Free Desolation by Derek Landy Page A

this left coming up,” Linda said.
    “She’s a witch!” cried Warrick.
    “It’s GPS.”
    “Not a witch, then,” Warrick said. “False alarm, everybody. Linda is not a witch, she just has an internet connection. You know who was a witch, though?”
    “Stefanianna North was not a witch,” Kelly said.
    “You didn’t see her!” Warrick responded. “You don’t know!”
    “Neither do you. You were unconscious the whole time.”
    Warrick sniffed. “It wasn’t my fault I was drugged.”
    “You weren’t drugged,” said Ronnie, “you were high. And that was your fault because it was your own weed you were smoking.”
    “Aha,” said Warrick, leaning forward, “but why was I smoking it?”
    “To get high.”
    “No,” Warrick said triumphantly. “Well, yes, but also because of the socio-economic turmoil this world has been going through since before I was even born. My mother had anxiety issues when I was still in the womb , man. That affects a dude, forces him to seek out alternative methods of coping later in life.”
    “So that’s what you were doing?” Kelly asked. “You were coping?”
    “I was trying to,” Warrick said. “And that’s when Stefanianna came to kill me. I don’t remember much—”
    “Because you were high.”
    “—but I do remember her saying something like, ‘First I’ll kill you, then I’ll kill your friends.’ And I was all, like, hey, don’t you touch my friends, because I’m very protective of you guys, you know?”
    Kelly nodded. “We bask in your protection.”
    “But then Two woke up,” said Warrick, “and, as we all know, witches are terrified of dogs, especially pit bulls.”
    “That’s not a thing,” said Linda.
    “Well, maybe not particularly pit bulls, but we all know that witches are terrified of dogs, right?”
    “That’s not a thing, either,” said Linda.
    Warrick frowned. “So what are witches terrified of?”
    “Fire,” said Ronnie.
    “But then why did she run away? The moment she saw Two she screamed and ran.”
    “That’s because Stefanianna is terrified of dogs,” Kelly said.
    “Yes!” said Warrick. “Exactly! See?”
    “But that doesn’t mean she’s a witch.”
    “Why doesn’t it?”
    “Because why would it?”
    Warrick frowned again. “I don’t … I don’t see what you’re saying here.”
    “Take a right, Ronnie,” Linda said. “Should be a hill up ahead.”
    Ronnie took the right. “I see it. That where we’re going?”
    “Yep.” Linda sat up. Her dark hair was a mess.
    “How was your nap?” Kelly asked.
    “Terrible,” Linda answered. “I feel like a hamster in a ball that’s been kicked down a hill for three hours. And Two kept farting.”
    Two whined in protest.
    “That wasn’t Two,” Warrick said meekly.
    “Oh, you’re so gross,” Linda said, crawling forward. She left the cushioned rear of the van and joined Warrick on the long seat behind Kelly.
    They got to the top of the hill and Kelly read the sign.
    “The Dowall Motel,” she said, and frowned up at the building. “You know, for a pretty town, this is a creepy motel.”
    “They better allow pets,” Warrick said.
    “I don’t care,” said Linda. “All I want is a real bed tonight. I’m sick of sleeping in the van.”
    “Swear allegiance,” Warrick whispered.
    They parked, and got out, and Kelly immediately reached back in to grab her jacket. Two hopped out as well, started to hump a small tree, but Warrick shook his head.
    “Sorry, buddy, you’re gonna have to stay in the van until we find out if they allow pets.”
    “He doesn’t understand you, Warrick,” said Linda, rubbing her arms against the cold.
    “Well, no, but he understands basic English, though.”
    Linda looked at the dog. “Two. Stop having sex with the tree. Sit. Sit. Two, sit.” She raised her eyes to Warrick. “He’s not sitting.”
    “You know he doesn’t like to be told what to do. It’s conversational English he responds to, not orders. We’re not