Science Ch 1

“Gotta say, I’m not feeling very churchy,” you it.

There’s a general chorus of agreement from your family, and that’s no surprise.

“Who’s that leave, though?” Delta asks.

“We need someone smart,” you reply.

Nadia scoffs and points at your mother. “She’s got a doctorate. I have a JD. Smart’s not gonna cut it. We need someone who knows about this stuff specifically.”

“Ghosts,” you say.

Tracy chews her lip and folds her arms. “No, we’re looking at this the wrong way. Forget the ghost for a second. The ghost is making us do stuff.”

Nadia looks over sharply. “And?”

“And I know it’s the last thing we want to think about, but maybe that’s the question we need to ask. Not ‘how do we get rid of a ghost’ but ‘what could make a bunch of people act this way?’”

“Mold,” Delta says stubbornly.

IT’S NOT US

Your mom is right, although this whole line of questioning worries you for reasons that you can’t quite put your finger on. But you’ve gotten into the habit of forcing yourself not to think too hard when you feel this way. Some things are better left unexamined.

You climb out of your truck and hurry through the heat to the ramshackle little building that is Gurlberg’s food pantry. It’s just outside of town, past a crumbling auto repair shop that looks like something from the Walking Dead. The people who run the pantry and a lot of other stuff like it are mad that it’s outside of town, where people without cars can’t easily get to it. But the city Council seems to like doing anything it can to make life harder for nonprofits. Aunt Nadia has to be careful what she says when she’s at those meetings.

Piper Dunham wears an apron as she stocks and straightens shelves. Something bangs in the back; she’s not here alone.

“Flynn,” she says, spotting you. She frowns. “What’s wrong?”

“How do you know something’s wrong?” you ask as you approach warily. You’re always wary now, but especially in public. The horniness doesn’t hit as reliably or as intensely outside the house, but it’s still there. Piper is pretty, but lots of women are pretty. She’s also quite busty and has a queenly, mature vibe about her that you’ve just never seen in anyone else. It makes her seem untouchable. Unobtainable.

Not only have you not slept with her, but she’s never even shown any sign of responding to your flirting. She’s not gay, although she’s had some kind of on/off thing with a Swiss student. You can’t pretend that you aren’t a little jealous.

You’re in luck today: she looks nice, as always, but a baggy Rocky Horror tee and cutoff shorts aren’t enough to activate your mating frenzy.

She smiles at you. “I guess, um, I’m assuming something is wrong because I can’t imagine a positive, upbeat reason that you could have to walk in here.”

“What if I was going to ask you out?” It wouldn’t be the first time.

“You wouldn’t do it here, and you wouldn’t do it dressed like that. Isn’t it a little hot for jeans? And I’m not saying you can’t pull it off, but I haven’t seen pants this tight since that movie, uh…” She looks thoughtful, snapping her fingers several times. “The guy wears an eye patch? Isaac Hayes in it? You know what I’m talking about? Tightest pants ever? Cool soundtrack?”

“Uh, no.”

“Bella’s been hanging out with those movie chicks and dragging me along whenever they screen something. Anyway, you don’t dress like this normally. And you don’t come here. And I know your mom’s having a hard time because anyone would be with all that. It sucks that everyone knows.”

“Yeah.”

“So you need something. That’s OK. We all need stuff sometimes. How can I help?” she asks, scanning your face. “Sensitive, huh? OK, come on.” She beckons. “We can talk in the back.”

You knew she was the right person to ask.