Chapter 18

Things looked really grim. A hush of anticipation hung in the air.

The certainty of death.

My death, which was totally not cool.

Like, seriously, I did not want to die. I'd yet to do so many things, like buy really ridiculously expensive shoes that I'd never wear out for fear of scuffing them. Or getting a Brazilian wax - while drunk, because that was the only way anyone was getting near my bush.

I wanted to live, which meant I had to do something that didn't involve the hyperventilation Claire indulged in.

"Lana," she squeaked. "I'm losing it."

Not a good thing. At all. "Hang in there. I'll figure something out." Since I didn't have an Uzi or some kind of cool Potter-type wand, I'd have to use the only weapon I had.

I cleared my throat. "Um, Claire, I need you to block out my voice."

My best friend shot me a glance. She didn't ask why, just nodded. "Knock Ôem out. I know you can do it."