The weekend decays into a blur of bad reruns from human television, good sugar cereals, and dreading seeing Cissy at school. Monday morning arrives way too soon. Before I know it, I’m slogging through the front doors at Purgatory High. I barely set foot inside the main hallway when Cissy skip-walks toward me, a huge smile on her face.
Hells Bells. When you’re miserable, there’s nothing worse than someone else’s happiness.
“Gooooooood morning, Myla!” Her little golden curls bounce by her shoulders. Even her hair looks chipper.
“Hey, Cissy.”
“Did you get my messages? I tried to get in touch a million times. Then your answering machine was busted or something.”
I press my palms into my eyes. “Mom and I had a fight and–” What do I say here? I fought with a thrax, my dad might be a ghoul,
