Jason's phone vibrated on his bedside drawer. He leaned sideways and tried to work his Playstation controller with one hand as he slapped at the wood with his other.

“Ah damn it,” he groaned as the little purple character on his screen landed in fire and died. “What's the point of being a dragon if you can't take a little heat, huh?”

He paused the game and checked the message on his phone. Tara? Why's she texting on a Satur –? His grip tightened around the device to keep it from falling. His red controller wasn't so lucky and he grunted as it landed directly on his ankle.

“What the actual hell –?” He found his best friend's number and dialled it.

She didn't answer the phone. He texted her back instead:

What happened? You okay?

She didn't respond to his text. He tried again, giving her several minutes to answer:

Hey. What the hell? You home?

He looked around for his jacket before tumbling down stairs without it, kicking his siblings' shoes aside in search of his own.

“Jay?” called out his mum from the front room. She leaned back on the sofa to stare at him. “Where're you going?”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

“I'll text you.” He shoved his feet into his trainers and ran out without tying them up properly, closing the door on his mum's next question.

Those tiles looked posh. She's probably in her kitchen. He ran about half a mile before he nearly tripped over his laces in the middle of the road and an old guy in his car beeped furiously at him. He waved an apology and hurriedly twisted the strings into a knot before breaking out into a sprint again. She better not be home alone. They're all usually home at this time, right? It's only just gone twelve. They should both be there with her.

By the time he reached her front door, he had to pause and catch his breath. His finger hovered over the doorbell but Satara's voice came from behind him before he could press it.

“What the –? Why in the world are you here?” She looked him up and down in that swift calculating way and passed the white carrier bag in her right hand to her left as she approached him. “Did something happen at home?”

She was safe. Her clothes were clean. And she seemed a couple of minutes away from becoming impatient.

“What d'you mean?” he demanded, pulling out his phone. “What happened to me? What the hell happened to you?”

She frowned and scanned him again. “Nothing. Why do you think –?”

“– Then what the heck is this?” He lifted his phone to eye level and watched her expression change from mild worry to faint confusion.

“Oh. I thought I sent that to Mrs Lang.”

“Why would you send that to her?” He waved the photo of her hand, stained a horrific red and gripping half a broken ceramic bowl, captioned with the words: Made a mistake. Sorry.

“She needed the ketchup for dinner tonight so I got some more. And that bowl's part of a set. She really cares about her sets –” Satara went quiet and seemed unable to meet his gaze for a moment, lowering the carrier bag that contained a distinctive red bottle. “– Ah. I think I know why you thought something happened.”

“Really? Well, thank God for that.” Jason covered his eyes with a hand and laughed until he needed to catch his breath again. Seriously? Ketchup? I freaked out over ketchup?

“Thank you for checking. I guess.” Satara blinked at the pathway and pressed her lips together as if she wanted to crush a smile.

“What the hell were you making and why does the ketchup look like – like that?” He tapped the screen of his phone.

“I fried some chips.” She hesitated and finally lifted her eyes back up to his. “Do you want some too?”

Jason shook his head at her but then nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I'll have some.”

Which one of us is more of a weirdo right now?