2. 2
“Yes,” I said with a nod. “You know how I’m in charge of the Big Delts Spirit Week party tonight?”
Bridger nodded. “Thought that’s why we were having lunch over here. You know, so you could recruit me to help you with your little day-of checklist.”
“While that sounds like a good idea, I only told you to come over because I haven’t found it in me to leave the house today,” I replied honestly. “Anyway, I got a little thank-you basket of sorts delivered to my door for organizing the whole thing. It came with wine and some little party favors, but also this really authentic talking board. Think it’s something that’s been passed down through generations of Big Delts.”
Bridger reached forward and put a friendly hand on my knee. He was the only one aside from my parents—and now Stacio—who knew about what I saw the day Grandma Nadine died. “No disrespect to you or your grams, Crispin, but if you need someone to move the little planchette to scare your party guests, I’m your guy. The only shit that’s off-limits to me is just like, you know, blood rituals over pentagrams and shit.”
Fuck, I thought to myself. I totally forgot about the pentagram. My voice felt hoarse, like I had been concentrating so long I had forgotten to breathe. “Funny you mention that…”
Bridger’s attention was suddenly behind me. I recognized Riley Donovan’s voice and knew why.
“Hey, little man!” I turned in time to see my fraternity president step out of the house in just a pair of gray sweatpants. He nodded his head at me, patting me on the back before leaning in and giving Bridger a high-five. “Crispin here told me you were his bestie, so that means you’re gonna be at our big party tonight, right?”
Bridger had been adamant the whole semester that he would not be partaking in any fraternity house parties, and so far he had held true to his word. I actually first met Bridger when we both were pledging to become Big Delts, but one day he texted me and told me he had dropped out of the running. Whenever I tried to press him about why, he was reluctant to give me a straightforward answer. No way is he gonna cave and go to this party, I thought to myself.
“Oh, um, y-y-yeah,” Bridger mumbled, clutching his arm like Riley’s high-five was stronger than he expected. “Sounds, uh, you know, like a fun time.”
“Oh, for fuckin’ sure, dude,” Riley replied, absentmindedly sticking his hand down the front of his pants and adjusting himself. “Crispin here is the brains of the operation, but I have to say that the boys really pulled through in helping me put together a couple of surprises for our master of festivities for the evening.” As much as I loved feeling like one of the guys at my fraternity, I so wished I could express to Riley that surprises were, in fact, my least favorite thing.
I could picture how a typical interaction between me—a gay guy—and straight roommates might go if I had told them I didn’t want an ouija board, or pentagrams, or any other true occultist items to be part of tonight’s itinerary. They’d say something like, “What, you too scared? Come on, man up, pussy.” Honestly, I just wanted to avoid any kind of institutionalized homophobia and stick to the status quo, so pentagrams and Ouija boards were likely par for the course.
“Oh?” Bridger asked, looking to me to break the silence.
“Oh, um, yeah!” I began. “You’re gonna love it, Bridge. And Riley, I have to say thanks a ton for the little gift basket at my door this morning.”
“Aw, man. No worries,” began Riley. “I know the Big Delts traditionally only offer kegs for Spirit Week, so I knew we had to grab my fave second-year member’s drink of choice for the night.”
“Yeah,” I said with a smile, looking to Bridger. “They, uh, got me wine. A lot of it. And an Ouija board.”
I felt the tone of the conversation shift as Riley spoke up again. “A weegie-wha?” Despite trying to keep up his cool guy act in front of Bridger, confusion was painted across his face.
“Yeah. Somebody threw in this hand-carved spirit board that I’m guessing a bunch of alumni had commissioned. Looks like it’s old,” I replied. “I assumed it was to go with the whole theme of our party. That wasn’t you?”
“Huh,” Riley said through clenched teeth. “It wasn’t.”
Interesting revelation, I thought to myself. Before any of us could continue the conversation, another familiar face popped up right behind Riley.
