Xmas Spirit Read Online Free PDF Page A

star on top.
    “Sorry. The team meeting ran long,” Damen said, a little put back by all the tiny Petulas reflecting from the tree at every angle possible, like a popular-girl disco ball.
    “Since when does the team have meetings in the middle of the street?” she fumed.
    “She’s jealous of me?” Charlotte crowed.
    “Oh, that was just that smart girl from physics. I . . .” Damen tried to explain.
    “He thinks I’m smart.” Charlotte swooned, resting her hands over her heart.
    “How would you know if there are any other girls in physics?”
    “Don’t start,” he said sternly. “I almost hit her crossing the street.”
    “Almost? Fail! Next time, try harder!” Petula spat out.
    In the end, that was Damen’s trump card, Charlotte thought. No matter how much Petula tried to threaten him or push him around, it was all coming from a place of insecurity. He was the guy. And to Petula—beautiful, smart, perfect Petula—any girl and every girl who crossed his path was the enemy and had to be denigrated, defeated, and destroyed.
    As Charlotte basked in all the queen-bee animosity directed toward her, she was reminded of her fight with Eric. She felt it getting easier and easier for her to slip back into her old life, into old habits, old crushes, even after just a few hours. Maybe he was right; maybe he knew something about her that she wouldn’t even admit to herself. No wonder he got so angry at all her Hawthorne reminiscences. In the Great Beyond, his argument was purely theoretical, but back here, in the real world, she had to admit, she was losing perspective.
    “SHUT UP!” A loud, guttural scream reverberated suddenly through the house and seeped out from under the doorjamb and the windowpanes. It was chilling. Urgent. The kind of yelp you usually only hear on TV when someone is about to be chopped to pieces. A last gasp. The upstairs room went silent.
    God, I hope he’s not killing her , Charlotte thought, but just in case, she backed away slowly, down the driveway, looking up at the window, watching and listening for any signs of a crime. She could see their shadows on the shade, standing still. No hitting, no choking. It wasn’t Petula who had yelled. That could only mean one thing. Before Charlotte could speak hername, a red-lipped, black-bobbed whirlwind of leather, lace, crushed velvet, and combat boots burst through the front door, still in midrant.
    “This lame-ass conversation you two pathetic mannequins are having is bringing on an absence seizure,” Scarlet said to them. “I’m leaving now, so you can just go ahead and have makeup sex already.”
    “This from a girl who equates Christmas with cancer,” Petula shouted back at her.
    “Well, it comes whether you want it to or not, it drains everyone’s energy and finances, and it sucks the life out of its victims,” Scarlet said. “Much like you,” she said, slamming the door shut behind her.
    Scarlet trudged down the driveway, totally oblivious that Charlotte was standing there. Charlotte smiled as she approached. Admiring her outfit and her attitude. Trying to quickly prioritize all the things she wanted to tell her. Wondering what she should say first. All she could think to say was “Scarlet.”
    The gothed-out girl took a few more angry strides before she stopped and turned back to the frail, pale girl calling out to her in the twilight.
    “What do you want?” Scarlet glowered at her, her eyes glowing as menacingly as the taillights on Petula’s car had earlier. Charlotte was paralyzed. She had no idea how to respond. What should she say? I just came back to life to check in on my best friend. So, how have you been? That was not going to fly. Not with this pre-possession Scarlet.
    “Me? Oh, nothing,” Charlotte bumbled.
    “Please don’t tell me you’re stalking her?”
    Charlotte shook her head no.
    “Then what are you doing around here, standing in front of my house, in the dark, the night before Christmas