ten frogs at once. “Nothing in the rules against it."
Nikki wondered what it would be like have no soul. Would she barely miss it? Could she still dream? Without one, would she have no more guilt or fear or fun? Maybe without a soul she wouldn't even care that Boo was dead.
The devil cheated. If she wanted to win, she had to cheat, too.
On her sixth plate, Nikki started sweating, but she knew she could finish. She just couldn't finish before he did.
She had to beat him in quantity. She had to eat more sour gummy frogs than he did.
"I feel sick,” Nikki said.
” Don't you know. ” Doug shook his head vigorously. “Fight it."
Nikki bent over, holding her stomach. While hidden by the table, she picked up one of the slimy, chewed up frogs that had been in the devil's stomach and popped it in her mouth. The frog tasted like sweetness and dirt and something rotten.
The nausea was real this time. She choked and forced herself to swallow around the sour taste of her own gorge.
Sitting up, she saw that the devil had finished all his frogs. She still had two more plates to go.
"I win,” the devil said. “No need to keep eating."
Doug sunk fingers into his hair and tugged. “He's right."
"No way.” Nikki gulped down another mouthful of candy. “I'm finishing my plates."
She ate and ate, ignoring how the rubbery frogs stuck in her throat. She kept eating. Swallowed the last sour-gummy frog, she stood up. “Are you finished?"
"I've been finished for ages,” said the devil.
” Then I win."
The devil yawned. “Impossible."
"I ate one more frog than you did,” she said. “So I win."
He pointed his cane at Doug. “If you cheated and gave her another frog, we'll be doing this contest over and you'll be joining us."
Doug shook his head. “It took me an hour to count out those frogs. They were exactly even."
"I ate one of the frogs from your gut,” Nikki said. “I picked it up off the ground and I ate it."
"That's disgusting!” Doug said.
"Five-second rule,” Nikki said. “If it's in the devil for less than five seconds, it's still good."
” That's cheating, ” said the devil. He sounded half-admiring and half-appalled, reminding her of her boss's son at The Sweet Tooth.
She shook her head. “Nothing in the rules against it."
The devil scowled for a moment, then bowed shallowly. “Well done, Nicole. Count on seeing me again soon.” With those words, he ambled toward the bus station. He paused in front of Trevor's trailer, pulled out a handful of envelopes from the mailbox, and kept going.
Nikki's mother's car pulled into the lot, Boo's head visible in the passenger-side window. His tongue lolled despite the absurd cone-shaped collar around his neck.
Nikki hopped up on top of the picnic table and shrieked with joy, leaping around, the sugar and adrenaline and relief making her giddy.
She stopped jumping. “You know what?"
Doug looked up at her. “What?"
"I think my summer is starting not to suck so much."
He sat down on a bench so hard that she heard the wood strain. The look he gave her was pure disbelief.
"So,” Nikki asked, “you want to get some lunch?"
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The Boy Who Cried Wolf
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There's a certain kind of boy who likes to read only about things that have really happened. Like Alex. He read about the Titanic and memorized how many people died (1,523) and the name of the boat that picked up the survivors ( RMS Carpathia ). He read about ghosts and werewolves, too, sometimes, but only when he was certain he was being presented with facts. (The vulnerability to silver bullets, for example, was made up by modern fiction writers—probably any bullet would do.)
In one of the books Alex took out of the library, there was a story about a white flower, the scent of which turned people into wolves. He worried about the flower. It seemed to have no proper name for him to memorize.
In the summers, Alex's parents took he and his