice him to follow. “Aren’t you curious? Aren’t you going to check?”
    His father followed him in. “Curiosity killed the cat, my boy. Or, in this case, the mouse.” He quickly opened the drawer and peered inside, pretending to shuffle the contents. “Nothing here to meet the eye. But not to worry, if there’s a mouse in here, it won’t eat much. We’ll take care of it later. First, Dr. Wilson. There’s no time for games.”
    The eggs had gone cold and the little triangles of toast had become hard and dry by the time he came downstairs. He