BEYOND US
Checking for a sign that the Mitchells may be home, I look past the flowers to the driveway and see Neola’s car parked there. I stand on the path that runs up to Ryden's blue house, my backpack containing my laptop, my notebook and pen, as well as an extra jumper in case it cools down. My bike is chained to the front fence, and I hold my helmet with one of my hands.
It had taken a fair while to reach his house with my super slow riding, my still recovering legs stiff and sore with most movements. But if I had have used that as an excuse, we would have never have made a start on Ryden's list.
"I guess they're home," Ryden says. I look to him and raise an eyebrow.
"They better be after it took me just under an hour to get over here and almost got run over by that guy in the jeep," I say and Ryden laughs, "It wasn't funny."
"No, but your reaction was priceless," he says.
I roll my eyes and Ryden helps me to walk up to the big, white painted, and wooden front door. I raise my fist and knock three times. A minute passes, and just as I'm about to knock again, the doorknob moves from the other side and the door opens.
Standing in its place is a tall, strongly built guy, who looks like he's in twenties. His eyes match Ryden and Christopher's, but his nose is different to theirs and stubble covers the most of his jaw line and a bit down his neck.
"If you're selling something or wanting money for a fundraiser, you're best to just leave and go and try the neighbour's instead," he tells me in a gruff and deep voice.
"Uh... I... um," I stutter, trying to form words. He raises his eyebrows, waiting for me to say what I want to say.
"Harry Mitchells?" I ask. A frown crosses his face.
"Yeah. Do I know you?" he asks, scratching behind his ear.
"No. I'm here for Christopher. Is he in?" I ask Harry. He looks behind him for a few seconds, before turning back to me and sighing and his face relaxing.
"He's upstairs. Probably still asleep. If you're willing to wait ten or fifteen minutes, I can wake him up," Harry offers.
"Um, I guess that would be okay. If you don't mind, that is," I reply. He shrugs.
"It'll be fine. Come in and just sit down at the table. I'll make some tea when I come back down," he says.
Harry steps aside and I walk through, still at the aid of Ryden who walks by side. I walk over to the kitchen table and sit down with my back to the kitchen. I take off my backpack and put it at the side of my chair and leave the helmet there as well.
From my seat I can see the television on in the next room and out to the back porch. Ryden sits across from my side, blocking my view of the television and the morning program playing on it; but it's still loud enough for me to hear what's going on.
"Today in London we'll see a maximum of ten degrees and a minimum of four..." the weather girl announces. No wonder it's so bloody cold out there... I'll thank myself later for bringing the extra jumper.
"So what kind of tea do you like? White tea, black tea?" Harry asks, returning quicker than I thought he would. I turn in my seat to face him.
"Uh, I'll take a white tea with two sugars, thanks," I tell him.
Harry nods and takes out two tea cups from one of the higher cupboards. He fills up the kettle and turns it on. After all that, he turns to face me, leaning on the island counter.
YOU ARE READING
How To Love A Dead Boy
Paranormal[editing-slowly] Despite doing everything she can, Lucy Ainsworth can't forget the night that she held the hand of the dying stranger, Ryden Mitchells. However; when she finds herself face to face with his ghost in her bathroom mirror, she's throw...
