An early sketch for what would become Warren Sprigg, Monster Fighter of Womberly Ave.

He was in Becky’s chemistry class. No one knew that much about him. He was a new kid and kept to himself; hoodie up, sullen, detached. But he was intriguing. Becky could see a kind of natural athleticism rippling under his slouch, and he got effortless A’s like he’d taken grade 12 a hundred times. A week ago, she caught him looking at her: face pale, eyes dark. He looked away quickly, almost ashamed, guilty. She was creeped out at first. Then she caught him doing it again a