"A date?" Pops toyed with the edge of one thick, silver brow. "Where's he taking you? What time will you be home?"

"What if he wants to have sex with you?" Nana immediately jumped in. "Did your mother talk to you about sex?"

Oh, no. Not the sex talk. Please, not the sex talk. "Yes, Mom talked to me." Moving on. "A girl from school, Reeve, has a pool and a group of us are going over there to hang out. Kat introduced me to her, and I promise you, I will not be having sex with anyone." I was beyond embarrassed even saying the word in front of them.

And you know what else? After everything that had happened last night, it was weird, sitting here, eating lunch with my family, having a conversation that thousands of other teens were probably having.

"Reeve." Pops pursed his lips. "That sounds like a made-up name to me. What exactly will be crackalackin at this party? Will her parents be there?"

Again with the horrible slang, the adorable man. "We'll swim, talk, probably play video games and Ping-Pong," I said, sidestepping the parents portion of his interrogation. I hadn't heard one way or the other, but I suspected a big fat no.

Pops gave me the evil eye. "You're not going to get chewed, are you?"

I...had no idea how to respond to that. "Chewed?"

"Don't pretend to misunderstand, young lady," Nana said. "Chewed. Cranked. Trashed."

"You mean drunk?" Please, let them mean drunk. This discussion had already taken too many horrendous turns.

My grandparents nodded in unison, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

"No," I said. "I promise. No drinking." On my part, I silently added. Who knew what the other kids would be doing-after taking shots of tequila off of each other's bellies.

"All right, then. We'll trust you. Unless and until you give us reason not to," Nana added in that stern, motherly tone of hers. "But we'll want to meet this boy, talk to him before you leave with him, that kind of thing."

I did not allow myself to gulp guiltily, even though I wanted to. "Thank you. He's nice, I promise. But we're not interested in each other that way."

"Then why are you going out with him?" Nana asked, clearly exasperated with my continued insistence.

"Because he asked me."

"Are you leading him on?" Pops demanded.

"No!"

"We ask because we care." Nana brushed her hands together, and crumbs went flying in every direction. "Now, then. Do you need a few dead presidents?"

Took me a minute to decipher that one, too. "Maybe a few...Washingtons," I said, giving the slang a shot just to make them happy. They were such good people. They'd taken me in, given me a home, food and even personal space to mourn in my own way.

Pops pulled out his wallet. "What if there's an emergency, and this boy leaves you alone in the restaurant? He is taking you to eat at a nice place, isn't he? I'll give you a few Lincolns." He withdrew three fives, placed them in my hand and closed my fingers around them.

"Uh, we're not going out to eat."

"What kind of boy takes a girl to a party without feeding her first? Not one I'd want to date, that's for sure," Nana said.

Someone help me. "We're not dating!"

They had a few more questions about the party-was I planning to skinny-dip, play strip anything or naked Ping-Pong-leaving me in flames of mortification. By the end I managed to convince them of my determination to keep my clothes on and we agreed on a twelve-thirty curfew. We also agreed that I would call if Justin got "handsy."

I liked that they cared enough about me to be concerned, but, oh, wow, this was painful. I'd never had this experience with my parents because I'd never gone out. Too bad I hadn't realized what a blessing that was until too late.

Back in my room, I finally had the opportunity to research zombies without falling asleep. Most of the info I found stemmed from movies, fictional books, a magazine about dating the undead, and role-playing that icked me out big-time, especially with images of naked Ping-Pong running through my mind. There was nothing I could take seriously, but I did find a few forums where people speculated about were-zombies-real-or-weren't-they, what to do if you actually found one and the possibility of an uprising.

Nothing mirrored what Cole and Frosty had told me, and that proved one of two things. Either we were the best-kept secret in the world, or I just hadn't found the right sites. I was leaning toward option two. Even my dad had managed to find a site with tidbits of correct information. He'd read that guns wouldn't hurt the zombies; he just hadn't believed.

