Page 10 of By the Book

“I don’tdoanything,” I said. “Bobby, tell him it’s not my fault.”

“It’s not his fault,” Bobby said.

“Thank you.”

“You do talk to a lot of people, though, sweetheart.”

Chester snickered.

This betrayal made my jaw drop. “Theytalk tome.”

“I know.”

“I don’twantto talk to people.”

“Did that guy try to hold your hand?” Chester asked.

I ignored that. “I don’t want to talk toanyone.”

“I know,” Bobby said again.

“He’s still staring at you,” Chester said, “just as an FYI.”

I kept my focus on Bobby. “I’m the victim!”

He made a consoling noise and smoothed my hair back. But he ruined it by saying, “Did he make a pass at you? Because I can tell him you’re in a relationship.”

“No,” I said. “He wants to politely murder me and take over Hemlock House and marry Nathaniel Blackwood.”

“Nathaniel Blackwood’s dead,” Chester pointed out.

“And Bobby, if someone makes a pass at me, I don’t want you totalkto them. I want you tofightthem.”

“Okay, babe.”

“What is wrong with everyone tonight?”

Fox’s laughter surged up over the hub of the party. The sound sent a chill down my spine; I recognized that particular laugh.

I spun around. And then I spotted them.

My friends—who were supposed to be loyal to me—were clustered around my parents. And my mom was showing Fox something on her phone.

“You know what—” Bobby tried.

But I didn’t wait to hear whatever he was going to try to say. I stalked through the press of bodies toward my so-called friends.

“—perfection,” Fox was saying. Tonight, they’d decided to wear something that I coded as Egyptologist meets Captain Jack Sparrow—there was a pith helmet, smoked-glass goggles, a billowy blouse, and gratuitous eyeliner. It actually seemed kind of appropriate in the soft, warm glow of the old lamps. “But I washoping for something from the teenage era. An awkward phase, perhaps. I don’t suppose he was ever Goth?”

“Not Goth, no,” my mom was saying as she swiped on her phone. “But there were several years where he was very into Dungeons and Dragons. Do you know how hard it is to find a wizard costume for a sixteen-year-old—ah! There it is!”

Fox laughed. And laughed. And laughed. It turned into choking, and I refused to help.

“Mom,” I said.

But Millie was there, which meant I didn’t have a chance. “One time Dash said Bobby was a wizard. That was because Bobby fixed Dash’s bike. And then Dash tried to show Bobby he knew how to pop a wheelie, only he didn’t. HE FELL!”

The volume—and the gale-force winds behind the words—almost bowled my mom over. To be fair, nobody would look at Millie and expect that much, uh, vocal fortitude. Millie was petite, blond, and looked more like a cheerleader than like the human equivalent of a loudspeaker. Although I guess cheerleaders actuallyarepretty loud, so maybe people should expect it.

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