Before the crack of dawn. The early hours. My surfing time.
Just as it was getting warm enough so that I could go surfing in the morning again without my mother ragging on me for it being too cold, I had to give it up. It was only for one day. But still, I was so cranky when I had to get up, throw on my uniform for flags and gather with the rest of the team at the start of the parade line for St. Patty’s Day that I forgot to bring my Celtic dance costume and a change of clothes for later. Dawn told me I would regret losing my temper like that.
“Oh, shut up!” I folded my arms as we got out of the car, stomping my boots on the pavement as we all gathered at the edge of town not far from the airfield.
“I’m telling you,” my blonde, perfectly gorgeous, sister said, sounding superior for once. She rarely got to rag on me for things. Usually it was her taking the brunt of chastisement from our mom. “You’ll have to go back home after the parade, and you’ll miss out on all the fun.”
There was a carnival at the town park where the parade was supposed to end.
I glanced over at the green and white carnation speckled floats where Darla O’Brady was adjusting her strapless dress so it would stay up while she waved at the crowd as this year’s Miss Lucky Clover. Our town really did over do St. Patrick’s day, but since over half the population was either Irish or Scottish that was to be expected.
“It won’t take long to go back for stuff.”
But Dawn gave me a dry look. “But you’ll be exhausted from—”
“What are you doing? Get some sun block on!” Our flag coach strode over to us, holding the quart sized pump-top bottle. “Especially you, Eve McAllister. You’ll end up like a lobster.”
“I already have mine,” I said, and I lifted my extra sensitive skin SPF 90 bottle up. It was formulated for albinos, though technically I wasn’t really albino. I had black hair.
My coach gave a glance at my white skin and then looked up at my eyes, which in this dark morning light glowed somewhat red since I was hungry. I could see her shudder.
“Eat something!” Dawn shoved one of the breakfast burritos our mother had handed to her into my hands.
I took it and did as she told me. If I didn’t, I’d creep the entire flag team out. Not that my regular orange eyes didn’t do that. But when they changed red, I got an extra unpleasant reaction that I really didn’t want to deal with.
Our coach saw my eyes turn back to orange, and she sighed somewhat. Turing away her head, she said. “Get your flags and start practicing.” Then she glanced back at me. “And you had better perfect that routine for the majorette competition. You know Patricia Davish is graduating this year.”
I blinked at her, taking another bite of my burrito before nodding. “Of course I know. I have the routine all figured out.”
“You have stiff competition,” she said with a fixed look on me. “You must perform excellently or you’ll lose your chance to be the school majorette.”
Stiff competition, my eye. It was between Megan McGillicutti and myself, and Megan was a lousy majorette. She dropped the baton half the time because she never kept her eyes on it, and she refused to use the flaming batons even though it was tradition at our school to have the flaming batons at Homecoming. The only reason why Megan McGillicutti was even being considered was that she was a normal flirtatious sort of girl, and I was not. In fact, as most people suspected it, I wasn’t even human. However, I, without it bragging, am an amazing baton twirler. I never miss, and I love those flaming batons. Besides that, our school has won ten years in a row at the majorette competitions in our state. We have no desire to lose even if it meant giving me the job. So really, the pressure was on Megan to beat me. My lack of popularity, besides a few other oddities, was my only failing in this case.
“I’ll do my best,” I said. I knew my coach wanted someone who was good at it, regardless of how I creeped her out.
“You’d better.” And she walked off.
With a sigh, I turned and finished eating my breakfast burrito.
The band gathered at one end of the open lot. I saw the floats from each of the businesses add their finishing touches. And as I meandered through them to get my school flag, I toured the floats. Danae’s Floral had provided most of the flowers, always making a killing from this holiday. She would be selling green dyed carnations to the crowd as well as potted shamrocks in her booth at the carnival. However, her float was the most spectacular, practically a bower of flowers surrounding one huge and somewhat sparkly shamrock where she would be sitting and waving to everyone, throwing out candy to the children. The chamber of commerce had a float right next to it, covered in its own green flowers shaped into large dollar bills. A man dressed as George Washington was to stand in the center throwing out candy coins. My dad’s dentist’s shop had a small float. He used it every year. The dental hygienists walked around with the small go-cart shaped like a tooth that my dad drove. The only flowers they wore were on their lapels. They passed out sugar free candy, dental gum, and cheap toothbrushes.
The flags were stashed in a bin next to the band bus. I went over and took mine out.
“Creepy,” I heard someone say. I knew they were talking about me.
“Why doesn’t she wear her sunglasses all the time? I hear she can see in the dark with them on,” another person said.
I tried to ignore it, turning to go back to where the flag girls were gathering.
“But you have to admit, she’s tons better than Megan at baton.”
“Quickest hands in the business. But ooh, creepy.”
I glanced their way. It was just them talking. Their imps, who no one saw but me and normally flew about people’s heads suggesting naughty things for them to, were floating somewhat groggy, rubbing their eyes and as if it was way too early to get up. That was another thing I loved about early mornings. Imps are too tired to suggest pranks until people are more awake themselves. These girls’ remarks were how they really felt without the imps’ influence.
They saw my look, but I continued on, deciding it was best not to aggravate the situation.
Joining the team, I took my spot and started to practice the basic routine.
“Where have you been?” Megan had such a snotty voice, I felt like ignoring her. She was a junior where as I was a lowly freshman, another thing she had above me since the judges would prefer to make a coming senior the majorette for next year than a sophomore that would reign for the next three years.
But I turned and winked one of my orange eyes at her, tossing my black hair back from my face. “I was loitering. Care to arrest me?”
Her dad was a cop. Nobody big, but when we were kids she used to threaten me with her dad, saying she’d get him to arrest me. Back then, I had believed that she actually could do that. I hadn’t liked her since. However, now she had nothing to hold over me.
“Eve!” Dawn stomped over to where I was. She stuck her hands on her hips and scowled at me. “Where have you been? I have to fix your hair.”
I just shrugged and walked over to my sister, letting Dawn drag me away by the arm so she could brush my hair and braid it perfectly. My hair was stick straight. There was no way in the world we could make it look fitting for an Irish festival except braid it. Dawn’s hair curled and she could make them into beautiful Shirley Temple spirals. All she had to do after was add a bow. With us standing off together like this, we looked as different as night and day. Or as Dad put it, the evening and the dawn. He liked puns.
“Leave Megan alone,” Dawn hissed in my ear. “She is planning to sabotage you in any way possible.”
