Chapter Ten
Jiggly Bosoms In Sheer White Tank Tops
(Ryan)
"You think she can find the place okay?"
Chip shot a scathing look over at me, arms crossed in front of his chest. "For the tenth time. Yes. Stop it, Ryan."
I bounced back and forth, from one heel to the other, hands fidgeting nervously in my sweater pocket - gah, I couldn't help it! "Sorry. Sorry, Chip. It's just the directions I gave were kind of vague, you know? I don't know .. should I call her? Should I maybe go wait out on the end of the block, so she'll see where to turn? Yeah, that would be a good idea, I should do that. Do you think I should? Chip? Should I?"
"I'm sure she'll be fine, Ryan, Just fine."
"I should call, just in case," I said distractedly, quickly tugging my iPhone from out of my pants pocket.
Chip growled irritably, and snapped the phone out of my hand with lightening quick speed - which may I say, was pretty impressive for a fifty-somethin' year old guy. He popped it smoothly into his cardigan's pocket and glared at me, arms folded peevishly across his chest once more.
"Stop it," he scolded, eyes narrowed crossly. "Stop it, stop it, stop it."
"Sorry," I mumbled.
I was a good half a foot taller than Chip, but I felt tiny and powerless under his glare of irritability. True story, ya'll - annoyed Psychics are some very scary mother fudgers. Yikes.
"She'll be here any minute now," he chided, motioning out to the empty street with his chin. "If she were lost, she'd call. We told her to be here at three o'clock. It's only five to three now. We were done early. You need to take a chill pill, Ryan. Take a deep breath, inhaaaaale, do it with me now, inhaaaaale - and ... exhale. Blowwww it out."
I did as he said, but the knot in my stomach was still tight and rough in the pit of my gut.
"Much better," I nodded.
"Liar," Chip muttered, plopping down in the wicker porch chair. "I don't know who's more nervous, her or you."
"I'm not nervous," I lied. "I'm just .. anxious. Anxious for her to get here, so I know she's not lost."
"Yeah right," Chip said, with a roll of his eyes.
"I'm not nervous," I repeated. "I'm not at all."
Alright, I admit it - that was a little lie. Err .. big, lie. Big lie.
I was nervous. More than nervous, actually. I'd been literally shitting my pants all week, waiting for this day to come. Initially, when Chip had approached me with the idea of Harlow doing a walk-through on this case (simply, Chip said, to help alleviate some of that tension and pressure on her poor, sexy as hell brain that was caused from the years of spirit repression she'd forced herself to undergo), I was absolutely estatic. A new, allegedly outstanding and apparently universally-unmatched-in-her-abilities Medium, as well as Chip Coffey. Seriously. Could my luck have gotten any better?
The only foreseeable problem was the high possibility factor of me being unable to do my job properly. Due, of course, to the fact that Harlow and her sickeningly gorgeous everything was going to be in my presence all through out the investigation. You see what I mean? How am I supposed to concentrate on ridding this house of negative energy, when I couldn't rid my brain of her? How the Hell was I supposed to focus?
I mean, I think it was safe to say, that there were some pretty intense feelings in me for Harlow. I mean, the mere presence of her alone made every square inch of my body and my brain go absolutely insane. She was like a shock of electricity to my otherwise mundane days - she was like a blast of cold air in the Sahara desert. She had the ability to send me into a full body flailing, writhing orgasm with as little as a small smile from across the room. She was unstoppable - she owned every part of me. My heart, my brain, my lungs, my eyes .. everything. The feelings I had for her were mind-numbingly, air-out-of-your-lungs, heart crushingly severe, and up until this week (well, potentially), I thought they were going to be forever unchanging.
Let me explain.
The more I let myself dwell on the fact that Harlow would soon be with Chip and I on a case walk-through, the more nervous I became. Once I really considered it, and looked at all the possible outcomes of this investigation - that's when my anxiety rose to alarming levels. The more and more I thought about it, the more and more terrified I became.
What if she wasn't all that she was cracked up to be? What if she arrived here, on this doorstep, in all her maddening beauty and arousingly sweet smells, with her tight little bum and curvaciously stunning body, and turned out to be a completely, undeniably, horribly pathetic Medium flake? One of those people who thought they had great talent, but really, turned out to just be complete nobodies? What if Harlow's brilliant gift had somehow worn off over the years? What if the repression she'd forced herself to undergo had really worked - what if she was no longer a talented medium, but instead, just some gorgeous, athletic young woman who's gift had disappeared?
It was horrendous. I couldn't bare to think of it, to imagine what would happen if that were the case. Would my feelings still be the same for her? I mean, they had been strong before I knew about her ability. But what about now, after so much hype, so much excitement - what if it was all just a big letdown? It tore me up to think about it.
What I needed, was time. Time to think, time to really consider if this was a good idea. I had been stoked all week, but now, the past twenty four hours - I was almost sick to my stomach with fear, because I'd finally moved past the excitement of just being with her. Now, I was actually thinking it through. And realizing, all to quickly might I add, that this might not be the greatest idea. I needed time to rethink.
"Ah, here she is!"
GOD DAMN.
I'd run out of time.
It was too late to back out. Too late to call her off - she was here, only about thirty feet away now. There was no time to rethink this whole thing - there was only the here, the now. God, help us all.
Her sleek, silver car rolled to a stop in front of the home's paved walkway, and her lights dimmed off. There seemed to be no movement inside the vehicle, but behind the tinted windows it was almost impossible to tell. But only seconds after it came to a stop, the driver's side door creaked open and she popped up and out of the car.
Dark hair straight and floating freely behind her, lime green eyes hidden behind an oversized pair of aviators. All I saw was her head, and I almost jizzed in my pants. Oh God. This was going to be the longest day ever.
"Ryan didn't think you'd find it," Chip called, and I shot him a 'OH GOD DON'T SAY THAT OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD' look.
"No, no I didn't!" I denied slightly frantically, as she made her way around her car - oh God, tight blue jeans. Curse you, Levi's, for having the ability to cut a pair of denim so beautifully, it hugs every inch of skin on that woman's legs - oh Jesus.
"Don't you have faith in me?" she called with a laugh, slinging her purse over her thin shoulder.
Oh God, baggy white tank top. Oh God. Boob Jiggles galore at 3 o'clock, oh Sweet Mother Mary.
"All the faith in the world," I said, trying to fight the dopey smile that was surely stretched across my dim face. "I would've called if I didn't, right?"
She grinned, teeth dazzling and the coconutty vanilla smell wafting up sensually through my nostrils. The heels on her boots click clacked up the first, second, third and fourth stair, until she stood right next to me on the open roofed porch.
