Because you know, I’m your best friend, but you’re just not that badass, man.
Rachel CaineEve said, in a high, squeaky, airless voice, “The ghost! You’re the ghost Miranda was talking about! Oh my God, Michael, you’re the ghost! You bastard!”
He nodded, still concentrating on breathing.
Eve got control of her voice and squealed, “That is without a doubt the coolest damn thing I have ever seen in my entire life!
Is it him?” Dad asked. “Did he get you into trouble?”
“Not me,” Shane said. “I’ve just got that kind of face.
It’s in Latin.”
“So? What does it say?”
“I don’t read Latin!”
“You’re kidding. I thought all geniuses read Latin. Isn’t that the international language for smart people?
I’m not a kid!” she told Shane hotly. “I’m only, like, a year younger than Eve!”
“And girls are much more mature.” Eve nodded wisely. “So you’re about ten years older than Shane, then.”
“Seriously,” Claire insisted. “I’m not a kid!”
“Whatever you say, kid,” Shane said blandly. “Cheer up. Just means you don’t have to put up with me telling you how much sex I didn’t get.”
“I’m telling Michael,” Eve warned.
“About how much sex I didn’t get? Go ahead.
Dammit, Michael, get out of my room, you pervert!” Could you even be a pervert if you were dead? She supposed you could, if you had a working body half the time. “I swear, I’m going to start taking my clothes off!”
The cold spot stayed resolutely put until she got the hem of her T-shirt all the way up to her bra line, and then faded away. “Chicken,” she said, and paced the room, back and forth.
What in the hell is going on around here?” she yelled. “Could you guys keep it down to aircraft-carrier noise?
Rachel CaineHell,” Shane spit in disgust. “I can’t hit a girl. Here, Claire. You hit her.” He tossed her the bat. Claire grabbed it and came to a clumsy batting stance, wishing she’d paid more attention in phys ed. Lillian screamed again and ran into the open doorway of Eve’s room. Eve, coming up the stairs, screamed, too, for different reasons.
“Hey! That’s my room, bitch!
But – Michael, you said you didn’t know Oliver, and–”
“I didn’t, until he killed me. We were never formally introduced.
I’d say over my dead body, but I think you already made that point,” Michael snapped. “Thanks for the visit. Now fuck off, man.
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