bushel.”
“Well, he got in my potions and tossed things around a little,” Momma said. “I’m short on wog and that’s never a good thing. Especially at this time of year.”
“What are we going to do about Pettigrew?”
“You get on to bed and mull it over. I’m sure we can hatch a good lie by tomorrow. Or just let him be jealous. A jealous man is a lot easier to control.”
“I don’t want to control him. I just don’t want to hurt him.”
“You sure do got a lot to learn.” Momma smiled, and Crystal didn’t like the look of the expression. Sort of like a canary that had swallowed a snake.
“How am I going to learn anything before I have to save the world on Halloween?”
Momma sat on the bed beside her. “We’ll get through it together. That’s what Aldridges do.”
And we also end up pathetic. Dying alone with 15 possums that end up eating our neglected corpses.
“Momma, how come you didn’t cast a spell on Daddy and make him stay?”
“That woulda been selfish. We use our powers for the good of others.”
You sure have rubbery rules. Deciding Pettigrew is good for me, and becoming a witch is good for me, and staying in Parson’s Ford is good for me.
“Now, get some sleep, and in the morning I’ll teach you a few chants.” Momma kissed Crystal on the forehead and went to the door. “Breakfast is oatmeal. We’re all out of bacon and eggs.”
“I love you,” Crystal said.
Momma was teaching her to be a better liar already.
Chapter 11
W hen Bone arrived in the Graveyard of Second Chances, she expected the place to be pitch dark, as it had been when she’d left and which she assumed was a permanent condition.
Instead, the neatly trimmed cemetery was bathed in golden light, with fresh flowers in front of every marker. The trees were in full leaf, and the Poot Owls had been replaced by cheerful meadowlarks. The mist had burned away to reveal that the bordering fence had all its stones, and the mausoleums sparkled as if freshly scrubbed for new owners. The atmosphere was one of spring splendor, the air ripe with pollen and dew.
Royce was sitting on a concrete urn, using his toy switchblade to scrape moss from a headstone.
“How did you get that back?” Bone asked.
“I stole it.”
“You’re good.”
“Too good for this place, that’s for sure.”
Bone drifted over to him and pointed to the name etched into the marker. “You know Poe?”
“Yeah. We’ve hung out a little. He can drink a guy under the table, that’s for sure.”
“I meant his poems. ‘The Raven’ and ‘Annabelle Lee’ and all that.”
“Sure, sure. You know how writers are. They can never shut up about it.”
“I’m sorry about what happened over there.”
Royce folded his knife and tucked it in the back pocket of his jeans. “Forget it. That place was nowhere.”
“Those are my friends you’re talking about.”
“Hey, Dollface, take it easy.”
“You’re such a jerk.”
“That’s a little cold, after I went to all this trouble for you.”
“Trouble?”
Royce swept his arm out. “Colors and smells and stuff.”
Bone studied her surroundings more closely. On Poe’s marker, the moss appeared bright green, almost translucent, like plastic. Maybe Royce hadn’t been scraping it clean after all. Maybe he’d been applying it, like an artist daubing acrylics on a canvas.
She gave the grass beneath her feet an experimental tap. A crevice appeared in the sod. She poked the toe of her shoe into it and nudged. The sod peeled away, revealing a dark stubble of choked weeds and thorns.
“None of it’s real,” she said.
“It’s as real as anything,” Royce said, standing up and slouching a little. “So, you ready to make out or what?”
Don’t you have to be in love for your first time?
Oh, she’d come close, back on Earth… so close that only a UPS truck could stop her. But she was kind of glad now, because she didn’t get to do that thing she’d wanted to do. A
“Well, he got in my potions and tossed things around a little,” Momma said. “I’m short on wog and that’s never a good thing. Especially at this time of year.”
“What are we going to do about Pettigrew?”
“You get on to bed and mull it over. I’m sure we can hatch a good lie by tomorrow. Or just let him be jealous. A jealous man is a lot easier to control.”
“I don’t want to control him. I just don’t want to hurt him.”
“You sure do got a lot to learn.” Momma smiled, and Crystal didn’t like the look of the expression. Sort of like a canary that had swallowed a snake.
“How am I going to learn anything before I have to save the world on Halloween?”
Momma sat on the bed beside her. “We’ll get through it together. That’s what Aldridges do.”
And we also end up pathetic. Dying alone with 15 possums that end up eating our neglected corpses.
“Momma, how come you didn’t cast a spell on Daddy and make him stay?”
“That woulda been selfish. We use our powers for the good of others.”
You sure have rubbery rules. Deciding Pettigrew is good for me, and becoming a witch is good for me, and staying in Parson’s Ford is good for me.
“Now, get some sleep, and in the morning I’ll teach you a few chants.” Momma kissed Crystal on the forehead and went to the door. “Breakfast is oatmeal. We’re all out of bacon and eggs.”
“I love you,” Crystal said.
Momma was teaching her to be a better liar already.
Chapter 11
W hen Bone arrived in the Graveyard of Second Chances, she expected the place to be pitch dark, as it had been when she’d left and which she assumed was a permanent condition.
Instead, the neatly trimmed cemetery was bathed in golden light, with fresh flowers in front of every marker. The trees were in full leaf, and the Poot Owls had been replaced by cheerful meadowlarks. The mist had burned away to reveal that the bordering fence had all its stones, and the mausoleums sparkled as if freshly scrubbed for new owners. The atmosphere was one of spring splendor, the air ripe with pollen and dew.
Royce was sitting on a concrete urn, using his toy switchblade to scrape moss from a headstone.
“How did you get that back?” Bone asked.
“I stole it.”
“You’re good.”
“Too good for this place, that’s for sure.”
Bone drifted over to him and pointed to the name etched into the marker. “You know Poe?”
“Yeah. We’ve hung out a little. He can drink a guy under the table, that’s for sure.”
“I meant his poems. ‘The Raven’ and ‘Annabelle Lee’ and all that.”
“Sure, sure. You know how writers are. They can never shut up about it.”
“I’m sorry about what happened over there.”
Royce folded his knife and tucked it in the back pocket of his jeans. “Forget it. That place was nowhere.”
“Those are my friends you’re talking about.”
“Hey, Dollface, take it easy.”
“You’re such a jerk.”
“That’s a little cold, after I went to all this trouble for you.”
“Trouble?”
Royce swept his arm out. “Colors and smells and stuff.”
Bone studied her surroundings more closely. On Poe’s marker, the moss appeared bright green, almost translucent, like plastic. Maybe Royce hadn’t been scraping it clean after all. Maybe he’d been applying it, like an artist daubing acrylics on a canvas.
She gave the grass beneath her feet an experimental tap. A crevice appeared in the sod. She poked the toe of her shoe into it and nudged. The sod peeled away, revealing a dark stubble of choked weeds and thorns.
“None of it’s real,” she said.
“It’s as real as anything,” Royce said, standing up and slouching a little. “So, you ready to make out or what?”
Don’t you have to be in love for your first time?
Oh, she’d come close, back on Earth… so close that only a UPS truck could stop her. But she was kind of glad now, because she didn’t get to do that thing she’d wanted to do. A
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