“This near enough? Whatcha gonna do, doll girl? Cry all over me?"Claire hid her eyes as the biker reached out for Eve with one tattooed hand.No," Eve said breathlessly. "I'm going to let my boyfriend beat the crap out of you."There was a dull thunk of wood meeting flesh, and a howl. Then another, much harder thunk, and a crash as a body hit the floor.The biker was down. Claire stared at him in disbelief, then looked past him, to the figure standing there with the field hockey stick in both hands.Michael Glass.”

“Swear to God, you come near us and–”“Like this?” The biker sidestepped a slash from the hockey stick, grabbed it on the way, and yanked it out of Eve’s hands. He tossed it over his shoulder to land on the floor with a clatter. “This near enough? Whatcha gonna do, doll girl?”Claire hid her eyes as the biker reached out for Eve with one tattooed hand.“No,” Eve said breathlessly. “I’m going to let my boyfriend beat the crap out of you.”There was a dull thunk of wood meeting flesh, and a howl. Then another, harder thunk, and a crash as a body hit the floor.The biker was down. Claire stared at him in disbelief, then looked past him, to the figure standing there with the field hockey stick in both hands.Michael Glass. Back from the dead, again, a gorgeous blond avenging angel, breathing hard.”

“Take the back door," she said. "Claire, you and your strang friend-""Eve," they both said simultaneously, and Eve held out her fst for a bump. "Or, you could call me Eve the Great, Mistress of All She Surveys. Eve for short.”

“(eve)"what?"(claire)"monica got him to ask me. Told them to do this." (eve)"bitch! okay,i take it all back. She needs a good blowtorching." "no",Claire said faintly."Nobody deservs that. Nobody." (eve) "Great.Saint Claire,the patron saint of the kick-me sign.”

“Shane’s dad stopped the van,” Claire said. “He took Monica as a hostage.”For a second, neither one of them moved, and then Eve whooped and held up her hand for a high five. Claire just stared at her, and Eve compensated by clapping both hands over her head. “Yesssss!” she said, and did a totally geeky victory dance. “Couldn’t have happened to a nicer psycho!”“Hey!” Claire yelled, and Eve froze in midcelebration. It was stupid, but Claire was angry; she knew Eve was right, knew she had no reason at all to think Monica was ever going to be anything but a gigantic pain in the ass, but… “Shane’s dad’s going to burn her if they go through with the execution. He has a blowtorch.”The glee dropped out of Eve’s expression. “Oh,” she said. “Well…still. Not like she didn’t ask for it. Karma’s a bitch, and so am I.”

“Eve took me to teach me how to fence," Claire said."Not so much how to fence as how to hold a sword and not drop it," Eve said. "And then I fought Oliver to a draw."Shane fluttered his hands. "Oh, and then we were all elected as ice princesses and asked to go to Disneyland!""Laugh all you want. I'm going to look way better in full skirts than you," Eve said.”

“Um… Eve…can I ask…?”“About what?” Eve was still frowning at the pasta like she suspected it to do something clever, like try to escape the pot.“You and Michael.”“Oh.” A surge of pink to Eve’s 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 don’t know if it’s – God, he’s 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. That’s why I had on the garters and stuff. Planning ahead.”“Oh, wow.”“Yeah, embarrassing. Did he peek?”“When you were changing?” Claire asked. “I don’t think so. But I think he wanted to.”“That’s 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 hadn’t ever seen it happen at her parents’ house. But then again, they hadn’t made spaghetti much. “I don’t know.”“Oh, crap!” The white foam kept growing, like in one of those cheesy science fiction movies. The foam that ate the Glass House…it 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.”