“You don’t think I know that?” I gave her a look. Dawn knew I saw and heard the imps. She knew they suggested evil things for people to do. Megan’s had been making evil suggestions for weeks. It was obvious that she was worried she’d lose the competition.
“Yeah, yeah. But sometimes you walk around like a naïve kid.” She yanked my hair a little to hard as she twisted it around the other piece in her hand. “I wouldn’t put it past her to dump garlic in your lunch without you knowing it. If you swelled up and went to the hospital today, she’d win, and our school would lose this next year’s competition.”
I gave her a dirty look. “She doesn’t know I’m allergic to garlic.”
Dawn gave me pat on my head as if I were a simpleton. “Yes, she does. She found out from the school nurse. I overheard.”
Grimacing, I slumped over somewhat. The last thing I needed was more people who knew my weaknesses. It was bad enough having my History teacher watching me like a hawk. He was former vampire hunter. And though it was useful having him in town to keep the vampires in the mountains away from this area, it was quite another thing waiting for him to think up some scheme that could legally circumvent the court order my father took out against him so he could not kill me. Ick.
“You have got to be more careful,” Dawn said.
“I will.” But I was already sulking. I hated this part of my life. I always had to be careful.
Our coach marched out from the crowd and called to us. Dawn finished tying the other green bow over the rubber band that secured my braid, and she hopped on over to where her position was.
“Ok, ladies! We are to lead out before the band. Remember, you are to follow Patricia. When she pauses at a checkpoint, you pause. You know the routine. Don’t flub it up.”
“But it’s so cold!” I heard Donna from my third period class call back.
I turned my head and saw her rubbing her arms. A few others were also shivering, their uniform jackets obviously not enough to keep them warm. Dawn was shivering a bit too, but I hadn’t felt the cold. Granted, I never felt the cold. I merely shrugged and looked back at our coach.
“Don’t worry, once the sun rises it will heat up,” our coach said.
I could tell from the groans and the noise the waking imps were making that they didn’t care about when the sun rose, only about now and their freezing arms. However, the sky was already lightening up.
“Get into your positions!”
We obeyed, finding our places on the pavement.
The band was already making their noise, tuning and adjusting their instruments in their position behind us. I could tell my older brother Will was testing his trombone. He went through his scales and then started to play a simple tune to make sure he got the part right. My other brother Travis was tuning his clarinet further back.
Adam McGuire, the drum major, called for the band to get in formation.
The cheer captain shouted for her team to get ready.
Our horsemen guided their horses into place.
The dancers, the cloggers, the kettledrum team, and even our very own brawling boxing team gathered on the asphalt in their designated formations with the other school bands and teams from the nearby towns that did not have St. Patty’s Day parades.
So, all of us drawing in a deep breath, waited for the signal to start.
Ptweet!
The whistle blew.
The leader of the drum group started a beat. That was the signal.
“Ready?” Someone ahead called to their team.
My heart pounded. We had gone on parades before in other towns, but this was my first year with the high school team in our hometown. It was exciting, performing for locals on our town Founder’s Day celebration.
“Ladies!” Patricia Davish called out to us, lifting her baton. The group ahead of us had started to march. We were now waiting for our signal to go.
I held my flag ready.
“Ready!” Patricia shouted to the air.
I lifted my flag with the rest our team.
“March!”
And we did, right leg first.

Our knees were high. Our chins were high. Our flags were high.
Keeping our eyes on what we were doing, our team was nearly in synch. Not always, but that can be expected from a group of amateurs. And boy, you could just hear the cheers as the band marched behind us, playing their routine of songs. I could have gone nearly deaf from it, but I was also happy for it because it drowned out the nasty things the imps were suggesting to the crowd to do to disrupt the altogether pleasant day.
The sun rose. The air got warmer. Everyone was smiling. And even I felt glad that I had missed surfing for once. There was always tomorrow anyway.
And we marched, parading through the main thoroughfare as our friends and neighbors stood and sat along the roadside as the participants threw candy and flowers to them. And as we smiled, I felt an intense flood of satisfaction wash over me as I executed every part of the routine with exactness.
But then I heard it from behind. “Trip her with your flag, and blame it on her clumsiness.”
I felt the whoosh of the flag skim near my ankles, and I jumped.
We heard the flag clatter to the ground, skimming right under me to where Patricia was leading us. And then it happened. Patricia tripped.
It was like one of those slow-action horror scenes. She slipped on the flagpole first, her feet then tangling in the long green and white flag so that she lost her balance. Toppling forward, she scraped her legs on the ground as she crashed down. I could hear her heart jump as she fell. Around us, the crowd groaned with sympathy.
“Patty!” her friend Mara ran over to her.
Dawn swirled around and glared behind us. “Who did that?”
I turned to look also, but I already knew who it was. Becky Dominae stood next to Megan, flag-less and suddenly very white in the face.
“I…I…” She then turned to me, pointing. “She kicked it out of my hands!”
I gave her an are-you-stupid look. “How could I possibly do that?”
“Ladies? What is the hang up? You are holding up the parade!” Our coach ran over to us from the sidelines where she had been following. The parade had stopped behind us.
Jill Saunders pointed to Becky. “She lost grip of her flag, and it tripped up Patricia.”
My coach looked past me at Patricia, going even whiter. She jumped over to help her up. Patricia was crying. I don’t know if it was from the pain, because I could smell the blood coming from her knees, or from embarrassment. Nothing was broken though. I would have known right away it had.
Pointing to me, our coach was about to say something, but Megan stepped forward and said, “I’ll take Patty’s place. I know her routine.”
Our coach grimaced, glancing at me once, but the team looked more likely to let Megan lead than me. “Fine. Just keep it going.” Then she pointed to Becky. “You. Out.”
Becky looked ready to protest, but the glares from the rest of us drove that from her lips and she stomped off. A policeman in charge of crowd control helped her past the barrier my teacher had just hurdled a minute ago.
“Alright!” Megan lifted up Patricia’s baton, handing her flag to the coach. “One, two, three, let’s march!”
And we started off again.
I rolled my eyes.
“Don’t trip,” Dawn called forward with a snort.
“Keep your eyes on the baton,” I chimed in.
Some of the other girl’s snickered, throwing their flags in the air as they returned to the routine. Megan really did strut before the boys, more than she was supposed to, which was why she dropped the baton so much. She was watching them and not keeping her eyes on her real business.
