“Nice gate,Ella."I looked back at Daniel. He waved torward my lap."Oh." I draw on my eans when I don't have paper.My bus had gotten stuck behind a trash truck, right in front of a seriously old churchyard. "Thanks." I wasn't sure how I felt about Daniel staring at my thigh, even if he had recognized the sketch for what it was."Here." Suddenly, he had a booted foot on the rung of my chair, legs spread, one pressed against mine. "Draw something.""Oh,please," Frankie muttered from his other side.I shook my head. "I don't have a pen."Sadie promptly disappeared beneath the table.I could hear the clank of Marc acobs chain handles and had a feeling in a second she would be asking, "Blue ink or black?""Don't you dare,Sadie," Frankie said cheerfully. "Ella does not want to be inscribing my brother's crotch."True, I didn't. Except I had the clearest vision of how a little Italian portal devil would look on the faded denim..."Fair enough," Daniel said, sliding his foot off my chair. But he actually looked disappointed. For a second, anyway. "I assume there's food coming?""There is," Frankie answered. "I'm sure it will come a hell of a lot faster if you do your vampire boy thing on Chloe again.""Tsk,tsk. Jealousy, Miss Thing."They bared their teeth at each other. It was scarily pretty.”

“I kept my head down and my mouth full. I didn't want Frankie's sharp eyes or tongue focused on me any more than necessary. It was a lot easier with Daniel taking up half of the food and most of the air."What about it, Ella?" he asked when everything was gone except the parsley garnish. "When do we get the pleasure of your vocal stylings?""I don't sing.""You mean you won't sng," Sadie corrected. I tried to be charitable about her treason; she goes pretty brainless around Daniel. "Ella sings really well.""I'm sure she does." Daniel tipped his beer glass in my direction. "In fact, I bet she could totally murder 'Don't Stop Believin'." A song that is actually one of my guilty pleasures. I think he probably knew that. I think he probably had himself a lovely chuckle over it.Then he whispered, "Coward."In another story, the plucky little heroine would have slapped both hands onto the table, making it wobble a little on its predicatbly uneven fourth leg. She would then have taken both hands, ripped the long scarf from around her neck and, chin high and scar spotlit, stalked to the dais, leaped up, and slayed the audience with her kick-ass version of "Respect." Or maybe "Single Ladies," for the sheer Yay factor.In this version,I gave Daniel what I hoped was a slayer look and busied myself refolding my napkin.He was,not surprisingly, unfazed. "Can I ask you a question?"I sighed. "Will my answer to that one make any difference?""None whatsoever.""Fine," I grumbled. "Ask." I didn't have to answer.He wasn't my Hobbes."Why are there interstate highways in Hawaii?"I gaped at him. "That's your question?""Nope." He leaned back in his chair, propping one foot on the other knee. "That's a question. My question is this: What's the one thing you should ask yourself before getting involved with someone?""Seriously?""Do I look serious?"Maybe not serious, but vaguely deadly. Still,it was an interesting question, especially coming from Daniel Hobbes. I thought for a second. "'Will he make me happy?'""You think?" Daniel asked, the unfolded himself and got to his feet. "I'm outta here. Who's coming?”

“He shoved up his sleeves, displaying several thin leather bracelets and the red-and-black tip of a dragon tail just above his right elbow. I've never actually seen the head. It's on Daniel's back, Frankie told us once, between his shoulder blades. "So,my children, what is up?""We're trying to figure out how to get a soul-sucking, male lower life-form out of Ella's head," Frankie explained."Kill him," Daniel said casually. "Unless there's a symbiotic thing going on and Ella would have to die, too. That would be a shame."Here's the thing about Daniel. He has always scared me a little. I don't bother going through the scar-hiding motions; I'm convined he can see right through clothing. Not that he leers. He's not a leerer. He has two facial expressions: cold and amused. He also has a second tattoo, on the inside of his left wrist, that looks exactly like how I would expect a gang mark to look. Frankie has never said a word about that tat. Or much about his brother's friends.Who have names like Ax and spend time in police custody.”

“So,if it's all love or money, which is Alex Bainbridge?"I blinked at him. "What?""He's a turd, Ella. He looked right through you like you were a ghost, but you still have a thing for him.""I do n-""Don't even. You've gone through the whole week watching for him. So what is it? I would really like to know. Love or money?""I have not been watching for him!" I snapped. Oh, but I had, in every hallway, at lunch, when I took my seat at the edge of English class. "And if I have, it's just so I can look away first."Frankie rolled his eyes. "Shall I get you a pail of water?""Why?""Your pants are on fire."I actually looked down at my lap. "Oh, very funny." I shot Sadie a look when she giggled.”

“There is absolutely nothing wrong with me.""Yeah?""Yeah." He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. For a second, he looked exactly like Daniel: cynical, bored, and liable to bite. "Well,that's funny," he drawled. "I think you're lying through your teeth."My stomach clenched. "Why?""Because," he said calmly, "in all the time I've known you,you have never once said those words.""What words?""'There is nothing wrong with me.'""Oh,don't-""Never. You are a walking litany of imaginary flaws.So." Frankie unfolded himself and rested his elbows on the table. It wobbled. He didn't. He studied me over his tented fingers. "Truth or Dare?""It's Sadie's turn to ask.""She passed," he snapped."Hey," I protested."Hey." Sadie actually waved a hand between us. "Maybe we can talk about this tomorrow.""We could," Frankie replied with suspicious agreeability. "Except I want to do it now. So,here's the question, Marino. What-""Dare.""Sorry?" he said."Dare. I'll take a dare/""Really?" he demanded."As long as it takes ten minutes or less. I have to go." All I wanted, really, was to leave.Frankie didn't say anything-or move-for the longest time. He just stared at me. Then, finally, he blinked, lowered his hands, and shrugged. "Sing.""Oh,come on-""Sing," he repeated. "You know how. Or concede."That, I thought, would be so easy. It would also break something precious. In all out time together, none of us had ever conceded a dare. "Sadie. Sing with me?"She nodded,but Frankie shook a finger at her. "You will not. Marino, you're on your own here."I pretty much stomped way may to the stage. Stavros's son Nic was manning the karaoke machine. His brows shot up when he saw me. "A first.”

“Forty percent off. Come on, Ella, it's a sign.""Yeah. 'Stop.'" I took the sweater from his hands and holded it neatly into thirds. "Truth or Truth?"He propped a hip on the edge of the display table. "Shoot.""WHo are you dressing me for? I mean, really? The three nonrelated men playing any part whatsoever in my life right now are, and I will use your terms here, the spawn of Society Hell, dead as the spat, and queer as a football bat.""Very poetic.""Bite me.""Wrong man," Frankie drawled. "That would be the inclination of the hell spawn."I bared my teeth. "So,who,Frankie? Who is this for?" I waved the sweater. "I just don't get it.""I know,Grasshopper," he said sadly, "I know."I blinked at him. "Where-" That's as far as I got. Sadie had come out of the dressing room.”