Finale

was irritated.
    When Scott finally rolled off me, I said to Marcie, “Too bad about those allergies. Raking leaves can be a lot of fun. Did I forget to mention that?”
    She nailed me with a look of sheer gall, then marched inside.

C HAPTER

16
    A FTER SCOTT AND I HAD SCOOPED ALL THE leaves into orange garbage sacks decorated to look like pumpkins, and placed them
decoratively around the yard, he came inside for a glass of milk and my mom’s deliciously gooey mint-chocolate-chip cookies. I thought Marcie might have retreated to her room, but instead she
was waiting for us in the kitchen.
    “I think we should throw a Halloween party here,” she announced.
    I snorted and set down my milk glass. “No offense, but we’re not big into parties in this family.”
    Mom’s whole face lit up. “I think it’s a wonderful idea, Marcie. We haven’t hosted a party here since Harrison passed. I could swing by the party store later today and
see what they have for decorations.”
    I looked to Scott for help, but he merely shrugged. “Could be cool.”
    “You have a milk mustache,” I told him tartly in return.
    He wiped it on the back of his hand . . . then wiped it on my arm.
    “Eeew!” I shrieked, giving him a shove to the shoulder.
    “I think we should have a theme. Like famous couples throughout history, and tell everyone to come in pairs,” Marcie said.
    “Hasn’t that been done before,” I said, “like a million times?”
    “The theme should be favorite character from the
Halloween
movies,” Scott said with a sadistic grin.
    “Whoa. Back up. Everyone just . . . chill,” I said, holding my hands out in a
Stop
motion. “Mom, you realize we’d have to clean the whole house,
right?”
    Mom gave an insulted laugh. “The house isn’t that dirty, Nora.”
    “Is it BYOB, or are we providing?” Scott asked.
    “
No beer
,” my mom and I chimed in unison.
    “Well, I like the famous couples idea,” said Marcie, clearly having made up her mind. “Scott, we should go together.”
    Scott didn’t miss a beat. “Could I be Michael Myers and you be one of the babysitters I mutilate?”
    “No,” Marcie said. “We’re going as Tristan and Isolde.”
    I stuck my tongue out. “Way to be original.”
    Scott kicked my leg playfully. “Well, hello there, Little Miss Cheerful.”
    I think it’s pretty frivolous to be planning a Halloween party when we’re right in the middle of Cheshvan,
I said critically to his thoughts.
Fallen angels might be
holding their breath, but not for long. We both know war is brewing, and everyone is expecting me to do something about it. So forgive me if I seem a little cranky!
    Fair enough,
Scott returned.
But maybe the party will help take your mind off things.
    Are you seriously considering going with Marcie?
    A smile surfaced on his lips.
You think I should go with you instead?
    I think you should go with Vee.
    Before I could gauge Scott’s reaction, Marcie said, “Let’s go to the party store together, Mrs. Grey. And we can stop by the stationery store afterward so I can look for
invitations. I want something spooky and festive, but cutesy, too.” She bobbed her shoulders and gave a squeal. “This is going to be so much fun!”
    “Who are you going to ask to the party, Nora?” my mom asked.
    I pursed my lips, unable to come up with the right answer. Scott was taken, Dante wouldn’t do—it would help fuel our relationship rumor, but I wasn’t in the mood—and my
mom detested Patch. Worse, I was supposed to hate his guts. We were immortal enemies as far as the outside world was concerned.
    I didn’t want to be included in this party. I had bigger problems. I had a vengeful archangel after me; I was the leader of an army, but lacked direction—despite my pact with the
archangels, I was starting to feel like war might not only be inevitable, it just might be the
right
move; my best friend was keeping secrets, and speculating about their nature was
keeping me up at night; and now this. A Halloween party. In my own home. Where I’d be expected to play hostess.
    Marcie smirked. “Anthony Amowitz has a crush on you.”
    “Ooh, tell me more about Anthony,” Mom prodded.
    Marcie loved a good story, and she launched right into this one. “He was in our PE class last year. Every time we played softball, he played catcher and would gawk at Nora’s legs the
whole time she was at bat. He couldn’t catch a single pitch, he was so distracted.”
    “Nora does