101
" Hope there isn’t anyone below us.”
“If so, they’re already asleep. I mean, I’d already be asleep if you weren’t licking my ear. Why are you licking my ear?”
Lex retrieved her tongue. “Because I feel like something awful is going to happen tomorrow. And I’m really hoping it doesn’t involve my grisly demise, or an even grislier demise for you than your last one, but—” She swallowed. “I want this night to be a happy one, because I think they’re going to be in short supply from now on.”
“Yeah, but—” He glanced behind them. “With four friends, one uncle, one Pandora, and a comatose museum curator within hearing range?”
“Good point.” Lex nodded thoughtfully, as if they were debating tax reform. “However: this.” She grabbed his hands and slapped them onto her chest.
His eyes bulged, then met hers. “Compelling rebuttal.”
Lex grinned and dove back into his face while Driggs’s hands reached around her back. “Ah, the over-shoulder boulder holder,” he said in a sneering voice, picking at her bra. “My old nemesis.”
“Okay, don’t panic,” Lex said. “Do it just like we practiced.”
“Right. The hook faces out.”
“The hook faces in.”
“DAMMIT. "
― Gina Damico , Rogue (Croak, #3)
103
" Lex poked Elysia. “The relationship is going well, it seems.”
Elysia’s face erupted with worry. “Oh, Lex, I’m so sorry. It just sort of . . . happened. We were in that hotel for so many days, just waiting around to hear word from Croak, waiting for Mort to figure out a way to rescue you guys. And Wicket and Lazlo not letting us leave, we just went a little stir-crazy and—omigod, I must seem like such a bad friend, and all while you were still stuck in that awful jail and poor Driggs and—”
“Lys,” Lex said, taking her by the shoulders before she could launch into a full-blown monsoon of tears. “It’s fine. I think we’ve all learned a thing or two about taking happiness where you can get it. Plus . . . you know. It’s about time.”
“About time? What do you mean?”
“I mean you two have been itching to get into each other’s pants since the dawn of earth.”
Elysia looked shocked for a moment, then sighed. “I don’t know what I’m thinking,” she said, staring back and forth between her mostly uneaten sandwich and Ferbus. “He’s gross. He’s mean. He’s ugly. He’s a lousy drunk, he’s the biggest nerd on the planet, he looks like a leprechaun, his hair is the color of Cheetos—”
“And you luuurve him.”
Elysia scowled and crossed her arms. “And I lurve him. "
― Gina Damico , Rogue (Croak, #3)
106
" Lex?”
“Yes?”
“There’s a bug in your hair.”
“Even better.”
She gave him another quick peck, then looked in the mirror to investigate her hair. “Shit,” she said, her eyes opening wide. “Don’t move.”
“Why, are you sticking to the leather seat? Because I am all kinds of sticking to the leather seat, in places that I didn’t even know about—”
“No. Slightly bigger problem,” she said, still frozen. “Uncle Mort: staring. Us: very naked.”
“Crap.” Driggs tried to wipe his face clean of saliva, though there was a sizable amount. “Think he can see us?”
“He’s not a dinosaur, Driggs. His vision doesn’t depend solely on movement.”
“Okay, you really need to stop basing your entire knowledge of dinosaurs on what you learned in Jurassic Park. "
― Gina Damico , Rogue (Croak, #3)
107
" The menu: legendary deep-fried Turkeyzilla, gravy, stuffing, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, and green beans.
The theme: dysfunction.
“So,” Elysia said to Lex’s parents with her ever-friendly grin, “how are you?”
“How do you think they are?” Ferbus whispered.
She kicked him under the table. “I mean—um—what do you do? For a living?”
Lex’s mother, who hadn’t said much, continued to stare down the table at the sea of black hoodies while picking at her potatoes.
Lex’s father cleared his throat. “I’m a contractor,” he said. “And she’s a teacher.”
“Omigod! I wanted to be a teacher!” Elysia turned to Mrs. Bartleby. “Do you love it?”
“Hmm?” She snapped back to attention and smiled vacantly at Elysia. “Oh, yes. I do. The kids are a nice distraction.”
“From what?” Pip asked.
Bang smacked her forehead. Lex squeezed Driggs’s hand even tighter, causing him to choke on his stuffing. He coughed and hacked until the offending morsel flew out of his mouth, landing in Sofi’s glass of water.
“Ewww!” she squealed.
“Drink around it,” Pandora scolded. “So! I hear New York City is lovely this time of year.”
Well, it looks nice, I guess,” Mr. Bartleby said. “But shoveling out the driveway is a pain in the neck. The girls used to help, but now . . .”
Sensing the impending awkwardness, Corpp jumped in. “Well, Lex has been a wonderful addition to our community. She’s smart, friendly, a joy to be around—”
“And don’t you worry about the boyfriend,” Ferbus said, pointing to Driggs. “I keep him in line.”
Mrs. Bartleby’s eyes widened, looking at Lex and then Driggs. “You have a—” she sputtered. “He’s your—”
Ferbus went white. “They didn’t know?”