Inexplicably, the knot in my stomach eased a bit, and I was calmer than I'd been before. Sure, maybe I was about to receive the biggest disappointment of my life. But! I very well may be about to experience the most amazing thing in my life too, right? You just didn't know, and I wasn't gonna stand here and sweat the little things. In fact, I didn't even care anymore. Nope. Not even a lil' bit. All I wanted to do - and frankly, I don't think anyone could blame me for it - was just stand here, and stare at her. Just stare. And maybe hug a little. And touch. And a little bit of groping.
No, not groping.
Okay, groping.
No.
No, not groping -
lovingly caress.
Yes. Lovingly caress her boob with my face.
Oh God, Oh God, at eaaaaase, Captain Erect-A-Lot. What she did to me, my God she'd never know.
"You excited?" Chip asked Harlow happily, and I frowned as she winced - I wanted to grab her face and kiss the wince better. I really had to get a hold on myself, dear Lord.
"I don't know if excited is the word," she said softly. "But I'm ready."
"You ever done a walk through before?" I asked her, my brain (thankfully) snapping out of it's coconutty tight assed induced, Harlowrific funk long enough for me to string one complete sentence together.
She shook her head, and pulled her Aviators off, squinting slightly away from the bright, mid-afternoon sun. "Never."
"I've told you, it's easy," Chip said cheerfully. "You're a natural, Lo. You can do it!"
"I hope so," she said quietly, and I could see a little bit of anxiety on that remarkable face.
"I know you can do it," I reassured her, putting a hand lightly on the small of her back - Christ, her t-shirt was thin, I could almost feel her warm skin! God, who'dve known that back skin could be so God damn enticing? DAYUM.
She smiled slightly at the light (and hopefully not awkward) touch, and fell very slowly and subtly against my side. I felt her warm, hard body against mine, and her right hand pointer and middle finger clench softly and with impressive slyness around the back of leg, a couple of inches below my bum. HOLY SHIT, SHE WAS TWO FINGER ONE THUMB CARESSING THE BACK OF MY THIGH. I'm not even joking! Holy mother of God, thank youuuuuu, Jesus!
"Hnnahh hah," I said to Chip, attempting to control the full-bodied lusty spasm happening in the front of my jeans.
Harlow giggled, cheek against my upper arm, slight frame curled with subtle ease into my side. Oh God, she was good.
"What, am I missin' somethin'?" Chip joked, rising from his comfortable wicker seat. "I'm always outta the loop, I tell ya."
Harlow laughed, unfurling her fingers from their very welcome spot near my inner thigh - dammit! "Nervous laughter, that's all."
Chip looked at the two of us, Harlow close to my side, me undoubtedly tomato red, and gave us both the fish eye. "You two .. forgettin' to tell me somethin'?"
Harlow shook her head, leaning a little farther away from my side - oh man. :(
"Are we walking through together?" she asked innocently, looking at Chip with her bright, round eyes.
Chip shot one more fishy glance at me, but shook his head and turned to her. "I've already walked through, Ryan's got a good page, page and half on the things I picked up on. It's your turn now."
Her face noticeably whitened, but she nodded. "Okay."
The mood shifted immediately, from the casual, slightly flirty but professional feel to a more anxious, dreaded uneasiness. We all stood in silence for a moment, as Harlow looked curiously at the large, oaken front door to my right. Her eyebrows furrowed, mouth downturned. She left my side, walking cautiously to the door.
"Are we going in?" she asked politely, looking back at me then to Chip. "Or are we waiting for someone?"
"Let's go," I said, motioning to the brass doorknob. "Ladies first."
She twisted the knob carefully and the door creaked open, revealing the Peever's beautiful front foyer. Tall, beamed ceilings and a curved, wooden staircase that disappeared above the room's roof after the twenty third step. A hallway to your front, a closet to your right and the living room to your left. The back of Harlow's head turned inquisitively to the left, then the right, then up towards the ceiling, before she glanced back at Chip and I.
"Is anyone home?"
I shook my head. "Just us."
She nodded, turned back around and stepped gingerly into the front hall.
Chip looked at me, and smiled. "You're about to have your mind blown, Ryan."
I nodded, and watched as Harlow bent over, and proceeded to unzip her chestnut colored ankle high boots. Her bum was the roundest and most fantastic thing I think I'd ever seen in my life, and was staring up at me in all it's apple-bottomed glory. Sweet Jesus. I sighed, and put a hand on Chip's shoulder tiredly.
"It already has been, Chip. Already has."
(Harlow)
To be completely honest, I was a little worried. The house seemed to be relatively silent.
The front hall I stood in, and the room adjacent and opposite to me were motionless, in both this world and the Inbetween. The stairs were bare, mid-afternoon sun sparkling on the hardwood floorboards. There was a faint ticking of a clock somewhere in the back end of the home, but besides that, I heard or saw little. The house, overall and from what I could tell, was a happy one - unlike some places I'd been, there was no overwhelming feeling of grief or agony or anger. It was just a home, plain and simple.
I peered over my shoulder and saw that Ryan and Chip had slipped into the house quietly behind me. I'd barely even taken notice. Chip's hands were furled anxiously in his scarf, eyes wide and worried. Ryan had a notebook under his arm, pen in his hand, and slight five o'clock shadow marring that ridiculously handsome face. I smiled at the odd pair, unable to help myself.
"You picking up on something?" Ryan asked, an air of calm in that beautifully monotone voice of his - God, I loved it.
I sighed, and shook my hair tiredly out of my eyes. "No, seems pretty quiet .. but give me a second."
He nodded, and I turned back towards the hallway in front of me. It was a kitchen, I could see the corner of the oven on the right of the door, and cabinets all along the far wall. But there was something strange about it. I didn't know what, but there was a feeling, way back in the deepest corners of my brain, that told me whatever problems and disturbances this house was having, the reason to why there was activity at all was rooted somewhere in that kitchen.
This happened often when I was picking up on something - it was like a signal from something in the Inbetween. Sometimes if I looked at a place or a room or an object in which activity was high, the air around the room or object or place would wave, like an old television screen. Sometimes, it would appear to be brighter, to emit a higher glow than it's surrounding rooms. Sometimes, you could hear voices, murky and unclear coming from said things. It all depended on the thing, the place - sometimes, even the time.
But today, the room gave no real sign or hint of it's activity - it was just a sense, in the back of my mind. There was nothing specifically strange about the kitchen. There was just a feeling, deep inside me, that told me I had to go in there if I wanted answers.
"Can I .. can I go in the kitchen?" I asked, looking curiously back at Ryan - it was the first time I was going to follow my Medium instinct in almost fifteen years.
It was so bizarre, actually listenin' to this stupid thing.
He nodded and smiled. "You go wherever you feel you need to."
