3. 2
“Say that three times fast, huh?” Riley teased.
Mateo gave him a push. “Shut up, Donovan. Let’s hear what DJ Freakshow has to say.”
There was a pregnant pause before Dante went on. Guessing he wants to punch Mateo’s face in as much as I do, I thought to myself.
“The most important things to remember are these: don’t let this nice little planchette ever fall off the board, always be respectful of any spirits we may speak to, and never, ever forget to say goodbye.”
“Perfect,” said Stacio, his hands wrapping around the planchette as he placed it on the board. “So do we just start asking questions?”
“Hey, now! Don’t be a board hog,” I teased. “We’ve all gotta touch it.”
Stacio obliged me, instead placing only two fingers on the planchette. The rest of us, save for Dante, found room for our fingers to join his.
“Now you can ask it questions,” said Dante. “I’ll sit this one out.”
“Hey, who’s controlling the music while you’re down here, anyway?” Mateo asked. I watched his eyes linger on Dante for longer than I expected.
“Don’t ask questions not relevant to the board, jerk,” said Riley.
I felt the planchette pull my fingers forward as it started to move.
“Whoa!” exclaimed Bridger.
Each of us watched the planchette as it slid across the board, briefly stopping on five letters. “D-A-N-T-E,” we all read aloud as a group.
Dante held up his smartphone, which showed the current mix that was quietly seeping through the old floorboards above us. “Ooh, spooky,” he said with a smile. “It knows.”
Stacio nudged me before asking the board a question. “Um, who are we speaking with tonight?”
I followed the planchette and read its answer aloud. “B-D-3.”
Mateo let out a long groan. “What kind of name is BD?”
“Shut up, dude,” Riley replied, a nervous twang to his tone. “I-I think it’s our resident ghosts. You know, the B-Big Delt Three.”
A shiver ran down my spine as an unexpected breeze rippled across the basement; a breeze strong enough to bend and sway the flame atop the candle. I studied the shadows of the room, thankful Riley had left the disco lights on and running.
Stacio’s eyes locked with mine. I felt his fingers briefly graze against and cover mine, what I assumed was his response to the confused look on my face. That whole throwing caution to the wind bender I was on earlier? Yeah. Maybe I should’ve just stopped while I was ahead.
Stacio cleared his throat and spoke up. “Riley, there’s not a draft down here, is there?”
At first fun and tipsy, Riley appeared to be sweating now. “Um, I mean, there’s the old egress doors, but pretty sure they’re locked up.”
I jumped straight out of my chair as a voice from the darkest corners of the basement entered the conversation. “They are locked up. Now, anyway.”
“Oh, shit!” I screamed. “Who’s that?!”
In direct response, out of the shadows walked none other than Jason Harlow, our fraternity house father. Dressed in slacks and a white button-up undone just enough to reveal his furry chest, the handsome forty-something let out a long sigh as he held up a bag of garbage. “Calm down, Mr. Kramer. It’s just me. I’ve been down here cleaning up after Mr. Donovan’s little pregame party.”
“Well, woof, woof,” began Dante, a sexualized inflection to his voice. “Who’s he?”
“That’s Mr. Harlow,” replied Stacio. “He’s our house father.”
“More like house daddy ,” said Dante in response—and he wasn’t wrong. Harlow had an action-star look about him; rugged with a shaved head and a permanent five o’clock shadow that would feel like sandpaper on my face. And I still wanted him.
Harlow made a smug expression before placing the trash bag at his feet. “You boys ain’t summoning the Big Delt Three without me, are you?”
“Sure are! You can take my spot, sir,” said Bridger, his hands already off the planchette and typing away on his smartphone. “Oh, this is so juicy. I gotta text my dad.”
“You boys mind?” Harlow asked, leaning forward and adding his hand to the planchette. “You know, I went to school with these guys.”
I could tell that Riley, Mateo, and Stacio were still in shock that Harlow hadn’t gone ballistic on us for the mess or for the occult practices. Maybe he has something to do with my gift , I wondered as I briefly made eye contact with the older man. “A-all right,” I started again as Harlow took a seat. “What happened to you guys? What happened to the Big Delt Three?”
The planchette began to move, and I read the letters it landed on. “M-U-R-D-E-R.”
“Man, I just know Donovan’s the one moving this thing,” Mateo whispered. I couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not.
Riley responded to the accusation in a meek voice. “Shut up, man. I’m sc-sc-scared shitless.”
“Shhh, guys,” Stacio hushed them. “It’s still moving.”
The planchette felt like it was guiding us faster now. I started to feel uneasy as I continued to read its response aloud. “D-E-M-O-N.”
“Damon?” Mateo asked. I saw him turn to Dante. “Isn’t that your name?”
Dante had a nail file out and was touching up his all-black manicure. “That spells demon, asshole. My name is Dante.”
I felt Stacio’s free hand on my thigh under the table. “What do you wanna ask now?”
