Page 17 of Starry with a Chance of Nightshade

“Yes, that.” Emily smiled. “Astria is lucky to be dating him.”

I tensed. “I’m not dating him. We’re friends.”

“Who grind against one another while dancing,” added Stevie as she laughed. “And before she protests, Craig’s hips were working overtime to 50 Cent. He was doing his best to find it In Da Club all right.”

Groaning, I covered my face with my hands. “Stop. I don’t want it getting back to him that people think we’re dating. He might think I started the rumor.”

Emily glanced at the others. “It’s adorable that she doesn’t realize he’d be thrilled if she told people they were dating.”

“Can we stop talking about my nonexistent love life?” I asked, drawing my hands down. “I’m not seeing anyone. Craig and I are only friends. Nothing more.”

“Sure, you’re not.” Colleen nodded to me. “If you see him, tell him congrats on making it to the playoffs. Or just tongue him or something. I’m sure he’d like that too.”

“Is a playoff like a fifth quarter or something?” asked Emily.

Colleen shot her a look that could have killed. “Baseball has innings.”

Emily grinned and I strongly suspected she already knew as much but just wanted to get Colleen going.

If that was her goal, it worked. Colleen continued lecturing us all on the finer points of baseball for a good fifteen minutes before finally standing. By the end of it, I was thoroughly confused and couldn’t remember what sport had what and was fairly sure she was just inventing words. But I was happy they were off discussing my love life so I was fine with it all.

Colleen wiped her hands on her basketball shorts. “I’m grabbing a soda from the kitchen. Anyone want one?”

“Diet please,” said Emily.

Colleen scrunched her face slightly. “Yuck and okay. Anyone else want anything?”

“I’m good, thanks though,” replied Krissy.

Colleen waggled her brows. “No one do anything freaky until I get back. I love ghosts. Hope we see one tonight.”

“The game we’re starting with isn’t for that,” said Krissy, who sounded like she knew what she was talking about. “The next one is.”

“Sweet,” said Colleen as she vanished into the kitchen again.

Stevie peered over the top of her magazine at Krissy. “Which one is this then? Also, if anyone gets Colleen going on sports again when she gets back, you’re going to have me to deal with.”

“Light as a Feather,” said Emily, ignoring the threat. “We’ve all played it a hundred times before in junior high and high school.”

Krissy smiled as she lit more candles. The woman was basically beyond a fire hazard at this point.

Stevie lowered the magazine more, giving Emily a pointed stare. “Not at my school. No one was messing with any of this crap back then. We knew better.”

“Wise choice,” I said.

She nodded, going back to the magazine.

“You’re both being ridiculous,” said Krissy. “Emily is right, it’s all harmless. We deserve some fun. In a week, we’ll be done with school and going our separate ways. We’ll be forced to adult. Yuck. Let’s have some fun tonight and reclaim our youth.”

“How about we go toilet papering or something then,” said Stevie. “You know, something that won’t leave a vengeful ghost haunting us. We’d still be acting like we’re twelve but nothing demonic will kill us.”

She had no clue how spot-on her suggestion could be.

My hand went to the pendant I was never without as I thought about the price my family had paid for Victor Frankenstein’s fame and for what he’d done. And I couldn’t help but reflect on what my father had done. How he’d tried but epically failed to follow in Victor’s footsteps. While Victor’s experiments had been something that could be labeled a success, my father’s were anything but. My father’s creations couldn’t reason, or read poetry, philosophize, or even question their existence. They could do one thing and one thing only.

Kill.

I couldn’t even blame the people in charge for what they’d done after my father’s actions when I was little. My father was locked away in an institute for the criminally insane, ironically enough, the same place his uncle was confined as well. One specially made for supernaturals. If the people in charge were smart, he’d remain there for the rest of his days. I hadn’t spoken to him in years. When I was twelve, I found a box under my aunt’s bed containing letters I’d written him. Ones that had been sent back, unopened. I stopped trying after that.

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