Page 28 of The Roommate Lie

Ineedto say no.

But one look at that sweet grandmotherly face and I give in. Marcus aims a quiet thumbs up at me over FaceTime, and I tell Muriel to wait while I grab my shoes. As I run upstairs, my brother gives me a quick pep talk, preparing me to meet my horror-novel destiny. Whether I want to or not.

“Save the haunted house,” he says. “Protect Muriel at all costs.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Fate has other plans.

Once I step outside, I hear it: the loud vibration of skateboard wheels on the sidewalk.Charlie Roscoe.

I guess Muriel and I don’t have to fight this squirrel alone after all.

Chapter Fifteen

ALICE

I’m on the third floor of a haunted bed-and-breakfast. We can hear the ghost squirrel scratching around above us, and I make a last-ditch effort to save myself—and Charlie. Even if he has been acting weird today.

“Welp, it sounds like it’s on the roof. Guess there’s nothing we can do.”

Muriel doesn’t say anything. She just reaches for the ceiling and grasps a thin pull cord I hadn’t noticed. Yanking it to unveil the oldest, creakiest attic ladder I’ve ever seen.I’m going to die in this house.

I don’t like attics on a normal day. Or basements. Those rooms do not bring me joy—and that’s without ghosts. A haunted attic?

No, thank you.

I automatically back away. Then I almost fall down the stairs to the second floor—almost.Charlie nudges me away from the staircase, but he barely meets my gaze; he doesn’t even smile. What’s his deal today?

We haven’t known each other long, but I already miss old Charlie. The carefree guy from the bus station who smiled,laughed, and joked around. The guy who called me Carrots. I’d even settle for one of his dangerous glances right about now. At least it would involve eye contact.

Luckily, the fact that I’m about to die in a strange woman’s attic keeps me pretty distracted. I stare at the dark void above us, the home of the ghost squirrel, and it takes a few seconds for my common sense to kick in. For me to remember that I’m a Kilpatrick,and out of all the things we believe in—honor, bravery, hanging our towels up to dry before we put them in the hamper—ghosts aren’t one of them.

“Wait, how do you know it’s a ghost squirrel? What if it’s just a regular squirrel?”

That’s the easiest explanation, isn’t it? The Occam’s razor we desperately need? I can still hear the demon-in-question racing around above us. If it sounds like a real squirrel and runs like a real squirrel…

Muriel stops me with an ominous glance. One I feel deep in my bones. “I saw the beast only once,” she says. “It had fur as pale as smoke, eyes as black as pitch. I stared into the icy depths of its soul, and?—”

I shiver, and Charlie hesitates before moving closer. Gently cutting her off, he glances at me with soft eyes that make my knees wobble. “Muriel leads the Ponderosa Falls ghost tour every October. Can you tell?”

I can indeed.

I bet she’s good at it too; I bet people line up around the block for that tour. I’ve only been up here with her for five minutes, and this experience has changed me. Thanks to Muriel, I have goose bumps all over my body, panic knots in my stomach, and I might never think squirrels are cute ever again.

Though what’s really going to stick with me is how much better a normal day feels when Charlie Roscoe looks at me. As if he’s mastered the art of eye contact and turned it into medicine.

He holds my gaze for a split second, and my panic eases just a little. Just enough.

“The real reason we call it that,” he continues, “is because the ghost squirrel likes to disappear. As soon as you think you’ve got him cornered, he’s gone. Even the humane traps Wild Bill sets up can’t catch him. He’s a regular squirrel, but he’s a real Houdini.”

That makes me feel so much better. “It’s not a ghost?”

Charlie shakes his head, squeezing my hand to soothe me. “Nope. It’s a regular, boring old squirrel. I promise.”

“Says the man who’s never seen it for himself…” Muriel mutters.

Charlie suppresses a smile, but he doesn’t argue.

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