“You get my special addition to your little gift basket, Kramer?” Mateo asked as he wrapped his arms around Riley, picked him up, and spun him around a full three-hundred-and-sixty degrees.
“The squeegee board?” Riley asked, giving Mateo a playful punch in the arm so that he dropped him.
“Nah,” Mateo was quick to reply, moving his hand to his waist and flicking his wrist back and forth in a jerking off movement. “Somethin’ a little different.”
I rolled my eyes. “The only homophobe in the house gives me a bottle of lube. Make it make sense, please.”
Mateo winked at me before heading inside the house.
“Weird,” Riley said with a shrug. “Guess everyone added to my gift basket. Uh, anyway, I’ve got a few errands to run this afternoon, but I’ll be back to rally the troops and help out with any last-minute things around six. Our door guys should be out here by about seven-thirty. Oh, and the new DJ should be showing up any time now just to drop his equipment off. Can you let him in if you see him?”
“Sure!” I beamed, turning to Riley as we entered into our fraternity handshake. “Thanks for everything, Ri.”
“No prob, man,” Riley said with a smile before turning his attention to my guest. “Hope we bump into each other at the party tonight, Bridger.”
I’d never seen Bridger fake excitement so badly before. “Count on it!” he nearly squeaked, putting his thumbs up.
Aw, I thought to myself. He thinks Riley is cute. And Riley seems to like him, too. But… Riley’s straight, right? At this point, I was starting to think everyone in my fraternity was a little gay.
By the time I broke from my train of thought, we were alone again.
I wasted no time in teasing Bridger. “So, you’re saying all I gotta do is get some cute straight guy from my frat to invite you, and then you’ll magically show up to my parties?”
Bridger’s cheeks were red. “Hey now, Crispin. Watch it. You’re like the king of straight guy simps.”
“Not anymore, I’m not,” I replied, but even I wasn’t sure of the words coming out of my mouth. “Anyway, did you hear that? This whole Ouija board gift mystery sounds about as sus as the plot to every single one of those Fraternity Row Exorcism movies.”
“True,” Bridger nodded, placing a barren apple core on the patio table between us. “You mind showing it to me?”
I hesitated before standing up. “I-I guess not. It’s up in my room.”
A s I pulled open my suite door, I pressed Bridger on the interesting details my roommate had shared with me last night. “Stacio also said our house father told him that those three guys were killed here . Did you know that?”
“Well,” Bridger began, “My dad lived at the house then, so—well, yeah. But don’t worry. He said—and police reports confirm—that only two bodies were actually found inside the property.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah,” Bridger said with a nod. “The third was in pieces out on the front lawn somewhere.
My eyes widened as I digested the details. “That makes it so much better.”
“Whoa! Neat!” Bridger had already left our conversation in the past; his eyes fixated on the unfolded Ouija board placed at the center of my bed. The planchette was even on top of it. “Don’t tell me you already used it?”
“N-no,” I stuttered. My heart felt like it skipped a beat when I saw the display on my bed. “I didn’t. In fact, i-it was back in its box when I left.”
Bridger had already kicked off his shoes and jumped onto my bed to get a closer look. “This is such a vibe. I know every gay guy says this, but ever since that one season of American Horror Story, I’ve wanted to be a witch. Maybe this can be like my gateway drug or something.”
I was quick to run over and snatch the planchette out of Bridger’s hands before he got too carried away. “Hey, hey, hey! No talking to the dead on my bed.”
“Fine,” Bridger sighed, grabbing up the board and getting to his feet. “I’ll do it outside while we wait for the DJ to show up, then.”
“Ugh.” I gave Bridger a defeated look. I guess Bridger playing around with this thing is better than my drunk frat brothers doing so. “Whatever. Let’s go.”
We made our way back to the hallway after Bridger collected the board’s box and his shoes. “Where’d that little thing go that you put your hands on to communicate with the spirits?”
Searching my pockets, I quickly realized I had left the item in question back on my bed. “It’s called a planchette. And hold on.”