But the parade continued on and we got past the judges’ stand before Megan dropped the baton. I suppose she dropped it because she was passing a certain someone’s house. All I knew was that the back of her neck was flushed red and her heart was beating harder.
“Klutz,” Mandy Peppercorn called ahead.
Megan cast her a dirty look as she picked up the baton. “Fat lard.”
Mandy’s face went bright red. “Jerk.”
But Megan merely lifted her chin and went back into her routine.
And the parade went on. On and on…and on until the air was warm enough to cause the band members to sweat in their coats and for Jill Saunders to moan loudly that her hat was slipping. We marched all the way through town and around it until we ended up at the park where people were already taking off their jackets and loosening their collars. The moment we stepped into the park, Megan did one last toss, just to show off. It was only one baton. No big deal. But it was high and people stared. Some clapped.
Dawn snorted, lowering her flag with a shake of her head. “Get real. Even I could do that. I’d like to see her handle three batons.”
“She’s working on it,” I said, following her. We had to take our flags back to where our teacher had her van parked to collect the equipment. That was in the north parking lot. We were on the south side.
My sister looked back at me with a smirk. “Working on it is not the same as mastered it. Come on, Eve. You can twirl circles around her.”
I was an ‘excellent’ level three-baton twirler. I was working toward ‘superior’, but I have to admit I was not as dedicated to my baton twirling as I was to my surfing. Mastering baton was easy for me though. You could say it was genetic. Speed was in my blood, besides having great eye hand coordination and technique. I think what I lacked was some of the finesse some girls naturally had with their routines. Though my body movement was fluid, I guess I wasn’t that much of a showman. Or how my coach put it, I didn’t strut quite enough to be satisfying.
But the parade was over and discussing baton at this moment was not important anyway. Dawn and I had to change into our Celtic dance costumes for the performances later that morning. We crossed the least crowded part of the park and found the van in the parking lot. The back was open and most of our team was already there. The band was also dumping off their heavy instruments, though most of them were getting rides home to really take care of their stuff. I chucked my flag into the back of the van and spun around to head home.
“Where are you going?” Dawn stared at me as I headed toward the thick of the park’s mayhem, not quite in the direction we had come.
“I have to get my costume, remember?” I said.
Dawn had a hard time hiding that I-told-you-so look on her face. “Hurry it up, or you’ll be late.”
Wrinkling my face at her, I stuck out my tongue. “The competition isn’t for at least two hours from now. I’ll be back in time.”
“Coach won’t like you late,” Dawn replied, lifting her eyebrows.
I made another face and hurried on my way, but not at a run. The park wasn’t that far from our home and I wanted to see what was in some of the booths before I considered bringing money to spend.
The first set of booths on the skirts was opening up just across the rides from the traveling carnival. Already the Ferris wheel operator was starting up his ride, letting people into the compartments as I passed by. Entering the rows of booths, I could see the typical carnival games. There were fishing booths, all kinds of ring toss booths, shooting booths, smash the groundhog booths, you name it. Then I passed the more interesting booths, the ones set up by locals, interspersed with more challenging games. There was chain mail on sale, dragons and crystals with pewter pieces. There were real four-leaf clover charms in acrylic molds on chains sold beside green bowler hats. There were wishing booths, fortune telling booths, and even a booth for henna tattoos. I think my mother would have a fit if she saw that.
Eventually I found the path that ran through the middle of the park and I glanced at the tree I had once met a vampire in on Halloween night. With a look over at mountains where they resided, I wondered what my birth father was dreaming about right now—or if vampires dreamed at all when they slept in the day time. With a smirk on my lips, I continued at a stroll, passing a flower booth, a medieval garb booth, a haggis booth, a corned beef and cabbage booth that also sold sausage on a stick. There was a booth made up like an old bar, and already men were getting drunk on green beer. I saw Melissa Pickles getting drunk there too. If her mother saw her….
Well, it was none of my business anyway. She would catch it soon enough.
I continued on, passing the dancing lawn, which thankfully was on the southern end of the park. Near by the stage was being set up. They were most adjusting the sound so that the local bands and Celtic groups could perform. Benches were brought in from the local protestant church. I wonder what the Catholics thought about that? They couldn’t loan any. Their pews were bolted down to the ground. But still, some people never let go of an Irish feud. Take the McDonalds, for example.
But that also was none of my business, so I circumvented the benches and crossed over the baseball diamond where the retirement club was gathering for a senior citizen’s only baseball game. Those were fun to watch. I figured that after the dancing I could go to that. The game would take a while anyway.
Past the baseball field, it was smooth walking. Families were claiming picnic tables, kids were playing in the sandbox and on the jungle gym, and I headed towards the parking lot so I could gut through to go home.
“Whisky! I love you whisky!” A man staggered across the west parking lot and nearly tripped over me in the process.
I jumped back, avoiding the collision that would have sent me sprawled on the grass with a strange drunkard. Luckily, he toppled the other way and dropped in a patch of clover the caretaker would have had a fit about if he had seen it. In fact, I wondered how he missed this spot. He never missed anything, even footprints in the flowerbeds when we chased after lost balls.
“Watch where you’re going!” I glared at him.
He didn’t see my eyes flare red. He was too busy chugging down from a bottle wrapped in brown paper, full of whisky I suppose.
“Sssso, ssssorry,” he slurred.
I cringed, retreating from him. I hated liquor breath. Once Dawn came home smelling almost as foul as he did, and Mom grounded her for a month.
Turning away, I continued on my journey home. My stomach was growling for a second breakfast anyway and I needed to get back in time for practice. My coach would get cranky if I were held up simply because our formation needed an even number of people in it.
“Whisky!” the man sang as if he were oblivious to the world beyond his wrapped bottle. “I love you whisky! You love it too! Drink up a….”
Glancing at him as I stepped into the road, I merely held my breath from his stench. He’d be picked up soon enough anyway. I didn’t need to worry. The cops only tolerated drunks from beer on St. Patty’s Day. But they never allowed winos to linger in the park. Ever.
So, down Limerick Road I hurried while everyone else was gathering where the action was going. When I turned onto Kennedy Street, some of the people passing by looked at me as if I were the biggest scrooge on the planet, if one could be a scrooge for St. Patty’s Day. Had they known I was merely picking up my stuff, I’m sure they would have found some other reason to hate me. I suppose in that case I would have been considered ‘goody-goody Eve’ instead of ‘the-demon-from-who-knows-where’. But really, who cares?
