Some of My Best Friends Are Monsters

By Bruce Coville

Stuart Glassman is back for another wild and wacky adventure with his friend Robert, a ghost who has a heart made of mischief. This time around Robert has cooked up a "Jekyll Juice" potion that actually works. (That's because he consulted with the ghost of the real Dr. Jekyll to figure out how to do it.) As if the monster potion wasn't bad enough, there is a mummy wandering around the camp, and it seems to after Stuart's friend, Brenda. The laughs and the scares come side-by-side in this fast-paced monster-filled comedy!

By the author of MY TEACHER IS AN ALIEN and JEREMY THATCHER, DRAGON HATCHER

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bruce Coville
• Release date: May 16, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463408278

Bruce Coville

BRUCE COVILLE is the author of over 100 books for children and young adults, including the international bestseller My Teacher is an Alien, the Unicorn Chronicles series, and the much-beloved Jeremy Thatcher, Dragon Hatcher. His work has appeared in a dozen languages and won children's choice awards in a dozen states. Before becoming a full time writer Bruce was a teacher, a toymaker, a magazine editor, a gravedigger, and a cookware salesman. He is also the creator of Full Cast Audio, an audiobook company devoted to producing full cast, unabridged recordings of material for family listening and has produced over a hundred audiobooks, directing and/or acting in most of them. Bruce lives in Syracuse, New York, with his wife, illustrator and author Katherine Coville.

Book preview

Chapter One

Harry Goes Berserk

Do you know what rice pudding feels like when it slides down your back? I’m no big fan of the stuff, anyway. (I mean, think about it. What does rice pudding look like to you?) But I can tell you this much: I’d rather eat it than wear it. So when Lucius Colton dumped a bowl of it down my T-shirt during our fifth week at Camp Haunted Hills, I was not amused.

This was not true of the rest of the kids at my table. They all seemed to find it incredibly funny. Eddie Mayhew laughed so hard that milk came out his nose.

I suppose I might have laughed, too, if it had happened to someone else. But Lucius had chosen me to be the main victim of his warped personality, and I was getting pretty tired of it.

I had already talked to our counselor, Dan Snopes, about the problem. He suggested that maybe Lucius was jealous because I had turned out to be kind of a hero after I had been kidnapped by a Bigfoot earlier in the summer. But Lucius had started picking on me long before that. In fact, it started the minute he met me.

My friend Brenda Connors suggested that maybe Lucius and I had been enemies in a past life. That sounded kind of silly to me, but who knows? I think he just hated my looks—I do wear glasses and have kind of a big nose. I also knew that I was sick of it.

So the last thing I needed when Lucius got me with the pudding was to have my crazy ghost friend Robert float down in front of me and say, You know, Stuart, you really have to do something about that kid.

I just glared at him—partly because it was hardly what I’d call a news flash, and partly because by that time I’d learned that talking to Robert in public got me in trouble. This is mostly because no one but me can see him. The reason I can see him is that he lets me. But why he lets me is beyond me. Whenever I ask him, he just says something insulting, like that I’m the weirdest kid at camp and he figures I need all the friends I can get.

Even so, it’s not easy to ignore Robert in situations like this. You can’t just say, We’ll talk about it later, the way your parents do, because people will still think you’re bonkers.

But I’m learning.

Fortunately we were all distracted about then because someone started shouting and screaming on the other side of the dining hall.

To my astonishment, it was Harry Housen. Harry was my favorite counselor at Camp Haunted Hills—a movie camp in southern Oregon. He was in charge of teaching my favorite subject—special effects. We had gotten to be friends when I found and returned his pet iguana, Myron, one night after the critter had wandered off.

Something was definitely wrong here. Harry was so mild mannered, I had once seen him apologize to a spider for having to move its web. I had seen him try to shoot the same scene dozens of times without losing his temper.

But from the way he was carrying on now you would have thought he hadn’t just lost his temper but that someone had kidnapped it and was holding it for ransom.

I can’t take it anymore! screamed Harry. This place is driving me out of my mind!

Suddenly he came bounding across the dining hall and jumped right onto my table. He grabbed a pitcher of bug juice—that’s the stuff they give you to drink at camps—and poured in a little package of powder.

You’ll be sorry! he cried, holding the pitcher straight out in front of him. All of you will regret what you’ve done to me!

I started to worry. Like me, Harry got picked on a lot. He was a tall, skinny guy with a big schnoz. Flash Milligan, the camp’s handsome lighting instructor was always making fun of him. Had Flash’s teasing finally driven Harry over the deep end?

Now the pitcher was starting to bubble and steam. Within seconds, foam was pouring over the sides and onto the table.

I’m going crazy I tell you! screamed Harry. CRAAAAAAZY!

Everyone gasped as he raised the pitcher to his lips and took a deep drink of the stuff. The foaming brew poured down the front of his shirt. When he was done, he looked around wildly, then grabbed his throat and began to make weird, choking noises.

An instant later he fell to the floor and rolled under the table.

Chapter Two

Dr. Jekyll’s Nephew

Harry had gotten hairy.

When he crawled out from under the table, just moments after he rolled under it, he had fur all over his hands and face. Not only that—he seemed to have grown fangs and claws, too.

He jumped to his feet and began snarling and snapping. The kids closest to him drew back, screaming.

Everyone stay in your seats! commanded Peter Flinches, the camp director. Peter was speaking over the bullhorn he sometimes used to call us to order. His voice boomed through the mess hall.

Suddenly Harry whirled around and ran for the door. I was dying to take off after him. After all, Harry was my friend. But Dan had put a hand on my shoulder to keep me in my seat. Sometimes I think that guy can read minds.

As Harry ran out of the mess hall he slammed