Shane grabbed him in a hug. Michael rocked back a little from the impact, but he closed his eyes and hung on for a moment, then slapped Shanes back. And of course Shane slapped his back, too, and they stepped way apart. Manly. Claire rolled her eyes.
I thought you were dead, Shane said. His eyes looked suspiciously bright and wet. I saw you die, man.
I die all the time. It doesnt really take. Michael gave him a half smile that looked more grim than amused. I figured it was better to let your dad think hed taken me out. Maybe he wouldnt be so hard on the rest of you. His gaze swept over the bruises on Shanes face. Brilliant plan. Im sorry, man. Once I was dead, I couldnt do much until night came around again.
He said it so matter-of-factly that Claire felt a shiver. Do you rememberyou know, what they did to you?
Michael glanced at her. Yeah, he said. I remember.
Oh hell. Shane collapsed back on the sofa and put his head in his hands. God, man, Im sorry. Im so sorry.
Not your fault.
I called him.
You called him because it looked like we were all pulling an Alamo. You didnt know
I know my dad, Shane said grimly. Michael, I want you to know, I wasntI didnt come here to do his dirty work. Notnot after the first week or so.
Michael didnt answer him. Maybe there was no answer to that, Claire thought. She scooted closer to Shane and stroked his ragged, shoulder-length fine hair. Hey, she said. Its okay. Were all okay.
No, were not. Shanes voice was muffled by his hands. Were totally screwed. Right, Mike?
Pretty much, Michael sighed. Yeah.
The cops will find them, Eve said in an undertone to Claire as both girls stood in the kitchen making pasta. Pasta, apparently, was a new thing that Eve wanted to try. She frowned down at the package of spaghetti, then at the not-yet-bubbling pot of water. Shanes dad and his merry band of ass**les, I mean.
Yeah, Claire agreed, not because she thought they would, but because, well, it seemed like the thing to say. Want me to warm up the sauce?
Do we do that? I mean, its in a jar, right? Cant you just dump it over the pasta?
Well, you can, but it tastes better if you warm it up.
Oh. Eve sighed. This is complicated. No wonder I never cook.
You make breakfast!
I make two things: bacon and eggs. And sometimes sandwiches. I hate cooking. Cooking reminds me of my mother. Eve took another pot from the rack and banged it down onto the massive stove. Here.
Claire struggled with the top on the spaghetti sauce jar, and finally got it to release with a pop. You think theyre going to stay mad at each other? she asked.
Michael and Shane?
Mmm-hmmm. The sauce plopped into the pot, chunky and wet and vaguely nauseating. Claire considered the second jar, decided that if two of the four of them were boys, more was better. She got it opened and in the pot, as well, then turned on the burner and set it to simmer.
Who knows? Eve shrugged. Boys are idiots. Youd think Shane could just say, Oh man, Im glad youre alive, but no. Its either guilt or amateur night at the Drama Queen Theater. She blew out a frustrated breath. Boys. Id turn g*y if they werent so sexy.
Claire tried not to laugh, but she couldnt help it, and after a second Eve smiled and chuckled, too. The water started boiling. In went the pasta.
can I ask?
About what? Eve was still frowning at the pasta like she suspected it was going to do something clever, like try to escape from the pot.
You and Michael.
Oh. A surge of pink to Eves cheeks. Between that and the fact that she was wearing colors outside of the Goth red and black rainbow, she looked young and very cute. Well. I dont know if itsGod, hes just so
Hot? Claire asked.
Hot, Eve admitted. Nuclear hot. Surface of the sun hot. And
She stopped, the flush in her cheeks getting darker. Claire picked up a wooden spoon and poked the pasta, which was beginning to loosen up. And?
And I was planning on putting the moves on him before all this happened. Thats why I had on the garters and stuff. Planning ahead.
Oh, wow.
Yeah, embarrassing. Did he peek?
When you were changing? Claire asked. I dont think so. But I think he wanted to.
Thats okay, then. Eve blinked down at the pasta, which had formed a thick white foam on top. Is it supposed to be doing that?
Claire hadnt ever seen it happen at her parents house. But then again, they hadnt made spaghetti much. I dont know.
Oh crap! The white foam kept growing, like in one of those cheesy science fiction movies. The foam that ate the Glass Houseit mushroomed up over the top of the pot and down over the sides, and both girls yelped as it hit the burners and began to sizzle and pop. Claire grabbed the pot and moved it. Eve turned down the burner. Right, pasta makes foam, good to know. Too hot. Way too hot.
Who? Michael? Claire asked, and they dissolved in giggles.
Which only got worse when Michael walked in, went to the refrigerator, and retrieved the last two beers from his birthday pack. Ladies, he said. Did I miss something?
Pasta boiled over, Claire gulped, trying not to giggle even harder. Michael looked at them for a second, curious, and then shrugged and left again. Do you think hes telling Shane right now that were insane?
Probably. Eve managed to control herself, and put the pasta back on the burner. Is this shock? Are we in shock right now?
I dont know, Claire said. Lets see, weve been barricaded in the house, attacked, nearly burned to death. Michael was murdered right in front of us, then came back, and we got interrogated by the big, scary vampire cops? Yeah, maybe shock.
Eve choked on another snort/giggle. Maybe thats why I decided to cook.
They watched the pasta bubble in silence. The whole room was starting to smell warm with spices and tomato sauce, a comforting and homey sort of smell. Claire stirred the spaghetti sauce, which was looking delicious now that it was simmering.