As I ran back into my room and grabbed up the missing piece, I couldn’t help but pause as a photo caught my eye. The polaroid—one of Stacio giving me a piggyback ride at a Greek life carnival earlier in the school year—was tucked into the side of a mirror hung just above my desk. A detail I had never noticed before stood out to me now. While my drunk ass smiled directly into the camera, Stacio was looking up at me with a sweet, longing grin running across his face. You know, maybe I’m not a straight guy simp like Bridger says. That would mean Stacio’s straight, after all. So , I thought to myself as I looked down at the planchette, looks like I’m only breaking one of my cardinal rules, right?
The next thing that pulled my attention was something I later told myself couldn’t possibly be real. The fuck!?
In the same corner of the mirror, I swore I caught the reflection of Grandma Nadine just as I had seen her in my dream last night. I blinked and the apparition was gone. Instead, I saw the reflection of a coat hanger Stacio had placed on the opposite side of the room.
I shook my head, pocketed the planchette, and headed back to meet Bridger.
I spoke up as Bridger studied the note that had been tied to the planchette. “So, the Big Delt Three—that’s what the brothers call our alleged friendly house ghosts. Guessing those are the same guys that terrible horror movie was based off of; the ones you did your history report on?”
Bridger nodded, his eyes narrowing as he studied the craftsmanship of the talking board.
“I keep hearing that they died, but was it—I don’t know—murder?”
“That’s what my father told me; what the police initially reported. Three frat brothers who disappeared one night. Nowhere to be found after some party. Like I said, though, they found ‘em, um, eventually.”
“What do you mean, eventually?”
He didn’t elaborate further because we were interrupted.
“Hey, you guys mind if I come in and set up?” I turned to see a familiar-looking man with jet black hair and pale skin standing at the porch entrance. He looked like the definition of an old-school goth kid with a dash of 2000s emo, but there was something charming about him.
“Oh, hey! Are you our new DJ?” I asked, getting to my feet and holding out my hand. It was only then that I realized how tall and lanky he was.
“That’d be me. DJ Dante,” he replied, taking my hand and shaking it. “Nice to meet ya.”
Dante, huh? I thought to myself, my gaydar ringing in my head like an alarm. Must be the guy Stacio said was talking about me.
I glanced at Bridger, who shrugged and went back to idly tracing the lettering of the spirit board with his finger.
“Hi, Dante. I’m Crispin, the party organizer for tonight. I think everything you need to get set up should be in our formal dining room. If you go in, to the right, and follow the hallway, it’s right there.”
“Awesome, thanks,” Dante said with a nod before gesturing toward Bridger and the board. “You guys are really leaning into the whole spirit thing for Spirit Week, aren’t ya?”
Bridger looked up, his eyes wide with guilt. “Huh?”
Dante shrugged and smiled again, looking from Bridger back to me. “Nothin’. Just be careful with that thing.”
“That’s what I said,” I replied, crossing my arms as I shot my bestie a stern look. “But don’t worry. It’s just for show. A mystery caller left it at my doorstep this morning.”
Dante’s lips moved, almost like he was about to tell me something. Catching my eyes on him, he looked away before stepping up to the front door and pulling it open. “I’ll reach out if I need anything else. Otherwise, guess I’ll see you two tonight.”
“Thanks again, DJ Dante,” I said with a wave. As soon as he disappeared, I moved over to the couch Bridger was sitting on and started to put the board back in its box. “When the goth DJ tells you to be careful, you listen to him.”
“Fine, ” Bridger sighed, dropping his arms to his sides. “You know, I’ve seen that guy around before, your DJ Dante. His Grindr profile says he’s a witch. Leave it up to a witch to ruin my fun on Spirit Week.”
“Wait, hold on!” I exclaimed. “You still use Grindr? And what do you mean, witch?”
“Well,” my friend began, “not like the ones with boils and broomsticks like old movies. More modern and cool, like the hip lesbian ones from Buffy or, you know, post-prison Martha Stewart . And sure, sometimes I log on. All we did was chat once. I’m not sure if I see myself ever dating a witch.”
