Science 8

The kitchen smells strongly of vinegar-heavy Italian salad dressing; tonight’s communal dinner was a huge cobb salad, a collaboration between you and Rey that turned out pretty well.

“Stackwells. Stackwells. To order,” Delilah says, tapping her fork against her Modelo as Nadia shuffles into the kitchen, dumps her purse, and grabs a plate. It’s getting late. Everyone’s tired. Many of you have jobs, and wearing big hoodies around a house with no AC in the Florida summer is not as fun as it sounds. That creates a massive demand for cold beer, but drinking lots of beer is not necessarily helpful for controlling the problems that are going on. Such is the sad state of affairs in your temporary home.

“Babe. Please be sufferable. This is my family,” Rey says, drinking deeply.

Delilah is indignant. “Sufferable? As opposed to what?”

“Insufferable.”

“That’s hurtful. Guys, Rey has brought me up to speed on what’s going on around here,” Delilah says gravely, placing her hand on her chest.

You stiffen. Tracy’s face turns gray. Nadia looks dangerous, and Delta’s eyes pop open wide.

Delta clears her throat. “Excuse me?”

“Relax. She didn’t give me any gory details, and I scientifically verified that she’s telling the truth. It’s cool,” Delilah assures her. “That’s why I’m being careful what I say and wearing my grandma clothes.”

“Stop it. Just stop it,” Rey says, glaring at Nadia, whom she cannot out-glare. “We need help, OK? And Flynn struck out with Piper.”

Tracy looks baffled. “What’s Piper gonna do?”

You hesitate. “She’s smart.”

“We are so fucked,” Nadia says, dropping her plate on the counter and going to the fridge. You automatically look away as she bends for a beer. You’re getting good at this.

“She actually said smart stuff,” you protest. “She said we should be less worried about what’s making us be weird and more worried about what’s making us not resist being weird like we normally would.”

Nadia turns to your mother, and the amount of accusation in her gaze is physically painful.

“He’s trying,” Tracy says lamely.

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Like I said. Fucked,” Nadia mutters.

“Maybe not,” Delilah says. “How many of you knew that UFG has a semi-official paranormal investigation club?”

“Semi-official? Doesn’t that just mean not official?” Tracy asks with a frown.

“No, they’re sort of official because the school let them put their ads up,” Delilah replies.

Tracy takes off her glasses and rubs her face. “OK.”

“Are we talking like ghost hunters?” Delta asks skeptically.

Delilah’s smugness is intense. “Yup. Literally exactly what you need.”

“What, exactly, are you thinking that these people are going to do?” Nadia asks, crushing an empty beer can and popping a fresh one.

Delilah hesitates. “Well, they have the gizmos.”

“Gizmos?” you echo.

“You know. The zzt zzt, doot doot doot,” Delilah says, pretending to hold an object. “Ghosty stuff. C’mon. Ugh. None of you played Phasmophobia?”

Delta folds her arms. “Are you talking about the TV shows where they walk around spooky houses and pretend to hear stuff?”

“Listen, shouldn’t you at least try it?” Delilah demands.

“Try what?” Tracy asks, and it’s not like her to show grumpiness this way. Especially toward Delilah.

“Seeing if anything pops up! There’s something going on here,” Delilah says.

“We know,” Delta and Nadia say in unison.

“Well, it seems to me like checking to see if it shows up on doohickeys is the obvious thing to do,” Delilah says, a bit defensive now.

Delta looks worried. “Who’s in this club?”

“Fine,” Nadia says, waving. “How do we reach these people?”

“I already invited them,” Delilah says.

Rey’s mouth drops open. “You what?”

The doorbell rings.