Haunting-Adeline

“How can you even choose?” Daya whines, sharing my dilemma.
“We have to at least get a mean hot dog and the truffle fries. Oh! And
the fried veggies. Oh, and maybe—”
“You’re not narrowing it down like you think you are,” Daya interrupts,
her tone dry.
“Okay, fine. That broken doll over there is ea ng a philly steak. What
about that and some fries for now?” I ask.
“Lead the way,” she says, throwing her hand out in an impa ent gesture.
I don’t even laugh—I take food just as seriously when I’m hungry.
By the me the lady in the food truck is handing me my food, I’m
ravenous and shaking with the need to sink my teeth into something of
substance.
Grease sizzles on our fries as we shove them into our impa ent mouths,
forcing us to suck in air as they singe our tongues. And by the me we find
an empty bench, my fries have already been devoured, and I’ve taken
several delicious bites of my sandwich.
Daya’s even further done than I am—probably because the wench has
been relying on me to find the spot to sit.
Finally, I sit down and shove the sandwich in my mouth, not caring about
the juices dribbling down my chin.
In the back of my mind, I wonder if Zade is here. Watching me like he
usually does. Would he be disgusted by my lack of manners?
I fucking hope so.
Then again, the prick would say something about how he likes me dirty,
and then I’d want to vomit in his face.
Liar.
Just as we finish our food, the haunted houses come to life, the lights
switching on and signaling that it’s me for guests to get in line.
Daya and I rush over to Annie’s Playhouse first, nabbing a spot pre y
close to the front.
We’re leaning against the rails when an icy feeling ngles at the base of
my neck, traveling down my spine. It feels like holes are being drilled into
my back.
“Addie?” a voice calls from behind me along with a so tap on my
shoulder, just as I’m ge ng ready to turn around.
My eyes widen, and I whip around, coming face to face with Mark.