She had a fiancé now. Woot, woot!
After Sarah’s reaction to both Mason’s and my gifts, the opening of her last present was anticlimactic. But she graciously told Mrs. Garrison thank you when Dawn pulled an enormous stuffed bear from the box for her to see.
Mrs. Garrison looked at Dawn and puckered her face. “What did she say?”
Narrowing my eyes, I leaned forward. “She said thank you.”
The landlady sent me a quick, glacial glance, and I swear in that brief look, she wanted to scratch my eyes out. But then her lips pursed into a tight, gracious smile. “Oh.”
She didn’t bother to look at Sarah again. Turning away from me, she looped her arm through Ted’s and struck up a conversation with Dawn.
Sarah had tossed her bear aside and was staring longingly at her makeup, so I took this as my cue. Popping off the loveseat, I abandoned Mason and approached the wheelchair.
“So, Brittany, Leann and Sorcha,” I called. “Do you guys want to help me put this makeup on Sarah? I think I have the perfect color combination that would look so boss on her.”
Makeup and thirteen-year-olds always got along, so the three classmates readily agreed and crowded around me. With their help, and Sarah’s input, we dolled her up just right. Even her new friends looked awed by the outcome.
“Wow. You’re so pretty,” Leann cooed, sounding startled by Sarah’s beauty.
Tickled by their praise, Sarah wanted to put makeup on all three of them next. When no one objected to that, we beautified the other three teens. I mostly oversaw the event as the girls jabbered and discussed what would look best on each other.
Just as I finished putting eyeliner on Sorcha, I lifted the mirror for her to examine herself. She smiled, pleased, and thanked me. Then she spotted something on the floor next to me and yelped. “Eww! A spider!”
Not to be outdone in the presence of an eight-legged creature, I had to scream louder.
“Where? Where?” When I spotted it, I jumped onto the couch to escape, my shriek gaining volume. “Oh, my God, it’s huge. Mason!”
I put on such a show I had all three of Sarah’s classmates scrambling and squealing, hopping onto the sofa cushions with me to get away from the arachnid.
“Someone save Sarah!” I cried, too petrified to wheel her to safety myself.
Thank God, Sorcha latched a hand around her chair and yanked her away from the huge, hairy spider that leered up at us as if he wanted us all for dinner.
“What the hell?” Mason detached himself from the landlady, who at some point had stolen my empty spot on the loveseat and was sitting by him—oops, I guess I sucked in my protective duties. He leapt across the room to the rescue. “What’s wrong?”
The four of us on the couch pointed, and Sarah tried to point with her overactive arms.
“Oh.” Mason straightened, looking relieved as he spotted the beast. “It’s just a wolf spider.”
Just a wolf spider? My mouth fell open. Was he seriously serious?
“I wasn’t asking what kind it was,” I roared. “Kill it!”
He laughed. Yes, the bastard laughed as if spider murder was some kind of joke. He had no idea just how much peril his life was in for laughing at me. Honestly, have you ever been so freaked-out scared that you could bawl and commit murder in the same breath because someone thought your fear was funny? Well, I had jumped off the high dive and was swimming in a whole vat of that kind of crazy.
One more laugh, and Mr. Lowe might as well pick out the flowers I'd be leaving at his grave.
“It’s harmless,” he reassured. “Jeez, Reese. I thought you would be more of a humanitarian than this.”
“Not when it comes to gross, hairy, eight-legged freaks. That thing is bigger than me.”
He rolled his eyes. “It is not.”
Now he was shaking his head as he chortled over my phobia. My claws extended and I was about to pounce on him for finding amusement in my terror when the spider saved his life by distracting me.
I screamed and nearly tackled Brittany in my frantic lurch to leap away from the edge of the couch. “Oh, my God! It moved. Kill it, kill it, kill it.”
I certainly knew how to lead an upheaval because the girls started shrieking—even Sarah—begging Mason to exterminate the spider.
He sent me a vexed frown that seemed to say, look what you started.
I didn’t care. The spider was still alive and that was not cool.
“What am I supposed to kill it with?” he demanded, looking harassed.
My hysteria rising to titanic proportions, I shrieked, “With your big freaking foot, you idiot. You have what, like, a size twenty shoe. Smash that thing.”
“I wear a size twelve.” He scowled, clearly insulted.
“I don’t give a flying flip if you wear a size two, just step on it before it gets away.”
And so the chant started, quickly gaining followers…and volume. “Smash it. Smash it. Smash it.”