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“You dropped me.” Kimber sounds offended.
“I’m okay.” I grab the phone. As I do, my eye catches a case pushed all the way back under the china cabinet. I would have missed it if not for the sun pouring in the window as it sets.
“You always bounce back.” She laughs into the phone. “What are you doing? I can’t see anything.”
“I’m crawling over to the china cabinet,” I answer like that's a reasonable response.
“Why, is he home? Are you hiding?” She whispers into the phone, flipping back into our spy mode. “We should have booby trapped his house with something. Or egged it. You would have hurt yourself making a booby trap. Egging, you might be able to get away with, but it’s too late now.” She sounds so disappointed. I don't trust myself with eggs anyways. Way too fragile for me.
“No, he’s not home.” At least I don’t think he is. I didn't hear anyone pull into the driveway. I also didn't know I was going to face plant on the floor so. Yeah. “There is something under the china cabinet. Hang on.” I put the phone down as I reach to grab it, pulling out the box. I sit up to look at it.
“Prop me up.” Kimber protests. I grab my phone, popping out the popsocket to stand her up. “What is it?”
My guess is fancy forks and spoons to go with the china cabinet. I open the case, and my eyes almost bulge out of their sockets when I see what’s inside. Why would my grandmother own a set of throwing stars? Like the kind from old kung fu movies or ninja manga. They’re lined up neatly, each of them in their designated spot. They shine and look sharp. I pick one up, examining it.
“Shurikens!” Kimber says.
“Bless you.”
“No,” she laughs. “Those are shurikens, throwing stars, aren’t they?”
“I think so.” I turn it over. “It’s wicked sharp.”
“Your grandma was a ninja,” Kimber deadpans, making me laugh.
“Maybe she was?” I hold the star between my fingers. “Now wouldn't it be cool if that was the DNA of hers that I actually picked up?” God knows I didn't get the traveling one or the sharp-as-a-tack one.
“Don’t you throw that--” Before she can finish the star is already gliding through the air. “Star,” she lets out with a groan. My front door flies open as the star slices through the wood trim, landing mere inches from a very angry-looking Heath.
“I guess I didn't get that DNA gene either.”
Heath reaches up, pulling the star from the trim. “You didn’t lock your door,” he growls at me. Actually growls!
“Is that Heath?” Kimber asks.
“I don’t need to lock my door. I have these.” I pick up another one of the throwing stars.
“Get ’em,” Kimber encourages.
“Hit me with your best shot, tigress.” He smiles. Actually smiles as if he hasn't been MIA for days. He could have gotten my number and at least sent a text or something. But no, he dropped off the face of the planet. Next, I do exactly as he requested, I hit him with my best shot.
Which, of course, isn't very good.
8
HEATH
Iknock the shuriken aside with ease, then hurdle the threadbare sofa, including Jinx, and drop to the floor with total control. Crossing my legs, I rest my wrists on my knees and stare at a gaping Lena.
“How did you do that?” Her eyes are wide.
“Where did you find these?” I point to the case.
“Here.” She frowns and looks at the china cabinet. “They were shoved up under this thing.” As if on cue, she sneezes.
I close the case before she tries to throw another one at my head.
Her eyebrows draw together. “Hey! What are you doing here?” Indignation rises and paints her cheeks crimson. “You ditched me. You don’t get to come into my house and touch my shoguns!” She yanks the case away from me.
