“It doesn’t matter,” Kevin said, waving a hand in the air like he was swatting away a fly. “They’re calling us fags, they’ve been calling us that since school started up again this fall and I can’t take it anymore. I could actually be popular if it weren’t for this, you know? Until they started calling you my boyfriend I actually had a shot getting Christy Wilkins to the Halloween Dance.”

“Who gives a shit about Christy Wilkins?” The words burst out of me like I’d been holding my breath the entire time he was speaking. Maybe I was.

“You’re being selfish, Jason! You can have other friends, we just can’t hang out anymore, until maybe they drop the whole gay thing—“

“I don’t want other friends!” I said, and now I was sure he could hear the tears in my voice, they were threatening to spill and wouldn’t that be fucking grand, he’d all but called me a faggot to my face and there I sat weeping like a little girl. I tried to turn the situation back to my stupid scary story, desperate for the distraction. “I didn’t even tell you the best part about the Skinstealer, the part where you summon him like Bloody Mary—“