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Summary
It wasn't that Cindy wasn't having a blast.Far from it. Time of her life, being stuck in the Whitmore-Dugan house, with Mrs. Whitmore cooking a breakfast nobody but Cindy seemed interested in actually eating—beaming at them all, acting her sugary-sweetest and letting them sweat about it.But she was getting pretty sick of being stared at with all those big earnest eyes, and once she'd eaten her fill, well. They were busy murmuring to each other in the kitchen, worrying about what they were going to do and how they were going to do it, how they were going to keep everybody safe. God. Eclipso was going to squash their soft little hearts like grapes.
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