I smiled back at him, slightly uneasily and walked the ten or so steps down the hall, and into the kitchen. It was bigger than I had thought, but it still seemed cramped. There was only a single tiny little window, above the sink to my right, and it faced the house next door's beigey stucco. Barely any sun came through the panes, the only light in the entire room coming from the artificial, pulsing bulbs above us.
I turned to the right corner of the room, about ten feet away from the doorway, and I had a sudden and unexplainable tear of fear strike right through my heart - I was definitely right about the kitchen. It felt like a current of electricity had just run up my body, from the soles of my feet to the top of my head. I stared, wide-eyed at the corner, the air stuck in my lungs, the beating of my heart fast and painful.
"You alright?" Ryan asked from behind me, stepping into the kitchen and following my gaze to the corner. "What're you looking at? The fridge?"
I shook my head, trying to find my voice. "That wasn't there before," I managed to squeak out.
Ryan frowned. "What wasn't?"
"This," I said, motioning to the wall beside me, all the way down to the back corner but my eyes unable - or perhaps, unwilling - to move away from the fridge corner. "This wall, from the doorway here, back to behind the fridge - it wasn't here before. They must have added this when they moved in here."
"Who's they?" Ryan asked.
"The people who live here now," I said, touching the wall gingerly with my fingers. "Or the people before them did, or someone ... this wall wasn't here before."
"How do you know that?" he asked gently.
"Because there's a little boy standing behind the fridge," I said simply. "Behind, as in he's in the wall. He's just standing there."
I looked up at Ryan, next to me in the kitchen, and his face was pale, brow furrowed.
He cleared his throat, scribbling in his notebook with impressive speed. "In the wall?"
I nodded, and looked back at the end of the wall, near the fridge, frowning. "Yeah .. it's strange. It's kind of like .. x-ray vision, or somethin'. I can see him, standing in the wall. I can't see any features. I just know he's about this tall, he's looking at the opposite wall, that one right there. He's like a shadow, just opaque .. and he's ... he's not talking."
It was frustrating - I could see this, and I could understand it so clearly in my head. But I couldn't explain it. Couldn't explain the sight of this strange, opaque but featureless boy only feet away from me. It infuriated me - how was I supposed to help Ryan with this case if I can't make sense of it to begin with?
God damn you, strange wall boy!
I frowned, moving slowly towards the fridge. I concentrated, as hard as I could, on the boy in the wall. He remained still, unmoving. He didn't speak, but there was a strange, rasping, rattling noise. I didn't know if it was coming from him or if was something in the house - a furnace or rattly pipes, something like that. The closer I got to the fridge, the louder it became. I could see how tall he was, that he was thin, his silhouette. But the shape was just shadowy, black. A mass with no distinguishing features. Like a black, cardboard cutout.
"Can you hear me?" I said softly, staring at the wall, moving closer to the boy.
I jumped a little, as he flinched slightly and retreated back a couple inches, even further behind the fridge.
"Did he say something?" Ryan asked, and I shook my head.
"He's not saying anything," I said, with a frown. "It's like he can't even hear me. Hello? Hello? Can you hear me?"
I took another step or two towards the fridge, and just as I was about to take a third, his head whipped over towards me, lightening quick, and I jumped back nearly a foot, with a tiny little squeak. "Ooh!"
I felt a large hand on the small of my back, and the sweet, musky scent of Old Spice. My heart slowed a little, and I took a deep breath.
"You alright?" Ryan asked, his voice tinged with concern.
"Yeah .. yeah, sorry," I said, with a shake of my head. "Just startled me."
"Did he say something?" he asked.
I shook my head. "No, nothing. He just .. wasn't moving, then all of a sudden, just kind of .. turned. Spooked me, that's all."
"Can you see his face or anything?"
I shook my head again. "No .. he's still in the wall."
I took another shaky breath, and padded slowly towards the fridge. His head followed me from my place beside Ryan, to directly in front of him as I walked over and stood in front of the fridge.
"Can you hear me?" I asked again, softly, politely. "Can you nod if you can hear me?"
He didn't move, the room was silent except for the clock ticking and the mysterious rasping, rattly noise. And then .. he raised a hand, and waved.
Hmm. Well, it wasn't a nod, but he seemed friendly enough.
I breathed a sigh of relief, and bent down, balancing on the balls of my feet, my bum resting on my heels. I waved back at him. "Can you tell me your name?"
He raised a hand and made a strange, pinching motion with his pointer, middle and thumb.
I frowned. "I'm .. I'm sorry?"
He pointed to the right side of his face, and then down to his mouth. He was still all shadow, all black - I couldn't tell if his mouth was moving. Fuck, I couldn't even tell if he had a mouth.
I shook my head, and looked at Ryan and Chip helplessly. "It's like .. he's trying to communicate, but I can't make out what he's saying?"
"Words?" Chip asked, frowning.
I shook my head. "No, he's just .. making these weird gestures. Pointing at stuff, he won't talk."
I leaned forward a little, focusing all my attention on the silhouette in the wall. "Can you tell me your name?"
He raised a hand to his mouth, then back to his ear and down to his mouth again. I shook my head.
"Do you know your name?" I asked again.
He raised his pointer finger, then made a fist, shook it twice, then stuck out his pinky and thumb. His pointer went back to his ear, then back down to his mouth. He did that several more times.
Suddenly, it clicked! It wasn't that he didn't want to speak - he just couldn't.
I gasped, eyes wide. "Oh!"
"Is he talking?" Ryan asked, looking at the fridge curiously.
"No," I said, with slight relief in my voice. "No, he's mute!"
"Mute?" Ryan repeated.
"Of course," Chip said in exasperated relief. "That makes sense!"
I turned back to the boy, and rubbed my right palm against my left one, brought both hands together, and pointed to the shadow boy in front of me. He clapped his hands together, and began to sign quickly and feverishly.
"You know sign language?" Ryan asked, impressed.
I sighed, shaking my head. "No, my sign language is pretty limited. I know how to do the Napoleon Dynamite hand motions to 'The Rose', and I know a bit of the alphabet. But I'm not sure motions to Bette Midler songs or the letters 'Y', 'T', 'A' and 'N' are going to help me out here. I don't suppose either of you know any?"
They both shook their head, and I turned back to the young boy, frustrated.
I shook my head, and made the same three finger grasp he'd made before - it meant no. He stopped signing, and looked at me, head slightly tilted.
I pointed at myself, made the 'no' grasp again, and moved my pointer fingers in clockwise circles. "I can't sign," I said, wishing he could hear me.
He seemed to understand, as he nodded.
I motioned for him to come closer to me, move out from behind the wall. "Come," I said softly. "Please come."
