“They drove down to Portland to visit my grandma. She’s in hospice. Hasn’t been doing well since my grandpa passed,” Jordan answered in a low whisper. Lane wrote down the facts in his journal, only occasionally glancing up to catch a glimpse of Jordan’s lips.
There was something about those rose petal lips that overwhelmed his thought process; what would it be like to kiss a girl like that? Kissing was not an activity Lane was tangibly familiar with. That was Luna’s department. Boys, girls, non-binary people of every flavour were always on his sister’s radar, and she’d often kiss and tell him all about the experience ad nauseum. It sounded like something he’d want to try but had next to no idea how to go about it. Just as well, he thought, I’ve got a job to do. Someone needs help, not a kiss.
Luna stopped outside the bedroom, waiting for her brother and Jordan to catch up. “This the room?” she asked, gesturing with her head.
Jordan nodded.
Cautiously, Luna tapped a foot on the royal blue carpet on the other side of the door. Nothing. She stuck her hand into the room as if testing the waters. Lane noticed all the hair on Luna’s arm suddenly stood up on end, like she’d grabbed hold of a Van de Graff generator, creating a high concentration of static electricity or an unusual magnetic field. That wasn’t uncommon. There was definitely some kind of… Presence in the room.
Lane flipped on his Maglite and swept the room. Jordan gasped at the sight. It looked as though a small tornado had ravaged everything from the bed, the contents of the closet, and the dresser that had been pushed up against the window. In addition to the disaster spread out over the floor, several smaller objects hung in the air, orbiting nothing in particular. Shirts, a small porcelain figurine, and a hairbrush were all suspended, rotating at different speeds.
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