Not long after Dimitri lugged the fresh, new doors into a room on the second floor and drove away, Aunt Gladys announced it was time for another dinner. Janice was confused because they’d already eaten, but also excited because Zack said the strange man had mentioned pizza. Her excitement died a quick death when bowls of cereal appeared instead.

“Cereal?” asked Zack. “I thought your friend brought pizza.”

“Pizza? No pizza. Cereal. Don’t like pizza,” explained Aunt Gladys. “Too much cheese.”

They grudgingly ate another bowl of Honey Nut Oat Blast Ring-a-Dings in silence (Aunt Gladys again promised to go to the grocery store soon and Zack again begged to accompany her), spoons bringing circles of bland nourishment to their mouths in an endless loop of boredom, until Aunt Gladys startled them all by suddenly standing up.

“Who’s done? I’m done! Finished my cereal!”

She proudly showed her mostly empty bowl to the kids, then frowned, as if realizing this was odd behavior. Face slightly red, she carried her bowl and spoon to the sink. “Remember. Please clean your dishes. And put them away. When you’ve finished,” she said. “I have work. In my…my room. Not my bedroom. The other room. My working room. Good night.”

She turned and walked away, leaving the children to once again fend for themselves.

“She’s funny,” said Alexa.

“She’s nuts,” corrected Sydney.

“Give her a break,” pleaded Zack. “She’s obviously not used to company.”

The children cleared and washed their bowls and spoons. It being too early for sleep, and none of them really wanting to be alone, they ended up crammed together in Sydney’s third-floor room among the piles of doors hiding under floral bedsheets. Sydney sat on her bedroll, glaring at nothing in particular. Zack leaned against the opposite wall, Alexa lounging in his lap. Unable to sit still, Janice paced back and forth between uneven stacks of covered doors, fighting the desire to straighten them and mulling over the day’s events.

“What does she do in that room all day?” asked Janice. “What is with her obsession with doors? Why have we never heard of her until now? How do we even know she’s our aunt?”

“Miss Guacaladilla checked her out—” began Zack.

“How do we know she isn’t in on it, too?” Janice interrupted, not about to let Zack deflate her suspicions. “And Mr. Groskowsky!”

“Who?” asked Alexa.

“The sweaty lawyer guy,” answered Sydney.

“Maybe they’re working together,” continued Janice. “One big, happy conspiracy.”

“Why?” asked Zack. “Seriously, Janice. Why?”

“Who knows? We have no idea what goes on in this place! Maybe they’re planning on…on…I don’t know! Turning us into zombies! Or…or…”

“Or maybe Aunt Gladys is a space alien?” teased Zack. “Or a vampire? Or a diabolical gnome?”

Janice stopped pacing and glared at her brother.

“You’re being paranoid, Janice. Again.”

Zack let the statement hang in the air. Janice, deflated, stopped pacing and leaned against a stack of doors. Maybe she was being paranoid, but could they blame her? After what they’d all been through? The fire. Dad. A better question was, why weren’t they being paranoid?

She looked around at her siblings and answered her own question. They’re too depressed to be paranoid, she thought.

Suddenly, she was determined to lift everyone out of their funk. They needed a distraction. Scanning the room, her eyes settled on the stack of doors by her side. She lifted the sheet covering them and let a smile play on her lips.

“What are you doing?” asked Zack. “Aunt Gladys told us to leave the doors alone.”

Janice smiled. “She did, didn’t she?” With a flourish, she whipped the sheet off and flung it aside. “Who’s up for a ride?”

“Bad idea.” Zack shook his head and crossed his arms.

“Quit being a baby,” remarked Sydney as she helped Janice lug one of the doors—a simple, flat slab of wood—to the top of the stairs leading down to the second floor.

“I’m not being a baby! This is dumb and dangerous and stupid and—”

“And it’s gonna be a ton of fun,” finished Sydney.

Janice beamed. Her sisters, at least, liked her idea. Who cared if Zack was being a stick-in-the-mud?

“You’re going to get hurt,” said Zack.

“I never get hurt,” replied Sydney. She and Janice eased the door just over the edge of the stairs, and Sydney jumped on.

“Hey! It was my idea!” complained Janice.

“We need to test it out,” Sydney replied. “I’m a professional. Give me a push.”

Janice sighed, then bent down into a shoving position.

“Guys, please,” begged Zack. “You’re gonna break something. Like a leg.”

Janice frowned as the reality of what she was about to do—push her sister down a flight of stairs—hit home. But then she saw Sydney eagerly waiting and tossed caution to the wind.

“Torpedo…launch!” she yelled.

With a quick shove, the door flopped over and slid effortlessly down the stairs, crashing at the bottom and sending Sydney tumbling head over heels onto her bedroll, which they’d placed below to provide a soft landing. The entire ride took all of three seconds.

“Sydney?” asked Janice. “Sydney, you okay?”

Sydney lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, a huge grin on her face.

“That! Was! Awesome!”

Janice swelled with pride and turned to Zack. “She survived.”

“Whatever. Kill yourselves if you want. Come on, Alexa. Let’s go.” He grabbed his little sister’s hand, but she tugged it free.

“I want to ride!” she said.

“No way,” he argued. “It’s too dangerous.”

“Sydney’s fine!” countered Alexa. “Right, Sydney?”

“You bet! Janice! Help me bring this back up!”

Janice trounced down the steps to help carry the door-sled back to the top, where they found Alexa, arms crossed and face flushed, stomping on the floor.

“—I am too!” she ranted.

“You are not!” ranted Zack right back at her. “You’re too little and—”

Janice winced, knowing Zack had just said exactly the wrong thing.

“I am not little!” screamed a defiant Alexa, sitting down on the door. “Somebody push me!”

Zack quickly stomped his foot down, holding the door in place. “Get off of there, Alexa!”

“Or what?” asked Janice, growing more and more annoyed at her brother. “Are you going to ground her? Send her to her room? Who do you think you are, anyway?”

“Somebody has to look out for this family!” yelled Zack.

“Give it up, Zack!” retorted Janice. “You’re not Dad!”

Zack’s eyes bulged, his cheeks flushed, and Janice was pretty sure steam billowed out of his ears. She stepped back, but he followed step for step, jabbing his finger into her chest. “Don’t you ever—”

He never finished his sentence.

A cry of terror shook the room, and everyone watched as, almost in slow motion, the door-sled—released by Zack’s foot—tore down the stairs, taking an utterly unprepared Alexa with it. Her face was a mask of pure fright, and her siblings’ hearts leaped into their throats as the three-second slide felt like five hours of horror.

There was a crash. There was a tumble. There was Alexa lying at the bottom of the stairs. She looked around for a moment, stunned, before erupting in a hysterical cry, bringing all three siblings to her side.

“Alexa!” they screamed as one.

She continued to wail the wail of a young child in pain. Between gasps, she managed to inform everyone that her leg was in absolute agony. After sending Sydney off to find Aunt Gladys, Zack cradled his little sister and tried to soothe the hysteria out of her.

“Are you happy?” he snapped at Janice.

Janice could only stand there, dumb to the world.

What had she done?