Page 61 of It's in the Contract
“Callie, it’s okay. We’ll find her.” Zeke sounds a lot calmer than I am, but one look at his face tells me he’s nervous.“She does this sometimes. Thinks she can take on the world by herself.”
“Mia’s gone?” Suzy shoves her phone into her pocket. “I’ll look over here,” she points left, “and you two go right.”
I nod and we dash apart. I gnaw on my lower lip as we hurry on, angry tourists glaring at us as we push our way through more exhibits in the direction I think she ran. We ask countless people if they’ve seen a little girl in pink run by, and everyone shakes their head no.
We’re coming to the horror section, the one place I thought we’d skip today, when we hear a scream.
Zeke and I lock eyes. “It’s her.”
We fly past the sign that says, “Enter at your own risk” and descend the stairs into the horror section of the museum.
The walls are black, and the lighting is dim. The air smells musty and old. We have to press past grimy body bags, and chills go up and down my spine.It’s not real. It’s not real.This part of the museum showcases horror pop culture, and since horror movies and books were never my favorite, Dad and I typically skipped this section.
“Mia, where are you?” I mutter.
Zeke pushes on, and I follow him past various horror movie props—a bloody hand displayed in a glass case, a shiny green helmet from an alien movie, and life-size statues of gore-covered zombies with hands outstretched. A guy in a white mask with holes in it holds a chain saw. Is his name Freddy? Jason? I don’t know. People smile and take pictures like this isn’t the creepiest place on the planet. I feel like I’m being watched.
“She can’t be here.” I rub the goosebumps on my arms. “She wouldn’t come in here, right?”
“You don’t know Mia,” Zeke says, pressing on.
We turn a corner, and I jump when we’re greeted by an enormous Chucky doll, larger than life and complete withtextured scars all over the face, holding a knife dripping realistic looking blood. I gasp.
Zeke glances back at me. “Are you okay, Callie?”
I swallow. “I’m fine. Let’s keep moving.” I want to get away from this freaky doll. This is almost worse than a haunted house, and I can’t stand those. I step a little closer to Zeke.
He takes another look at my face and pauses, like he doesn’t know what to do. Then he extends his elbow. “Would this help?”
I hesitate for only a second before linking my arm through Zeke’s. “Thank you,” I say. I glance behind me, feeling like that Chucky doll is going to come to life and follow us through the hallway. “This is horrible.”
We continue on, and Zeke’s warmth is calming. It feels good to be close to him.
I see a flash of neon colors. “There!” I point. Zeke’s hold on me loosens, and we dash around the corner. Mia stands in front of a replica of the girl from the Ring climbing out of a well. She looks up at the grotesque mannequin in awe. The girl’s black hair is draped in front of her face, dingy and matted, with one red eye peeping out through the curtain. Her filthy gray limbs are distorted in unnatural ways.
“Mia!” Without thinking, I dash forward and grab her, covering her eyes with one hand.
But Mia struggles to get out of my grasp. “Ring! Ring!”
Zeke takes her from me and scoops her up in his arms. “All right, that’s enough of that.” He carries her out, kicking and screaming. I follow behind, staying close to Zeke for reassurance. That’s all. It’s not because I miss the feel of his arm linked with mine.
“That’s enough for today, little surprise.” Zeke kisses Mia’s head.
We find Suzy waiting for us by the giant display of guitars. “You found her!”
Zeke sets Mia down. “You won’t believe where she was.” He tells Suzy the whole story while I dig through my bag, looking for the notebook that has our contract so I can check off MoPop from the list. I dig under gum wrappers, a spare hairbrush, tampons, and an extra phone charger. The notebook isn’t here.
“Oh no.” Worry slinks through my stomach. Where did I put it? I had it at school, but I wasn’t watching my backpack at lunch. No one would’ve taken it, right? It must be here somewhere. I never take it out of my bag, so I know it’s not at home . . .
“Everything okay, Cal?” Suzy asks.
“Fine,” I say, because she doesn’t know about the contract and the notebook. I zip my bag shut. I’ll have to keep looking for it later. It can’t be lost. If someone found it . . . if someone saw what was in it . . . I swallow my anxiety. I’m sure I’ll find it somewhere.
Twenty-Three
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