“Anxiety does not ask your permission. Anxiety does not come when expected. It’s very rude. It barges in at the strangest moments, stopping all activity, focusing everything on itself It sucks the air our of your lungs and scrambles the world.”
I picked a random page and that was page 14 and part of page 15.
Mrs. Frawley, who was observing this whole conversation, leaned over. “Can I give you kids one word of advice?” she asked?
We both nodded.
“Cupcakes,” said Mrs. Frawley, very seriously.
When you said one word, you meant one word, Sarah Anne said.
Mrs. Frawley chuckled. “Well, here’s a second word for you: chocolate cupcakes.”
“What about them?” I asked.
“Nothing cuts through tension like baked goods,” she said, extremely seriously. “If things get tense and it’s like the party’s going south, break out the chocolate cupcakes. Works every time.”
“You want a story?” she said. “Janelle’s going to test-run her machine. Report on that.”
“I don’t do human interest,” Germaine said. “What about David? Everyone’s saying he went home for some family thing, but that seems bullshit. You guys are dating or something, right? Where is he?
“I thought you just said you don’t do human interest,” Stevie replied, walking faster.
The Diviners climbed through a back window, letting themselves into the shuttered Museum of American Folklore, Superstition, and the Occult. The beams from their flashlights traveled across what had once been home but now seemed unfamiliar. The glare gave the library’s spiral staircase an otherworldly haze and reflected off the stuffed grizzly bear’s lifeless gaze.