Page 90 of Death and Do-Overs

We’d been here for hours, left to eat, and come back for what felt like hours more. The sharp guilt from the morning had long ago faded into the usual sense that there was a strong possibility that I was not a good person.

“The fact that this house has a garage bothers me,” I said.

“Because of the zero-cars-on-the-entire-island thing?” Imogen asked.

“Exactly.”

“Maybe it’s for a golf cart. Or a moped.”

I hadn’t considered that possibility.

“Ooh, Greta, I think I see...” Imogen nearly glued her eye to the window. “Oh, never mind. It’s just a cat.”

“A cat or a fox?” I pried myself from the steps, sore all through my hips, and made my way over with her.

“Cat,” she said, pointing to where a round orange tabby sat splayed on the carpet. The cat ran its tongue down its leg at a leisurely pace. “There sure are a lot of them in Nevermore, huh?”

There were.

Imogen popped another piece of candy corn into her mouth. When she offered, I accepted one as well. I chewed through the waxy coating, ignored the overwhelmingly artificial flavor, and let the sugary mash slide down my throat.

“Do you think it’s Bernadette, pretending to be a cat and taunting us?” I asked. “She can appear as anything she wants, right?”

“I don’t think that’s her,” Imogen said.

“Bodysnatch her and find out.”

“It won’t work if it’s really a cat.”

“Do it.”

Imogen gave a half-shrug, then narrowed her eyes in the direction of the cat.

“If it works you’ll collapse.” I moved a little closer to her. “Try to lean into me so you don’t break your face on the window sill.”

“It’s nice to know you’d try to catch me, friend.” She beamed at me. “We’ve come so far. I love it. Imagine this same scenario happening over the summer. You’d be all dead-eyed glaring and telling me how my appearance would improve after I smashed my face.”

Her words hit me like a fist to the throat.

I said, “I wouldn’t have wanted you to disfigure yourself even when I hated you.”

“Aww.” She snapped her arms around me, trapping me in an unwanted hug.

I felt like captured prey. She was surprisingly quick when she wanted to be. I squirmed to free myself from her grasp, and after a moment, she let me go.

But then she froze there, with her arms out, her mostly-eaten bag of candy still held in her left hand, and a wide grin stuck to her face.

“What are you doing now?” I asked.

She didn’t answer. She didn’t even blink.

If she was waiting for me to come back in and initiate another embrace, she’d have to wait an eternity and still be disappointed.

“Stop it. You’re creeping me out.”

Nothing.

My stomach twisted with concern.

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