revolver. I bet it’s not bulletproof.” She knelt, reaching into the hole.
☉本☉作☉品☉由☉思☉兔☉在☉線☉閱☉讀☉網☉友☉整☉理☉上☉傳☉
Damon, with a raised eyebrow, did as she said.
“Oh, God,” Bonnie cried, from the edge of the hole. “Matt’s
sprained his ankle—at least.”
“I TOLD YOU,” roared Shinichi. “YOU’LL BE SORRY—”
“Here,” Damon said to Bonnie, taking not the slightest notice of
Shinichi. Without any more ado, he picked up Matt and floated up out of
the hole. He deposited the fair-haired boy beside Bonnie, who looked at
him with the wide brown eyes of utter confusion.
Matt, though, was a Virginian through and through. After
swallowing only once, he got out a “Thank you, Damon.”
“No problem, Matt,” Damon said, and then “What?” as someone
gasped.
“You remembered,” Bonnie cried, “You remembered
his—Meredith!” she broke off, looking at the tall girl. “The grass!”
Meredith, who had been examining the star ball with a strange
expression, now tossed the revolver to Damon and tried with her free
hand to tear away the grass that had twined around her feet and up her
ankles already. But even as she did so, the grass seemed to leap upward
and grab her hand, binding it to her feet. And now it was sprouting,
growing, racing up her bo