“Mr. Thompson left his house, truck, and bank account to you, Courtney. Kim, he left you his… catapult.” I gritted my teeth, bracing myself for the older sister’s understandable outrage. Dealing with this kind of reaction is the toughest part of my job.
But it was Courtney who sprang to her feet.
His father’s demeaning taunts proclaiming Jordan would never accomplish anything rang in his ears as he approached Hole 18. It’d taken everything to get this far, but he remained in last place. He shook his head and feigned a confidence he didn’t feel.
“Almost there, Mouse,” Jordan slapped his caddy on the back and flashed a carefree smile, “
“Last call for Best in Show.” The tinny voice barked over the intercom.
Cody studied his appearance, straightening his tie and combing a hand through his hair. He blew out a breath and gathered his lead. Kneeling in front of the pen door he gave Ebony Magic’s Omniscience a stern look.
“No shenanigans, EMO.
I assume you’ve heard of the princess and the frog: a darling meet-cute about a prince transformed into a frog by an evil witch, and the princess who saved him with a kiss. Such a romantic story—and a complete lie.
While a witch was involved, she wasn’t evil. Galavia had been hired…
Jerry squeezed his hands together, staring at a narrow strip of ground bordering Main Street. The year before, Reedville had added a watermelon seed-spitting contest in that very spot. Jerry had come in third. To Ma, it was just another loss. To Jerry? He’d felt amazed as he wiped off his chin.
Read it now
“For first place in the Camp Conniption popsicle stick sculpture competition, we have two winners!” Camp Director Naomi Addison addressed the auditorium of middle school girls. “Our judges gave both Melissa Logan and Zinnia Zunk a perfect ten.”
The girls clapped as Zinnia and I came up on stage to accept our ribbons.
There is one thing about having six ears: sometimes, you overhear comments that weren’t meant for you. Even though I was still snoozing on Hades’ bed, I heard Artemis addressing my master in the living room.
“Do you know what day it is?” I could picture the sly look on Artemis’ face as she posed the question.
One and a half miles. Seven thousand nine hundred and twenty feet.
That alone stood between Reese and the Triple Crown.
And eight other horses, but who cared about them? Not Reese, and certainly not her horse, Paddock Pizzazz, who butted his metal head against the starting gate, impatient. Smoke blew from the metal plates covering his nostrils, filling Reese’s lungs with acrid exhaust.
When I was a young girl, my grandfather would often wrap my little hands in his gnarled ones and a fierce twinkle would enter his eyes. “Amelia,” he would say. “I quit racing dragons many years ago after nasty Rangle McHoughy beat me. Don’t give up like I did.”
At fifteen, my determination to beat a McHoughy grew strong.
I just needed two more minutes!
“Come on!” I whispered to my masterpiece. Four minutes left on the clock for the challenge. Once my timer beeped, I’d have just enough time to plate it for presentation to Chef Gordy Lynn.
I quadruple-checked everything was ready on the nearby counter. I couldn’t afford any mistakes.
“Contestants moving to the final round of Galactic Best Bakers are…!”
The host, a green strellcat, paused dramatically.
Spotlights swirled then froze on the contestants, glaring right in Jareth’s eyes.
Jareth had watched every episode of the last three seasons of this, the most popular show in the civilized universe. Research was…
Twenty-four hours to weave garments fit for a queen. Arachne’s hands shook as a guard shoved her into the small weaving room and slammed the door shut behind her. She looked up at the massive heap of purple chaff just ahead, covering the shadowed floor in front of her.
This is what I get.
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