My heart nearly jumped out of my chest, as the silhouette budged and staggered forward, uncertainly and uneasily, like a newborn deer. The closer he came, the clearer he became. He was dark, black as a shadow at first, then a shape grew more solid, than features, blurred, but coming in to focus more as he moved forward, and then -
"Shit!" I gasped, falling back on my bum on the cold linoleum floor behind me.
Ryan was next to me in a second, hand on my shoulder. "You alright? Can you stand? Are you okay?"
I couldn't speak - my eyes were glued to the boy in front of me.
"Holy shit," I managed to choke out.
"What?" Ryan asked, looking at me, then back to the fridge, then back at me again.
"Holy mother of God," I said again, tearing my eyes away from him, and over to Chip. "Chip .. can .. can you see it?"
Chip shook his head, eyes wide. "No, but I can see the aura."
"What's the matter?" Ryan asked, looking between Chip and I in confusion.
"He's .. he's burnt," I said, terrified. "Everywhere .. oh my God, he's burnt."
"Burnt?" Ryan repeated, and looked over at Chip. Chip shrugged, and shook his head.
"I can't see it," he said, holding his hands up defensively. "I can just see a blur, where he's standing. The aura around him, he's putting up a pretty strong defense system."
I tried to focus my thoughts and energy on the boy again, but his appearance had shook me. I don't know what I was expecting .. but this definitely wasn't it. His flesh, all the way from the bottom of his short clad legs, up and down his arms and twisted like a rope around his neck and up the right side of his face, pink and purple raw tinged flesh. Rough and gnarled, his flesh was knotted and charred, it looked like browny purple leather all over his body.
I could've vomited, my God. I took a shaky breath, trying to ignore the severely mangled boy in front of me. I looked at Ryan, and nodded towards his notebook.
"I'll tell you what he looks like," I said, my voice shaking embarrassingly - Ryan clicked his pen and looked at me intently. "Well .. he's a boy. And, apparently, he's a burn victim. I'd say the burns cover ... a good 80, 85 percent of his body. He .. he looks about 4'7, 4'8. About here on me. Probably no older than ten, no younger than seven. There's .. there's a bit of hair left on his head. It's blonde, dirty blonde. His eyes .. eye, actually. He's only got one left, his left eye. It's .. it looks blue. Light blue, closer to grey than any actual blueish tone. He's wearing clothing, it's not burnt at all, though. Khaki shorts. red plaid shirt. Button up, shorter sleeves. He's got no shoes on, and .. God, oh God. His feet look like flippers, Jesus Christ. His toes have kind of ... melted together."
I looked at Chip and shook my head, feeling nauseous simply at the sight of the poor boy. "How am I supposed to communicate with him?"
Chip frowned, and motioned towards the charred little boy five feet in front of me. "Try to .. get in his head."
I shrugged my shoulders helplessly, and looked back at the boy, wincing slightly. The poor thing .. he was looking at me, his one little good eye narrowed. He looked like he was ready to cry.
I smiled, hoping it looked more motivational than disgusted.
I pointed at him, and then motioned to house around me. "Did you ... live here?"
He nodded, then made a fist and pointed to his molten mouth, then up to his mangled ear. He did it again.
"He pointed at his mouth, then up at his ear, kind of like this," I said, showing Ryan and Chip. "He lived here, I think."
I turned back to him, frowning. "I wish I could understand you better .. "
I plopped down on the ground in front of him, and he mimicked me, plopping down a couple feet away from me. I smiled and laughed, and I saw the good half of his mouth turn up, in a grin. He had only one tooth that I could see, the rest seemed to have fallen out.
"He's got one tooth that I can see," I said. "Either he lost the others ones when he died, or he'd begun losing them. He's got this one," I pointed to my own. "Front teeth are gone, I can't see the right side of his mouth anyways. One cuspid tooth, one lateral incisor. I can't see the bottom row, if there even is one .. his lips .. well, they're not there anymore, they're just apart of his face. It's .. it's really gnarly, Ryan. I've never seen anything this bad before."
I motioned to my own face, then at the boy's. "Ouch," I said, tapping a hand against my cheek, and over my arms. "How did you get these?"
He looked at me, eye narrowed in confusion. He pointed at his own arms, and his face, at his burns.
I nodded. "How?" I mouthed.
He pointed to the floor, tapping it lightly.
"The cellar?" I said, motioning down to the floor. "The basement?"
He nodded. He threw his hands into the air, and I realized, with a great shock of horror, that the grunting, rasping noise I'd heard before was coming from him. His gnarled breath, escaping from his melted mouth. He made big motions with his arms and hands.
"Boom," I said, mimicking his hand movements. "Explosion?"
He cocked his head curiously. I searched around the room, frantically. "I need .. a piece of paper, and a pen, or a marker, or something."
Ryan ripped a piece of paper off his notepad and handed it to me. Chip scowered the kitchen table, and tossed me a thick, black, permanent marker from the top of it.
I wrote in big, thick, black letters 'EXPLOSION?', and turned the paper to the boy. He nodded quickly, and made the big motions with his hands once more. I scribbled the word 'IN THE CELLAR?' beneath 'explosion', and turned it to him again. He nodded again, frantically, and pointed at himself, then motioned to walls around him. He made the movement again, making a fist and moving it from his mouth to his ear.
"He keeps making a motion like this," I said, mimicking it for Chip and Ryan. "I think .. I think it means home? Or house, or .. or something like that. This was his home. He keeps going like this, like an explosion. And I wrote the word down and he nodded, and pointed to the basement. So .. there must have been an explosion in the basement here, and ... he must have been in it."
"Can you get a date?" Ryan asked, looking slightly apologetically at me.
I sighed, with a frown. "I can try."
I looked back at the boy. He was looking at me curiously. I glanced behind him, and noticed a bunch of those bright, letter and number magnets on the fridge behind him.
I clapped in excitement, and held up a finger. The boy nodded, and I stood up quickly and grabbed as many numbers and letters as I could from the fridge. I could hear his rasping gurgles from behind me, feel his one eye's gaze as I peeled the magnets from the door.
"What are you doing?" Ryan asked with interest.
"He can't hear me, and he can't talk," I said, gathering the magnets quickly from the door of the fridge. "But he can read, he could read the word 'explosion', so I'm thinking he can probably spell too. If I lie these out .. like this .. he can point, or he can move them. We can't communicate verbally, so we have to do it like this."
I put the letters alphabetically in a line in front of me and the young boy, and then the numbers, 0 through till 9, right below the letters. I pulled the cap off the marker again, and scribbled - almost illegibly in my excitement - across the bottom of the paper.
'CAN YOU POINT AND SPELL OUT YOUR ANSWERS?', I wrote. He looked at it, and nodded.
"I need another piece of paper," I said to Ryan, and he ripped me a fresh one out of his book.
In small, and attempted neat writing, I wrote 'Your Name'.
