Page 11 of Soul of Shadow #1

“Here’s what I don’t understand,” said Lou the next morning as she dumped an armful of cling-wrapped brownies onto the bake-sale table.

It was seven a.m. Abigail had signed the three of them up to host the sale—a homecoming-dance fundraiser—a week ago.

Naturally, she didn’t ask for permission.

Their only warning was a text at nine o’clock the night before: See you bright Abigail snatched it away. “Stealing a lock of my hair to perform a voodoo spell that will make me fall in love with you?”

“In your dreams, Hudson,” said Lou airily.

Charlie looked back down at the stickers she was labeling, holding in a laugh.

Lou and Mason did this all the time. It was natural for Lou to pick fights; snark and sarcasm were her daily flavors of choice.

But her feud with Mason went back almost a decade—likely to the first time Mason let loose a tarantula in Charlie and Sophie’s bedroom during a sleepover.

The memory of that night made Charlie smile.

They had forgone beds in favor of three sleeping bags laid out in a circle on the floor.

Her mom made them popcorn with extra butter, and they stayed up far too late, Lou forcing Sophie and Charlie to perform Lou’s favorite magic tricks over and over again.

She never tired of watching them perform.

It was as if every time they pulled out an ace of hearts and asked, Is this your card?

causing Lou to squeal in delight, was the very first.

Charlie didn’t realize she was spacing out until a low voice cut into her thoughts.

“You’ve been staring at that price tag for five minutes.”

Her eyes lifted from the stickers. They landed on Elias, who was studying her with those sparkling green eyes, the ones that seemed always on the verge of laughter .

Charlie set down her marker. “I’m just being thorough.”

“How is that?”

“You know, the standard. Have to make sure there are no stray specks of dirt on the tags.”

Elias raised his eyebrows. “That’s the standard stuff?”

Charlie shrugged. “You haven’t met Abigail.”

“I heard that,” Abigail said without looking up from her pyramid of brownies.

“I have, actually.” Elias leaned back until his chair was balanced on two legs, completely relaxed, not even pretending to help sort through the sweets. “Yesterday at lunch. Unless you’ve forgotten already.”

“I haven’t.” She paused. “How’s the head, by the way?”

He tapped his forehead twice and winked. “Right as rain, darling. Thanks for the help.”

“ Darling , he says.” Charlie picked up her marker and pointed it at him. “I don’t know what the girls were like at your last school, but the women of Silver Shores are not so easily charmed.”

“Oh, I think I’ll do just fine,” he said, half waving to a pack of girls who walked past, causing them to dissolve into giggles.

Charlie rolled her eyes. Knowing his history, she saw straight through this act. It was a classic: the jokester using humor and cockiness to cover up grief.

Her brother was an expert in that field.

“So.” Elias let the chair fall back onto all fours. “Who are you asking to homecoming?”

This brought Charlie to a complete stop. Her heart was pounding, even though she couldn’t really say why. Toes tingling, she looked up at Elias. “Why do you ask?”

He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “I know you and your friends are playing a little game. That you need to ask someone by Thursday evening.”

“And just how,” she asked, her voice deadly quiet, “do you know that?”

Elias didn’t move his face away. If anything, he moved a breath closer. “Your friends talk very loudly.” He winked. “Especially in the lunchroom.”

“Do I detect a conversation about homecoming?” Lou asked.

“You do,” said Elias.

“Oh, really?” Lou raised an eyebrow. “Do you have a date yet?”

“No pe ,” Elias said, popping the last syllable of the word. “Dances aren’t really my thing.”

“But the dance isn’t the point, dude.” Mason clapped Elias on the shoulder. “We’ll stay in the paper-decorated gym for a half hour, then bounce to the after-party. That’s where the real fun happens, if you know what I mean.” He waggled his eyebrows.

Lou made a face. “You’re a pig.”

“Don’t lie to yourself, Louise,” said Mason. “You’ve been pining after these lips since the second grade.”

Lou picked up an empty box and pretended to vomit into it.

“Can we get back to the important stuff?” Abigail asked. “These peanut butter blondies aren’t going to stack themselves.”

“Yes, please,” said Lou, gagging slightly as she grabbed a handful of blondies. “Anything to wipe away the image of Mason Hudson’s lips.”