Hopping onto the curb, I slowed my pace somewhat. I had to cross three more streets before I was at least on the same road as our house. It wasn’t too far. A handful of blocks at least. Some little imps following me shouted for me to just fly home, but really what kind of commotion would that cause? Only my family, my history teacher and my best friend knew that had wings. Besides, I knew the imps were just goading me to cause trouble. In fact, as soon as I could, I grabbed the both of them and tossed them into a trashcan. They hate it when I do that.
Not that they can’t get out of a trashcan. For heaven sake, they can fly through walls and other solid objects that aren’t alive. No. They just hate it when I expose them to the mortal world by touching them. Nothing mortal can catch them in most circumstances. I suppose my fast hands come from my birth mother’s side. She was an imp, you know.
Turning onto Maple Street, I looked back to see if the imps had decided to follow me after all. I could feel their presence. I was so used to telling even with my eyes closed that they were around, even if they ever managed to be silent. But looking back, there was nobody. Not an imp and not even stray cat. I looked up in the air, wondering if they flew up to tease me.
Nope. No one.
I continued on, passing my friend’s house. Mrs. Bennetti was just pulling out of the driveway. Jane wasn’t with her though.
Jane’s mom rolled down her window and stuck her head, calling to me. “Where are you going? Jane went over to the park to meet you.”
Oh, yeah. Mrs. Bennetti also knew what I was, but since last Halloween when I saved Jane from a vampire she has been tons nicer to me. She even makes Italian food without the garlic for Jane and I to share when I study at her house.
“I forgot my dance costume,” I said, looking pathetic and shrugging my shoulders.
With a grin, Mrs. Bennetti waved to me. “Ok, I’ll tell her when I see her. Don’t be long.”
I really liked her. I think once she realized that I wasn’t a threat to her daughter, she lightened up a great deal. I suppose she thought I was an asset to have around now. Funny, how people are.
Strolling down the sidewalk, I passed Mr. Beaver’s house. The shades were drawn. My Science teacher was not home though. If he were, the windows would be open and he’d be leaning out of it half the time, just watering his window boxes and breathing in and out. He said fresh air was God’s gift to us—kind of a funny thing for a Science teacher to say. Granted, as I recall, he started to get very religious when I became a freshman. He had been a devout atheist before.
I stopped partway along the road. That feeling like I was being followed. It happened again.
I spun around, ready for my attacker.
Nada.
Nothing was on the road except for a passing car and they were not heading towards me.
I listened to the air.
Nothing.
Drawing in a deep breath, I smelled the air.
Yes, there is where I sensed it. It had the same stink as that drunk in the park. It wasn’t very strong, but it was there. Was he following me?
Looking to the bushes for movement, I saw nothing of use. There was a bird, but I knew I was not feeling a bird watching me. In fact, it felt like the drunk was on the sidewalk right in front of me.
“Alright,” I said aloud. “I can’t see you, but don’t you think you’ll get away with anything. I’m dangerous. And I will hurt you if you try anything.”
It was strange, but I could feel the presence retreat somewhat. Not gone, but backed off. It wasn’t an imp, whatever it was. I started to think that maybe it was a ghost. Maybe that man just died back there and he was planning to haunt me.
Normally I don’t get scared. I found horror movies silly, slasher movies doubly so, and the only thing that ever gave me chills was my History teacher with a wooden stake in his hand, and even he is not all that scary. This was as creepy as Mrs. Bale’s empty house that everyone says is haunted. I wouldn’t know. I don’t live on that side of town.
I started at a run. My house was only a bit down the street anyway.
Dashing up my front steps, I yanked open the front door, slammed it shut and panted as I stared at the door as if I could see through it. Blinking at my own stupidity, I peered out the peephole. Nothing still.
Was it my imagination? I didn’t know. All I knew was that my heart was pounding a billion beats a minute. It was all I could hear, actually, as I leaned my head on the door to regain my composure.
“Eve! Didn’t you hear me?” My mother stuck her face next to mine.
I lifted my head and turned. “Uh. No. What did you say?”
My mother put her hands onto her hips and narrowed her eyes at me. “What have you been up to?”
“Nothing.” I sounded hurt. Normally she took that accusatory tone with Dawn, not me. I had been the good child.
She lifted her eyebrows at me. “Really? Then why are you out of breath?”
I took a large step from the door, not feeling the presence anymore. “I ran home. It felt like I was being followed.”
My mom’s face changed in expressions. Concern was in her eyes. This was the mother I knew. “Oh, is that true?”
She walked to the door and peered out the peephole too.
“I couldn’t see him,” I said, stepping aside with some relief that she was there. “I only felt like there was someone following me.”
Mom turned around and drew in a breath as if thinking hard. She folded her arms across her chest. “You don’t think the city council hired somebody else besides Mr. McDillan to keep an eye on you, do you?”
I blinked at that. “That hadn’t occurred to me, actually.”
My mom nodded to herself. “Maybe I’d better drive you to the carnival. I was just waiting for your father, and I needed to wait for the cake to cool so I can frost it. It is going to be the best I’ve ever made. I only wish we could keep it.”
“Why don’t we?” I asked, smirking, and glad she changed the subject somewhat.
She gave me one of those don’t-be-silly looks. “Because, you gooseberry, it is for the charity raffle. You have to win it.”
I merely smiled. She knew I was teasing.
“Now, go up and change. You have that dance performance next, right?”
I nodded. “I’ll go now.”
And I jogged to the stairs and up them straight to my room. Yanking open the door, I immediately undressed and tossed my flag uniform aside. Grabbing the bottle of sun block, I slathered it on over every bit of skin possible. Since I burned so easily, it was best that I got this done every few hours. That meant I also had to grab some more for later.
My Celtic dance dress required two kinds of shoes. I would have to bring three. I never went walking in my clogging shoes and most certainly not in my slippers, so I had to toss back on my sneakers after adjusting my tights. That also meant I needed to carry my duffel bag with me. I figured I’d just stuff my batons in there with my shoes and a towel, and after the performances I could catch a bit of the baseball game. So that required that I also pack a hat.
By the time I had my bag full and I was heading down the stairs, my time was running out. In the kitchen, my mom was frosting the last bit of the cake. She picked up some chopped pistachios off the cutting board and sprinkled them on top.
I closed one eye and pursed my lips before saying, “That’s Grandma McAllister’s Pistachio cake recipe, isn’t it? I thought you swore you’d never make it.”
