Seance 1

Tonight is dark and weird, not that different from every night over the past few weeks. Now that you’re back in the house, you’re starting to understand what some of your family was saying: something is still wrong with you, but it’s not as potent. It’s as though something has diluted the effects. You can still feel it, but you can control it. Tracy’s the problem. She seems so pleased that things are getting better that it has lifted her depression. She’s animated in a way she hasn’t been for a long time—long before you all moved into CCL House. That just reminds you how pretty she is. She’s always been pretty, but the way you see it has changed because of what’s happened. There’s something else: your memory. It’s been bad since you moved in, but it seems to be getting worse. You have patchy flashes of memory, not all of it comfortable—but your time here seems to be full of holes.

You aren’t sure what’s up with that. If anything, memories of the things that you’ve done are the kind that you’d expect to stay with you, for better and worse.

Worse would definitely describe what you feel at dinner: your mom smiles and laughs, and you have all these intrusive thoughts about kissing her. That’s definitely bad.

A couple of wild looks that get thrown around the table, mainly from Nadia and Delta, tell you that you aren’t the only one feeling something. But it’s under control. No one does anything inappropriate, and no one even has to slip away to take care of anything alone.

You’re functional people again.

And you’re still yourself. You’re going to text Kayla after the séance. If you’re going to stop thinking about your family, you’re going to need a little help.

Nadia risks a glass of wine, and nothing bad happens. Delta dresses for the heat, and while that gives you shameful thoughts, they’re just thoughts.

You aren’t brave enough for alcohol yet. Cold La Croix in hand, you sink onto the lonely couch in the cavernous living room. Downstairs is minimally furnished to make way for your work. There’s just a couch and a TV in a room with a twelve-foot ceiling that’s probably 20x30.

You check the time, then lean back and look at your phone. Riley Jameson never posts thirst traps, which you consider unjust. But once in a while—probably in some carefully calculated way—Piper does. They aren’t anything daring, but they’re always worth seeing. Kayla never posts anything.

You scroll contentedly. The sexiest pic you can find is Chadlee in a bikini top and cutoff shorts. Very nice. You have no agenda; it’s just your instinct to search for beautiful things in your feed. Your family has pretty much gone dark on socials, which is for the best. No Leni thirst traps, although there are plenty of pics of Wendy Tucker in a bikini.

“Flynn.” It’s Rey. She sits stiffly beside you, several inches away. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

You lower your voice. “Because of the sleepwalking?”

“I don’t know. When we moved in, even when weird shit was happening, I didn’t think this place was spooky. I do now. I’m scared.”

You can see that. A few months ago, your instinct would have been to give her a hug. Tonight, you don’t do that. You think about how Piper Dunham would handle this. You aren’t sure when she became your role model, but she’s good at handling stuff.

“I’d be worried too if it was someone legit. But it’s just Apple.” You aren’t exactly looking forward to seeing Apple. You know what happened, or you think you do, but it’s your memory again. You have a hazy vision of being with her, but it’s so vague. Does she remember? Is she upset? Would she agree to come here and do this if she were? You probably need to talk to her. “I don’t think Apple is a real spirit medium.”

“Meri thinks she can do it.”

“Look, I like Apple, but…”

“Didn’t you fuck her? You probably owe her an apology.”

You feel defensive. “I’m not sure I’m the bad guy on that.”

“It doesn’t matter! Have you talked to her? She has feelings.”

“I’ll talk to her. I thought you were scared.”

“I am scared.”

“Not too scared to bust my balls.”

“Someone has to,” she says with a sigh. Then she puts her hand on yours. “Look, about tonight—I don’t want to sleepwalk again.”

“Have Delilah stay over.”

“No. Not until I know this house is safe. I want you to stay with me.”

Your stomach drops. “Oh shit.”

“Not like that,” she says through her teeth, keeping her voice down. She casts a panicked look at the doorway to the hall. Tracy and Nadia are still in the kitchen. “Not like that. Just to make sure I don’t go anywhere.”

Her face gives it away: she’s definitely still having some thoughts.

But it’s probably safe. Just two days ago, even discussing something like this would probably have ended with you boning right here on this couch. It’s awkward, but you’re being normal people. It’s OK.

The problem is that if you’re spending the night babysitting Rey, you are not spending the night with Kayla Jameson.

“Look, I’m trying to, uh… not think about family stuff. And to do that, I want spend time with, um, you know. Other women.” These are not the best sentences you have ever uttered, but it’s a weird concept to try to communicate.

Rey’s scowl tells you that she understands. “Please, Flynn.” She really is scared.

“OK. OK.” You sigh and let go of your hopes and dreams for the night. Awkwardness and discomfort it is. She’s your sister. You have to do the right thing.

“Thank you, Flynn.” She gives you a hug, then goes stiff when the doorbell rings.

“Showtime,” you say as she lets go.

Rey does not look enthused.

Apple’s on the doorstep with Delilah and Meri. Apple looks nervous as your family crowds the doorway, while Meri and Delilah seem delighted. You’re glad that all of this entertains them.

“Hey,” you greet Apple, as casually as you can. “Thanks for coming.”

Like a cartoon thermometer, her face turns red right in front of you and everyone. “My pleasure,” she mumbles as your family clears the way for them to enter.

Delta looks at you as though you are something awful that she has stepped in. “You fucking degenerate,” she whispers.

You take a deep breath.

“Want something to drink?” Tracy offers, leading the guests to the kitchen.

“Don’t you need to be a spirit medium or something to do this?” Rey asks as Tracy hands out zero sugar sodas and seltzers. Nadia is openly skeptical of Apple, who is not helping her case by showing up here in a Scooby-Doo T-shirt.

“Perhaps,” Apple admits, bouncing on her toes as she clutches a can of orange soda in both hands. The push and pull between excitement and nerves is interesting to watch. “But the presence is so strong that we detected it, and, er, I felt it personally. So, either I’m sensitive, or it’s just that strong. And conducting a séance has procedural steps that anyone can do.”

You scratch your head. You sort of understand her logic, and it looks like Meri must agree with her—she wouldn’t be here otherwise. Meri might have a goofy side, but she’s highly intelligent and well-known in the community to be going places. Sometimes people see her and Piper as rivals in ambition.

“We’re really gonna use that thing?” Delta says, eyeing the Ouija board under Delilah’s arm. “I’ve seen a lot of movies.”

Although it would be difficult to explain exactly why, you feel guilty about the Apple thing. You want to be supportive. “What could go wrong?” you ask.