Devoured by Amanda Marrone

and I giggle as I take containers out of the bag and open them. “Hurry!” I say as I unwrap the chopsticks. I run into the kitchen and grab a couple of plates and then rush back into the living room.
    Ryan sits back on the couch and I hand him the fried rice. He turns to me as he dumps the rice out onto our plates, and his eyes pop. “Your hair!”
    I get up and look in the mirror. Total bed head, or couch head—either way, my hair screams make-out session. “I’ll be right back.” I go into the bathroom and pull a brush through my hair. My cheeks are flushed, but hopefully Mom will think it’s from the chilies in the General Tso’s chicken and not from fooling around with Ryan.
    I go back into the living room and cringe. Mom is standing next to the couch with her arms folded against her chest, staring at Ryan.
    “My lawyer may want to talk with you, is that okay?”
    “Mom!”
    Mom turns to me, her face pinched with anger. “Well, no one at the home could give me a satisfactory answer about what happened and how they can keep it from happening again, so I think I am perfectly justified getting our lawyer involved to make sure your father is getting adequate care.”
    I roll my eyes. “I think contacting a psychic would be more appropriate.”
    “And just what is that supposed to mean?” she says, giving me a look that tells me a good head-shrinking with my therapist is just a speed dial away.
    Before I can answer her, Ryan stands up. “I really didn’t see anything, Mrs. Sones; it seemed to happen all at once.” He looks at me. “And actually, I should probably head home. We’re going to a christening in Portland tomorrow, so we have to get an early start. I’ll text you from the car and we can plan that hike.”
    “Great. I’ll walk you out,” I say.
    Mom stares daggers at me, and Ryan shifts uncomfortably. “That’s okay, Meg. I’ll, uh, give you a call tomorrow.” He reaches out and squeezes my hand. “Bye, Mrs. Sones.”
    He shuts the door and I brace myself before turning to face Mom.
    “Do you want to explain yourself, young lady?”
    Do I? Hell, yeah! Do I think you’ll believe me? Shit, no! But I don’t want the nursing home to take the rap for Remy either. Those people work crazy hours for little pay or gratitude, and I’m not gonna let Mom sic her out-for-blood lawyer on them.
    “It was Remy. She was mad, and then everything just exploded.”
    Mom inhales deeply as her face pales. “Not this again, Megan. I won’t let you do this to me again.”
    “I’m not doing it; Remy is. You’ve seen the aftermath of her temper tantrums here. Things flying off the wall, light-bulbs popping—you can’t pretend that’s normal. For God’s sake, put two and two together!”
    Mom starts to walk away, and I run after her, grabbing her arm. “How many microwaves have we replaced? How many broken picture frames have there been, or knocked over chairs? It’s all Remy .”
    Mom tries to jerk her am away but I hold tight. “Try to see her. Call her name!”
    “Let go of me,” she says through clenched teeth.
    “Call her, damn it! Try to see her and find out why she’s haunting me.” I let go of her arm and look up at her face. “ Please, Mommy,” I say, tears pouring down my cheeks. “She’s still here—and maybe if you believe, you’ll see her. I need you to see her. I need your help.”
    Mom’s face hardens into an expressionless mask, and I look wildly around the room. “ Remy! Mommy’s looking for you! Where are you?”
    “Stop it, Megan!”
    “Remy! Where are you? I’ll, uh, I’ll make a wish! Did you hear me, Remy?” I sniff as I start walking around the room. “Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight.”
    Remy appears, hazy and shimmering, in front of me. “Make a wish, Meggy.”
    “There!” I scream, pointing to Remy. “She’s right there!”
    Mom backs away, but her eyes dart around. Please, God, let Mom see her. Fergus runs in and stands at her