Page 70 of Property of Crypt Keeper
No.
Zara tilted her head. “Then why do you stare at him weird?”
I froze. “I do not stare,” I insisted, though I’d been doing just that for the last five minutes.
“You do.”
“Do not.”
“You do.”
I hated this kid.
She pointed directly at my face. “Like this.”
I blinked. “What?”
She squinted dramatically. Then made the most ridiculous expression I’d ever seen. Eyes narrowed. Mouth twisted. Head tilted. Like she was trying to solve a puzzle.
I was horrified. Because it looked familiar.
“Oh my God,” she said, and I flinched at her choice of words. “You really don’t know.”
“I don’t know what?”
“You like him.”
The words landed like a grenade. I sat perfectly still.
Across from me, Zara grinned evilly. Tiny predator.
“That’s the weird face.”
It was official. I hated her.
Ten minutes later, she had somehow moved closer. I wasn’t sure how.
One second she was across the couch. The next she was sitting beside me. Studying me. Again.
“Why do you have so many knives?” she asked as she leaned in and pointed at my sheathed knives.
“Protection.”
“From what?”
“Uh… things.”
“Like monsters?”
“Yes.”
“Can I see them?”
“No.”
She glowered through a long pause. Then she grumbled, “You’re bad at this.”
Blinking, I looked at her. “Bad at what?”
