Page 2 of One Killer Night

“Nuhhhoooo. You’re such a nerd. But you even have little claws.” She laughs. “That’s amazing.”

“Who needs a sexy cat costume when you can have a little fan inside to keep your booty cool. It’s the twenty-first century. Comfort over cute all day, every day.”

My laughter joins hers before she claps her hands together, trying to get us back on track. We tend to veer in every conversation we have.

“Okay, focus. I need as much blood as they have. Buy it all. I can’t believe I ran out. Uh, gawd, Golds, I really want to make a good impression on these guys. New kid knocks it out of the park and all. Ya know?”

I’m nodding, but I don’t think my big dino head is moving, so I blurt out, “Yeah, Eves, I get it, and I got you. What are big sisters for? Plus, you’re the most creative special effects wizard in the city of Boston. That company is lucky to have you. Stop worrying. You’ve already got the job.”

“You’re right. As usual. Also, I’ll pay you back tonight, so get as much as you can.”

“Evie. I’ve been out of work for two days—it’s not desperate times just yet. I can swing some Walgreens blood.”

As her lips part to respond, her eyebrows shoot up, too, like she’s had a brand-new thought, before she suddenly disappears from the screen, yelling.

“Goldie. Oh my god. You have to see the head. After I drained it, it turned out so good. Literally, epic. I’m so glad I chopped it off.”

I chuckle under my breath, looking around the shelves for the fake blood, because if anyone were to overhear this, they’d probably call the cops. I’m suddenly imagining me, as a dinosaur, explaining that my sister made a fake dead body and then decided to use it for her company’s annual Halloween party.

She’s dressing as Wednesday, holding Uncle Fester’s head; there’s even a light bulb in his mouth. It’s diabolical.

The sound of things falling in her apartment draws my eyes just as her butt comes back into the frame.

“Ooh, I’m excited to see your headless uncle,” I joke, but before she says anything, the gruesome creation’s dead eyes are staring back at me.

Holy cheese and crackers. Wait, did I gasp?

My head whips to the side, blood instantly draining from my face.

Oh god. No ... It wasn’t me.

Two of the most precious senior citizens—I’m talking about real Disney movieUpcharacters—are gaping at me wide eyed, ashen and horrified. The little cardigan-wearing husband’s holding a bag of candy, probably for trick-or-treaters, as his eyes volley between the phone screen and me.

My mouth falls open, but nothing comes out. Not even the laugh that’s stuck in my throat as I shake my head and jazz-hand my claws, but I’m pretty sure it looks like I’m about to attack because now they’re backing up slowly, the wife’s aged hand clutching her husband’s forearm.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.

“Oh gosh, no, no, no ... It’s not what you think. We don’t even have an uncle ... It’s just a nickname my sister had for the body ...”

I’m stumbling over my words, rambling a hundred miles an hour, embarrassed and on-brand awkward while shuffling toward them, my tiny arms waving in front of me.

The old man drops the candy on the floor as he makes the sign of a cross over himself.

“Oh god,” I rush out, intertwined with laughter, before righting myself back to serious. “No. I didn’t mean—”

Evie cuts in loudly, “Sheesh. I miss the old guy. Good ole Unc. Too bad he had to go, but that’s what happens when you do bad things. Like buy the mini Snickers instead of the full size. Amirite?”

She makes a slicing motion across her throat, along with an evil laugh, and all three of us look down at the candy on the floor ... minis.

I’ll kill her.

Or, more likely, go to jail for murder since Pop-Pop and Mimi are as white as ghosts. For a hot second, as we stand in the most awkward silence, I think there’s a chance they might actually yell for help.

Sweet little Betty White finally looks at her husband as if to say,Let’s get out of here. These girls are unhinged.

And you know what? Fair.

But I try to fix things anyway. I raise my voice to their backs as they turn, swinging my tiny arm back and forth between the phoneand myself. “She’s lying and a horrible person. But not like murderer horrible. Just regular awful ... We didn’t kill anyone. I swear. It’s fake.”