Blushing, my mom ducked her head between her shoulders. “Ok. Ok. I did say that. But this one really isn’t her cake, per se. It is new and improved.”
“How?” I smirked at her, knowing Grandma McAllister perfected the pistachio cake and she didn’t like other cooks meddling with her recipe—especially making it better. She was competitive that way.
Lifting an empty soda pop bottle off the counter, Mom said, “I used this instead of milk.”
I merely blinked at her.
“You’ll like it,” she said, going back to sprinkling nuts.
I probably would, but I decided it was best not to say anything about this to Grandma McAllister. She was the only grandma still speaking to me. I guess I just couldn’t creep out a woman from Miami. However, angering her would be too easy if she and Mom started bickering again. I suppose Mom is still a Wilson deep down. And like Gran Wilson, she would be stubborn, and we’d be stuck in the middle of it.
Turing toward the door, I set my bag down on the floor. “So, are you taking me?”
My mother smiled at me and nodded. “Just a moment. Let me cover this and we’ll be off.”
That was what she said, but you know how life gets in the way. The phone rang.
She picked it up. “Hello?”
I waited.
“Yes, this is Bette McAllister. And who may I say is calling?”
I drew in a breath, yawning half way. My mother turned her head, waving for me to cover my mouth. I suppose even I could creep her out with the fangs I got though she was all about manners. Cupping my hand over my mouth, I gave a dramatic yawn.
“Really? This isn’t a hoax?”
That got my attention. I walked over to the phone table. My mother’s eyes widened in excitement, and I could hear her heart beating louder.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Shh!” She waved for me to hold that thought. “Yes! Yes, we are still interested. We always buy that magazine.”
I waited.
Suddenly she squealed, practically jumping like a giddy child. “No way! Really? That’s great! When will we get the tickets?”
“Tickets?” I blinked at her, still waiting as she waved excitedly, yet still for me to be silent as she listened.
“Wow! Thank you so much! This great!” And she hung up the phone right after. Her face was flushed and she was beaming like a searchlight. I think I could have gotten scorched from her glowing face with how happy she looked.
“Come on, Mom! What is it? What happened?” I was really dying of curiosity now.
She reached out and grabbed my shoulders, grinning as if her face would split open if she were any happier. “We won!”
I blinked blankly. “Won what?”
Still grinning, my mother shook me as if I were being so dense that day. “We won that magazine cruise contest. We got the tickets! Free! A free vacation for your father and me!”
Now I understood. “You mean that far fetched contest you sent in all those UPC s for? Wasn’t that just on a whim?”
Mom nodded. “Yes! That’s the most amazing thing about it! Today is just my lucky day!”
Well, what do you know? They won. I guess that meant they would go on the cruise during our summer vacation. I started to wonder if maybe us kids would go to Florida to see our Grandma McAllister during that time. The cruise would last a week in the Caribbean, and I know they did not trust Travis or Dawn enough to leave us home by ourselves. Besides, I think Dad didn’t trust Mr. McDillan enough to leave me in this town with him without some protection for me. But really, Mr. McDillan is old hat now. I don’t think he’d bother.
“Can we go now?” I said, reaching for my duffel bag.
My mother had been dancing in the kitchen, wiggling her toosh and pointing here and there like a disco dancer gone nuts. She halted with a pained expression on her brow. “Party pooper. Can’t I enjoy this? I never get a vacation alone with your father.”
“I’m home!” Dad called through the suddenly open door.
“I have great news!” Mom practically skipped over to him, planting a big wet one right on his lips.
Dad grinned, returning the kiss with an extra romantic hug, dipping her down for yet another saliva exchange. I love my folks, but sometimes it gets tiring with all the lovey-dovey mush they go into.
“And I have good news for you,” he said, gazing deep into her eyes with a flicker of mischief. I liked that about him. “I won as the hundredth customer at the checkout today.
“Voila!” he pulled out a bouquet of flowers.
“You won these?” My mom was smiling. “You can get these for two dollars at the checkout.”
He continued to grin at her with that mischievous look in his eye. “Yes, but did you know I won a rosebush that will grow these every summer?”
My mom had always wanted another rose bush. Not that my dad wouldn’t buy one for her, but that he said we had too many already and he would not buy another one unless it was unique.
“And this one is unique,” he said as if completing my thoughts. He winked at me.
“Oh, darling!” My mother embraced him, planting yet another mush kiss onto his lips. I had to turn away.
“You know, I think I’ll just walk back,” I said, gesturing to the door.
Mom turned with a grin. “Ok, dear. Will you please take the cake with you?”
Sighing, I nodded. “Sure. And you can tell Dad about your romantic news and kiss some more.”
Dad laughed, blushing. “No. It’s ok. We can give you a ride.”
I lifted my eyebrows at Mom. “Just tell him.”
“We won the cruise.” She got all excited again, grabbing him like she had done me.
“Not THE cruise?” he said.
Mom nodded. “Yes! THE cruise! Can you believe it?”
He grabbed her and lifted her into the air, laughing. And yes, they kissed again.
I went over to the kitchen counter and picked up the cake. I figured they’d be at it for a while anyway, and as Mom said, they rarely got time truly alone together.
Walking back to the park was like juggling. I don’t suppose people got awards for juggling one somewhat weighty duffel bag and a particularly delicious smelling cake without eating even a slight bit of the frosting. It was pistachio pudding mixed with whipped topping. The best in the world. Unfortunately this also meant that I had to go at it slow. I knew I was going to be late now. The good thing was, I didn’t feel a soul follow me.
By the time I reached the park, the parking lot was nearly full. Almost no spaces were left. The drunk was still there in the clover, singing his stupid song. The baseball game had started, or at least they were practicing. I stood there a moment to watch the old men run with their legs somewhat apart as if they had forgotten how to balance themselves. Maneuvering past the bandstand where there were already people gathered listening to Clan Celt, the local band made up by the Flannery family, I ducked below the back of the audience to avoid being seen. It didn’t work.
“Eve McAllister! Where have you—” Coach Sheehan stared at the cake. “You went home to make a cake?”
I shook my head. “No, I went home to change my clothes. My mom handed me the cake. I need to drop it off at the raffle table.”
“I’ll do that.” My best friend Jane suddenly showed up, lifting the cake from my fingers. I watched it and her weave into crowd. She looked like she was laughing at me as I stared after her. “Go and practice.”
