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would’ve beat it more when he sent me home.”
“I’ve never seen one of these in person before,” Giulia said.
“The class troublemaker snuck one into Bible camp when we were thirteen. It might’ve worked if we all hadn’t giggled so loud the counselor came to check on us.” CeCe sat on her heels. “Okay; everyone’s fingers on the planchette.”
Roy said, “Let’s not imitate the movies. That never ends well. I’ll try the straightforward approach. CeCe, stop shaking this thing.”
She took several deep breaths, let out one last nervous giggle, and settled.
“Spirit of Stone’s Throw, speak to us,” Roy intoned.
They waited.
“Spirit of Stone’s Throw,” CeCe started, giggled, and started again. “Girl, come have a chat. Ignore that man over there.”
They waited. Roy sneezed and the planchette skidded over to the letter “L.”
“Sorry.” He reset it to the middle of the board.
They waited some more.
“Giulia, you try,” CeCe whispered.
Every Cradle Catholic molecule in Giulia’s body rebelled. She couldn’t. She really couldn’t.
Yes, she could, because it was her job. Father Carlos would tease her to no end at next week’s confession.
“Come speak to us,” Giulia said in a coaxing voice. “It’s a good night for some girl time.”
Below them, on the patio, someone screamed.
Sixteen
Giulia jumped up. CeCe and Roy started. The planchette skittered over the board.
Giulia yanked apart the curtains and opened the window.
“Fire!” Several voices yelled.
“Oh my God, oh my God, the ghost started a fire.” CeCe’s voice quivered. “We’re going to be arrested for arson.”
“Cec, don’t be ridiculous.” Roy blew out the candles. “Come on, we’ve gotta help.”
CeCe turned on the room light, glanced down at the Ouija board, and backpedaled until she hit the wardrobe. “Look at her message.”
Roy and Giulia looked where CeCe’s bright pink fingernail pointed. The planchette had stopped over the word “Yes,” the letters cut in jagged halves by the cracked glass.
“Damn,” Roy said.
Giulia shook her head. “We pushed it there when we all stood and ran to the window. It doesn’t mean anything. Come on.”
She opened the door and ran downstairs, a bodiless voice in her head repeating, “Too many horror movies. Too many horror movies.” Which had to be the reason for all the little hairs on the back of her neck standing at attention. That was all. Period.
Through the sunroom windows, she saw a confusion of orange flames and black smoke whipping back and forth two feet above the ground. Mac shoved past her, carrying the kitchen fire extinguisher. Giulia followed, right into a faceful of smoke. She bent in half, coughing and eyes stinging. The world stank of burning plastic. Mac’s silhouette crossed in front of the largest flames and the hiss of spraying chemicals mixed with popping wood from the still-lit bonfire and ululating approach of sirens.
The smoke morphed from black to gray as it flowed over the house.
“Dammit, this thing is empty.” Mac flung the small extinguisher aside. Someone hopped over it as it rolled onto the grass, possibly Joel or Gino.
The sides of the cooler melted in on each other. A small explosion whipped against the sparking cushions and reignited the stuffing. A new set of stenches joined the rest. Giulia pulled her shirt up over her nose and mouth and flattened against the sunroom windows as three firefighters appeared around the corner of the building, hose flopping behind them.
One turned on the pressure and another held the hose while the first one drowned the flames in a thick spray of foam. The third shouted orders and then all at once the fire was out and floodlights on the second floor overhang turned on to illuminate the wreckage.
That’s when the police arrived.
The entire patio looked like the remains of a gigantic campfire doused with whipped cream. The firefighters clustered around the fire pit