Chapter Text
“Okay, Milo,” Melissa said. “Are you ready?”
Milo sighed. “As I’ll ever be.”
They had been brainstorming for a while, ever since Milo had explained to his friends, Zack and Melissa, what his dad had told him.
It was a terrible idea, they agreed, to intentionally make bad things happen. Murphy’s Law would inevitably show its face. And so, the plan was simple.
Milo sat at his desk chair. He was to keep his hands on the armrests, and keep his feet on the ground. Melissa was on his right, in a dining chair from downstairs, and Zack was behind Milo on a fold-up chair. This way, his friends could cover as many blind spots as possible.
Melissa had asked if Milo was ready. Ready to restrict his movements and rely solely on his friends. And, while he trusted his friends immensely, the idea of having his movement restricted was…
Terrifying.
At Melissa’s “go”, Milo made himself stay fully put. No arms, legs, hands, or feet. It was a waiting game for the first few minutes. It would have been funny, except Milo’s anxiety had gone through the roof.
BAM
Milo’s hands immediately flew to his backpack. Or at least, they would have if his backpack had been there. He looked around, only to see Melissa and Zack looking sympathetically.
The bookshelf had fallen over. That was all.
“Okay, let's try again,” Melissa said, in her game-plan voice. “We probably shouldn’t just… sit in silence.”
“Right!” said Zack. “Let’s talk about… the weather?”
Milo hummed “How about… what to eat for dinner? We don’t have anything planned yet, anyways.”
Melissa looked at them, unimpressed. “Eh, it’ll have to do.”
She turned toward Milo. “Ready to try again?”
His nerves came back, full force.
“Yeah.”
“Should we have macaroni?” Zack asked.
“No, remember?” Melissa said. “Last time we tried to make macaroni by ourselves it exploded…”
Milo listened intently to everything except the conversation. He was just waiting for the inevitable disaster. He gripped his hands tightly to the arm rests.
A small… object… came full force into the room, through the wall. It was as if it had been a bullet. It clearly wasn’t, though, since, as it came toward Milo’s face, he caught it with his hand easily enough. He took a look. A small doll chair.
He’d seen weirder.
This was going to be a long day.