Unfamiliar shouts outside our bedroom door awaken me to the darkness. Heavy stomps approach. Beside me, Amy doesn’t move. I sit upright in bed as the door bursts open, splitting the wood along the doorframe.
Meryl screams from her bed. Someone flips on the the light. It’s two men, dressed in black: the God Squad.
I had Random.org select a percentage and it selected 17%.
Later, I went down to the kitchen, expecting to find Dad making dinner. Instead, Nana was sitting at the table, which was covered in a thick black cloth. The curtains were drawn and Nana had draped floaty scarves from the clothes airer that hung above the table. It was slightly spooky.
‘We’re having a séance,’ she said.
‘A say what?’
“All right,” she says. “That’s enough. I want you all to remember that Ms. Emerson is not dead. Stop acting like she is. Until I have been notified that she is, indeed, destined for a coffin, I refuse to believe she is. So yes, I will hold her notes and schedule a day for her to make up for her quiz, though I’m sure she’ll blatantly ignore both.”
Hands, hearts, hugs.
I am bombarded at every turn. But I don’t know these hands, these hearts, these hugs. They are peripheral, the entire senior class only seen through the corner of my vision. None of them are the hands, hearts, and hugs I want.
“So, sorry, Jess.”
“Really sucks, Jess.”
“How does shit like this happen?”
Best question of the day. How. Does. Shit. Like. This. Happen. And it begins. A collapsing. All of me, falling slowly in on myself.