Page 68 of Saving Little Clark

When the smoke finally cleared, it was to find Kristen clutching a familiar sequined handbag. The one that had, until about 30 seconds ago, housed a stink bomb just waiting to detonate.

For a moment, Kristen just stood there. Then, quick as a snake, her eyes cut to ours. Narrowed to ominous slits, glittering with rage.

"You," she hissed, jabbing a finger at Alex's chest. Then to me, to Elijah. Circling us like a shark scenting blood. "You did this. You horrible, awful little cretins!"

Alex, of course, just smirked. "Who, us? Aww c'mon, Krissy. What do you take us for, a bunch of petty pranksters?"

She snarled, taking a threatening step forward. "Don't you play dumb with me, you toad!"

Any second now, the Daddies would come running, demanding to know what in the seven hells was going on.

Time to put those acting chops to work. Widening my eyes, I put on my most affronted expression. Gasped loudly, clasping a hand to my chest like a scandalized dowager.

"Well I never!" I declared, laying it on thick. "We had nothing to do with whatever this is."

I gestured to her hair, her bag. Wrinkled my nose theatrically, as if just now noticing the stench. "We've been nothing but welcoming to you girls, and this is how you repay us? With baseless accusations?"

Elijah nodded fervently at my side, lower lip jutting in an exaggerated pout. "Yeah. It's Christmas Eve, we're supposed to be friends."

The sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the hall. Uncle Will came skidding into the room. Daddy, Oliver and Lance hot on his heels, all wearing matching expressions of concern. Concern quickly morphed to confusion as they took in the scene before them.

Alex leapt into action. Positioned himself in front of us like some kind of demented defense attorney, hands raised in supplication.

"Thank goodness you're here," he cried, face arranged into a mask of distress. " Something terrible has happened to poor Kristen, and she's gone absolutely batshit."

Kristen made an inarticulate sound of rage, lunging for him. But Uncle Will stepped smoothly into her path. Caught her by the shoulders, halting her.

"Woah there, Cupcake," he said mildly, raising a brow. "Let's all just take a deep breath, okay? I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable explanation for all this."

Alex clasped his hands beneath his chin. Fluttered his lashes, the picture of earnest sincerity.

"There is, Daddy. A totally logical reason. And that reason is ghosts."

Dead silence. I closed my eyes briefly. Took a long, fortifying breath through my nose.

Ghosts. He was going with fuckingghosts. Of course, he was. Honestly, I shouldn't even be surprised anymore.

When I opened my eyes again, it was to find Kristen gaping like a landed trout. Opening and closing her mouth, no sound emerging.

The Daddies just looked bemused. Uncle Will's brow was practically touching his hairline, a muscle ticking in Uncle Oliver's jaw as he visibly fought to keep a straight face.

Daddy was heading straight for me. Homing in like a heat-seeking missile, zeroing in on the weakest link with unerring accuracy. Dammit. I should've practiced my poker face more. He came to a stop in front of me, arms crossed over his broad chest.

"Clark," Daddy said, low and measured. "Did you have something to do with her transformation?"

I swallowed hard. Darted a glance at Alex, silently begging for backup. But he just shot me a wide-eyed look, shaking his head minutely.

Ah, so that's how it was gonna be. Every man for himself, thrown to the wolves at the first sign of trouble. Some partners in crime they turned out to be.

But then Alex was stepping forward, pasting on a blinding smile.

"Now, Uncle Brody," he began. "I know what this looks like. But I promise you, there's a perfectly logical explanation."

Daddy raised a brow. "Is that so?"

"Absolutely." Alex nodded fervently, clasping his hands beneath his chin. "Ghosts. Vengeful spirits, to be specific. The kind that haunt bratty little girls who are mean to sweet, innocent boys. They manifest in the form of bad hair days and stinky handbags, you see. Classic ghostly shenanigans."

God, he was really going for it, wasn't he? Just digging that hole deeper and deeper, with no end in sight.

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