Miss Thing lifts a bag of tiny yellow and orange candies from her desk. “Can everyone see these? They’re called candy corn. Every Halloween, humans fill large bowls with candy corn and do not eat any. Why? The corn symbolizes the gold nuggets they’ll one day give to ghouls.” She hands the bag to a nearby student. “Pass these around and be careful about it.”
Zeke saunters into the room and winks at our teacher. “Hello, lovely.”
“Hi there, Zeke.” She makes goo-goo eyes at him, which is just disgusting.
I slump lower in my chair and grit my teeth. When I’m late, Miss Thing practically skins me alive.
Zeke slips into the chair next to mine. “Hey, Myla.”
“Hi, Zeke.”
Miss Thing brings out a plastic pumpkin. A basic face is painted on it with geometric shapes. “Class, this is called a jack-o-lantern.” She holds the pumpkin reverently above her head. “On earth, humans carve likenesses of their favorite ghouls out of pumpkins. This one is me.”
I eye the jack-o-lantern. The bald part is spot-on, but it needs red lipstick.
As Miss Thing goes through more items in her desk, Zeke leans over the aisle. “It’s so great that you’re finally being a grown-up about all this.”
“About what?”
“The thrax. You know, going to the winter tournament and taking Cissy along. It means a lot to my family. Thanks.”
“Well, it’s all about you, Zeke.” I smack my lips. “Per usual.”
Zeke taps his desktop with his pen. “Hey, it’s me.” Not sure if he’s ignoring my sarcasm or not catching it. Either way, it is him. “So, you’ll order a regular gown this time?”
My upper lip twists. This isn’t my favorite subject. “Yup.”
“You’ll have to order soon. The event’s in three weeks.”
“My mom’s on it.”
“And you’ll get ready with Cissy so there’s no funny business?”
My blood starts to boil. “I’ll get ready with Cissy because she’s my friend.”
“And you’ll—”
“Excuse me, Zeke, but I’m missing a really important lecture right now on Zagnut Bars.” I point to Miss Thing. “Let’s just stop talking and start paying attention to Miss Thing, okay?” Otherwise you’ll end up with another black eye.
“Whatever.” Zeke turns to face our teacher. I watch him for a moment, wondering if I did the right thing to invite Cissy at all.
Oh, well. I’ll find out soon enough.
Chapter Fourteen
I step up to a typical-looking ranch house in Middle Purgatory and ring the doorbell. Outside, the place looks just like my home: a one-story gray ranch house on a bland street of other one-story gray ranch houses. A few seconds pass before a beautiful blonde couple opens the door.
A willowy-tall woman tilts her head to one side, setting her blonde ringlets jiggling. “Hello, Myla.”
Damn, Cissy’s mom totally hates me. “Hi, Mrs. Frederickson.”
“I’m here, too.” Cissy’s dad’s handsome face droops into a frustrated frown. He hates me too. It’s the tail. Most quasis don’t see Furor as demons per se, since they have two deadly sins and all. We’re more like freaks of nature, which is how Mr. Frederickson is glaring at me right now.
“Hello, Mr. F.” No point using his full name; he loathes me anyway. I pop onto my tip-toes and peer over their collective shoulders. “Is Cissy home?” I look beyond her parents, seeing the familiar interior of oriental rugs, gilded furniture, and modern art.
“Myla!” Cissy bursts through the wall of her parents, grabbing my hand. “The gowns arrived last night!” She drags me past the parental gatekeepers and through their elaborately-decorated house. I’ve been here a hundred times, but I’m still shocked that any walls can hold so many tiny shelves, statues, and pricey knick-knacks. Cissy leads me into her bedroom and kicks the door shut behind us. “I had to empty half my closet to make room for them.”
Something colorful on the wall catches my eye. “Hey, you got a new painting.” I stare at it and wince. “What is it?”
“Some kind of human modern art thing my dad scared up. Jackson Polly-somebody. Dad got a deal on it.” She tilts her head, setting her blonde ringlets bouncing. “I think it may have fallen off a truck, if you know what I mean.”
I scan her room, looking for anything else that’s different. My bedroom’s standard ghoul issue: drab carpet, blah bed, and non-descript dresser. It hasn’t changed since I was two years old. Cissy’s room looks like a decorator show house from the old quasi republic days. There’s a matching bed-set, plush carpet, and line of funky paintings on her walls. Her dad is constantly adding new goodies from his black-market deals.
My best friend pulls the cover from her gown. It’s an emerald-green sheath with long looping sleeves that’s trimmed with black velvet.
I lean back on my heels and stare. “That looks lovely. What do the colors mean?”
“Green means I’m a single woman in a relationship. The black ribbon says I’m a guest of the House of Rixa.” She pulls the cover off my gown. It looks like the first one, only it’s blood red.
“What does red mean?”
“That you’re a single lady who’s unattached.”