“WHERE IS FIONA?” Casper's voice booms through the cave, louder than a monster truck rally announcer. I let out a sigh of relief—at least it's not the hunters!—before putting on my best “who, me?” expression. “Fiona? Who the heck is that?” I ask, feigning ignorance like a seasoned con artist. Casper's eyes narrow, and I can tell he's not buying my innocent act. “You don't wanna piss me off, Vivaldi,” he warns, sounding like a B-movie gangster. Before I can come up with another clever retort, he whips out a shotgun that was strapped to his shoulder like a murderous designer handbag. “Hey, whoa there, Snow Boy!” I yelp, feeling more alarmed than a cat in a cucumber factory. “What the hell do you think you're doing?” Casper proceeds to crack open the chamber of his shotgun, its hinges creaking like the world's spookiest door. The sound echoes through the cave, as if to emphasize just how royally screwed I am. “I'm about to send you to hell if you don't tell me where she is,” Casper
AS I STROLLED UP TO FIONA'S HOUSE FOR the second time that day, I rang the doorbell, and Fiona's mom answered, her hair in a messy bun and a faint whiff of burnt lasagna wafting from the house. “Well, hello there, Casper!” she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with a mix of hope and mild desperation. “It's so nice to see you again.” I smiled and nodded, doing my best impression of a concerned friend, and all the while shaking my head on how this woman was so blissfully unaware of her daughter's disappearance. She ushered me inside, practically beaming with excitement, and I couldn't shake the feeling that she was hoping I was Fiona's secret boyfriend. “Oh, Casper,” she confided, “I'm just so glad Fiona has someone like you looking out for her. You know, I've been worried she might be… well… a lesbian! I mean, she never brings boys home, so I figured…” I tried my best to keep my eyebrows from reaching my hairline. This lady was something else, spilling her guts to me like we were B
MY FINGERS PRANCED AND TWIRLED ON THE gleamin' keys of my piano like they were auditionin' for a spot on “Dancin' with the Stars”. It was like some kinda music spirit had taken hold of 'em, turnin' my emotions into a sweet, sweet symphony that'd make Beethoven weep. The pedals beneath my feet were like an extension of my body, respondin' to my touch like a well-trained pup. The way the light bounced off their polished surfaces was like a private light show, just for me. It felt like the whole piano had been custom-made for me, like some kinda music-makin' superhero suit. As my fingers kept on dancin', my mind took a trip down memory lane, back when this ol' mansion was my very own private prison, and this piano – then an ancient, creaky ol' geezer – was my only friend. But, in a twist that'd put any fairy tale to shame, the entire place got a facelift that'd make Cinderella's fairy godmother green with envy. And my trusty ol' piano? It got the ultimate upgrade, like a classic car get
I FROZE, THOUGHTS BOUNCING AROUND MY skull like ping-pong balls as I scrambled for an answer. Then it hit me: a lie. Not just any old fib, mind you, but one that might just throw her off my scent. “It's, uh… Jaja's party,” I blurted, trying my darnedest to sound convincing. “Oh, really?” she asked, her voice oozing curiosity like a split honeycomb. “And what's got you so riled up about that?” I shoved my hand through my hair, feeling the soft strands squeeze through my fingers like butter through a sieve. “The thing is, it's tonight.” I nodded as I spoke. Her shoulders drooped like a pair of sad marionettes, disappointment seeping from her pores. “I'm aware,” she said, a hint of longing tainting her words. “But that can't be the only reason you're so worried, right?” A shiver tap-danced down my spine as I realized the magnitude of the porky pie I was about to dish out. “I had a nightmare,” I croaked, my voice trembling like a leaf in a thunderstorm. “The most spine-tingling,
“YOU LOOK BEAUTIFUL,” I BLURT OUT, MY voice dripping with admiration. Her eyes crinkle with amusement, like she's trying not to laugh. “You clean up pretty well yourself,” she shoots back, giving my outfit a once-over. “And you're late, mister.” She added. I fought the urge to run my fingers through my hair because, let's be honest, nobody wants to rock the electrified bird's nest look. Instead, I opted for a chin-stroking maneuver to buy some time while I whipped up a good ol' fashioned fib. No way could I tell her that I had been off gallivanting in the cave, checking up on Vivaldi and determining his fate? “Car trouble, Fiona!” I blurted out, mustering my best innocent expression. “Oh, really? What kind of car trouble?” I scrambled for a believable response while trying to keep my cool. “Uh—I don't have a car. So I did spring for a cab to get us to the party,” I explain, gesturing toward the taxi in the driveway like I'm some kind of game show host revealing t
THE OTHER GIRLS CHIMED IN WITH THEIR OWN tales of unrequited lust, turning our little confab into a full-blown episode of “Secret Admirers Unveiled.” As my discomfort hit DEFCON 1, one of the girls hit me with a doozy – she wanted to touch my hair. “I just gotta know if it's real,” she breathed, looking at me like I was a unicorn. Against my better judgment, I relented, and the sensation of her fingers ruffling my locks sent a shiver down my spine like an ice cube down a shirt on a hot day.“Holy smokes, it's real!” she exclaimed, sounding like she'd just discovered the lost city of Atlantis in my hair. “I thought you had your hair dyed silver” I shook my head, saying, “It's natural”.Just as I was trying to regain my conversational footing, another girl jumped in, glancing between me and Fiona, who was headed our way with liquid courage in hand. “So, what's the deal with Fiona?” she asked, her curiosity practically palpable. “We're not a thing,” I blurted out, hoping to nip any rumor
“I FIGURED YOU BE CAUGHT UP IN SOME important matter today,” Jaja mused, her voice as smooth as melted chocolate. She was, of course, referring to my earlier insistence that I'd be otherwise engaged in something else today—a pathetic attempt to wiggle out of attending the party. “But then, lo and behold, you grace my party with your presence!” “Oh, you know, it was family stuff, but it got postponed,” I fibbed, trying my best to keep my poker face intact. Jaja's cheeks flushed a delicate shade of pink, like a sun-kissed peach. “I'm glad you could make it,” she confessed, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I mean, I didn't have a date lined up, so…”“What about Kylian?” I blurted out, my curiosity piqued. Jaja let out a musical laugh, her eyes sparkling with mirth.“He's my brother, silly,” she teased, tapping a finger on my chest like a woodpecker looking for breakfast. My jaw practically hit the floor. I mean, Kylian and I had a relationship akin to that of a cat and
WITH A SURGE OF ADRENALINE, I MANAGED TO break free from Angel's iron grip. I was on the verge of making my grand escape, ready to zoom down the stairs in a lightning-fast blur, when – BAM! Angel's fist collided with my face, sending me tumbling down the stairs like a rag doll. I hit the first floor with a bone-rattling thud, the wind knocked out of me, my vision swimming with little birdies. Just as I was about to slip into the sweet embrace of unconsciousness, Kylian, and his band of buffoons arrived at the scene. “Thanks, Angel,” Kylian said, gratitude oozing from his voice like slime from a slug. “I'm grateful.” I almost choked on my spit when Angel, my temporary arch-nemesis, suddenly transformed into my unexpected savior. He stood between Kylian and me, like a human shield, his stance as protective as a mother grizzly bear defending her cubs.“What is the meaning of this?” Kylian demanded, his voice ringing through the air like a toddler's tantrum in a quiet library. I couldn