I was so surprised by my roommate’s bravery that I stumbled over my words. “I-I have no idea.”
“Did a demon hurt you guys? M-murder you?” Riley asked the board. The planchette hovered over the word Yes . “Is it still here?”
From Stacio and Harlow to Riley and Mateo, my attention moved around the table as I studied the faces of everyone who still had fingers on the planchette. “I-it’s not moving,” I finally said aloud.
“Bullshit. It felt like it started to and then stayed at yes. Do we need to move it between questions, DJ Demon?” Mateo looked to Dante for help.
Dante rolled his eyes at the obvious misnomer. “Not as a rule. Maybe it’s just saying that the demon murdered them. In the context of things, doesn’t sound that strange to me, right? I mean, let’s face it, this demon probably didn’t do keg stands with them.”
Stacio’s rebuttal came next. “Well, since demons don’t exist, it all sounds a little strange.”
Dante shook his head. “Have an open mind if you want honest answers. Staying away from yes and no questions might help. I mean, unless those three-pointer wrists are tired already, basketball star.”
Stacio shook his head. “Fine. How did a demon get into the house in the first place?”
I kept on with my role of reading the responses despite my nerves firing off at top speeds. “S-A-C-R-I-F-I-C-E.”
“Ouija board? Nah.” Bridger commentated from next to us as he snapped a photo of our spirit board session. “More like vague board.”
I pulled my hand away as the planchette began moving again. The soft sound of the heart-shaped piece gliding across the wood was now overpowered by a clicking noise in my head. For some reason, I couldn’t stop picturing Grandma Nadine foaming at the mouth.
“P-E-N-T-A-G-R-A-M,” Mateo read aloud. “Shit. It’s talking about your little wood shop project, Donovan.”
Riley was audibly shivering by now. I put my hand on his shoulder in a reassuring manner.
“Not Riley’s,” interjected Harlow. “The brothers do it every year. Scare someone shitless and then smear their bloody hand on a pentagram. Same thing the year the BD3 vanished.”
“Well, shit. Look, that’s on y’all. You’re the ones who took school spirit week and turned it spooky,” Dante chuckled. “Not the demon.”
“M-maybe we should’ve just went to that pep rally instead,” said Stacio. I could sense an uneasiness in his demeanor, something that instantly caused goosebumps across my body.
I leaned forward, placing my other hand on Stacio’s shoulder. “Well, should we stop? I mean, we can— you can. Just say goodbye.”
“I’m down,” said Stacio. “You guys?”
Harlow turned briefly to acknowledge us, then looked back at the board. “John, Freddy, Peter. Guys, it’s me. Jason Harlow. I take care of these boys now; I’m house father like we always joked I would become. I want to— no, need to keep my boys safe. Can you just tell me—tell me—where is this thing; this demon that’s responsible for your murders?”
A hush fell over the group as we waited for a response. I didn’t dare add my hands back to the planchette, instead allowing my brothers and Harlow to guide it as it once again vibrated and moved.
Harlow read aloud this time. “H-E-R-E.” Emotional in response, it looked as though our house father was really buying into the board’s answers. “What can I do, guys? Please.”
The swishing sound of the planchette gliding along the board might as well have been nails on a chalkboard the way my face strained and contorted.
At first, no one wanted to read its message aloud. Finally, Dante did. “Sacrifice. Same word as before.”
“Uh, gee. Thanks, BD3,” began Stacio. “Maybe we’ll try this again next year. Goodbye!”
The planchette swiftly moved to Goodbye .
Everyone was quiet.
“Well, that was cheery, huh?” Dante finally broke the long silence amongst us. “You guys wanna go again?”
I swallowed hard as I squeezed Stacio’s shoulder. Dante the witch seems pretty relaxed. Maybe that means all of this is a hoax. Maybe I should be like Dante.
“Um, you know what, guys? I’m gonna run to the restroom quick and, uh, refill my drink,” I said aloud, getting to my feet. “Everyone okay with waiting a second?”
My ragtag group of spirit boarders nodded their heads and mumbled in agreement.
“Actually, me, too,” added Stacio before following me up the steps.
I had only just escaped the blaring music and overly chatty drunk sorority girls when Stacio pushed the bathroom door open and joined me at the urinals.
“Hey,” he began. “You sure you’re okay with all this?”
No, I’m not sure, I thought to myself.
When I didn’t respond at first, Stacio spoke up again. “I’ll take that answer as a no.”
“Um, no,” I finally spoke as I pulled my zipper up and moved to the sink. “It’s going fine. I guess it’s just my unresolved Ouija board trauma.”
“The 2014 movie of the same name that sucked so bad it has like a six percent on Rotten Tomatoes, right? Or is this what you told me about your good ole grandma?”
“Her, yeah,” I replied, making eye contact with my roommate in the mirror and smiling. “But nice movie reference. It’s just—when we were playing, I kept hearing this noise. The distinct noise of her cold, shaking hand moving the planchette across the board, like some kind of post-mortem spasm. It was unnerving to say the least. And I don’t know. Maybe I do actually believe in this stuff—in demons, in the spirit realm.”
