Midway through the third fritatta forkful, something went wrong. The foodin his mouth took on a grainy, spoiled texture, as though he could taste the...old tendrils running through it, infecting, colonizing. He felt queasy. Iconfirmed Richie Longfellow's theory, he thought; none of the food at theseevents was fresh. It was all simply recycled from party to party, withoutregard to the need for refrigeration.But then something felt different, as though the room were starting to spinwithout him. Or balance, maybe.” “Hey!” Wendy slapped Alex hard enough to sting. Alex put a hand to her cheek, her lips making an ‘o’ of shock. “I’m not revenge.” “Oh,” said Alex, looking down wide eyed, both cheeks turning red now. Tears welled up in her eyes. “Sorry, Wendy. I’m just mad and confused.” Alex cupped Wendy’s face in both hands. She kissed her friend tentatively, delicately, with real emotion. Wendy’s kissed back, first timidly, then with matching passion. Alex pulled Wendy closer. The smaller. More

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