Page 172 of Under Story

Dream analysis

Séance

“For automatic drawing, how about Exquisite Corpse?” asks Charlie. “You fold a piece of paper three times, and a different person illustrates each section.”

“Great idea.” Laurel adds Exquisite Corpse in parentheses.

“I think we should start with the séance,” Louis says. “If a ghost can tell us what to do, we won’t have to bother with anything else.”

“My grandma can communicate with spirits,” says Zachary. “She lives in Lily Dale. The whole town is filled with mediums. I could try to lead us; I’ve gone to some of her sessions. Nana uses a pendulum, but candles would work, too.”

Laurel finds a box of beeswax tea lights in the basement. They spend the afternoon in the orchard, but that evening, they meet upstairs again. Summer rain falls gently. Everyone joins hands. While Zachary asks questions, they watch the flames for an answer. The only notable sputter takes place when Clare raps on the door.

“Laurel!” she calls, and everyone jumps. “Maisie’s on the phone.”

“Can you say I’ll get back to her?” Laurel shouts. “We’re—making friendship bracelets.”

She touches the pendant on her necklace: a small vial with a grain of rice inside. Maisie has one, too. Her name is written on the rice in Laurel’s pendant, and Laurel’s name is written on the one in hers.

Laurel calls the next morning.

“What took you so long?” asks Maisie.

“I’m sorry. I have friends in town. We met at McMurdo,” says Laurel.

“You didn’t tell me they were coming.”

“I thought I did.” To Maisie’s silence, Laurel adds, “Do you want to have dinner with us tonight?”

“That’s okay. I’m going to Riordan’s.” Maisie’s voice is clipped. “Have fun.”

Laurel’s relief is greater than her guilt. The McMurdoans have no time to spare. The next day, a second séance produces equally dismal results.

“Maybe it’s me,” says Zachary.

“Baby, no,” says Louis.

Charlie’s exercise produces baffling combinations. An eyeball becomes a clock with feet; a bed hovers between a lightning bolt and a snowflake. Laurel is beginning to wish that she’d chosen a movement more candid than surrealism.

Nita leans her head against the wall. “I think we need a break.”

The next morning, Eli takes Nita on a hike to Picnic Point. Zachary and Louis eat brunch on the square, and Laurel brings Charlie to her favorite bookstore. In the antiuniverse, Charlie illustrates picture books, and Laurel wants to see them. It was after she visited McMurdo, Charlie explains, that her style solidified. Just like Charlie One, Charlie Two excels at roundness and depth—button noses, full cheeks—and she’s known for her distinctive pinks and bluish-greens. The bouncing balls in her most famous book seem to project in 3-D.

When the group reconvenes, no one feels ready to continue.

“Maybe our subconscious minds are working in the background,” says Charlie.

“I don’t know,” Laurel says. “It doesn’t seem smart to lose a whole day.”

“Yeah, but just being together—that’s half the job, isn’t it?” says Louis, who, cheered by Charlie’s angle, has adopted a tone of expertise. “I bet we just need a little more time. Our brains are probably still syncing.”

They decide to spend the afternoon at the pool. At the entrance, Laurel curses under her breath. Maisie sits alone on a pool chair by the fence.

Louis and Zachary head to the snack bar while Nita goes for a dive. When Maisie sees the group, she tugs her bucket hat down.

“Ask her to join us,” Eli murmurs. “She looks really sad.”

But Maisie seems to detect that Laurel’s offer is half-hearted.