“Huh,” I cuffed my chin. “My grandma spoke of witches. Didn’t say she was one, but mentioned she had the cunning of a witch. That it was something passed down in the family; a kind of sixth sense. Whatever that means.”
“Cris, don’t take this the wrong way. I don’t mean to be insensitive,” Bridger began again, “but do you really think something bad happened to her just from using the board? Or do you think it was just a big coincidence and she had a medical emergency while chattin’ up her friends from beyond the grave?”
“It’s not insensitive. It’s okay.” I shook my head. “The truth is, I don’t really know. Maybe I’m overreacting just because I’ve seen too many scary movies.”
Bridger’s bottom lip disappeared as he nibbled at it. I recognized that face; it meant he was deep in thought. “So, uh, what if whoever gave you the board asks you to whip it out at the party and kick-start a seance?”
I hadn’t even thought of that. “Um, well, guess I’m just hoping everyone sort of is too busy focused on drinking and dancing.”
This seemed like an acceptable answer for my friend. He handed me the planchette. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable by playing with it, Cris. Sorry ‘bout that. Are you sure there’s nothing you might need my help with before tonight?”
“Well,” I paused as my eyes darted to the front door Dante had walked through and back to Bridger, “as far as the party itself goes, no. But what else do you know about DJ Witch Master Supreme in there?”
We both chuckled.
A peaceful shower was just what I needed to ease my mind before the big night. The rising steam around me created a fog effect as water drenched my hair. The shower steamer I had dropped between my feet released sweet notes of eucalyptus into the shared bathroom. A flirty roommate hinting at something more, a totally prophetic dream, one mystery spirit board, and a DJ accused of witchcraft… So many plot twists in one day and I can’t even begin to predict what will happen next.
All I wanted was for my party to go perfectly. I could deal with the rest later. Right?
The sound of the bathroom door opening caught my attention. A practical person would assume it was just another brother freshening up before the party. The who’s who of Greek life and beyond would be in attendance tonight, so it only made sense. But all I could think about was the black-eyed man from my nightmare. I shivered as a shadowy figure danced along my shower curtain and then disappeared. The shower next to me kicked on as the pipes in the surrounding ceilings creaked at the demand.
“He-hello?” I asked.
“Yo, Kramer,” came the familiar voice of a senior brother named Anthony. “Just me. Excited for your party tonight.”
“Oh!” I replied, realizing I was just overreacting. “Y-yeah. Me, too.”
As more brothers trickled into the shared space, I was able to relax again. Damn, my nerves are going crazy, I thought as I toweled myself down and grabbed up my shower caddy.
A shirtless Mateo was brushing his teeth at one of several sink vanities I passed. “Don’t drop the towel, Kramer,” he said with a wink.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full, Ricci,” I shot back before stepping into the hallway and making my way to my suite.
About fifteen minutes later, I was putting the finishing touches on my outfit for the night. I adjusted my two-toned red and black bowtie, ensuring it fit snugly underneath the collar of my slim-fit black button-up before tucking the bottom of my shirt into my skinny red corduroys. My shirt even had a unique red shimmer design running from shoulder to hip to match the rest of my outfit. Spinning around as I examined myself in the mirror, I couldn’t deny it: I looked damn good. And yes, I was indeed wearing a jockstrap underneath it all. Ghosts, demons, and witches be damned. I gotta show off my assets.
I caught Stacio in the mirror’s reflection as he stepped into the room and dropped his bags. “Wowza!” he exclaimed. I rolled my eyes as I saw his own move down to examine my rear. “Look at you, all dressed to impress and perky and shit.”
I spun around to greet him, but remembered to keep my emotions in check. I feigned a look of disinterest. “Looks like the same can’t be said for you,” I acknowledged, looking him up and down. But I bet he’s all hot and sweaty from practice, which is pretty sexy.