In Which I Might Possibly Die (Ransom 6.1)

“Ri-Dog! Please tell me you got something with at least half a gram of sugar in it.”

“I tried, I really did,” Risa groans.

Wrinkling my nose, I shoot a glance into the master bedroom, trying to catch any sound of the shower running. “Oh no!”

“I convinced her to get zero sugar Mountain Dew.” She huffs angrily, muttering something I can’t quite catch and I’m not sure if I want to. “Did you call me just to ask about the haul?”

“No. I mean, yeah, but also, when are you guys gonna be back?” The floorboards creak underfoot as I step into the bedroom.

“Maybe half an hour? I honestly don’t know...” Risa’s mom chatters excitingly in the background. “Heaven help us all, Harlow. She’s found a new antique shop.”

“So two hours? Three? I’m going to starve to death!”

“Well, I’ll let you know when we’re on the way and there should be a box of Twinkies in the back of my closet. Okay, bye!”

I glance at my phone. It’s one o’clock and I haven’t eaten in two hours, but there’s more important things to be done, like vacuuming up the sand, and time is limited.

But TWINKIES!

“Oh shut up,” I hiss. “You don’t need the empty calories.”

Of course I do.

“Now is not the time! I need to focus.”

You’ll focus better if you’ve eaten.

“Nice try, not buying it.” Good thing Ransom is in the shower and can’t hear me—he’d think I was crazy. Though really, who is he to judge?

Right. I need to vacuum. Maybe I should clean up whatever Ransom broke in the living room but I don't think I'm quite prepared for that right now. Trudging to the hall closet, I can’t help but mull over what Ransom said, about the girl in his dreams. Is it Lydia, the girl from the beach or someone else?

As hard as I try to remember the bits of Ransom’s life I saw, they slip through my fingers, blurred and staticky. Despite this, I’m pretty sure Ransom never said anything about Lydia to the girl on the beach, and yet she knew right away what he was looking for and who it was from. I frown and wrinkles form across my forehead. If I don’t stop all this thinking, they’ll be permanent and deep enough to run a credit card through.

“Ugh, vacuuming, Harlow!”

I retrieve the vacuum and lug it up the stairs, trying to avoid the ones that creak. Okay, so they all creak, but some of them sound like they’ll break at any second, so those are the ones I don’t risk stepping on.

I straighten the pillows as much as I can, though it’s a losing battle as they keep falling onto the floor due to the sheer numbers. Dropping onto my stomach, I fish the stale food out from under the couch and brush it into a pile to throw away later.

What is this strange feeling? Almost like happiness, but the color is different, a sky blue instead of sunshine yellow and it brings a laser focus I've never had, ever. Is this... productivity?

It’s kind of nice, so I vacuum the entire floor and even get the cobwebs hanging from the chandeliers. I've just picked up the couch food when I hear a muted creak from behind.

Perhaps it's just the house settling or an ancient demon who likes its victims soaked in an unhealthy amount of fear or...

"Uh, I'm done."

I jump, scattering the remains of Risa's gaming fuel across the room. "You were my third guess."

"I'm sorry?"

"Oh, nothing."

Turning around, I survey him up from top to bottom; right off, the over-sized T-shirt is a thousand times better than that hoodie which I now want to burn so I never have to see it again. I don't think neon green is his color though—it washes his skin out so bad I'm inclined to believe he's a ghost more than anything else. Risa's black cargo pants are roughly five inches too short, but all in all, it's an improvement.

"Do you uh, need help?" He glances from my face to the floor and back again.

"With what?"

"Picking up what you threw."

"Nah, I'm done for the day." All productivity has drained away, leaving me craving chicken nuggets and a long nap. "Risa and her mother are gonna be home in an hour or so, and we need to think of a story for why you're here...oh and also a way to fix whatever you broke downstairs?"

Can his eyes widen any more? And how does he get them so wide in the first place? Is that part of the curse? That reminds me of a dozen questions I wanted to ask but hadn't found what felt like the right time.

"I...knocked over a display case, I think?"

"Oh no. We're so doomed. She's going to kill me! We need to take to the hills!" I grab fistfuls of my hair while I pace in a circle. "Wait, there aren't any! Ransom, do you understand how bad this is?"

I almost grab his shoulders to shake him, but then I realize I've already done that a lot and I don't want to traumatize him any more than I already have.

"Ransom," I hiss. "Do you have any last words?"