As I was closing the laptop, I spotted Emma's photo and the journal I'd left on my closet floor. Nana must have done some cleaning and placed the items on my desk. I blew Emma a kiss before picking up the journal.

How could I have forgotten it, even for a moment? It was the reason I'd known about spirit, soul and body before Cole had told me. And really, maybe this was where my dad had gotten his information.

Anticipation danced through me. I cracked the spine and read from where I'd left off.

I've been able to see the evil among us all of my life, but I didn't learn how to fight it until much later, and then only by accident. I tried using a knife-nothing. I tried shooting-again nothing. Finally, when the monsters cornered me, I wanted so badly to destroy them, and deep down, I knew I could. I just didn't know how. A split second later, my spirit was out of my body. (Later I would learn that the wonder known as faith was the cause of the separation. You can stumble upon it, and not realize until later.) Suddenly I could touch the evil creatures I'd before only seen-and they could touch me.

After that, they were more determined than ever to end me. They hunted me as if I were wild game. For a while, I ran. But always they followed me, their darkness drawn to my light.

I had to teach myself how to ambush them.

Teach me! I thought with a flare of excitement.

If you possess the ability to see them, you should possess other abilities as well. A more highly developed sense of smell. An inward knowing of when evil approaches. A hand of heat.

"Check, maybe check, can't check yet," I muttered.

Those abilities should be common to all of us, but some slayers refuse to yield to the power that swirls inside them. Why? I always wonder. Fear?

"Possible check."

Oh, if only all of us would yield! There are even more abilities to be had, so many more.

Like the visions Cole and I shared, perhaps.

But all right. I can hear you now. You want to do something easy. Well, then. Speak. There is power in our words, when we wholly believe what we're saying, and that power is available even in this natural realm. There is an energy that creates whatever is spoken without doubt, allowing our words to be a weapon for us-but if we aren't careful, they'll become a weapon against us.

Like everything else, I had to learn the hard way.

But I can hear you now. If there's so much power in our words, we should be able to speak the end of the zombies, right? Wrong! The amount of power we wield with our words stems from the strength of our belief. Can you honestly tell me that you believe, from the bottom of your heart, that when you say something like, "All zombies are wiped out, gone," that it will happen? No, you can't. You don't believe it's possible.

Cole had already told me about the speaking thing, and though I'd first doubted him, this acted as confirmation. I'd have to be more open-minded about this stuff.

More than that, we can only believe for ourselves. We can't believe for others. We can protect ourselves, but we can't always protect others. And sometimes, what we speak takes time to manifest. How much patience do you have? How long can you believe before you begin to doubt? Doubt, even a little, and you've rendered your words powerless.

As for the other abilities...

I tried to read on, except, the rest of the words were written in some sort of code. A rumble of frustration left me and I barely curbed the urge to toss the journal against the wall. I knew nothing about codes and couldn't believe my mother would have. So, who had written this journal, and how had she gotten it?

Maybe Cole would have an idea, but then again, maybe he wouldn't. I wasn't going to ask him.

He and his friends had not yet given me their full trust, and I wasn't sure what they'd think of my find. Decide it was a fraud? A way to trick them? A way to distract them? Also, I had to wonder if they'd try to take it away from me.

Okay, so I didn't trust them fully, either.

You're still gonna say yes if Cole asks you out, right?

Well, yeah. Something I'd learned: truly living required risk.

My phone beeped. Like everyone else in the world, I dropped everything to check, setting the journal down and picking up the cell.

Kat: U enjoy torture, I think. TELL ME NOW!

I'd missed an earlier text, I saw.

Justin: Sounds good. C U then.

I dealt with Kat first. I told her that Cole and I had spent the night together, yes, but we hadn't done more than talk. Now that was the full truth and nothing but the truth. She was disappointed to say the least. And when I told her that Cole had had car trouble and that Frosty had to come to our rescue, she stopped texting.

