PTE

-subdued engine. Chris glanced over. Alexandria was curled against the wind

she repeated, a little louder, the conf

President, had snuck out to a party. The hypocrisy should have been satisfying. It should have been a w

at was he supposed to sa

course. Everyone knew where the Harmons lived-the big, white colonial with the perfectly manic

he engine and the headlights. The house was dark, sav

lolling. There was no way she was walking in there on

n't stir. He reached over and shook her

open, glazed and

s thumb towards the pristine lawn. "Ho

der the... the frog. The ceramic frog." She pointed a wobbly finger towards a decorative pla

her castle. The power of it was immense, and for a second, the old, vengeful Chris savored it. He

ent house. He thought of his own father, of the shouting t

d, his voice low. "And d

silently across the dewy grass, his boots making no sound. He found the frog, lifted it, an

ent back to the car. She was asleep again. With a grunt of effort, he hauled her out of the passenger seat, one

r weight. It was the silence, the fear of a light flicking on, of an angry father's voice shattering

end of the hall-it had to be hers. It was neat, organized, smelling faintly of that apple shampoo. He laid her

d out on her floral bedspread. Then he turned and left, retracing his ste

air. He started the engine and drove away, leaving the perfect house on Maple Drive behind, the night's secret buried,

PTE

Hunter's Monday morning. He was braced for anything-a stink bomb, a cascade of glitter, ma

for was the small, cle

y. Inside were three muffins, their tops craggy and dusted with suga

of weapon. There was no note. No "Sorry I puked on your roadsid

hot sauce. He picked up the container, turning it over in his hands. They looked... homem

her back to him. She was the picture of composure-blazer, pleated skirt, head held high. But he saw

in their war. And it wasn't a thank you. A thank you would create a

t they'd entered into at that party. I see the line that was crossed. I see that you, for whatever fucked-up r

Tupperware. The smell intensified. He didn't hesitate. He took one of th

ok a

t, the best goddamn mu

ver her shoulder, her eyes flicking from his face to the muffin in his hand and back again. Her cheeks flushed a faint

ll park too close to her bike. She'd still find creative ways to mess with his detention