guilt trip like that had no end. So in a way, her death was divine justice.
Except justice is blind and the Judge is a sugar junkie.
Royce, despite his cuteness and the beguiling rough edges, was a little too forward. Bone found herself longing for some romance, a few laughs, and just maybe a little respect.
“Out here in front of everybody?” she said.
“None of them are paying attention. Their eyes are stitched closed, anyway.”
Bone felt self-conscious and underdressed, though the sweater she had borrowed from Crystal was causing her to sweat. It was the first time she’d sweated since coming to Darkmeet as a fresh spirit. She tried to keep calm, but since she had no heartbeat, she couldn’t tell if her pulse was racing.
“So you’re playing hard to get?” Royce plucked a bouquet of fresh red roses from Poe’s grave and thrust the flowers toward her. “Here. Now, let’s swap tongue.”
Bone folded her arms across her chest, looking around. This first date was going as badly as most of her mortal ones. The only difference was it didn’t come with a free dinner.
She remembered something her mother had told her once:
Women get plenty of time to make up their minds, but no time to change their minds.
“I like you, Royce,” Bone said. “But I don’t think I’m ready for that.”
“Here, take the flowers.”
She did. A thorn pierced her palm but she couldn’t feel it. “We should spend some time getting to know each other.”
“What you got in mind?”
Somewhere dark but safe
. “How about a movie?”
Royce’s upper lip curled sideways. He gave a chopping motion in the air with one hand and the birdsong stopped as if on cue. The cemetery was eerily silent, even for a place whose occupants were supposed to be sleeping.
“A movie,” he whispered.
He gave a muscular but awkward pirouette, one boot thumping the concrete urn. He lifted his arms and turned his face to the sky in a martyr’s gesture. “A movie,” he said.
“Take it easy. It was just a suggestion.”
He threw himself on the ground and yanked fistfuls of artificial grass, tossing green tufts in the air. “A movie!”
“For Gosh sakes, Royce, pull it together. You’re acting like a brat.”
He did one wriggling, wormlike flop and rolled onto his back so that he lay in the depression of an ancient, sunken grave. The granite headstone was too worn to reveal a name.
“Acting,” he said. “Thank you.”
“Huh?”
“I coulda been a contendah,” he said, rolling to his knees and throwing a couple of shadowbox punches.
Bone looked around, hoping none of her friends saw her with this lunatic. Not that she had any friends, or cared what they thought. Well, she did have
one
friend, but Crystal was too busy playing Lungs Are for the Living to help a sister out in a time of need. Even Tim was nowhere around.
“Brando,” he said. “Get it?”
“Sure.”
He hopped up on a tombstone, wobbled for a moment on one leg, and then stuck his arms out like a bird trying to catch the wind. “I’m the king of the wooooorld!”
“Leo, right?”
He leaped from the tombstone, did a surprisingly masculine dance across the grass, and kicked his heels together, bowing with one arm outstretched toward an invisible audience. “
West Side Story, Guys and Dolls, Grease
, I could have done those. I just never got my big break.”
Another person who didn’t get a fair shake, huh? Well, get in line, because that one runs around the block and down the golden stairs.
Still, his movement had caused her cheeks to flush just a little. Maybe passion could stir her to life. Maybe fatalism was a state of mind, maybe if she wished hard enough—
“Are you looking at me?” He gave a malicious sneer and quick-drew his pointy finger as if it were a pistol. “Are you looking at
me
?”
“DeNiro in ‘Taxi Driver.’”
“I could have played Travis Bickle even better. Not so over the top, a little more vulnerable.”
“Were you an
Except justice is blind and the Judge is a sugar junkie.
Royce, despite his cuteness and the beguiling rough edges, was a little too forward. Bone found herself longing for some romance, a few laughs, and just maybe a little respect.
“Out here in front of everybody?” she said.
“None of them are paying attention. Their eyes are stitched closed, anyway.”
Bone felt self-conscious and underdressed, though the sweater she had borrowed from Crystal was causing her to sweat. It was the first time she’d sweated since coming to Darkmeet as a fresh spirit. She tried to keep calm, but since she had no heartbeat, she couldn’t tell if her pulse was racing.
“So you’re playing hard to get?” Royce plucked a bouquet of fresh red roses from Poe’s grave and thrust the flowers toward her. “Here. Now, let’s swap tongue.”
Bone folded her arms across her chest, looking around. This first date was going as badly as most of her mortal ones. The only difference was it didn’t come with a free dinner.
She remembered something her mother had told her once:
Women get plenty of time to make up their minds, but no time to change their minds.
“I like you, Royce,” Bone said. “But I don’t think I’m ready for that.”
“Here, take the flowers.”
She did. A thorn pierced her palm but she couldn’t feel it. “We should spend some time getting to know each other.”
“What you got in mind?”
Somewhere dark but safe
. “How about a movie?”
Royce’s upper lip curled sideways. He gave a chopping motion in the air with one hand and the birdsong stopped as if on cue. The cemetery was eerily silent, even for a place whose occupants were supposed to be sleeping.
“A movie,” he whispered.
He gave a muscular but awkward pirouette, one boot thumping the concrete urn. He lifted his arms and turned his face to the sky in a martyr’s gesture. “A movie,” he said.
“Take it easy. It was just a suggestion.”
He threw himself on the ground and yanked fistfuls of artificial grass, tossing green tufts in the air. “A movie!”
“For Gosh sakes, Royce, pull it together. You’re acting like a brat.”
He did one wriggling, wormlike flop and rolled onto his back so that he lay in the depression of an ancient, sunken grave. The granite headstone was too worn to reveal a name.
“Acting,” he said. “Thank you.”
“Huh?”
“I coulda been a contendah,” he said, rolling to his knees and throwing a couple of shadowbox punches.
Bone looked around, hoping none of her friends saw her with this lunatic. Not that she had any friends, or cared what they thought. Well, she did have
one
friend, but Crystal was too busy playing Lungs Are for the Living to help a sister out in a time of need. Even Tim was nowhere around.
“Brando,” he said. “Get it?”
“Sure.”
He hopped up on a tombstone, wobbled for a moment on one leg, and then stuck his arms out like a bird trying to catch the wind. “I’m the king of the wooooorld!”
“Leo, right?”
He leaped from the tombstone, did a surprisingly masculine dance across the grass, and kicked his heels together, bowing with one arm outstretched toward an invisible audience. “
West Side Story, Guys and Dolls, Grease
, I could have done those. I just never got my big break.”
Another person who didn’t get a fair shake, huh? Well, get in line, because that one runs around the block and down the golden stairs.
Still, his movement had caused her cheeks to flush just a little. Maybe passion could stir her to life. Maybe fatalism was a state of mind, maybe if she wished hard enough—
“Are you looking at me?” He gave a malicious sneer and quick-drew his pointy finger as if it were a pistol. “Are you looking at
me
?”
“DeNiro in ‘Taxi Driver.’”
“I could have played Travis Bickle even better. Not so over the top, a little more vulnerable.”
“Were you an
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