Judging from the shadows, I’ve landed in the living room. Couches sit across an entertainment center, and picture frames line the mantel. The light is too dim for me to make out the photos, and it’s just as well. I don’t need the ghosts of Bandit’s younger selves mocking me.

Automatically, I pat my pockets. Gun taken from my backpack, check. Spindle from the chair that my mother flung at us, check.

The gun is self-explanatory. After lugging it to Charlie’s cabin and back, maybe I’ll finally be able to use it.

And the spindle? Turns out, that was the stick Archie carried into my room, the one he was wielding like a baseball bat. I grabbed it just as I was about to leave. The wooden rod is small but hard and sturdy. It won’t kill anyone, but that’s the point. If my night devolves into a fight, I’d like to have a nonfatal weapon, just in case.

Oh, who am I kidding? If I end up in a fight, I’m screwed. The only hope I have of taking out Bandit is if he stays asleep the entire time.

I sneak down the hall. So far, so good. Every few steps, the floor creaks, and my pulse accelerates. But the noises are nothing out of the ordinary. They don’t even approach the particularly loud shriek, made during a sleepover years ago, that had me jumping so high I about hit my head on the ceiling fan.

Turned out, it was just Lalana returning from the bathroom in her squeaky ladybug slippers. I swear those slippers were a dog’s chew toy, never meant to be worn. But Lalana, being Lalana, she insisted on wearing them anyway.

The thought of the ridiculous footwear makes me smile. And then frown as sorrow slips through the cracks of my memory.

This won’t do. I can’t let any emotion approach the walls I’ve erected around my heart.

Kill Bandit. Don’t think. Kill Bandit. Don’t think.

Four doors line the hallway. The first one on the right leads to a bathroom, narrow and tiled, with a porcelain tub and toilet. If I flipped on the lights, I bet I would see veins running through the granite countertop.

I don’t flip on the lights.

The door on the left opens into a guest room. Stacks of unopened boxes are piled against a wall, and a twin-size bed boasts a pretty paisley comforter. Not Bandit’s room, that’s for sure. I doubt he’d fit on the bed, for one thing. And second, I just don’t see him with that print.

I hit the jackpot on my third try.

Science medals and basketball posters jockey for space on the walls, and a lava lamp sits on the corner of his desk, throwing iridescent blue light all over the room.