Whisper McMuren and her husband Grayson waited in line at the ticket booth. Whisper couldn't help but notice her husband staring at Ellie Vanderson's ass yet again. She wanted to slap him but refrained; all she could do was pray that he didn't get put into the same room as that witch and her crafty spellwork.

Why was he so interested in her ass? Whisper had taken a good, long look at it herself during yoga class one day, concluding it was nothing special, too small and unshapely, and her age would catch up to her one day; she would get cellulite like everyone else if she didn't have it already, and that was a big if.

Her gaze flitted to Smelly Ellie's ass again, and it again found nothing of interest, but when she looked back at her husband, she found he had yet to peel his gaze from the woman.

"What's the name of that young mom with the little boy named Avery?" he had asked her once after kindergarten orientation. "You should set up some playdates with her." That was all it had taken for her to know how deeply he was infatuated with this witch.

Ellie turned around, tickets in hand. When she saw Whisper, she frowned.

Chester Monson, Melanie's husband, came up to Ellie's husband, Clay, and Whisper Eavesdropped on the men's conversation. "I heard you had the ultimate escape room experience the other night," Chester said to Clay, gesturing to the sling he wore around his neck to hold his bandaged and burned arm.

Clay did not look amused. "I sure hope tonight's escape room is more fun than that."

"Me, too," Chester said. "No fires."

Ellie had turned away from Whisper, and she did not look at her again. Whisper seethed in a quiet fury, knowing that her own husband was still staring at Ellie's ass.