Pigúiça opened her eyes in the middle of the night and saw something.
Under the bed, in the shadows, there was a long, floppy arm, stretched out. Farther back was a big, dark lump, all crumpled, with a piece sticking out like an ear. Pigúiça pulled the blanket up to her nose. Her blue eyes went round as two moons.
“Fofuxo,” she whispered, in the tiniest voice she had. “There's a monster under my bed.” Fofuxo, who was sleeping in the bed next to hers, got up very slowly. He rubbed his eyes and looked where she was pointing.
“Hmm,” he said. “You're right. There's something there.” Pigúiça gripped the blanket tighter. She had hoped he would say it was nothing. But Fofuxo was an honest friend, and honest friends don't say it's nothing when you've seen something.
“Do you know what we do with a mystery?” he asked. “We look closely. Together. With a light.” He whistled softly toward the window, and a firefly flew in, glowing yellow. It landed on Fofuxo's nose like a tiny flashlight.
The two of them crouched down. Pigúiça went first, but stayed very close to Fofuxo. One step. Another step. The little light came closer to the shadow. Then the light reached it. And the monster turned into something else.
The long arm was a striped sock, just one, that Pigúiça had tossed there that morning and forgotten. The crumpled lump was the blue jacket, fallen on top of a slipper. And the ear was the jacket's hood, folded to one side.
Pigúiça stared. Then she giggled through her nose, a small, slightly nervous giggle. Then a bigger giggle. Then a giggle so big she had to cover her mouth so she wouldn't wake the neighbors. “It's a sock!” she whispered, laughing. “I was scared of a sock!” “A very long sock,” said Fofuxo, seriously. “It could scare anyone.”
“Can I give it a name?” “Of course.” Pigúiça thought. “Mister Long Sock. And the jacket is Lady Hood.”
They folded the jacket, put the sock in the drawer, and the firefly did a little loop around the room before flying back to the window, blinking good night.
Pigúiça lay down in bed, now seeing the space under it as just a dark, empty place, like any other. The fear had vanished, melted in the firefly's light.
“Fofuxo?” “Yes?” “Thank you for looking with me.” “Always,” he said, and went back to his own bed.
Pigúiça smiled in the dark. She closed her eyes. The room was quiet and safe, and she fell asleep in no time.