The boy looked at it, and leaned forward. He tapped on the D, A, N, N again and Y, with his charred, nubbly pointer finger.
"Danny," I said to Ryan. "Danny .. P, r, i, t, c, h. Pritch. Danny Pritch."
'Daniel?' I wrote beneath the first line. He looked at it and nodded.
"Short for Daniel," I said.
'When were you born?'
"May 10th, 1942," I said, watching the little pink, gnarled finger move quick and efficiently over the letters.
'Parents Names?'
"Dora and Alex Pritch," I said, following his quick movements. "Brother ... Sam. Short for Samuel. No sisters."
Ryan was writing feverishly, hand flying back and forth over his book.
'When did you die?'
He didn't move for a moment, looking carefully at the question. He looked up at me, and I smiled apologetically. 'Sorry', I mouthed.
He nodded.
"June 13th, 1952," I said. "He died then, June 13th, 1952 .. in a fire."
'Where was the fire?'
"In the basement," I said, frowning.
He moved away from the letter and number magnets, and pointed at the wall behind the fridge, and then down to the floor. He looked at me, expectantly.
"That wall?" I said, confused.
He shook his head, and pointed again to the wall, and then to the floor. He looked at me again, one eye bugged out.
I shrugged my shoulders, and scrawled beneath my last question, 'Show Me'.
I didn't know what I meant by that, and I don't know how I expected him to know either. But he looked at the words, freshly printed, and then looked up at me. The room was still, the only noise was Danny's gasping, rattling breaths, and Ryan's fast scrawl across the sheet of looseleaf.
Pictures started floating through my head, at rapid speed. Like snapshots, pictures I'd never seen before, memories I'd never taken part in, but things I understood immediately. These were Danny's thoughts, his recollections - his life. He was feeding them to me, from his deceased mind, to my live one.
I can't explain it, and I couldn't even if I tried. But I knew, just knew, all of a sudden and completely inexplicably, what had happened. I knew the old floorplan of the house. I could see it clearly in my head. I knew it was the furnace, the faulty furnace, that had blown. I knew what time of day it was when it happened. I knew what song was on the radio in the kitchen. I knew who was in the house at the time. I knew what time it was when the machine exploded. I knew where I was - where he, Danny, was - when it happened. I knew everything. I could see it, through his once good, youthful and live eyes. I could understand what everything was. I knew more information about this house than the owner now probably even did. I knew it all.
The image was so clear. The information untampered with, crisp and meaningful in my head. I took a deep, shuddery breath, and nodded. Danny looked at me, and pointed to the letters 'S', 'E' and then 'E' once more.
"I see," I said softly, nodding. "I see."
He nodded, and gave me a thumbs up.
"What happened?" Ryan asked me, and I jumped at the sound of his voice - I'd forgotten I wasn't alone.
"I got a picture .. in my head," I said, confused. "Pictures, actually. I .. I don't know how. But they're Danny's memories, I think. I can tell you exactly what happened - it was like this big wave of information, or somethin'."
I peered over at Ryan, who was looking in confusion at me. I shook my head, embarrassed. "I'm sorry .. I told you, I'm no good at these walk throughs. But I can tell you what happened. How Danny died."
"You're doing great, Lo," Ryan said encouragingly. "When did Danny die?"
"1952," I said, looking over the image in my head. "In June, he just finished the fifth grade the day before. I can see a bunch of kids out on the street playing - Danny was going to go out on his bike. His dad, Alex, had just installed a new furnace in the basement - I just get a really clear picture of this bright and shiny, chrome kind of furnace. Hawkins, it says it on the side. Capital letters, red print."
I looked over at the fridge, behind Danny, and at the thick, wooden wall.
"This wall, it wasn't here before. This was all open, right to the front door," I said, motioning at them. "I can even draw out the floor plan for you after, if you'd like. I can just .. see it so clearly. This was all open area, and the staircase wasn't where it is now, it was here. There was no basement door, just a hole in the floor with some stairs going down. Only about twelve steps, it's a pretty short distance, short basement from floor to roof. Maybe 2 meters tall? But it was long ... the same exact size as the main floor."
I frowned, piecing together the next parts in my head. "It was Summer, but it was a really bizarre, unseasonably cold day. Danny's mom, Dora, she turned on the furnace, and it was kicking in. Danny's brother, Sam, he wasn't home. At a friend's, I think. Down the block. Dora was outside, hanging up laundry. Danny was in the basement."
I saw it, and I could feel it, the heat, everywhere. "Something must have happened with the furnace, it must have been faulty .. there was pressure on the bottom gauge. It's got a red handle on it, I don't know, but it's that part down at the bottom. Red handle, and the piece is flat, maybe about an inch thick, seven little pokey things sticking out the side of it. Looks like a buzz saw blade. It started sparking, and Danny saw it, and he was walking to go tell Dora, and ... it just blew."
I heard the roaring in my ears, saw a picture in the back of my mind, of the entire basement, or what I assumed to be the basement, engulfed entirely in flames. Like a tunnel, filled with the inferno. It was like I was still here, in today and in the now, but I was remembering all this information. Like when you're telling someone about a movie you just saw. You can see the movie happening in your mind - you can see every car chase, every beach side scene, everything. It was the same for me - I could see all of this, like it was a movie that I'd seen a million times in theatres. Just that it wasn't. It was real. The pictures were real. The facts were real. The voices, they were real. The screams, the cries. This wasn't a movie, this was life.
"He was maybe fifteen feet from it," I said, hands closing convulsively in my lap. "His right side was towards the furnace, left facing the door. That's why .. I think that's why the majority of burns are on his right side. The initial blast must've done instant damage."
I heard the screams - not his, he couldn't speak, had no voice. They were a woman's screams.
"And she screamed for him," I said quietly. "Dora .. I can hear her voice. She was outside, and she heard it, and she saw the fire .. and she tried to get him, tried to get Danny. I can't see her, but I can hear her calling for him, and she was outside hanging up laundry when it blew. It's not his memory, this part .. he can't hear her, never did. But the house - her screaming is still in the house, it's stuck in these walls."
I could see the pain, not feel it - it was bizarre.
"He didn't die right away," I said, trying to shake the images out of my brain. "He was far enough away that it didn't kill him instantly. He was alive a good two, three minutes before the fumes knocked him out. He can't speak, and he can't hear .. he couldn't even call for help."
"What about the Mother?" Ryan asked softly.
I frowned in concentration. "Dead. Fire got her too, she couldn't get back out once she'd gone in. I think .. when they put it out. She would have been found around here, this spot I'm sitting. Face down, left arm out, right arm underneath her. Give or take a few feet. He was in the basement, probably about four meters from the stairs. Fetal position. Cause of death would have been carbon monoxide poisoning for her. Combination of poisoning and actual damage from the fire for Danny - probably listed as carbon monoxide on the death certificate, but it was more shock than anything."
