There's a boy, a treehouse, and a 30 year old unsolved murder awaiting Angela in her new town of Grand Couteau, Louisiana.
[Halloween special 2016]
[Highest ranking #99]
[Most important ranking #666]
With Scott’s promise firm in her mind, Angela returned to her room -- hopefully unnoticed -- and immediately fell asleep. Her fainting episode and everything else that had happened had drained her. She dreamt uncomfortably of someone whispering to her. When she awoke, it was almost dinnertime and she felt wiped still. Her head ached, so that she didn't want to get up from her cocoon of covers and pillows, but her stomach ached more. Angela groaned and hauled herself off of her bed.
Immediately she remembered how little time Scott had left: a little over 24 hours. That helped clear her mind. Something was definitely up with him. He kept saying not to go back to the bookstore, but Angela needed to know what had gone on there.
Angela stumbled downstairs, where her mom and dad were talking quietly in the kitchen. They stopped when they saw Angela, and she knew then that they had been discussing her. “What's for dinner?” Angela asked, with feigned casualness.
“Chicken noodle soup and grilled cheese sandwiches,” Mrs. Grodberg said, turning back to the pot. The ultimate comfort food.
Her dad came over to Angela and pressed the back of his hand to Angela’s forehead. “I heard you fainted today,” he said. “You don't have a fever, at least.”
“I called the doctor. We’ll go down there tomorrow,” Mrs. Grodberg said.
Angela didn't object, but she was nervous about what a doctor might find wrong with her. She was caught in some supernatural web. What would that show up as?
“Do you feel up to setting the table?” Mrs. Grodberg asked, looking at Angela worriedly over her shoulder.
“Yeah, okay,” Angela said, moving automatically toward the cabinet where the plates were stored. She was again considering that she might be insane.
“We’re sitting on the porch today,” Mrs. Grodberg said, as she ladled soup into bowls. “It’s so stuffy in the dining room.”
Angela’s heart sank. She would be within sight of Scott’s treehouse.
“Anything wrong, Angela?” Mr. Grodberg asked, observing her closely.
“No,” Angela said quickly. It’s just that Scott had 24 hours and Angela was no closer to finding out how to give him more time.
She took the plates out to the back porch. It was nice out; a slight breeze whistled through the trees instead of the air being laden with heavy heat like it was in the afternoon. The sky was overcast, and it felt like rain would fall tonight.
Soon everything was brought out. Angela sat herself to where she was looking directly at the treehouse. She didn't want it at her back, even though she didn't think Scott was even aware that he was a ghost or some sort of reincarnation. She couldn't shake the nameless fear haunting her, though.
Her parents started to converse about the plans they had for their house. They planned to redo several rooms and outlined what all needed to be done. Angela meanwhile occupied her thoughts with what she should do next. She had no plan and no idea. She ran through the facts, but everything was so jumbled and confusing in her head.
“We can redo your room too, Angela,” her mom said. “You probably need some new furniture. You’ve had the same set since you were a toddler.”
Angela, startled out of her contemplations of who Scott’s murderer was, turned toward her mother in a delayed reaction. “Seriously?”
Her mom smiled and nodded. “What do you think you would want?”
Something more mature, Angela immediately thought. She didn't say that to her parents, though. They were adverse to her growing up. She had always thought being an only child meant she was smothered more than kids with siblings. That was another reason liked she hung out at Chloe’s house so much: they gave Chloe more freedom than Angela’s parents gave her. “I like those white on white rooms.”
She could tell from her mother's face that Mrs. Grodberg was questioning her daughter’s contemporary style, being a firm believer in vintage herself, but she simply said, “Okay.”
Imagining a room makeover was a welcome distraction for Angela, but it only lasted as long as dinner did. Once she had finished her meal, she could only think of how shallow it was to plan to redecorate when Scott’s life was in mortal danger.
However, she was at a loss of what to do, and she hated it.
Angela excused herself from the table and retreated to her room. Using the her new notebook from Agreste, she started to list down all of the facts: everyone that Scott had mentioned and everyone that had mentioned Scott. Even Noah made it on the list, giving Angela a pause.
He didn't want to be seen with her when he was with his friends. His secretive behavior made that obvious. Angela wasn't cool enough for him or something. She gritted her teeth. He was so stupid, not realizing how serious this was. Scott Hemmis would die -- had died -- and no one knew how or why. She wished Noah could see Scott. Maybe that would wake him up.
Looking at her list, Angela was barely able to comprehend all of it. She got as far as piecing together what Scott had been doing these last few days, and then she fell asleep. She felt partially pulled out of reality, and in a sense, maybe she was.
She woke up with a sense of urgency tightening her stomach muscles. She wanted to talk to Miss Agreste -- Mrs. Conseil -- and find out what she thought about the content of Angela’s letter, but how would she get over there?
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This was a bit of a boring chapter, but I hope it conveys her sense of loss about what to do.
