"Drop 'em."
"No way!" The whole thought horrified her. Nearly as much as failing them.
"Claire! Maybe you're not getting this, but you're in trouble! Monica wasn't kidding when she pushed you down the stairs. That was light exercise for her. Next time, she might actually get mad."
She stood up and hoisted her backpack. "I'm going."
"Then you're stupid. Can't save an idiot," Shane said flatly, and turned back to his game. He didn't look at her again as he started working the controls, firing with a vengeance. "Don't tell them where you were last night. We don't need the hassle."
Claire set her jaw angrily, chewed up some words, and swallowed them. Then she went into the kitchen to grab some trash bags. As she was stuffing them into her backpack, she heard the front door open and close.
"A plague upon all our houses!" Eve yelled, and Claire heard the silver jingle of her keys hitting the hall table. "Anybody alive in here?"
"Yes!" Shane snapped. He sounded as mad as Claire felt.
"Damn," Eve replied cheerfully. "I was so hoping."
Claire came out of the kitchen and met Eve on her way up the hall. She was in plaid today - a red and black tartan skirt, black fishnet hose, clunky patent leather shoes with skulls on the toes, a white men's shirt, suspenders. And a floor-length black leather coat. Her hair was up in two pigtails, fastened with skull-themed bands. She smelled like...coffee. Fresh ground. There were some brown splatters on her shirtfront.
"Oh, hey, Claire," she said, and blinked. "Where are you going?"
"Funeral," Shane said. On-screen, a zombie shrieked and died gruesomely.
"Yeah? Cool! Whose?"
"Hers." Shane said.
Eve's eyes widened. "Claire - you're going back?"
"Just for some of my stuff. I figure if I show up every couple of days, let people see me, they'll think I still live there...."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, bad idea. Bad. No cookie. You can't go back. Not by yourself."
"Why not?"
"They're looking for you!"
Shane put the game on pause again. "You think I didn't already tell her that? She's not listening."
"And you were going to let her just go?"
"I'm not her mom."
"How about just her friend?"
He gave her a look that pretty clearly said, Shut up. Eve glared back, then looked at Claire. "Seriously.
You can't just - it's dangerous. You have no idea. If Monica's really gone to her Patron and tagged you, you can't just, you know, wander around."
"I'm not wandering," Claire pointed out. "I'm going to my dorm, picking up some clothes, going to class, and coming home."
"Going to class?" Eve made helpless little flapping motions with her black-fingernailed hands. "No no no!
No class, are you kidding?"
Shane raised his arm. "Hello? Pointed it out already."
"Whatever," Claire said, and stepped around Eve to walk down the hall to the front door. She heard Shane and Eve whispering fiercely behind her, but didn't wait.