"If she'd gotten to him, would he have survived?" Ryan asked.
I pondered that question, and looked back at the memories he'd given me. "No. I don't think he would have. I think ... the damage would've been too severe. Even if he'd been an extra fifteen feet away. The heat and the initial explosion would've been too much."
I sniffed, as more images flooded into the back of my brain. "The lady that lives in this house now .. she probably hears music a lot, doesn't she?"
Ryan looked at Chip, and Chip shook his head, a simply flabbergasted look on his face.
"Yes," Ryan confirmed. "Yeah."
"Unforgettable," I said, biting my lip absentmindedly. "By Nat King Cole. It was number one in 1952, that's what was playing on the radio in the kitchen. The lady that lives here now, she must hear that all the time."
"Is that Danny's memory?" Chip asked.
I shook my head. "It can't be .. he was never able to hear music. I think it's stuck in the house's memory. Because I can hear the mom screaming, and that's obviously not Danny's memory. I heard a big explosion, then screams .. and then a fire, and over the fire, I can hear 'Unforgettable'. And then it just goes dead."
I shuddered - it was a creepy memory. The crackling and sizzling of fire. The haunting voice above it all. That's why darling, it's incredible, that someone so unforgettable, thinks that I am unforgettable too ..
"The house has a memory?" Ryan asked.
I nodded. "It's imprinted into the walls, forever. It's something tragic that happened here, and it's going to be here for all of eternity."
I looked around the room, more images clogging my mind. "The back of the home burnt down. The basement was destroyed, the kitchen and dining room gutted. I don't know what happened to the Dad or the other son. The extent of the information is what Danny was alive for, mainly. Then it gets fuzzy. But .. the back of the home was demolished. The front was relatively intact, infact it looked near perfect. You never would've known the place was ravaged by a fire by looking at the front alone. The explosion must've been in the South of the building, that's where the furnace must have been located."
I sighed, and ran a hand through my hair. "That's all I got about the fire."
Ryan finished writing, and dropped his pen, shaking his hand and grimacing. "Is that why he's still here? Because of the fire?"
I turned to Danny, who'd been sitting patiently and unflinchingly the entire time I'd explained to Ryan what I saw. He was a statue, a mangled, blackened by flames statue. He looked over at me, and nodded.
I took the pen, and wrote on the scrap paper:
'Why are you still here?'
He looked at it, and moved quickly and without thought over to the magnets.
"Laura," I said.
"Who's Laura?" Ryan asked softly, I could feel his eyes staring through the back of my skull.
'Who is Laura?'
Danny looked at me, and flinched. A picture flew through my brain, fast but clear.
"She lives here," I said. "By herself. She's about my height, a little taller, maybe. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Very skinny, very very skinny. She's got a really long neck, and really straight teeth. She always wears her hair in a bun. Danny's here for Laura. She must be the person who lives here now."
"Why is he here for Laura?" Ryan asked.
But he had already answered. I shook my head at his answer, and looked at him carefully.
"She doesn't," I said softly. "No."
He nodded his head furiously, and pointed to the six letters over and over, tapping the ground.
"What's he saying?" Chip asked.
I stared at the boy for a moment, still unable to take in that mangled face, but sighed.
'Show Them', was all I wrote.
"What does that mean?" Ryan asked in confusion.
"Just watch," I said quietly.
I focused on his hands, the stumps of gnarled pinky flesh, and I watched carefully as he leaned forward, and began to move the letters out of line, and into a row above.
"Holy .. fucking .. shit," I heard Ryan mutter behind me.
N E E D M E
(Chip)
Clear as day, no bones about - the letter magnets had moved. Harlow's hands had been clenched in her lap, tightly folded into each other. I saw it. Ryan saw it. Harlow knew it was going to happen.
And now we sat quietly in the dining room of the house. A quaint, but brightly lit room that was a nice contrast to the rest of the relatively dark home. There were big, beautiful windows everywhere in the room, the sun was beating in brilliantly, the light making the otherwise dark and dreary atmosphere somewhat bearable.
In front of us, was page after page of notes Ryan had gotten from Harlow. Pages and pages of his slanted print, crammed onto every line and in every corner, all up and down the margins. Added notes on top of added notes, diagrams, names and dates of birth and death. All from Harlow, from her thirty minute conversation with the entity that I couldn't even see.
We all sat at Laura's dining room table, and we had been for about half an hour now. I'd put the kettle on, and we'd seated ourselves (Harlow on one side, Ryan next to her and myself opposite of them) comfortably around the dark, pine table.
Across from me, arms almost touching, Ryan and Harlow sat in comfortable silence, Ryan's gaze flickering over to Lo every minute or so, her own eyes sweeping over to him every now and then. When they'd catch each other's gaze, they'd both flush and look away in embarrassment. I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing at the two of them - dear old Ryan and Harlow, twenty six and twenty-five, respectively, acting like a pair of awkward, nervous little preteen nerds. Adorable!
"Where is he now?" Ryan asked, looking at me, then at Harlow.
I frowned, and concentrated on the house. "Kitchen?" I guessed, and looked across the table at Lo.
She took a sweeping glance into the kitchen, brow furrowed. "Behind the fridge again."
Ryan nodded, taking a shaky breath. "Laura's coming home in about an hour or so. I'll stay a bit longer and explain some of the stuff we found out, but tomorrow we'll have a sit down meeting with her, once the crew processes and cross checks the information we got today."
I nodded, but Harlow was distracted, gaze looking out into the backyard. Her warm, tanned skin was slightly pale, clammy looking. Her eyes were glassy, distracted.
"You alright?" I asked her, and I saw Ryan look over at her too.
Her eyes flitted back onto me, and she smiled and nodded. "I'm fine, yeah."
"You look a bit distant," I said. "You gettin' a cold?"
"I'm not," she denied. "I'm just .. tired."
"Tired?" Ryan asked, and she looked up at him and nodded.
He was looking down his nose at her, corners of his mouth turned up slightly. She was smiling at him, face only inches away from his broad shoulder.
"Just a little," she said softly.
"Didn't sleep last night?" he asked.
"I did," she said, with a little frown. "I was feeling fine this morning, I'm just .. drained. I feel wiped out."
I laughed, and patted her hand from across the table. "It's because of the walk through. It drains you, mentally and on occasion, physically."
She sighed. "That makes sense, I guess. I feel sluggish."
I nodded. "It's just awful sometimes, especially if the spirit you've been communicating with has been malevolent in anyway. Pains and drains of being a Medium."
She looked at me, fake pout on her remarkable face. "I don't see you all pooped out and energyless."
I grinned, and spread my arms open snarkily. "That's because I'm a pro, young Grasshopper."
