The invitation said GRIM BOROUGH BLOCK UNITY COOKOUT in cheerful red letters, which was already suspicious.
Nothing in Grim Borough used the word unity unless a fight was about to happen.
Ant stood in the kitchen holding the flyer like it owed him money. "Why are we going to a neighborhood cookout? We don't even like these people."
"Because," Celeste said, adjusting her earrings in the hallway mirror, "we have lived on this block for years, and every summer Mrs. Baptiste tells people we worship storms in the basement."
Vice looked up from licking barbecue sauce off his paw. "I mean, one time—"
Celeste pointed at him. "Shut up."
Ramon came downstairs in all black with sunglasses on like he was attending a funeral for somebody else's attitude. "I'm only going if they got real food. Last year Tito brought vegan hot dogs and almost got cursed on sight."
Nyla grabbed her phone. "I'm going for gossip and possible public humiliation."
Milo was already by the door holding Pebble in a tiny shirt that read LIL MENACE.
Ant stared. "Why is the creature dressed?"
"Because he's outside-ready," Milo said.
The cookout took over half of Ashcoil Avenue. Folding tables, cheap grills, smoke, loud music, kids running wild, uncles arguing over dominoes like federal policy depended on it. Rico's Bodega was selling extra ice. Darla's Liquor & Lottery had a line around the corner. Somewhere down the block, a woman was yelling, "If that's my Tupperware, I'm taking my chicken back!"
Mrs. Baptiste spotted the Varelas immediately.
"Oh, look," she shouted, "the Addams Family with better posture."
Ant smiled. "Good afternoon to you too, neighborhood watchdog."
At first, everything was surprisingly normal.
Too normal.
Ant got a plate. Ramon judged the ribs. Nyla immediately located three active arguments and one secret affair. Celeste stood near the drinks table radiating quiet superiority. Vice disappeared under a folding chair looking for unattended meat.
Then Tito Mendez climbed onto a cooler with a plastic cup and yelled, "Before we eat, I just wanna thank everybody for coming together like family!"
The block gave him weak applause.
Milo looked up at Ant. "Why do I feel something bad?"
Because the grill answered him.
It started with a little green flame under one of the larger barbecue pits. Then the smoke turned purple. Then the whole grill shuddered like it had a heartbeat.
Ant lowered his plate. "…Nope."
The lid flew open.
A twelve-foot smoke creature made of ribs, charcoal, grease, and pure neighborhood anger burst out of the grill with glowing eyes and a crown of flaming skewers.
Everybody screamed.
Mrs. Baptiste dropped her paper plate. "I FUCKING KNEW THIS BLOCK WAS BUILT WRONG!"
The meat monster roared so hard a tray of macaroni flipped off a table.
People scattered in every direction. One uncle tried to fight it with tongs. A teenager threw lemonade and made it worse. Vice came running out from under a chair with a hot dog in his mouth, yelling, "The cookout has become sentient!"
Ramon cracked his neck. "Finally."
Celeste grabbed his arm. "Not with witnesses."
The meat beast swung a sausage-arm through the drinks table, launching red punch into the air like blood in a low-budget horror movie. Ant opened a shadow portal under a flying tray of beans and redirected it into the creature's face.
It blinked.
Then got angrier.
Nyla was still filming.
"You are not posting this," Celeste warned.
"I might blur the demon meat," Nyla said.
Milo stepped forward holding Pebble. "I think it's mad because Tito mixed five different cookout seasonings and called it his own recipe."
Tito pointed at himself. "How is that evil?"
The monster answered by hurling a burning drumstick at him.
Ant dodged left, portal-jumped onto a folding table, and shouted, "Okay, so now the grill got cultural issues!"
Ramon finally ignored Celeste and threw a thin streak of hellfire into the sky. It burst like fireworks, blinding the crowd for two seconds. That was enough.
Celeste froze time for everyone except the family.
The whole street went still.
Paper plates hung in the air. Punch droplets floated. Tito stood mid-scream.
Celeste exhaled. "Fix it."
Ten seconds later, Ramon burned the monster down, Ant portal-dumped the ashes into a storm drain, Nyla rearranged evidence, Milo stole two cupcakes, and Vice took credit for emotional support.
Time resumed.
The block looked around in confusion.
The grill was gone. Tito was crying. Half the food had vanished.
Mrs. Baptiste narrowed her eyes at the Varelas. "One day, I'm proving y'all are the reason nothing normal survives on this street."
Ant grabbed another rib off a tray. "And yet the cookout got better after we got involved."
By sunset, the music was back on, people were eating again, and Grim Borough had decided not to ask too many questions.
Like always.