Claudia watched him go with a sense of longing; she had already fallen in love with that car…and him?

She shook her head. Not time to be thinking about him! She walked over to the table and put on that abominable apron, picked up the tongs, and started handing out the chicken. Her smile was glittering, but fake. All she wanted was to escape to her room and go to sleep, but her mother would never allow it.

She looked down at the chicken and almost retched. It was bubbling furiously in its hot plate, the sauce like thick blood over the painted wings and legs. Why wasn't she a vegetarian?

Because you love seafood and beef. Not winning any diet points with that.

Shrugging, she glanced at her apron and almost gasped. A face was on it, taking the place of the red-stitched words "Bon Appetite". And it was Beetlejuice's!

"What the-…"

She felt the two ties from behind her neck snake around and cover her mouth slightly forcibly. "Not a word, babes, or people are gonna think you're nuts, talking to an apron."

She reached up and tore the ties away. "How did you get out of the house?" she hissed, looking warily around for others. Most of the people were sitting down, eating, or standing farther away on the lawn. No one could see her talking through clenched teeth.

"I 'did whatever I did to get out of the model'," he replied, smart-alecky.

"Do you have any idea how much trouble I'm already in? I got home late and Mom's on the warpath. If she sees me talking to anything except for this disgusting chicken, she'll have a meltdown and it'll be World War Three!"

"Chill, Clauds. It's all right. She can't see."

Claudia suddenly felt her legs lock up and her entire body felt freezing. She couldn't move, and she whispered from her blueish lips, "Beetlejuice-…!"

"Oh, sorry! Don't get so hot-headed!"

She felt the icy cold melting from her rapidly heating head and body, sighing as she saw a breath of steam escape from her mouth. "Beetlejuice, do that again," she threatened, "and I'll make sure you never say another of your spells. I'll make you never speak again."

"It's not intentional, babes!"

"And how many times do I have to tell you; I am not your 'babes'!"

He sighed and eyed her. "Is this all because of that guy that was here? Are you just mad because your mom sent him off?"

"No…" she responded, blushing slightly. "Of course not…"

"You don't sound too convincing. I'm glad your mom ran that kid off; ugly guy. Not worth your time. Ready for another date in the model?" he asked, Casanova-like.

"No, as a matter of fact I am not-…"

Her face slackened and she glared down at him, her rage building. "You mean that wasn't a bloody dream?!"

He instantly realized his mistake and looked away. "Um…I…uh…"

Her hand clamped over the apron and she ripped it off her. Clenching it tightly in her fist, she went up to her mother.

"Mom, I apologize for forgetting the time. May I be excused?"

Mrs. Lowe nodded. "Alright. Go change."

Claudia spun on her heel and stomped up to the house. Holding the apron in a death-grip, she rose to her room and tacked it to her wall.

"You egotistical, sneaking, perverted son of a bitch!" she roared at him. "How dare you attack me like that and make it look like a dream! I ought to rip you limb from limb!"

"Hey, you put up a damn good fight! That kick to the face nearly put me out of commission!" he retorted, the apron strings struggling to free him from the wall to no avail.

"You deserved it!"

"Oh, are you playing God now, deciding who decides what punishment?" he demanded, stop his fruitless attempts to stare her in the eye.

"No, I-…" She halted. She was playing God. He was just a typical lecher, and she didn't have the right to exact vengeance on him herself. She had every right to want it…but did he truly deserve to receive it?"

It took her but a moment to consider, and she made up her mind.

"Oh yeah. You deserve it."