"Rhea's the one that attacked you?"

"Yes! When she walked in, it felt like I was supposed to know her, but then she started poking and I kinda stopped thinking about that."

What does this mean? Rhea knows about Emily's existence, apparently, despite not being able to see her. She also apparently had a machine that beeped in close proximity to Emily.

Emily, Rhea, and Harris all knew each other when Emily was alive. Rhea and Harris apparently still hang out, and do things that are dangerous enough that one or both of them get hurt. Both Harris and Emily are heavily scarred, and at least one of their scars match. No one seems to remember Emily, though Harris had struggled to do so when asked.

Maybe... maybe it's time to seek out Rhea to talk to?

_____

When Owen finishes the walk home that afternoon, there's a small dog in his yard. It yips happily when it sees him, trotting over and weaving around his legs.

"Hey, bud," he says, chuckling and kneeling down next to it. It's a white shih tzu with dark brown splotches on it, and it looks ridiculously cute. There's a little yellow bow in the tuft of fur on its head.

"I wonder who you belong to," Owen murmurs, spotting a tag on its collar. It reads "Maku," along with the address of the old couple's home next door. When he looks up in the house's direction, the old woman is sitting on her porch and looking at him. Whoops.

Heat floods his face, even though he wasn't really doing anything wrong. He picks up Maku dog and walks over to where the woman is sitting.

"Hi. Um. I found your dog."

"Thank you," the woman says, beaming. She's tiny, appearing almost swamped by the pillows around her on the porch chair. He puts Maku on the ground, and the little dog yips and jumps onto the cushion next to its owner. The woman scratches its head idly.

"What is your name?" she asks.

"Owen. Owen Montgomery. I live next door." Open mouth. Insert foot. Of course she knows he lives next door, they see each other regularly enough. Why is he like this?

"Yes. I live here." She gestures at the house behind her, an amused grin on her face. Owen's not sure if she's mocking him or not. "I am Hui-ju Huang."

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Huang."

"I see you look at us, sometimes. When we wait."

"When you... wait?" This conversation is now more than just awkward. He feels straight up uncomfortable.

"Me and husband. We wait at night."

"You mean when you guys sit on the porch? You're waiting?"

"Yes."

"...waiting for who?"

She blinks. Frowns. "We wait for... someone? We wait for someone."

There's a beat of silence. Something totally crazy pops into Owen's head. He wants to wonder how his brain could ever make such a leap in logic, but the thought won't leave him alone now, and so he asks, "Are you waiting for Emily?"

"Hui-Wen," Mrs. Huang instantly replies.

"What?"

"Hui-Wen. Not Emily. My granddaughter will use her given name, I won't call her that. I won't, I won't..."

Granddaughter.

Mrs. Huang seems agitated now. He feels pretty bad, and he apologizes, before backing off the porch when she continues to mutter.

She and her husband sit on the porch that night, just like they always do.

_____

"Harris, what that's weird round scar on your back?"

"Sting," comes the distracted reply.

"Sting? What kind of sting is that?"

"What? Oh. Um. That scar? Ha, I thought you were talking about a different scar. Pssh. What do you think it is? Why are you asking."

"I mean, I was just curious. I thought it was a cigarette burn."

"Oh, wow. Yeah, that's totally it. Ha ha, how did you guess?"

"I've just... seen it on someone else before."

_____

"Three new things that I think are pretty interesting."

"Do tell," Emily says, floating in a reclining position and allowing herself to drift around space in front of Owen. For once, they're not meeting in the science lab, not after the thing with Ms. Perren. Instead, Owen is sitting on a bench near the front entrance of the school. He has his earbuds in so it looks like he's talking on the phone.

"One: I think I live next to your grandparents."

Emily falls out of the air and halfway into the floor. Owen is about to ask if she's okay, but her face is directly in front of his before he can.

"You do?!"

"Maybe?" He explains his conversation with Mrs. Huang.

"She's the only living person who actually remembers me," Emily whispers. He decides not to tell her that the woman had seemed to degenerate a bit after he mentioned her dead granddaughter.