I told Justin I was excited to see him, which was also true, but then I had to pray that he wouldn't take the words the wrong way. My grandparents had me paranoid about leading him on.

Then I had to ponder what Cole and his hell-razing boys and girls would think of my association with Justin. They were such an exclusive group. Outsiders were not welcome, and everyone knew it. Including me! By joining them, I would probably have to shove everyone else from my life. Justin I liked but wouldn't cry about losing. But what about Kat? Would she eventually fade from my life? She had from Frosty's.

I really really liked her. She was fun and fresh and exciting. She knew her worth and wasn't afraid to tell others all about it.

Don't worry about this now. Tonight I would enjoy myself, as if I was a normal girl, just like any other. After all, I no longer had to question Cole; I already had the answers. I could hang out with Justin and get to know him better. I could see Kat and laugh with her. I would see Cole, too, and...who knew? Tomorrow, everything would change.

I'd deal with the consequences then.

11.

Red Roses, White Roses...Black Roses Justin arrived right on time. In other words, grilling time. To my utter mortification, my grandparents questioned him as if they were cops and he a hardened criminal. All I could do was watch in horror and apologize profusely.

Here's how it went down: Pops: Plans for the future?

Justin: Not sure yet.

Pops: Well, why not? You don't got much longer in school, boy. Now's the time to figure things out, not later. Didn't anyone ever tell you that you can't spell later without the word late?

Justin: I promise you, I'm doing my best to figure things out.

Pops: "Doing my best" is a phrase failures use. Why don't you buy a man card and finish figuring?

Me: Pops! That's so rude. Justin, I'm so sorry.

I knew this was for my benefit, for my protection, that my grandparents were concerned about me, and didn't want me to end up with a guy like my dad, that they wanted Justin to be so intimidated by them that he wouldn't try anything he shouldn't, but oh, my goodness, it was too much.

Pops: What? How is a valid question rude? But all right, fine, I'll move on since baby boy can't take the heat. How about you finish this sentence for me, Jason? When a girl says no, she means...

Justin, looking desperately at me: No?

Nana: Are you not sure?

Justin, shifting uncomfortably: I'm sure. No means no.

Nana: Well, look at you. You got one right. Now here's another, even tougher sentence for you to finish. Premarital sex is...

Me: Nana! I'm so sorry, Justin.

Nana: Unlike Pops, I'm not moving on. Justin?

Pops: His name is Jason.

Justin: Uh...uh...

Pops: While you think about that, why don't you tell me how you feel about drinking and driving?

Justin: I'm totally against it, I swear!

Nana: Methinks he protests too much.

They finally let us leave, and I apologized all over again.

"That was brutal," he gritted out.

"I know, I'm sorry. They aren't normally like that, I promise. They just want to make sure I'm safe with you."

"Don't worry about it," he said as he slid into the driver's side of his truck, but his voice was still as tight as it had been inside the house, and I knew he was going to worry about it for weeks.

I searched the sky as I buckled into the passenger seat. It was dark, a handful of clouds evident. Please be gone. Please don't be- The rabbit was there.

Cold fingers of dread crawled down my spine. "Drive slowly, okay?" I said to Justin. Frosty had slowed down and survived. Justin would, too. Surely. Please.

"Whatever your grandparents told you, I'm not drunk!"

Yeah. He was still worrying.

"I have a car phobia, that's all."

He kept things at a smooth jog. It was enough to prevent a freak-out.

I closed my eyes and retreated to the back of my mind. At least I didn't have to worry about the zombies. Because they'd come out last night they now needed time to rest and-here was an increasingly sickening thought-digest their food.

"We're here," Justin said.

"How? Only a minute or two-" I blinked and saw that he'd already parked. Cars were lined up all over Reeve's driveway, in the grass and along the street. "Wow. We really are here." I must have lost track of time.