Neck deep in weird

The air outside was cooler than Samantha remembered. Or maybe it was just her skin burning with leftover anger.

She walked fast, shoulders tight, jaw clenched. Ron kept pace beside her, hands in his pockets, silent for a while. He knew better than to poke the bear immediately.

A full block passed before he spoke.

"So... that went great. Want to do it again sometime? Maybe next weekend? I can bring popcorn."

Samantha shot him a glare.

He raised his hands. "Too soon. Got it."

Silence again.

Then, softer, he added, "Look, I'm not saying she handled it well. But I don't think she was trying to hurt you."

Samantha didn't answer right away. Her steps slowed.

"She sent me away, Ron. Not just grounded-me or therapy-me. She had me locked up like some case file in a facility with cold floors and fake smiles."

Ron nodded. "Yeah. I get why you're mad. I'd be mad too. But… maybe she thought she was helping. People panic when they don't understand. Especially when it's someone they love."

Samantha stopped walking.

They were near the edge of a small park now, dew still clinging to the grass, the sky a pale, forgiving blue. She sank onto a bench and let out a long, tired breath.

"You know what's the worst part? I'm jealous of you."

Ron blinked. "Of me?"

"Yeah. You and your mom. You guys joke. You talk. She packed us snacks, Ron. Snacks. My mom and I—we're close, I guess, but not like that. Not in the way that matters. I want that. I want someone who… who listens."

Ron sat beside her, elbows on his knees.

"Yeah, well. She also once whacked me with a frying pan because I scared her watching a murder documentary. So it's not all cupcakes and granola bars."

Samantha let out a small, reluctant laugh.

"But yeah," he said, more seriously now. "She listens. I got lucky. And… for what it's worth? You're not broken, Sam. You're not crazy. You're just stuck in a story that's way weirder than most people get handed. And you're doing fine."

She looked at him. Really looked. The warmth behind the sarcasm. The calm steady of someone who didn't try to fix her — just sat beside the mess.

From her bag, she pulled out the folded map J had given them. The paper felt heavier than it looked.

She unfolded it slowly, letting the lines and symbols stretch into meaning.

"We should follow it," she said.

Ron looked at her sideways. "Now?"

She shrugged. "Why not? We're already in too deep to back out. Might as well see where it leads."

Ron grinned. "What's a little more weird on top of the rest, huh?"

They stood together. The map in Samantha's hand fluttered as a breeze picked up — like it was pointing them forward.

Whatever waited at the end of that trail, they were going to face it together.