Even teen evil queens need love. Right? (Or at least a handsome sword-fighting minion to do their bidding!)
***
Bad things happen when Rowen is around and the worst part is, she has no idea why until a massive family secret sends her on a fantastica...
Shhhh, little one. The thunder is not loud enough to mask your cries. We are fugitives, you and I. But do not worry. One day your voice will drown the thunder.
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Friday the Thirteenth continued to be cursed.
Such a cliché!
But I had a plan to conquer it.
All I needed was:
1. No detention yoga.
2. Find book stolen by cat (although now that I have some perspective, I'm not sure what the big deal was anymore. It was just some old book. Sometimes I get carried away.)
3. Most important: Impress—Miles Buxkemper—the cutest boy in computer class, with my keen hacking skills and maybe end my nearly sixteen-year reign of having never been kissed.
I raced home to drop off the glass and quickly change clothes, entering by the front door instead of the kitchen to avoid parental third-degree interrogation because of scratched face. Sure enough, as I fled up the stairs, the refrain of "Rowen, what was that all about?" followed in my wake.
"Nothing," I yelled down once I was safely in my room.
I had ten minutes until the tardy bell. I could make it to school in five.
Basically, if I was fast enough, a yoga-free afternoon could be in my future.
I slipped into my second cutest jeans and a white t-shirt with a yellow happy face emblazoned across the front.
Ha, Friday the Thirteenth! Take that!
In the bathroom, I scrubbed my face, applied cover-up to the scratches on my cheeks, and made a fervent attempt to tame my brush-resistant hair, managing to restore myself to a normal level of bizarreness. I ran to the kitchen and deposited the glass in the sink.
"Bye, Dad. Papa," I chirped, hoping to head off the "why did you come in the front door and are you hiding something young lady?" line of questioning. I had somewhere to be and no time to construct any decent lies.
"Wait," Dad said, giving me the once over. My heart stalled in my chest. "You finished the smoothie?"
"Sure did," I lied, pointing to the empty glass in the sink. Dad lifted an eyebrow. "Yum," I added. "Gotta go!"
"Great. Have a wonderful day, Ro," he said.
Sold!
"Hold up, young lady," Papa said, rinsing his coffee cup and my glass. "Isn't today Halloween Candygram Day?"
My stomach filled with spikey glass shards of dread. How had I forgotten it was Candygram Day?
For those of you who think I'm overreacting, you obviously aren't familiar with Candygram Day. Here is a brief explanation:
Each Halloween, Christmas, and Valentine's Day, the Coffin Ridge Student Council, raise money by selling candy. For a dollar, you fill out a note and attach it to a lollipop or candy cane, and the Student Council officers deliver them to the lucky recipients in class. In front of everyone.
