Jade snorts. “Are you actually scared?”
Bailey ignores her and steps up to the entrance. Holds up her phone, casting a pale glow on the barn floor. “This is maaaaaad creepy.” It comes out as if the breath has been sucked out of her.
I walk through the mouth of the barn, feeling Lauren’s sharp inhale as I step away from her. Bailey, never one to be outdone, snaps out of her fear and follows me.
There’s hay scattered over the ground, accompanied by the occasional glint of a condom wrapper or beer can. A loft looms on the other end of the barn, its floor beveling under the weight of its age and neglect.
The scraping of feet, and then Lauren and Jade come up behind us. “So now what?”
Bailey sits. Removes the tea light candles from her bag and arranges them in a neat row. Jade tosses Bailey her lighter and smirks. “Do we cut our palms and make a blood oath?”
“If you don’t take it seriously, it’s not going to work,” Bailey scolds. She flicks the lighter and lets the flame hover over the wick on the first candle.
I sit next to Bailey. Next to me, Lauren dutifully lowers herself to the ground, eyes wide, and I lean over and whisper in her ear: “Nothing is actually going to happen. It’s not real.”
But when Jade sits, I see her shiver. Bailey catches it and raises an eyebrow as if to say, See?
Jade wraps her arms around her middle. “It’s freezing. Can we just do this and go home?”
Outside, the wind picks up. A draft flows through the door; the flame gutters out. Bailey frowns, tries again. We fall silent, watching her finger skate across the trigger of the lighter.
Finally, a flame. Bailey’s eyes are fixed on the candles as she lights them, but I see the quaver in her hand.
The last candle flickers; the flame jumps to life. Bailey sits back. A satisfied look comes over her face. She slips something out of her back pocket: a silver pendulum, a daggerlike blue crystal at the end.
Bailey’d found it in her attic while putting away the Christmas ornaments in January. She’d opened a box of her mom’s old things by mistake.
Now, Bailey inhales and holds the pendulum over the circle formed by the candles. A gust of wind passes through the barn, causing the chain to sway.
“How are we supposed to know if it’s working?” I ask. “The wind is so strong.”
Bailey looks at me and holds her free finger to her lips. The chain goes still; the crystal at the end of the pendulum stops swinging.
Bailey’s voice comes out in a hush: “Is there anyone here?”
Our eyes on the crystal, we’re silent, until:
“I farted,” Jade says.
Bailey leans across the circle and slaps Jade’s thigh, hard. Lauren erupts into giggles.
Bailey actually sounds angry as she glares at Jade. “You killed the energy, jerk.”
“Oh, whatever.” Jade rolls her eyes. “You’re the only one who believes this garbage.”
Next to me, Lauren hugs her knees to her chest. She’s still in those sock-monkey pajamas. Her eyes are on the candles. I won’t betray her, reveal that Bailey isn’t the only one who believes this garbage. Andrew, my stepbrother, told me that Lauren couldn’t sleep for days when her friend Chloe said she spotted a strange ball of light on Sparrow Road.
A gust of wind picks up. Something slams against the outside of the barn, drawing a yelp out of Bailey. Jade sits up straight, turns to the noise.
The thrumming in my body zips up to my brain. Just adrenaline. “It was only the wind.”
Then: the crunch of snow. The wind rises again, howling, taking footsteps outside with it. Running. Someone—something—running away from the barn.
Bailey jumps. “What the hell was that?” Lauren’s arms shoot around my middle.
Jade stands. “I’m going to check.”
I roll onto my knees. Jade shouldn’t go alone. “I’m coming.”
“Don’t,” Lauren cries out. “What if someone’s out there?”
“There’s more of us,” Jade says. “It was probably an animal, anyway.”
I don’t ask what kind of animal other than a human would be spying on four girls performing a séance in the middle of the night. Bailey sits back on her heels, frozen.
I look from Bailey to Lauren. “Stay with her, please?” I don’t know which one of them I’m talking to.
Jade is already out the door; I’m at her heels. “This was a stupid idea,” she mutters, picking her way through the dark. Her own feet barely make a sound on the snow. She shouts into the trees: “Hey, dickhead! We’re going.”
I pull my scarf over my face, leaving Jade to shout into the wind, and make my way around the barn to the wall where we heard the slamming. The snow is packed solid. No footprints. No animal, no human.
I make my way back to Jade. “There’s no one out here. You can stop yelling.”
The wind picks up again, nearly knocking us backward.
That’s when the groaning starts. I whip around just in time to see the snow on the roof of the Leeds Barn sinking.
Lauren.
I take off running, shouting: Get out get out get out.
A body collides with mine: Bailey. She’s got Lauren by the hand. I steady myself, grab on to both Bailey’s and Lauren’s arms as a crack splits the silence. We watch as one half of the Leeds Barn roof falls, hitting the ground with a thud.
That’s when Lauren starts screaming.
Bailey’s voice is breathless: “We need to get the hell out of here.”
I grab hold of Lauren. “Hey. It’s okay. It was just the wind.”
Lauren’s eyes are on the barn. The sound coming out of her is shrill enough to carry over half a mile.
Jade is at our side in an instant. “Shut her up. Seriously. Or we’re all screwed.”
“Come on.” Bailey grabs Lauren. “Let’s just get her in the car.”
Before I turn to follow them, I poke my head inside the barn. It’s dead still, a gaping hole in the roof letting in the light of the moon. On the floor, all five candles are out.
CHAPTER TWO
When we’re shut inside Bailey’s car, Lauren stops screaming and starts to whimper. I take her ice-cold hand in mine. “You didn’t get hurt, did you?”
“She’s fine,” Bailey says, starting the engine and peeling away from Sparrow Hill.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” I say, irritated enough to raise my voice. “That roof could have squashed you both.”
Jade glares at me. “Brilliant idea. Letting her come.”
“What was I supposed to do? You shouldn’t have decided we should go to that decrepit old barn in the first place.”
Lauren’s whimpers give way to short, shallow breaths. She’s hyperventilating. My stomach turns as Bailey swerves over to the side of the road and throws the car into park.
Bailey twists around as far as her seat will let her. “Hey. Look at me,” she says. She reaches back and gives Lauren’s knee a shake. Her voice is gentle. “You have to stop crying. If you go home hysterical, you’re going to get us in trouble.”
Lauren wipes her face with the sleeve of her jacket. “I know. I’m sorry. I just want to go home.”
Bailey sighs, turns forward. Puts the car in drive and pulls away from the shoulder. Lauren hiccups.