Jane didn’t clog. In fact, she didn’t perform. I often wondered about that, but Jane said that her mother didn’t like anything ostentatious and that included all performances. Really, some parents take all the fun out of life. And though in all other respects I like Mrs. Bennetti, on this one thing she and I would never see eye to eye. I suppose that is why Jane excelled in her classes instead. She’ll go on to Stanford. I just know it.
So, cake-less, I nodded to the coach and followed her instead.
“Everyone else is ready. You took your time getting her.” My dance coach was not as nice as my flag coach. I’d ditch Celtic dance if it weren’t for Dawn. She loved it, but she had a hidden shy side that said she wouldn’t dare perform without me. I only liked it for her sake. My performance was fine. It just didn’t take any arm movement, somewhat backward to baton twirling.
We met the team behind stage.
“There you are,” Dawn said, coming over to me. “I thought you ditched.”
“I’d never ditch,” I said. And I meant it. I’d hate to leave her all alone on stage. She gets really nervous right before performances. “Mom made a bring the cake for the raffle.”
Dawn nodded, drawing in a deep breath. “Get your shoes on. We’re up next.”
I did as she said, setting my duffel bag down and unzipping it. It would be clogs first.
As soon as I had my laces tied, I lined up with the rest of them. Tabby McMahone was twirling her curls so they would take shape like Dawn’s. In fact, ever since Valentine’s Day, she’s been mimicking Dawn’s style. Personally, I think I created a monster with Tabby McMahone. All I wanted to do was keep her from being humiliated at the Valentine’s dance. Now she struts and primps, and her parents don’t know what to do with her. I suppose having a dork like Bobby as her boyfriend does things to a girl. I got in between her and Gwenneth Wrede who made a face like always simply because she hated standing near me.
“Is it time yet?” Jennifer Daily asked with a whine to her voice. She whined a lot. She was twelve.
“No. Patience.”
You know, it always annoyed me how our coach spoke more motherly to everyone else but me. I suppose Coach Sheehan had to put up with me, but I would have preferred more civility. She rarely withheld any scathing remarks about my dancing if she could help it. In a way, I’d say it was unfair that she was so nice to everyone else.
Beyond the wooden barrier, we could hear the announcer call for applause for Clan Celt. The Flannery family climbed off the stage, and down the stairs, grinning at each other as they lugged their cello and other instruments with them. The announcer’s voice continued like an echo, calling for the audience’s attention as yet—how did he put it? Oh—yet another ‘promising group of performers’ came on stage. Whenever people talk like that, so condescendingly, I want to cringe. It basically says that we are all still amateurs.
Well, despite all that, we marched onto stage, and I won’t bore you with the details, but we gave a marvelous performance.
Ok, so we are amateurs. But you don’t go around telling people how immature they are when they are already insecure about themselves already. It’s like a butterfly picking on a caterpillar because it hadn’t grown up yet. For pity’s sake give us some time.
But anyway, we weren’t all that precise. Our dancing could have used some improvement. Tabby looked flushed the entire time and Chantel kept stepping slightly faster than the rest of us. As for me, I have to admit I wanted to move my arms. I hated this whole stiff-arm thing. I think I’d be more talented at regular tap dancing than this stiff neck, stiff arm, stiff leg sort of deal anyway.
Yeah, I know. Cop out. But you try having all those critical eyes on you, rating you against Riverdance as if everyone should be an automatic professional.

“I’m glad that’s over,” Dawn murmured as she walked off the stage after our soft-shoe performance.
Several of the others nodded. I agreed, though I thought it was wise not to voice it. Our coach was watching me with a slight glare the entire time. I suppose she heard I was planning on being the next majorette. Megan’s her niece.
“Eve!” the coach snapped at last.
I turned, waiting for it. Dawn did also, remaining behind as if preparing to get into a fight.
“Yes?” I inspected the expression on Coach Sheehan’s face.
“Don’t get cocky,” she said. And she turned, gathering towels and the rest of her paraphernalia.
Don’t get cocky? What was that supposed to mean?
Dawn nudged me, grinning. “That means, you did good today.”
I blinked. “I did?”
My sister chuckled, resting her backside on the back of the stage. She glanced over where the Scottish dancers were walking up the steps. “Yep. You did. And I think she hates you for it.”
She took off her clogs and stuffed them into the bag she had brought. I did the same, sitting next to her.
“So, what are your plans until tonight?” Dawn asked, taking out her tennis shoes.
I drew in a breath to think. Nothing came to mind.
“I dunno. Look at the booths. Find Jane. Hang around with her,” I said. It was the usual fare. “Maybe I’ll watch the baseball game. It’s too late to go surfing. I’ll burn.”
Dawn made a face at me. “Be more creative. I’m going to win as many stuffed animals as I possibly can. You had better plan something or your nerves are going to be shot at the baton twirling competition tonight.”
I smirked at her. My nerves were not as frail as that. I knew she wanted me to have fun, but what she was really saying was I ought not to dwell on the competitive and hostile nonsense I would get until then. Of course I had to keep occupied. If more people were like Coach Sheehan, then St. Patty’s Day was going to stink like Valentine’s Day always did.
So, I went to find Jane as soon as I packed up my dancing shoes.
Jane found me.
“You were great!” Jane grabbed my bag and lugged it over to the parking lot so I could put it into her mom’s car.
The drunk man was still sitting in the clover, but he had quit his singing. In fact, he looked entirely sober. I suppose it had been an act, but what idiot would hire a man to act drunk in our park. No one around us seemed amused. In fact I saw one of the policemen coming around to talk to him. I suppose that was why he sobered up so quickly.
“What do you want to do first?” Jane asked just after she closed the car door.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I was thinking about watching the baseball game, but if you have something better in mind, I’d like to hear it.”
Grinning, Jane took me by the arm and led me into the fair. “We’re going on the rides first. Shopping next, and then a few contests. And after that we’re going to make you next year’s majorette—but somewhere in between we’ll get lunch. Sounds like a plan?”
I shrugged again. “Whatever. Though I think the baseball game sounds more exciting.”
“Come on.” Jane led me away from the baseball field before I considered it more seriously.
She took me straight through all the booths. We stopped once at the charm shop, and she bought for me and herself a pair of clover-in-epoxy necklaces, then we were off again to the rides. Right before the rides was the large display of cakes and other donated goods for the raffle. She pointed up at the top row.
“There’s your mom’s cake,” she said in a whisper. “They think my mom made it so they set it up top.”
Looking dryly at her, I wondered what that implied.
