href="#ulink_fa78e43b-bcbe-51a3-961b-85aa0cf6388f">in thunder
The Ouija board was Lily’s idea.
Maria warned her not to go through with it, but Lily didn’t listen. She went onto eBay while Maria was at soccer practice and bought the prettiest board she could find. A “genuine antique,” she called it.
Only when she showed it to Maria and Brandon that night she pronounced it “gen-you-wine,” showing off the Southern drawl everyone teased her for. Soon after that they opened the bottle of cheap white wine left over from Delilah’s eighteenth birthday party, and every five minutes either Brandon or Maria would utter the words “gen-you-wine an-TEEK!” and collapse into giggles.
Lily pretended to take offense the first few times, but by her last Styrofoam cup of Chardonnay Lily was adding an extra I to every word she said. “Sit” became “See-it.” “Drink” was “dreeenk.” When she started calling Maria “Mariah,” like Mariah Carey, Brandon confiscated her cup.
Maria had been worried about Lily all day. She wasn’t normally this loud, or this giggly. And Lily never drank—she didn’t even like to take her painkillers. Normally she sat at the edge of the party sipping seltzer and watching their friends with her hawk eyes to make sure no one spilled anything on their plush dorm-room carpet.
Part of Maria wanted to declare the evening over, escort Lily back to their room, put her in bed, and keep an eye on her for the rest of the night to make sure she didn’t do anything else out of the ordinary.
But Maria couldn’t focus on Lily right now. Not with that Ouija board sitting next to her.
This board was the real deal. Maria could feel it. It wasn’t any of that plastic Milton Bradley crap. This board meant business.
It was after lights-out in the dorm, so the three of them kept their laughter to whispers. Everyone was supposed to be in their rooms tucked into bed by ten p.m. if they didn’t want to get written up by one of the dorm monitors who prowled the halls.
None of the staff ever checked the old dining hall, though. Most of the students never ventured here after dark. There were rumors about the room. Scary stories the younger kids whispered about at sleepovers.
Maria had seen enough to know those kinds of stories were usually bullshit. The truth was a lot scarier than anything little kids could imagine.
But Lily had thought the old dining hall was the perfect place for their first séance, and Maria had given up arguing about it. Lily was smart—smarter than Maria; they’d both known that much from the beginning—but she didn’t know the first thing about what that Ouija board could do. She’d begged, though, and begged some more, and she’d smiled sweetly and said pretty things, and finally, Maria had given in.
Maria probably should’ve put up a fight. It was just that she hated fighting with Lily more than almost anything. It was always better when she knew she could glance over at Lily and be certain her girlfriend would smile that warm, secret smile she saved just for Maria.
Besides, it might not work. It had been years since Maria had last tried to talk to the spirits. Maybe they’d forgotten her.
By the time they’d poured out the last of the wine, Lily and Brandon were giggling so much Maria wondered if they even remembered the board still sitting in its cardboard box. Maria could never forget something like that. Her eyes were on Brandon—he was telling them about the giant beetle he’d found in the flowers Mateo had given him for their two-week anniversary, and his epic screams that had brought the dorm monitors running, convinced he was having an epileptic fit—but through it all, the board kept humming to her. The longer it went on, the more Maria ached to know if the spirits really did remember.
So when Brandon wrapped up his story and Lily pulled the candles out of her bag and said, “Shall we begin?” Maria didn’t hesitate. She was ready.
Brandon shrugged and took another swallow from his cup. Maria lit the candles while Lily set up her phone’s audio recorder.
Maria hadn’t wanted to do this, but there was no going back now. Not while Lily was giving her that smile.
Not while the board was still humming to her.
Brandon covered his yawn as Maria lined up the candles, following instructions Lily had found on some website. Brandon was designated the note taker and given a pad and pencil. His job was to copy down whatever the planchette spelled out.
Brandon had played with Ouija boards enough as a kid to know it wasn’t going to spell out anything more than a few fart jokes, so he didn’t mind this job. Plus, as an added bonus, this way he got to keep drinking. At their usual parties, when all the popular seniors got together to drink and flirt in someone’s room after lights-out, Brandon never got in more than a few swallows. The other guys were always grabbing his drink out of his hand and then pounding Brandon on the shoulder too hard, howling laughter as they thanked him and guzzled his beer.
Lily pulled the board out of its packaging. It was bigger than Brandon had expected. At least two feet wide. You could tell it was old from the cracks in the paint and the worn-smooth edges of the wood. But it was still nice-looking, with artsy paintings in the corners for the sun and moon and fancy calligraphy on all the letters and numbers. The words “YES” and “NO” were carved into the corners in a fancy font. At the top was an elaborate drawing of a single eye, wide-open, with a deep black pupil, and at the bottom, the words “GOOD BYE” was drawn next to a closed eye.
Brandon didn’t care one way or the other about Ouija boards, but those eyes were still creepy. No matter which way he leaned in his seat, it felt like that one at the top was watching him.
Lily slid the board onto the table and set the wooden planchette gently on top. It was flat and heart-shaped with another deep black eye carved into the wood, right below the hole that was cut to show which letter the planchette had chosen. Brandon took another sip of his drink and avoided its gaze.
Lily took out the poem she’d printed from the website and began to read. Her giggliness from before was long gone, and she was using a deep, serious voice, like something she must’ve seen in a horror movie. Before she’d finished the first line, Brandon had to bite his cheek to keep from laughing out loud.
“‘’Tis time, ’tis time.
Round about the talking board,
Candles burn, the charm’s own chord.
Open, locks, whoever knocks.
We, the living, offer you vox.’”
Brandon stifled his laughter while the girls reached into the center of the table. Each of them laid two fingers on the planchette. Since he was the only one not absorbed in the utter seriousness of the thing, Brandon was the only one to notice the dorm’s two cats, Rhett and Scarlett, nosing their way into the room from the staff kitchen.
Brandon could’ve sworn he’d locked that door when he and the girls first came in. The main door that opened into the hallway, too.
Oh, well. He
