“I’m not sure I like that they have our address, either,” Mom starts.
“They’re my friends. I don’t give our address to people who aren’t my friends.” I step inside my room. Davy scoots in after me, and I close and lock the door. Mom’s footsteps stop outside. Then comes her huff at the closed door.
“You should take Davy for a walk later!” she calls.
“Sully and Church take him for walks,” I yell back. “They love it.”
“What kind of homework do you have?”
“I don’t know. Math. Physics.”
“Make sure you get it done. We got a call from your homeroom teacher again, she’s worried you aren’t doing as much as you should be—”
“It’s not like I’m applying to Ivy League colleges, I’m going to get in. Why does it matter?”
She doesn’t answer, but I know what she’d say. First, that I should aim higher and not settle for any school less than the best—but right now, I don’t care about learning, I care about drawing. And second, even non-Ivy League schools can be hard to get into, or I could lose scholarships, or whatever. It can’t be that hard to get into college, because all kinds of people do it all the time. And I already don’t have anything in the way of scholarships, and I plan on paying for college with the money I’m making off my Monstrous Sea merchandise. When Emmy made monstroussea.com, she also set up a store page where we could sell official gear—bags, notebooks, binders, pencils, shirts, buttons, wallets, phone cases, anything we could brand with designs and logos from MS. It’s how I bought my computer, and the newest version of Photoshop, and most importantly, my pen display.
My parents don’t know the extent of this. They know I bought the stuff, but when this all started, they helped me set up a bank account and gave me their tax man’s phone number and told me if I wanted to make a little money off my hobby, I’d have to learn how to take care of that money myself, that it would be educational for me.
The comic didn’t really start making me money until earlier this year, and as soon as I realized what was happening, I plucked up my meager reserve of courage and marched down to the bank to set up my own account, one they couldn’t see online. I funnel money from it into my other account sometimes, so when Mom looks at it she still sees that I have income, but she and Dad don’t know the actual amount. They don’t know I could pay for college and make a living off of it.
I don’t want them to know. I don’t want them to become as involved in my online life as they try to be in my offline one.
Mom stomps away from the door. I’ll hear about this when Dad gets back from . . . wherever he is today. Probably at some meeting about high-tech sporting gear. He’ll say I should do my homework because it’ll make me a well-rounded person regardless of what it does for my college options; he’ll also say I should go walk Davy because it’s good exercise. “Good exercise,” aka the actual worst phrase in the English language next to “wake up” and “all the eggs are gone.”
I drop my backpack on the floor, put Emmy’s box on the desk—removing Mr. Greatbody to tack him up on the wall between two Monstrous Sea posters—and flop over on the bed with my sketchbook. The books in the headboard bookcase slump over on themselves. They’re all different editions of the four published Children of Hypnos books, the series forever incomplete. Davy climbs up beside me.
For a minute, I lie on my side and bury my face in his ruff of white fur. The world becomes the quiet hum of the heater kicking on and the smell of dog dandruff. No one is watching me, or judging me, or even thinking about me. No one else is in the room. Davy sighs and lays his head across my arm.
After a minute I sit up and reach for my sketchbook. First my sidewalk-dirtied drawings fall out, then Wallace’s papers. He actually gave me these to critique. To write on. And we only talked for the first time today. I don’t know many writers, but I don’t think that happens very often. Maybe he was just happy to have another Monstrous Sea fan to talk to. I hold the papers out to Davy; he sniffs them, nudges them with his nose, then lays his head on his paws and stares at me with big dark eyes.
“Good?” I ask. “I’ll say that’s good.”
I flip through the pages. They have such a nice crinkly feeling, and they don’t sit quite flat on each other because Wallace’s pen strokes have warped the paper. I trace my fingers over the words without reading them. So clean and precise—one benefit of moving slowly, I guess. He could be an artist with this kind of dexterity.
I hold my excitement in check.
Amity had two birth days.
I read fast, flipping through pages like it’s my job. It is kind of my job. Whatever. The story unfolds slowly but smoothly, moving through parts of the narrative I wasn’t able to explore until later in the comic. I didn’t expect Wallace to get the feelings right—Amity’s feelings about Faren, the atmosphere of their home island, the scope of the story—but he did.
There were pictures of all this in the comic, one or two panels for atmosphere and sense of place, but he brings it alive in words. Maybe this is only because I know what it looks like. It’s too good. This is like eating cake you didn’t know you could have.
I made Monstrous Sea because it’s the story I wanted. I wanted a story like it, and I couldn’t find one, so I created it myself. And now someone else has remade it for me in a different medium—a medium I couldn’t do myself—and he’s letting me experience it. I am finally seeing the story I wanted, and even though I know how it unfolds, and I know exactly how all of these things look, it is new again.
This is more than I deserve. It’s perfect.
Chills course the length of my spine. Too late I realize I’m crying, and a few tears drip on the paper. I curse, push the papers away from me, and pull my sweatshirt up to quickly wipe my eyes. Davy moves his head to rest it on my thigh.
“I’m okay,” I say, but my voice shakes. I dab my sleeve on the page to try to dry the tears. Wallace will probably see those tomorrow.
I am laugh-crying alone in my bedroom. Wonderful.
Wallace has read my mind. He has divined the things I thought while drawing this comic and put them down on paper. I don’t understand it, and I don’t know how this chain of events happened. But Wallace Warland can do magic. Actual, real magic. With words.
And it’s not just that he read my mind. It’s that he knows the material. Wallace knows the constellation Faren drew on the ceiling above their bed is called Gyurhei. He knows its mythology—or close, anyway. I could correct him on the page, but it seems like a shame to mark up such careful writing when I can’t find anything else wrong, so I’ll tell him tomorrow. None of that—the name, the mythology—was laid out in the comics. It was one of those things I had to explain when someone asked on the forums.
There’s more. I flip the last page over.
It’s a quote from Doctor Faustus.
“This word ‘damnation’ terrifies not me,
For I confound Hell in Elysium.”
He remembers. Once, and I don’t know if this was on the forums or in chat, I said Monstrous Sea was a combination of the Final Fantasy video games and the Faust legend. Most of the fans didn’t know what Faust even was, they just knew it was Damien’s last name. That was so long ago. Back at the beginning of the website, the forums. That post is long buried now.
But Wallace remembers.
CHAPTER 9
I spend a careful ten minutes sketching a stylized Orcus and its three moons around Wallace’s Doctor Faustus quote. Then a serpentine sunset riser lifting out of the ocean on one side and a dread crow with wings spread on the other. I hope he doesn’t mind.
I grab the gifts I’ve been meaning to send Max and Emmy—a copy each of the newest Monstrous Sea graphic novel compilation and a pack of Twizzlers for Max and Starburst for Emmy—and pack them up. Max lives in Canada; Emmy goes to school in California. Max’s shipping is usually a killer, but whatever, I can write it off as business expense.
Then it’s on to finishing a page of Monstrous Sea and starting another. I know the colors are on a computer and they’re the same colors I always use, but today they seem brighter. The lines are darker, stronger. I already drew the character expressions in detail, but they look better too.