“That’s the problem! She doesn’t say anything. She just stares at me like she’s hypnotized, like she thinks I’m a god, but then she runs off squeaking if I try to talk to her.”“I don’t squeak,” I protested. “Maybe she’s not looking at you like you’re a god. Maybe she thinks you’re more of a freak,” Fergus mused.“I’m not a freak.” Murphy jerked his head as if dodging a fly or tossing his hair. “It’s definitely a ‘you’re a god’ look. She practically drools.”