Still Beating Jennifer Hartmann

Chapter Nine

F I V E   Y E A R S   E A R L I E R

"Where did you learn how to do this? Never mind... I don't want to know."

Dean is picking the padlock of an old, abandoned house with some kind of small object—maybe a bobby pin. Maybe a piece of his devil horn.

Brandon tightens his arm around my waist, warming me up with his body heat. It's only mid-October, but the air is unbearably brisk, giving our haunted house adventure the perfect spooky ambiance.

Mandy is huddled up next to Dean, watching him work the lock. She bounces her knees up and down while hugging herself with both arms. "Hurry up, babe. Someone is going to see us," she says in a harsh whisper. "Plus, I'm freezing my ass off."

"Why didn't you wear pants?" Dean asks. "It's thirty-five degrees out."

"They didn't go with my dress. Obviously."

Leave it to my sister to dress up for a very illegal sleepover in a rundown, three-story Victorian. I shake my head with an exaggerated eyeroll. "Who are you trying to impress, sis? The ghost of Mr. Garrison?"

"Ha ha," she barks back. "Unlike some people, I enjoy looking my best no matter the occasion."

Mandy bestows a pointed once-over to my faded blue jeans, baggy hoodie, and scuffed boots. I give my messy bun a quick tug, ignoring the insinuation that my appearance is not up to society's standards.

Breaking and entering was not exactly on my To-Do list for the day—or any day ever for that matter. But Mandy talked me into it. The foreclosed Garrison home is the subject of many twisted tales and sordid rumors in our small town, especially this time of year. Besides, Brandon sounded overly enthusiastic about the prospect of spending the night in the creepy house and I didn't want him to think I was a coward.

I am, of course. I'm practically pissing myself with fear right now.

My eyes zone in on Dean's break-in attempt as I tap the toe of my boot with impatience. "I thought you said this would be easy," I mutter. "You're a terrible criminal."

"Almost got it."

Click.

The lock slips loose and Dean shoots me a victorious wink. "You were saying?"

I crinkle my nose and shuffle past him. Brandon guides me forward with his hand on the small of my back.

"This is wicked," Brandon declares, shining the flashlight on his phone into the darkened entryway. He leans down and kisses the space between my neck and shoulder. "Scared, baby?"

I shiver.

From the kiss—not from the mental image of fifty-thousand spiders scattering into hiding, waiting for us to fall asleep so they can crawl into our eardrums and build villages.

"I'm not scared. Just cold," I lie.

I suck at lying, so Brandon spins me around and pulls me in for a quick kiss. "It's okay to be scared. That's why it's fun."

Dean sneaks up beside us, waggling his stupid eyebrows. "Yeah, it's fun, Corabelle. You've read about fun in your books, right?"

"Wait. You know what books are?"

Mandy swats me on the arm, swaying her bleached blonde hair from side to side. "I was worried about the demonic spirits living in the walls taking us out, but I'm pretty sure you and Dean will end up killing each other first."

I shrug.

She's probably right.

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