Page 110 of Kiss Slay Replay

“I bet you could. Dork.”

She laughs, and it’s so annoying that I like her so much. “The universe is vast and amazing and has a wicked sense of humor. The more I study it, the more I believe that everything is a series of coincidences, and the more I understand that nothing is coincidence. Why are you looking at me like that? I’m sorry. Was that corny?”

I open my mouth to warn her but fail to form the words.

Watch out.

Run.

Behind her. The floral arches. They’re walking, taking long strides across the lawn, moving fast. Getting close.

I reach out and grab her by the wrist, drag her around to the front of the reception hall, up the stairs.

“Ow!”

“In, in, inside!”

I open the doors and push her through. She falls hard on the floor, but there’s no time to apologize. I spin around, pull the doors shut. Lock them. And I see. I see them watching us through the windows. The flowers. They’re right up against the glass.

Hundreds of hideous little faces.

6

“What the hell, Willa?” Ravi shouts over Whitney Houston / everyone else on the dance floor loudly singing along. He helps Tanya to her feet. “Tanya, are you okay?”

“I’m…” She turns toward the windows. “Oh my God!”

“What?” he asks.

“Look out the fucking windows, Rav,” I say, slipping off my heels so I’m ready to run.

“Um…” he says, squinting. He either can’t see or can’t believe what he’s seeing.

“You need to just trust me when I tell you those flowers are trying to kill us.”

“The…what?” he asks.

A scream spurts from somewhere. It sounds far away but feels close. There’s spittle on my cheek.

No, that’s sweat. It’s boiling in here. Claustrophobic with hot, botanic breath.

The vases tip. They fall like dominoes all around the room. Some people notice, pull away. But most people are too busy dancing.

Flowers spread across the tables—stems convulsing, petals peeling back. They birth these viscous yellowish sacks that travel forward slow and slimy as slugs. The first one that bursts startles me so much that I go woozy, my vision whiting out. I blink back to the scene, and they’re all bursting. Gentle pops punctuating the transition between the end of “I Wanna Dance with Somebody” and the opening of “Come On Eileen.” From the yellow jelly emerge these small, jittery shapes. Little creatures with grotesque, hateful little faces, like the ones I saw in the windows.

They’re a few inches tall. Fragile, emaciated things with long arms and legs. Translucent skin. Petal wings. They have rosy cheeks, bug eyes, wide mouths with thorn fangs, coils of pale hair that’s still wet from the sack and matted to their bulbous heads.

The screams spread. The music plays on; Luke and Jace and Wyatt skank in the middle of the floor, drunk and wonderfully unaware of what’s unfolding around them.

One of the little creatures—the little flower sprites—marches to the edge of a table and points at the window. It makes a high-pitched whining noise, speaking gibberish and gesturing to the rest of the sprites, who talk back. It’s nails on a chalkboard, the shrill wail of a fire alarm, a malicious whistle that would cause panic among animals. Practically ultrasonic.

“Ah!” I cover my ears.

The sprites jump to the windowsills, flitter around trying to figure out how to open them to let their friends in. They go on gabbling to one another in their squeaky, animated language.

I back away, stepping farther onto the dance floor, where I receive a kick to the shin from Luke, who is so far from sober that he doesn’t even realize what he’s done. He just keeps singing along with Dexys Midnight Runners, swinging his arms and legs.

The pain is so sharp I can’t breathe. I stumble off the dance floor, clutching my leg and narrowly avoiding Wyatt’s elbow. A drop of yellow slime lands on my shoulder. It’s almost honey-like. Reeks of flowers.