"But how?" you ask, looking over your shoulder at the mountain of stairs behind you. You then turn and grab the plush carpet that covers the stairs. "It'll take forever to climb up. We won't make it in time."
"Actually, I had another idea," Dad says. "It's a bit risky, though."
When he doesn't immediately continue, you ask, "What is it?"
"Well," he begins, "like I said, it's risky. But if I know your mom, it should work. And I think Bronson is upstairs. We should find him as soon as we can."
"OK. So what's your plan?"
"Your mom hates when Jenna leaves her shoes at the door," he starts to say. You look back at the front door and remember that your sister had kicked them off when she came into the house. "If we hurry over there, I'm almost certain your mom will notice them before long and tell Jenna to take them to her room. That's our ticket upstairs."
You think about it, feeling your heart race in fear.
"But what if..."
"Unless we climb up on our own, the only other way I see us getting upstairs is by hitching a ride. Do you think that'd be a safer way?"
"I don't know," you say, lost in thought.
"I'll let you choose," Dad says. "But make your choice now. If we wait any longer, we won't be alive to have a second chance."
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