“Oops!” said Uncle Mort in a theatrical voice, getting up from the table. “Almost forgot the biscuits!”
“Let me help you with those,” Lex said through clenched teeth, following him to the counter. A series of pained hugs and greetings had ensued when her parents arrived—but the rest of the guests showed up so soon thereafter that Lex hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to them, much to her relief. Still, she hadn’t stopped seething. “What were you thinking?”
Uncle Mort gave her a reproachful look. “I was thinking that your parents were probably going to feel more lonely and depressed this Thanksgiving than they’ve ever felt in their lives, and that maybe we could help alleviate some of that by hosting a dinner featuring the one and only daughter they have left.”
“A dinner of horrors? You know my track record with family gatherings!”
He ignored her. “Here we are!” he said, turning back to the table with a giant platter. “Biscuits aplenty!”
Lex grunted and took her seat. “I’m not sure how much longer I can do this,” she whispered to Driggs.
“Me neither,” he replied. “I think my hand is broken in three places.”
“Sorry.”
“And your dad seems to be shooting me some sort of a death stare.”
Lex glanced at her father. “That’s bad.”
“Think he brought the shotgun?”
“It’s entirely possible.”
“All I’m saying,” Ferbus went on, trying to redeem himself and failing, “is that we all look out for one another here.” Mr. Bartleby looked at him. Ferbus began to sweat. “Because, you know. We all need somebody. Uh, to lean on.”
“Stop talking,” Bang signed.
Elysia gave Lex’s parents a sympathetic grin. “I think what my idiot partner is trying to say—through the magic of corny song lyrics, for some reason—is that you don’t need to worry about Lex. She’s like a sister to me.” She realized her poor choice of words as a pained look came to Mrs. Bartleby’s face. “Or an especially close cousin.” She shut her mouth and stared at her potatoes. “Frig.”
Lex was now crushing Driggs’s hand into a fine paste. Other than the folding chairs creaking and Pip obliviously scraping the last bits of food off his plate, the table was silent.
“Good beans!” Pip threw in. "
― Gina Damico , Scorch (Croak, #2)
115
" Swipers use their scythes a little differently,” Elysia continued. “They open up small windows into the ether—just large enough for them to reach through—and take supplies that generally go unnoticed from places like large warehouses, back rooms of grocery stores, Laundromats—”
“Laundromats?”
“You should see our sock inventory,” Driggs said. “Massive.”
Elysia nodded. “We’re pretty isolated out here, so it’s a really efficient system.”
Lex was dumbfounded. “I had no idea petty theft was such a noble endeavor.”
“Well,” said Zara, “when you think about the gracious services we provide to the citizens of this world, it’s only fair. People should be thankful we don’t charge more "
― Gina Damico , Croak (Croak, #1)
118
" Heads up!”
He tossed something at Driggs. It looked like a little football. It was shaped like a little football. It was, for all intents and purposes, a little football—except that it was made of gold. Driggs’s eyes went wide at the prospect of dropping a priceless invention to the floor and thereby blowing up the universe or doing something equally undesirable, but he managed to catch it with only the smallest of fumbles.
“Woo!” he hooted in celebration, hoisting it above his head. “Sports!”
“I wouldn’t do that,” Uncle Mort said, stuffing a large compass into his pocket. “Unless you want to kick-start a new bubonic plague. If you want to kick-start a new bubonic plague, then by all means, continue with the excessive celebration.”
Lex just stared at him. “You tossed a potentially plague-starting device at someone who is, at best, intermittently tangible?”
“You need to lighten up a little bit, Lex,” Uncle Mort replied. “If you can’t have fun at the end of the damn world, when can you?”
Lex and Driggs exchanged glances. “I hope you’re kidding.”
“So do I. Hand me that map, would you?”
Lex limply passed him a rolled-up world map. She was beyond trying to understand what was going on. She’d just go where she was pointed. She’d do whatever she was instructed to do. She’d stop asking questions.
“What are we doing?” burst out of her mouth milliseconds later "
― Gina Damico , Rogue (Croak, #3)
120
" You said I’m a Damning Effect Reverser, too, whatever that means. And that you know why I can unDamn.”
“Oh, my boy,” Grotton said with a grin, “you can do so much more than that.” With that, he disappeared into the basement.
Driggs scoffed. “That was helpful.”
“Seriously,” said Lex. “The guy’s a first-rate douchecrate.”
“Agreed. Shall we move on to the fridge?”
They were well on their way to eating a full spray can of whipped cream between them—one spurt for Lex, two spurts for Driggs, shake well, repeat—when Uncle Mort appeared at the basement doorway and, given the fact that neither of them had ever been allowed to set a single toe on the basement staircase, said the most surprising thing he could have uttered:
“Downstairs, kids.”
Out came the whipped cream. In a perfect spit-take, too—through both mouths and all four nostrils.
Uncle Mort grinned. “If we’re going to smite the bad guys, we’re going to need a few toys first. "
― Gina Damico , Rogue (Croak, #3)