“You know,” she continued. “Lately the Ladies Aid Sweetness Society has been on your mom’s case. If they knew that cake was hers, they probably drop it.”
“Lucky for my mom then that you came along,” I said, chuckling.
Jane nodded with a smile. “I’m afraid so.”
We bought one raffle ticket each. Mrs. Davish, who was selling them, gave Jane a pleasant smile, and then she recoiled when she saw the money in my hand. Gingerly taking it, she managed a grimace for me.
“Thanks,” I said with a polite grin.
And Jane and I skipped off to the first ride we saw, the roller coaster.
Ok, so it was a wimpy kid’s version of a rollercoaster. It was nothing compared to the ones we rode at Six Flags, or even to the Disney Land Pirate’s ride that has no loops. In fact, I’d say it was like going around in an amoebic circle, sloppy, floppy and rather dizzying. I suppose there just wasn’t space to make a real roller coaster fit in the east parking lot. Still, we rode it three times.
Then the bumper cars.
Then the reel-o-wheel.
Then the swinging pirate ship.
Then, when we were feeling rather dizzy, we got on board the chair swings. By the time we were done, we were staggering around like that drunk man, giggling and searching for a bench. I think then we decided that a little more walking around would be good for us both.
“I love those chairs,” I said when we stumbled off the last ride.
“Is that what flying is like?” Jane asked me as we picked up some large frozen chocolate custard waffle cones.
I shook my head, taking my cone with a smile to the seller. He just shrugged, knowing that I was frequent customer to the shop in town, so he did not find me so disturbing.
“Not exactly,” I said, taking a lick. “I mean, you have the rush of the wind and all, but I rarely go in circles like that, and I don’t hang from my seat.”
Jane broke into laughs, nearly dropping her cone. She caught it and we sauntered over to the nearest booth to watch the game going on inside. My cooking teacher was tossing rings over wine bottles, or at least trying to. She got one, and received a consolation prize.
“Let’s try it,” Jane said, fishing out the money.
The booth keeper grinned, handing over five plastic rings.
Carefully eyeing the bottles, Jane tossed them one by one. Clink, clank, and whatever. She got nothing.
“My turn.” I handed over my cone for Jane to hold. Digging into my pockets, I pulled out some change and slapped it onto the booth counter.
The man smirked and took my money, passing to me the five plastic rings.
There is a trick to everything. First of all, not all the bottles had the same size neck. Secondly, the rings were just barely big enough to go over the tops. Pick the narrowest bottle top and match the ring, with good eye hand coordination, and a good ear for imps looking to cause trouble, you can win nearly any carnival game without wasting so much money.
I tossed one. Clink. It went around.
I tossed the next one. Clank. I hooked another.
Tossing out the third and fourth, I got two more.
With the fifth, I tested my skill in throwing for a real fat bottle top. That one, I missed.
“Oh! You have such luck!” the carnival man said, reaching out for a stuffed bear.
“Can I pick?” I looked at the green bear and cringed.
He paused, blinking at me. “Ok? You aren’t in for the green today?”
I turned to Jane. “Which one do you want?”
Jane smirked at me, shaking her head. “The elephant, you silly.”
I nodded to the man.
He picked up the pink elephant, passing it over. “For the lucky girl.”
“In my experience, there is no such thing as luck,” I said as I handed the elephant to Jane.
“Yes, Obiwan.” Jane snickered, taking the elephant by the trunk as if to drag it home like a child.
But the carnival man shook his head at me, glancing at my orange eyes. I had decided not to wear my sunglasses today. They weren’t allowed when dancing and twirling anyway. “You are a strange girl. There was this other girl here with your kind of luck. But she won the big prize. Only two others got that, but they were men.”
I glanced at the big prize. It was a gigantic leprechaun with a leering grin. Cringing, I shook my head. “She had no other option?”
He laughed and waved us away. “Go on. You’re bad for business.”
And he wasn’t lying. No one wanted to be at the booth that I was at. The crowd, when they saw Jane and me, seemed to part somewhat.
“Hey!”
I turned, thinking the man was calling to us. It wasn’t him, though. It was Will.
He waved, carrying one of those large leprechauns under his arm. “Eve! Jane! There you are!”
I groaned just looking at it. My brother was one of the so-called men who won?
Panting, he stopped in front of us. “I have been looking for you two everywhere. I could have sworn Eve would be over at the baseball game.”
I just shrugged.
Jane was grinning with a blush, staring up at my brother the way she had since the Valentine’s Dance. Will was looking at her in a similar way. Things just weren’t going to be the same again, and it was all my fault. Oh, well.
“Have you, have you gone on the Ferris Wheel yet?” He was asking her rather than the both of us, going redder in the cheeks with that anxious glitter in his eyes.
I glanced the other way.
“Not yet,” Jane said. “We’ve gone on all the other rides, but we decided to play a few games before doing some more. You know, walk around a bit.”
“Mind if I walk with you?” Will asked.
Normally Will was my favorite brother, but I get really ill just watching all that mushy stuff. Besides, walking with a romantic couple makes me the third wheel.
I turned around and said to them, “Look, I need to go home and change. How about you two take a walk, go on the Ferris Wheel, and get it out of your system. When I come back, we can play around. Ok?”
Jane’s face went white. “Oh, we didn’t mean to—”
“It’s ok,” I said, waving it away with my hand as if the idea were a pesky imp. “I need to do this, and you two need to hang out. I’m fine with that.”
But I could tell both Will and Jane felt bad for me. And in a way, I was happy they did. Very few cared that I felt lonely at times. I think a little guilt on my behalf was a good thing.
So, I turned and hurried off before they could stop me. I didn’t go crying or anything like that. I have improved in that factor. No. I simply kept my direction and went back through the crowds, passed the baseball game that was now in full swing, and hopping over the curb to Jane’s car to stare at my bag, which was now locked inside. Heaving a sigh, I shrugged and crossed into the road to go home.
I had that feeling that I was being followed again. Only this time when I looked back, I saw that drunk.
“What are you doing? Following me?” I said, folding my arms across my chest.
He took a step back, staring at my face. I suppose this time he really saw me. Before, he didn’t seem to notice that I was different from everyone else.
“Uh, I’m lost,” he said, not sounding the least bit drunk.
I pointed back the way we had come. “The park is that way.”
He nodded, taking yet another step back.
“And keep going,” I said.
And he did, looking likely to run.
With that, I about faced, and marched back towards home.
