Free The Monster Variations by Daniel Kraus Page A

occasional misbehavior, often comparing it with his own wild escapades, most of them set in college, before hastily changing his tone and adding an obligatory “mind your mother.” Normally his father would have shrugged off an offense like last night’s curfew-breaking, but this time something was different. Something about the mention of Reggie’s house had his father on edge.
    James’s mother scrutinized her son’s face. He stared down at his cereal and lodged some more in his mouth, his stomach squirming.
    “You can call Reggie’s mom and ask her,” he said between crunches. This was his secret weapon: he knew his mother hated calling Reggie’s mom. Not only did James’s mother think Reggie Fielder was a bad influence, but she also seemed to have a low opinion of his mother. Once James had overheard her saying that “every guy in town” knew Kay Fielder. James knew the reason was something more than the fact that she worked at a restaurant. He had seen plenty of boyfriends come and go from Ms. Fielder’s life, including two significantenough to compel her to move both herself and Reggie into the men’s houses before moving back out a few months later.
    James was not sure his gamble would pay off. His mother looked suspicious. Maybe it was because it was the weekend—his mother grew bolder in the absence of Louise—but all at once James could quite clearly envision his mom calling up Ms. Fielder, not caring for one second that she was probably waking her up. He felt a familiar panic that the road map of his life, so carefully drafted by his parents, was in jeopardy. He thought mournfully of his mother’s scrapbook. While his early years were thick with baby announcements, baptism notifications, school chorus programs, and tennis camp certificates, around age ten he appeared to have stagnated. Over the past couple of years only a handful of items had made the pages, leaving far too many blank for high school and college, more than he could ever fill. James felt that this was his fault—he was blowing it, he was losing traction, everything was falling down the damn hole.
    He had to stop his mother from calling, and so he did something mean. He looked his mother in the eye, waited until he had her full attention, and then flicked his gaze at her scar. Immediately she covered her mouth with a hand and turned away, making a flat noise kind of like laughter, but not quite. It was the same noise she made when his father made a cruel comment about her looks, or an innocent comment that she took the wrongway. James didn’t know how he felt being allied with his father in this fashion. All boys wanted to be grown up, he thought, but did it mean having to feel like this?
    “No, I won’t call her,” his mother said. Her face looked caught, flustered, and she added as if to excuse herself, “She works late.”
    She took a pinch of James’s shoulder.
    “But you know how I feel about you staying there,” she said.
    “Yes, Mom,” James said.
    “It’s just not a good environment for children.”
    “Yes, Mom,” James said.
    “I know you don’t understand now, but there’s certain things you don’t need to be exposed to—”
    “Goddammit.” It
was his father’s voice, loud and unexpected. “You mind your mother or I swear to you there will be grief.”
    James’s mother’s hand slid from his shoulder.
    “And why are you covering up your face?” he demanded of his wife. “Why do you always do that? Am I that terrible?”
    There was a sound like rubber, his mother’s foot pivoting on the waxed floor. Then she was gone, moving swiftly through the house. Faraway stairs thumped, banisters creaked. James crunched his cereal for a moment, staring into the milky glow of his spoon. No one was calling anyone, he was safe, but he felt less secure than ever. He chanced a peek at his father.
    His father was staring right at him. His hands were still positioned on either side of the numbers. His body had not