She laughed, but yawned mid-giggle. "Ugh, I wish I was too. Teach me everything you know, Chippy."
"You already almost known as much as I do," I said, with a little wink. "It'll take time, Lo. The more walk-throughs and readings you do, the easier they become. The less tiring, the less draining."
She nodded, and rested her chin on her palm. "I hope so, Chippers."
I stood from the table, empty mug dangling in my hand. "You'll be alright. You done with your cup, Harlow?"
She nodded, and handed her empty glass over. "Thanks."
"You done?" I asked Ryan, and he shook his head, moving the glass a bit closer to him.
"Couple more sips, I can bring it in after. Thanks though," he said, with an appreciative smile.
I nodded, and stepped cheerfully away from the room, and in towards the dimly lit kitchen. "Well, I'm just going to run these under the taps, put 'em in the dishwasher. Hate to leave a mess. I've got to get going, soon."
"Do you need a lift back to the hotel?" Harlow asked, folding her hands daintily in front of her. "I've got to get going as well in the next little bit."
"I'd appreciate it," I said happily. "Thanks, Lo!"
She grinned. "Just lemme know when you're ready."
I nodded, and excused myself from the room, sliding into the kitchen quietly. I made sure to thump over to the sink, and pop the tap on as loudly as I could. I dumped the cups carefully under the running tap, and sidled back over sneakily to the edge of the dining room door frame.
Alright, fiiiiiine. I didn't care about leaving a mess. I wanted to eavesdrop. To be honest, being a Medium my whole life had made me somewhat of a Nosy Nelly. I was just so used to hearing what all the spirits said and were thinking, that I think the whole all-knowing thing had just sorta ... rubbed off on me.
I knew there was somethin' going on between the two of them. But if there were ever two more secretive people in the world than Ryan and Harlow, I know I'd never met them. The only possibility of them letting anything slip in this house, is if I wasn't around to witness it. So reallllly - I had to spy! It was my only choice.
.. Oh, hush up. You know you'd do the same.
From my perch in the kitchen, I could see Ryan, but not Harlow, and just barely. If I moved any closer, he'd be able to see me, but if I moved farther away, I wouldn't be able to hear either of them. I stood, still as a statue, and caught the soft conversation coming from their spot at the table.
" - did really good," Ryan said, a little smile on his handsome young face - he was looking at her delightedly.
"Thanks," I heard Harlow say, in that honey smooth voice of hers - I could see her chest, and her arm, nestled unusually close to Ryan. "It was so nerve-racking - I really had no idea what I was doing."
"You did amazingly," he said, and I saw him lower his head closer to hers - his dark brown hair almost touching her milk chocolate colored tresses.
"You're too sweet," she said bashfully, and I heard a flirty little edge in her voice - God, how strange it was coming from her! I'd known this girl since she was six.
"It's nice of you to drive Chip home," he said quietly, and I saw his broad hand lovingly envelope her small one. "When do you have to leave?"
"Soon," she said softly, sadly, taking her free hand and rubbing the top of his gently. "I've got practice at 6:00, until 8:00. Then a term paper due tomorrow - I haven't really started it yet."
"Of course you haven't," he laughed, cheek nestled against the top of her head. "Procrastinator."
"Am not," she denied, and I could see a small little grin light up on her face.
"You are too," he said jokingly.
"Not always," she said quietly, and I saw (with sheer freakin' delight!) her lift her head, and press those plush pink lips against his own.
It was soft and sweet, innocent as two young, high school sweethearts. But there was passion hidden away in there - her chest pressed against his arm, his right hand poised loosely on the nape of her neck.
I grabbed my chest, and rolled away from the counter, back towards the sink. So they were together, those sneaky little buggers! I tip-toed back to the sink, popping the tap back down. I shook the mugs, and perched them in the drying rack next to the sink.
I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!
There was something in the air, something between the two of them, and there had been all day. I'd sensed it from the moment she'd driven up! The atmosphere around them when they looked at each other, the tension in the room when it wasn't just the two of them on their own, the ... the pure, thick and irrevocably lustful way they looked at each other. The way he looked at her, with his full attention and complete and total sincere interest. The way she stayed so close to him, as if she was afraid to let him leave her sights for even a moment, her earnest and obvious enjoyment of his company.
My Goddddd, they were sooooo dreamy!
I made sure to thump around a bit, before I snuck back into the dining room where the two lovey dovey birds were seated. They'd broken apart, how long ago I wasn't sure, and were seated a little farther apart than they had been before. Harlow's face was impervious, unbothered and politely interested. Ryan looked a bit like a tomato. A cute tomato. But a tomato.
"Did I miss anything?" I asked casually, taking a seat back in my creaky wooden chair.
"Nothing really," Harlow sighed. "Just Ryan laughing at my inability to write essays on time."
"Not laughing at it," he said fairly. "Cheerfully noting."
She grinned, and he and I both laughed. I saw a quick exchange of glances between the two of them, as Harlow leaned back into her chair, and Ryan moved slightly farther away from her thin side. I don't know who they thought they were fooling - my God they sucked at subtlety.
"You guys sure I didn't miss anything?" I asked again, looking rather knowingly between the two of them.
Ryan shook his head, avoiding eye contact with me, while Harlow simply smiled, looking cheerfully at me.
"Naw," she said plainly. "Nothin' new, anyways."
Authors Note: Helllllooooo, lovely readers!
Alright. Before you get mad and start throwing things at my face, let me explain why it took forever to update, as I'm sure a lot of you will be able to relate to this story. So, I had actually finished this chapter about .. a week ago. Little less than a week, actually. I was soooo excited. All I had to do was do a little editing and tweaking and post it up on this wonderful site we call FF. But of course, the day I go on to start spell checkin' and junk, it says "Cannot Connect to Internet" everytime I try and get on there. So I was furious, as I should be. So I go downstairs, only to see my Dad poking around the back of the tower. And my heart just sunk.
See, my dad's the kind of guy, who thinks - thinks - he's really good at fixing things. If you're like "Oh, the bath tub is taking a while to drain". He's right up there with pliers, a napkin and a bottle of coke. Nevermind Drain-o. If you say "oh, I wish I had more room in my closet". He's in your closet, with toilet paper rolls smashed together with paper mache and electrical tape, attempting to hang pants off it. If you're like "oh, I wish I could rebuild these back steps", he's out there with a hammer and tape and some pieces of wood he found floating in the river. He tries, reeeeally hard. But he's just ... not that great at fixing things. Not very handy. An awesome Dad. But he is no Mike Holmes.
So. As you can imagine, he attempted to fix the tower. Six days later, it came back from the shop. And here I am today, reeling from lack of FanFic, Twitter and all that fun junk and with a pounding headache from argueing with my dear ol' Pa about how he's not allowed to touch the modem anymore. Ever. If something happens, he is banned from touching it, forever. Jeeze louise.