The funny thing was, I still felt like he was following me. I could see him in the distance when I glanced over my shoulder. Why, though? Was he a vampire hunter like Mr. McDillan? I didn’t think so. The man did not react like Mr. McDillan did. I figured any cold-hearted hunter of things-of-the-night would not jump back in the way that he did when I turned around. He would have gotten that steely expression I knew so well in my History teacher. This man was hunting for something else, and the idiot was still following me.
Well, I reached home, intent upon getting out of my clogging dress and into some more comfortable clothes. Hopping up the steps, though I saw that Mom’s flower patch was tangled up in clover, and Dad’s lawn was nearly covered in it. Weird, to be sure. Dad never tolerated clover in his lawn. It wasn’t there when I came back this morning at any rate.
I opened the door, stepped inside and rushed through the house to the stairs. But I stopped, looking out to the open sliding glass door. Crossing over to it, I saw out into the back yard. Clover covered it, and my mom was cursing up a storm while kneeling in a flowerbed trying to rip it out.
“You’re missing the carnival,” I said, looking down at her.
Mom looked up and shook her head. “I know. But look at this. My garden is covered in weeds.”
“Take care of it tomorrow,” I said, shaking my head and turning to go back into the house.
My mom stood up with a handful of clover in each glove. “I suppose you are right. How was cake? Did it raffle off yet?”
I smiled. “Jane took it up for me. It got a top position, though I don’t know who won it yet.”
She handed me the fistfuls of clover. “Here. Four leafs. Keep them for luck.”
Looking down into my palms, I blinked at the plant in my hands. She was right. I lifted one to stare at it more closely, dropping the rest on the counter. “Four.”
“The garden is full of them,” my mom murmured as she pulled off her gloves. “I suppose this means we should be very lucky today.”
I fingered each leaf, and then just shrugged. “Mr. Beaver says four leaf clovers are nothing but genetic mutations. In fact, he said he found a five leaf clover once.”
“They said the same thing about you, I bet. I need a shower,” my mom murmured, shaking her head. “A garden full of clover. How did that happen?”
Genetic mutation. I wasn’t that. I knew I was the product of an ancient spell a coven of thirteen witches used to conjure a demonic assassin up. I was just this generation’s assassin, however reluctant to fulfil my destiny. I didn’t believe in destiny any more than luck. But this clover business; my mom was right. This was not normal.
But like her, I also had other things to do, and it was waste to dwell on it.
So, up to my room again, I closed the door and stripped. With another coating of suntan lotion, grabbing my sunglasses this time, I put on some jeans and a long sleeve tee. This at least would stop my mom from nagging me to wear a sweater. As I threw on my shoes, I looked out the window that overlooked the back yard to see the clover. What I saw was worse.
Climbing over our fence was that old drunk. He staggered into the yard and started to sing that stupid whisky song again.
I shook my head and clenched my teeth. What was this idiot doing in our yard? It just infuriated me watching him sing as he stumbled to the center of the lawn, dropping down like he was passing out. I had seen this retarded act before. It was the same as when he nearly crashed into me in the park. Only this time, this time I decided to so something about it.
But just as I was about to move from my windowsill to go down stairs, I witnessed the most peculiar sight. First, it just looked like clover started to sprout out in small places from the big patch along the fence. But as I watched I saw a small figure materialize, much like the first time I saw imps flying around my classroom, though less dramatic. It was a little man, but unlike all the pictures I had seen of leprechauns this man was dressed entirely in the leaves of clover and shamrocks. He even had a little hat like Robin Hood on his head made of two leaves of a shamrock.
I wasn’t the only one that saw him either. That drunk tipped his whisky jug for the little fellow to drink. Yet in the next second I saw the man’s hand snatch up the little guy, and the drunk let out such a cackle that it grated on my nerves. If this man weren’t human, I’d swear he was half imp with the way his own imps didn’t need to give suggestions to him. They were flapping around him with such glee, I knew they were eating up everything this man thought of doing.
“Ha! Now you owe me three more wishes!” the man shouted.
“Nuh, uh, uh.” The little man waggled his finger at the fake drunk. “I only owe you one. It is three wishes per turn. And no one made any wishes with me since you.”
“Why you….” The man practically squeezed the leprechaun till his face was almost as green as his clothes. However this drunk cooled down and glared with a sinister look on the guy. “Ok, fine. My last wish.”
I didn’t care what his wish was. I had to stop this. The whole idea that some large bully was going to make this little man do some dirty work for him made me so angry, I almost wanted to bite him. Jumping away from the window across my room, I yanked open the door and dashed down the hall to the stairs.

“I wish for a beautiful, young woman to fall madly in love with me and do everything I tell her to. That I would have no problems with her family or any other legal matters.”
“Is that really what you want?”
“Yes. Give it to me.”

“Granted.” I saw the little man say that as I dashed through the open door.
The drunk turned and stared at me. “Not her!”
The leprechaun snickered, slapping his little fingers over his mouth. “No. Of course not, silly. My magic cannot influence her. She has no luck.”
I could see the relief go across the drunk’s face. He stepped back from me as if to escape with the little man in-fist. I marched over to them both, clenching my own fists.
“Give him to me right now!” I shouted.
“No.” The man pulled back, holding the leprechaun near his chest. “You can’t have him.”
“You can’t either!” I lifted my fist as if to punch him. He was taller than me though, and I knew my only advantage would be to reveal myself for what I was and frighten him to death. “You can’t use people that that!”
He smirked. “He’s not a person.”
I bared my teeth, so tempted to bite him now. In fact, my imps were shouting for me to do it.
I heard the front door slam. “Hey! Is anybody home?”
Turned around to see Dawn come in and cross to the open back yard door, carrying a bundle of stuffed animals as she said she would. “Hey, Eve. You cannot believe the luck I had today. I not only won all the grand prizes in the booths, but I also won one of those—”
But she did not finish telling me what she had won. Dawn stared straight ahead at the man holding the leprechaun. She dropped everything at her feet, leaving a mounding pile around and she crossed straight to him.
“Who are you?” She didn’t sound upset though. Her voice took on that pathetic romantic sound I heard once or twice in Jane’s voice when she talked about my brother.
The man’s face spread into an expression of delight. “Beautiful, but isn’t she very young?”
“You asked for young,” the little man in his hand said.
I blinked. “Oh, you didn’t! You didn’t wish for my sister—”


You can read the rest of this story at Lulu.com

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Tag der Veröffentlichung: 15.02.2010

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