11:11 AM.
A small part of Ron wants to laugh at the coincidence of the string of ones. But the larger part of Ron—the groggy part—just groans. She had gone straight home and to bed after following Carl and his guys, and got a decent amount of sleep too, but somehow she still feels like she didn’t sleep at all.
She isn’t sure if her heart is racing because she was woken up suddenly, or because of the dream she had. She only remembers snippets of it and even those are quickly fading away. What she does remember is that she was back in the foster home sitting at the dinner table, Mary screaming at her, calling her big and stupid, and Chrys or the other kids nowhere—just her and Mary. Ron hated being alone with Mary.
Another knock.
“Come in,” Ron says, sitting up in bed and covering her legs—she was sleeping in her underwear and a tank—with the itchy quilt.
Giselle opens the door and walks in wearing her pajamas, a white camisole dress. She leaves the door open. She sits on the edge of the bed facing Ron so that the right side of her body is visible, most notably her thigh thick with burn scars.
“Sorry about yesterday,” she says.
“It’s fine.” Ron yawns. “And you were right. We shouldn’t get Carl involved.”
Giselle turns her body more towards Ron, a cautious but hungry look on her face. “Why do you say that?”
For once, the pure, unadulterated truth would be perfect. As much as Ron enjoys concocting lies, it’s a relief to tell the truth. It’s so much easier after all.
“Do you know if anyone is gifted in this town?” Ron says.
“Most everyone in this town hates the gifted. They wouldn’t be welcome here. But it’s not like we can tell who is and isn’t gifted.” Giselle shrugs. “So I guess it’s possible there could be. Why? Did you see someone?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. I think it’s pretty likely they’re gifted, but I don’t think this person is here willingly.” Ron looks over at the dolls on the dresser, remembering that man’s screams. “Last night, I spoke to Carl at the bar. He seemed like a real ass so I decided not to ask him for help. He mentioned having ‘something important to do’ so I followed him to some sort of cabin in the forest.”
“Yeah, that’s where Carl lives. A bit in the forest down Gravel Road.”
“Did you know he has a basement?”
She shrugs. “I’m not surprised. Everyone ‘round here does.”
“It looks like he’s holding someone hostage down there. Someone gifted, I think.”
Giselle turns her whole body to Ron now, lifting her legs onto the bed and sitting cross-legged. Ron notices she’s wearing baby pink panties and looks away quickly, back at those creepy dolls.
She keeps her eyes there as Giselle says, “What does this person look like?”
Ron shakes her head, meeting Giselle’s gaze again. “No clue. He was under a sheet. But not dead. I don’t know why they covered him like that.”
“You sure it’s a man?”
“I’m pretty sure.”
“And what makes you think he’s gifted?”
“I don’t know. It’s just a suspicion. But, even if he isn’t gifted, do you think it’s right to let Carl keep a man hostage? We should report this.”
“We don’t know if he is a hostage for sure, though. Did he look tied up or anything?”
“Maybe he was tied up under the sheet.”
Giselle sighs. “But you don’t know for sure. Maybe it was just one of his friends sleeping and they covered themselves in the sheet. His friends were there too, right?”
“Yeah, and they were all watching Carl do something on the computer by the sheet guy. One of them said something about a monster.”
Giselle chuckles. “Ron, don’t get so worked up. Carl and his friends are into video games. One of them was sleeping and the others were probably just watching him play one of those dumb games.”
“But I heard shouting. I heard someone say, ‘Stop it,’ and ‘Let me go.’”
“Haven’t you ever been around guys playing video games? They shout all kinds of dumb nonsense.”
“Yeah, but—”
Ron’s phone chimes. She picks it up immediately and opens it.
It’s a text from Chrys, saying, “Check your email. No charger so I keep phone off.”
Ron smiles and types out quickly, “Yeah cuz you forgot your charger dingus. I’ll check.”
She stares at the phone for a bit longer, waiting for another message.
“Anyway,” Giselle says, getting off of the bed, “Iris didn’t make breakfast today since she went down to open the shop early, so if you’re hungry, you can come have some cereal with me.” She stands in front of the bed. “I know you think Carl is up to something, but trust me, he’s all talk and no results. It’s good that you decided to leave him out of this though. Come on.”
She heads out the door.
Ron looks at the phone for a bit more, but nothing comes. She gets up and tugs on a pair of jean shorts. She checks the phone one last time—still nothing—so she puts it in her pocket.
She goes down the hall to the kitchen. Giselle has already placed two bowls and spoons and a gallon jug of milk on the table. She’s pouring some cereal into her bowl while standing up. It’s a generic brand of some sort of puffed corn cereal. She pours in milk as Ron reaches the table.
Ron pours out her own bowl of cereal and milk and sits down across from Giselle.
“Listen, Giselle. I know you think it’s probably nothing, but I think we should look into Carl more.”
Giselle shovels a spoon of piled-high cereal in her mouth, crunching loudly.
“What if he really is holding someone hostage?” Ron says, touching the sides of the bowl with her hand, enjoying the chill of it. She can already feel a bead of sweat running down her back. “And what if that person really is gifted? They might know where the camp is.”
Giselle points her spoon at Ron.