Anyways! That's why it's taken forever for this update. I swear, not my fault, and the next chapter will come in the next ... 10 days. I am going to try my hardest to reach that deadline.
The next chapter will explain a little more about why the little boy's haunting the home, but I could only fit so much into one chapter, you know? Anyways! I'm stoked to hear all of your opinions on Chad and Chip and everything. I'm definitely including Chad, within the next couple of chapters, most likely. Now! I have another question for you lovely lovelies! What are your feelings on Michelle Belanger? I hated her at first. But now, I love her to bits. I think she's just fabulous, with her tight black clothing and choppy, multi colored hair. Seriously, she's a Psychic Vampire. Hello? Anybody that claims to be a Psychic Vampire should be worshipped like no other, bahahaha. I'd love to know your thoughts on her, though!
Oh good Lord, this is turning into a ridiculously long Author's note, and I haven't even started thanking you guys yet! HERE I GOOOOO!
PureAngelEyes: you do not even understand how much money I would pay to see you krump like Marge Simpson, lololol. i'm stoked you liked those parts! because there will definitely be more like it to come :) thanks for the review, bud!
futureauthor62: we are both chip fans! that man makes me laugh my ass off, he's just so serious and adorable with his cute little googley eyed glasses. oh squeal!! i'm so stoked you liked the chapter, hope you enjoyed this one too :)
ferret assassin nin: ahhh, i love your reviews, they never fail to make my day!! i appreciate the comments and (attempted) criticism! you are outstanding, haha! i can't wait to read your story - y'know, now that i ACTUALLY have a freakin' computer again. i'm exactly like you, man, i always worry my chapters drag on. i'll upload them onto the document thing and it's like "10,792 words", and i'm like AHHH SHATTTTTT. no one's going to read this. it's too long. yet you always come back, and for that, i think we should be best friends or somethin'. I LOVE YOUUUUU! thanks for the review you beautiful, beautiful assassin!
Purple With A Purpose: hahaha! i'm so glad you actually understand the quotes! i'll type something that makes me laugh, but i'm always worried no one else will understand it, so i take it out :/ you make my life with your comments, thanks a million bazillion!
TJToxic: oh god, i will FIGHT you for heather's platonic love. she is my herooo! she seems a little off .. which i think is why i love her. HERE'S A FAB IDEA. lets meet up and go find ryan and heather and just be their best friends. i have this awesome mental image of us holding their hands and running through a field of daisys. oooh, beautiful! perhaps that'll be my next fic. 'ellah and tj and ryan and heather - friends forevermore in a field of flowers". best idea ever? i think so. (L)
runnintoxstandstill: you are hyper. i love you. i love your reviews. i love you and your hyper reviews. that is all, please be my friend forever.
Stufoo: skdhiuhaskjnfiue! loved your review! simple and right to the point, you're amazing, haha! you enjoy my humor? i enjoy you. :D
voll3yg1rl: bahaha, loved the review! i'm from winnipeg, manitoba. i don't blame you if you don't know where that is. no one ever does, not even people that live here. ahhh, you're not in BC anymore?! lame! you missed the olympics! besides toronto, vancouver is my favourite place in all of the great white north. ahhh, i love bein' a canuck. you totally called this chapter too, i am MIGHTY impressed. hope you have a good one, thanks for the review! it's even better than a steaming plate of chessey, gravy-filled poutine. and THAT'S sayin' something.
Aangs fangirl1214: my GODDDDD, you reviews just make my life!! like, did you go to reviewing 101 classes or somethin'? cause you're epitome of perfect reviewer. *grovels at feet* i'm so stoked you liked the chapter! hopefully you like this one just as much, or maybe a little more, haha! thank you thank you thank you! (L) xo love forever, your number one fan, ella!
kcollins720: updated! i swear, i'm gonna try and update sooner next time, just for you!
lindzxcheshire: WIFEY, I ALMOST DIDN'T RECOGNIZE YOU. where is mad lindz hatter? hmm? NOW YOU ARE CHESHIRE. i'm not gonna lie, here. i drink a lot. remembering you're no longer hatter, this is going to take it's tole on me. i hope you can live with that. JUST KIDDING. i still love you and want to birth your chillens. or, make you birth them. i don't know. whichever one's down with that. i don't know if i'm up for that kinda pain, you seem a lot more ballsy and hardcore than me. and don't worry! i know it seemed like a filler chapter. but it was very necessary to include those parts. especially the first bit. there's some foreshadowing in there, but i'm givin' you no more hints than that. :D LOVE YEWWW.
ashleymaria: hellooooo muffin! thank you for the review! hope you're well, and hope you enjoyed the chapter! take care, thanks again bud! (L)
SurriB: ahh, glad you liked it! nat, the dumbass on the volleyball team, IS unfortunately based off someone i know in real life. but natalie's a lot smarter. i know. it's terrible. you were deployed?! wait, where?! oh god, i am anxiety ridden now. take care of yourself! the fact that you're still keen to read this after being deployed and having to have it be sent through email makes my heart explode with loooove! you are absolutely, positutely, the most amazing person in the world. you be careful!!
Kiss Me I Bite: NEW REVIEWER, HOLAAAAAA!! thank you for that amazing review! it made me laugh and squeal and everythang! you may have fallen in love with the story, but i have fallen in love with YOU! thanks for the review, you hot piece of anonymous author, you!
heyymelx3: OH MY GODDDD. if i worked in a store, and i saw eilfie walk through the door, i would shit pounds and pounds of excitement all over the place, jump the counter, and hug/crush her until she called the police - you have much more self restraint than i do! if you ever meet ryan, i want to be told about it immediately. i want all the details. WANNNNNT. you're now my number one resource for all of penn state's PRS happenings. did you go to that open house thing they had? thank you for the review! i adored it, almost as much as i adore you.
OKAY. longest authors note in the history of authors note? maybe. i apologize for my blabbing. i'm just so stoked i finally have the internet again, oh goddd! it's so wonderful! now! before i wrap this thing up, a lot of you i've noticed don't like sophie. and i'm gonna be honest here - you're gonna hate her even more before you like her. but i swear to you guys, sophie will more than make up for being a total bitchface. i just can't tell you how, but i promise she will :) AND. not in this chapter, but in the previous one - at least two or three of you noted how it was kind of a filler chapter - i guarantee you, there was a lot more to it than you'd think. there's a lot of foreshadowing goin' on in there, more than you'd think. that's all the hints i'm givin' though! mwahaha.
thanks again for all your reviews! you guys are just fuckin' amazing. that's all i can even say about you. :) take care guys! have a good beginning of march, woo woo!
love; ellah!