"Better news," he responds, trying to cheer her up. "If they're really your grandparents, then it sounds like your last name could be Huang."

"Huang?"

"Yeah. I mean, people's last names don't always match with their grandparents', but the yearbook says it starts with an 'H' and that fits, so..." He shrugs.

"Good to know, then. What about the third piece of news?"

"Apparently that weird burn thing on your stomach is a sting. Harris slipped up. When I kept asking him about it, he pretended it was something else, but at least we know what it is."

"A sting?" Emily asks, frowning. She pulls up her shirt a little to look at the scar. "That's... hmm. That's weird. I would have guessed like a burn or something. What kind of sting heals looking like a burn?"

"Not a bee sting, that's for sure."

_____

As it ends up, Rhea is the one that ends up finding Owen. He's on his way down to Ms. Perren's room when she intercepts him.

"You are Owen, yes?"

Owen turns at the sound of the slightly accented voice. He has to look upwards to make eye contact; Rhea is a full head taller than him. The braids piled into a messy bun on her head make her seem even taller. There are some impressive bags under her eyes; Harris's comment about her not sleeping well is apparently pretty accurate. She gazes down at him with a raised eyebrow, seeming unimpressed with what she sees.

"Um. Yeah?" he responds.

"Where is Harris?"

Owen blinks. "I... I don't know? I can text him—"

"I already tried. He is not answering. I also called. His car is in the parking lot, he has not left campus."

"I'm not really sure I can help you, then..."

"Hmm." Rhea turns and gazes down the hallway. Owen's not sure if he can label the expression on her face "worry." Maybe more like "disquiet." She shoves her hands into her jeans pockets. He texts Harris anyway, asking about his location. When he looks up again, Rhea is staring at him.

He should ask her about Emily, or about what she does with Harris. There's so many things he can ask right now, but she's just looking at him and it's kind of creepy.

"Follow me," she finally says.

"Wh—"

She's already grabbing his arm and manhandling him into an empty classroom before he can agree and holy heck she's strong. His back roughly meets the cool wall behind him, just out of sight of anyone peeking in through the door window. She leans into his face. He's never been so scared of someone in his life.

"What do you know about Harris?" she asks quietly. Her voice is inflectionless, but also dares him not to answer.

"I— He's a pretty cool dude, I guess?"

"What about his extracurriculars?"

"I think he plays soccer? But it's not the season for it. I don't know about anything else." She leans back, radiating disappointment. He gets the distinct feeling that he just failed a test of some sort, so he adds, "This is about whatever he does with you, isn't it?"

She raises an eyebrow. Owen gets the feeling she has that judgemental look on her face pretty often. "Elaborate."

"I don't know what it is, but it hurts him, and... and you're worried about him."

She stares at him for long enough that he has to actively tell himself not to fidget. She glances at her phone, before gesturing to a nearby chair.

"Sit." It's a command framed as a suggestion. Owen sits. She moves around the table and claims the chair across from him. "There is something very wrong with all of us, I fear... except for you."

"Um. I don't follow."

"You moved here recently?"

"Yeah, about a month ago."

"Mmm. That is likely the key."

He really isn't sure what to say to that, so he chooses not to say anything.

"Harris told me about your Emily. She is dead, yes?"

"Oh. Um. Yeah. Wait, so ghosts are actually—"

"Does she hurt you or exhibit violent behavior?"

"...no." The thing in the hallway doesn't count as violent, does it?

"You hesitate," she comments. Her eyes are narrowed.

"I mean—"

Rhea's phone suddenly starts belting an old song about someone hiding in the dark. She glares at him, as if it's his fault that someone's calling her in the middle of her interrogation, before thumbing the green circle and holding the phone to her ear. "Hello?"

The call isn't on speakerphone, but he can still hear the loud clatter that resounds from the other line. Rhea winces and yanks the phone away from her ear. After another moment, her face smooths into stone. She stands.

"Come on, we're gonna go find Harris."

It doesn't seem like he has any choice in the matter.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.