After the werewolf fiasco was over, I almost closed my eyes when Nick barked at me to stop driving and pull over to the curb near this posh neighborhood.

Confused, I slam the brakes. I peer at the passenger window to see what the fuck is going on when Nick tells me he sees his little sister.

"Wait, you do?" I ask hopefully. "Where's Kenzie? Is she okay?"

Instead of answering my question, Nick unbuckles his seatbelt and abandons the Volkswagen Beetle, much to my surprise. The cold air hits his face as Nick hurries to the sidewalk, where he sees a young Hispanic girl storming away from an angry, dark-haired boy who looks a couple of years older than me.

His skin is as pale as the moon, but there are a couple of acne scars on his forehead and chin. He wears this red letterman's jacket, a dark blue button-up shirt, and khakis. Freckles sprinkle his broad nose.

"MACKENZIE!" Nick shouts from the top of his lungs.

The little girl turns around and swears under her breath as Nick boldly approaches her. Her older friend, on the other hand, stares at Nick as if he had survived a zombie apocalypse.

What's funny about it is that I can't blame the guy.

Even though I rolled down all the windows and sprayed every type of perfume I had in my bag, it didn't get rid of the stench of blood very quickly. All it does is give me and Casper a runny nose. The odor from my blood-stained clothes stung my eyes until the night breeze shoos it away.

Turning around, I notice Casper shaking his head at the stains on his Hawaiian shirt and pants.

"Christ," he grunts. "See, this is why I stopped being a monster hunter. My clothes are always ruined."

I stare at him in surprise. "You quit being a monster hunter?"

Releasing the collar of his Hawaiian t-shirt, Casper leans against his seat and scratches behind his left ear.

"Yeah," he confesses sadly. "Don't get me wrong, I love the adventure, but it doesn't pay me enough to rent my place. So, I got a cashier job at Seven-Eleven and I'm helping my mom at the boarding house."

"Oh," I say quietly. "Did you renew your license, though?"

"Yep, every once a year," Casper beams. "My mom wants me to get rid of it and focus on helping out with the boarding house, but I don't know, it feels like a badge of honor."

Smirking from ear to ear, I stroke my stiff hair and then tell him that I feel the same way about my license sometimes. That I felt like I accomplished something better than winning some shitty diploma.

"So, what did you do after I left St. Hawthorne?" I ask Casper.

"Well, I did what Benji told me to do," said Casper.

"Learn how to take math seriously?" I tease.

"Haha, fuck you." Casper scoffs. "No, I tried applying for art colleges in California."

A warm smile spreads across my face. "Did any of them accept you?"

Casper gives me a look.

"Yeah, I just got accepted to one of the most amazing art colleges at Burbank," he tells me. "Of course, I didn't get into any of those schools. Do you think the admissions give two shits about a juvenile delinquent like me?"

I instantly stop smiling. "I'm sorry. That must've sucked."

"Yeah, but it's not your fault," Casper confesses. "I guess it's God telling me that I'm better off as a homeless beggar."

"No, you're not." I insist.

"Come on, Teddy. You know it's true." he says. "With my record, I can't seem to do anything other than work minimum wage jobs. Fuck, tonight, I'm supposed to get a raise, but my shitty boss won't give me a check because of 'budget cuts'."

"What an asshole," I grunt.

"Yeah," Casper grumbles, crossing his arms. "Life's gotten by so slow I don't know what to do with myself anymore."

"Well," I begin. "A great friend once told me that when life gets you down, Hakuna Matata is the best medicine."

"Yeah, and also pizza," Casper declares with a pout.

"Why?"...