By now, I could only look down. I nearly jumped when I felt his big arms sneak around my waist and pull me into him.
“Crispin,” he whispered in my ear. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let the guys pressure you into doing this.”
“I-it’s okay. I’m okay, really,” I lied, looking up as he leaned his head over my shoulder. “I know it’s just a silly trick—or, at most, our subconscious speaking back to us; telling us where to go on the board.”
“You’re the worst liar,” Stacio chuckled. “Let’s just ditch those guys and go back to our room. Instead of moving our hands all over that board, maybe we can put them to better use exploring each other.”
Hot, hot, hot. Holy hell, that’s exactly what I want. But… “Well, let’s just go back down there and get the board so I can pack it away safely somewhere first. I’m not sure if I trust all those guys with that thing.”
“What a tease,” replied Stacio. I could tell that was him agreeing with my plan of action.
W e met the men back in the basement a few minutes later. They were talking amongst themselves, not a single hand on the board. Phew, I thought to myself. Thank god.
Dante narrated our reentry to the basement gathering. “Our little medium-in-training and his basketball star beau reappear. Does that mean it’s time to begin again?”
“Umm,” I hesitated. “Well, actually, there’s so many people upstairs, and I was just thinking that maybe we should all just—” I cut myself off suddenly. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the planchette wiggle and move.
“What the fuck?” Mateo shouted, dumbfounded at the same visual. He reached for it with such speed that his elbow connected with the side of the table and shook it.
“Don’t knock it down, dumb ass!” Dante smacked him upside the head hard enough for Mateo to tumble forward, his hand landing back on the planchette. It stopped over the word Hello .
“Is it supposed to do that?” Bridger asked. “We didn’t really give it a prompt, did we?”
I studied Dante’s face. He seemed suddenly interested. “Very peculiar. Keep going,” he said. “Uh, like ask it something. Just, um, think of it like you guys are really popular and everyone wants to DM you.”
Harlow cleared his throat before adding his fingers back to the planchette. “Who’s with us now?”
Stacio and Riley added their fingers to the guide, as well.
Movement across the board was faster now, faster than before. Stacio read the letters aloud now. “A-S-M-O-D-E-U-S.”
Something about that response made me put my hand on the planchette. “Do you have a message for us?” I asked.
“Psychic energy reenters the chat. Nice ,” commented Dante.
Whatever was alleged to be talking to us did, in fact, have a message.
Stacio started reading it aloud. “L-E-T,” he began. My heart pounded as the planchette moved off to the side, as though to suggest a space or a pause. “M-E-I-N.”
“Let mein?” Mateo contemplated aloud. “Like chow mein, I bet.” His stupid comment earned an icy stare from the rest of the room.
“Wh-who are you speaking to?” I asked. The piece of wood almost hesitated before guiding us to a new set of letters. “C-R-I ? —”
“Hey. Maybe let’s stop, huh?” Stacio asked, nudging me. “Crispin?”
I was so concentrated on getting a response; so concentrated on my question that I knew I couldn’t agree with Stacio. Even though I kept my attention on the board, I could feel his eyes on me. I could feel his concern, his nerves.
“I agree with Stacio, Crisp,” Bridger butted in from behind me.
I shook my head and kept reading. “—S-P-I ? —”
As the planchette moved to its next letter, Stacio let out a frustrated grunt and flipped the table.
In retrospect, maybe Stacio had the right idea. His execution wasn’t great, however. I let out a shrill scream as everything moved in slow motion—party cups, a candle, the board, and the table all floating through the air before crashing to the basement floor. “No!”
I was immediately on my feet, pulling back the card table as I grabbed for the board. It was surprisingly undamaged and free from spills. The tipped candle fizzled and went out as Bridger, Harlow, and Dante helped me pick up.
I kept thinking back to Dante’s rules. There was a sudden pit in my stomach, and it felt like it was growing bigger by the second. I brushed against Bridger’s shaking hand as he handed me the board’s box and could tell he was just as flustered.
“Christ, man,” came Mateo. “Talk about ‘roid rage from Stacio over there.”
“W-we weren’t very respectful to that spirit,” Riley muttered. Bridger patted him on the back.
“Hmph. Didn’t say goodbye, either,” Dante said in a lackadaisical tone.
I knew in my heart that I couldn’t be mad or annoyed at Stacio. He probably thought he was protecting me. It’s just a toy for kids, anyway, I tried to reason with myself as I searched the floor for the one thing still unaccounted for.
“Goodbye,” I heard Stacio huff from behind me.
I knew it was just salt in the wound to say what was on the tip of my tongue. I didn’t mean for it to be, but my frustration was growing as I flashed my smartphone light across the basement floor with no luck. “And we weren’t supposed to let the planchette fall.”