When Life Gives You Demons by Jennifer Honeybourn

Author:Jennifer Honeybourn
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Feiwel & Friends
Published: 2018-07-17T15:11:25+00:00

Chapter

15

WHEN I wake up the next morning, Vanessa’s sitting on the air mattress on my bedroom floor, The History of Exorcism spread open in her lap. “What is this?” she asks.

My stomach plunges. Uncle Roy insisted that I read this impossibly thick, densely written, incredibly old book that traces exorcism through the ages. The guy who wrote it is supposedly some expert on the Catholic religion at NYU.

I definitely don’t want her to know the real reason I have that book.

“Oh. I found it in the church library,” I say, sitting up in bed. “I thought it looked interesting.”

Vanessa raises an eyebrow like she doesn’t quite believe me and slides the book back under my bed without further comment. I should probably ask her why she’s looking through my stuff, but I’m just grateful she didn’t find Mom’s file. I wouldn’t know how to begin to explain that.

“So. You and Grayson?” The quickest way to throw her offcourse is to ask her about Grayson O’Neill.

She wrinkles her nose. “I had a weak moment.”

“He’s a good guy. I get why you like him.”

“I don’t like him. He’s too goofy. And way too young.” But I can tell she’s fighting a smile.

“Vanessa, he’s only a year younger than we are. There’s a much bigger age difference between you and Mark.” Not that she and Mark are ever going to happen. After last night, I think she’s finally given up on that idea.

She shakes her head. “I was just messing around,” she says. “Nothing’s going to come of it.”

“Speaking of messing around. What was up with the Ouija board?”

“Trying to ask the spirits some questions, natch. Isn’t that the whole purpose of a Ouija board?”

“You really shouldn’t play around with that thing,” I say. “It’s evil.”

Vanessa snorts. “Says the girl who’s reading up on exorcisms for fun.” She climbs off the air mattress and stretches into warrior pose, then moves smoothly into downward-facing dog.

“So what did you ask it?”

She glances up at me through a curtain of dark hair. “I wanted to know who I’m going to hook up with.”

I smile. She doesn’t need a Ouija board to tell her that—the answer is fairly obvious, even if she refuses to admit it.

“You want some breakfast?”

“Yes,” she says. “But can you go get it? Bring it in here?”

One of these days she’s going to have to get over her fear of Uncle Roy. “Vanessa, he knows you slept over,” I say. “You can’t avoid him all morning. You will have to leave my room at some point.”

“I’m not dressed,” she says, lying down on the floor and raising her legs in the air. Her cartoon sheep–covered pajamas slide down her calves. “I can’t talk to a priest in my pajamas.”

“I talk to him in mine all the time.”

“He makes me nervous,” she says. “He has this intense way of looking at me.… It’s like he can see inside my brain. And trust me, the last thing I want is for Father Roy to know what I’m thinking about.

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