Cold Hands

Hot Sauce

I awoke in the morning to the weight of a dark, blurry, faintly luminescent figure pressing down at the end of my bed. I screamed and scrambled upright.

"Chill, man," Jethro said as he came into focus.

"Can you..." I started loudly, then stopped when I remembered my mother was probably asleep right across the hall. "—stop—doing this?" I finished through gritted teeth.

"Jeez, cool it, you look like you've seen a ghost."

As a policy, I didn't tolerate dry wit this early in the morning. "Most people knock," I said as I tried to flatten my staticky hair with my hand.

"I just wanted to apologize," he said with an air of reticent formality that made me want to pinch his eye. "For last night. I was out of line."

"Don't," I snapped, pulling myself out of bed and dragging the blanket with me.

"I will." He stuck out his lip defiantly. "Because clearly it upset you."

"No, it didn't," I said. "Actually, it was kind of amazing. So quit being a boob about it."

"Well it won't happen again anyway," he said. "That wasn't right."

"Fine," I said, wheeling over to throw open the moldy window curtains. Warm light streamed in; the sky was uncharacteristically bright. A bird twittered somewhere off in the trees.

I realized I had only ever seen Jethro in the dark. In the morning light, he was a lot more ethereal. The warm yellow rays from the window seemed to melt straight through him and illuminate him from the inside, glistening dust motes drifting lazily through his somehow less-than-solid form.

I bundled myself in my blanket and moved past him. "Don't look at me," I said. "I'm crusty in the mornings."

I reached to grab my phone off my night stand, but my hand paused above the blinking red alarm clock that I never used. It was already 10:27.

I swore. "I'm late for school!" Why hadn't my mom come to wake me up? She always came to wake me up in time for school.

"You stay right here," I commanded.

"I'm not going anywhere," Jethro said.

"Don't go disappearing or anything!"

He saluted. "Yessir."

"And don't call me Sir."

"Nosir."

I rolled across the hall and knocked on my mom's door. "Mom?" I said.

No response. I peeked inside. The room was as spotless as was to be expected. The bed was impeccably made. So she had already left.

Or...she had never come home last night.

I circled the whole first floor, calling her over and over again, but the house was quiet. I checked out front; her car was still gone. I pulled out my cell phone and dialed her number. It went straight to voicemail.

"Miss Steeley?" I tried, sitting dejectedly in the foyer. I went back to the hall, but I hesitated before tapping on her door. I had never seen the inside of her room before and I wasn't sure I wanted to.

She didn't answer anyway. I tried the knob, but it was locked.

I returned to my bedroom. Jethro looked like an obedient, slightly transparent puppy perched on my bed.

"There's nobody home," I said irritably. "Did you see anybody leave?

Jethro shrugged uselessly.