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“Well?? Answer it, dude!”
My mouth is dry. My lungs are empty. All I can do is stare at the phone while my little ringtone sings out.
West rushes up to my side and jabs at my phone, answering it on my behalf. “West!” I hiss, then realize it’s too late and bring the phone to my ear, trembling. “Uh, h-hello …?”
“Hi. Is this Calvin? Er …” A soft chuckle bursts in my ear. “Wow, sorry, old habit. Is this Griffin?”
“Yes. It’s me.” I realize I sound super stiff. I relax my voice. “Yeah, buddy, it’s me.” Buddy? What? Why do I sound like West? I clear my throat. “Yep, it’s me, it’s good ol’ Griff.”
Good ol’ Griff? Even West shoots me a what-the-fuck-was-that look.
Ugh, I’m ruining this before it’s even begun.
“Hey. I, uh … hope it’s alright that I’m calling you. I figured instead of just shooting you a text, maybe I could call you instead. To talk. Yeah, yeah, I know,” he says through a stifled laugh, “way old school. Like, who actually uses a phone to call anyone anymore, right?”
“Hah, right!” I swallow hard. My brain is all frozen up, like I’ve forgotten half my vocabulary, or can’t for the life of me remember how conversations work.
West smacks me on the arm and hisses something. I stare back at him questioningly. Then he jabs a finger at my phone, turning the speaker on—just in time for Byron to shout, “I’m really glad you answered!”
His words are screamed in my unprepared ear. I jerk the phone away, glare at West, then reply, “Me too! Uh.” What do I say? “Is it a costume party tomorrow?”
“Hmm. You know what? I’m not sure, to be honest. How about we be crazy and wear costumes anyway?”
“Yeah, sounds great! What’ll we be?”
“Oh. You wanna coordinate or something?”
“I … uh …” I send an emergency alert signal with my eyes at West, who has already smacked a hand to his forehead in frustration. Then he gestures and mouths a few words, but I don’t understand any of them. “I, we, uh … we don’t have to, if you—” West shakes his head, gestures at me again, and draws a finger across his neck. The hell? “Actually, yeah, if you want to, we could—” He throws his hands in exasperation, wide-eyed. I can’t understand what he’s trying to tell me, but it’s sending me into a full-blown panic. What am I saying wrong?? “What do you think, Byron? What should we do?”
“How about you surprise me, and I’ll surprise you. Doesn’t have to be anything big, don’t have to go all Comic-Con on me. I had a costume planned, but I think I’m gonna do something different.”
West freezes. I swallow. “Something different …?”
“Yep. I guess you can say you inspired me.” A little cracked chuckle escapes Byron. “So I take it we’re still on for tomorrow night? We’re still cool? No sudden changes of heart or anything?”
“Totally! Yes!” West shoots me a look. Am I being too easy? Should I be more West-like? “Yeah, bro, you know, whatever,” I amend with a shrug. West pinches the bridge of his nose, mortified on my behalf.
“Great! Um …” Uncertainty fills Byron’s voice. “I guess we can meet at 13th and Fortune Street at eight or so? We can walk there together. It’s not far.”
I still sound like West. “Works for me, dude.”
Dude?? West rolls his eyes in disbelief.
“Awesome! So … I really look forward to seeing you tomorrow, Griffin!”
“Yeah, me too. Later, bud.” I hang up, then throw the phone at my bed like it just grew spider legs. I turn instantly back into myself. “What the hell was that??!”
West leans against the wall and crosses his arms with a weary sigh. The look on his face says it all.
I frown. “I ruined it, huh? Totally ruined it? Might as well just cut my losses and run?”
“Nah.” He pushes away from the wall and comes right up to me. “But it’s clear now more than ever.”
“What is?”
“You need me tomorrow night.” He wags his finger between us. “It’s official. Bro-fficial. We’re gonna do the séance thing. You’re not going on this date alone.”
I wrinkle my face. “Séance? It’s not a séance. That isn’t what you call this. It’s …” In truth, I have no clue what to call it. “It’s not called a séance! That’s when—”
“Brofficial séance. That’s what we’re calling it.” He starts to strut off. “And I still need to find an object of significance or whatever.”
“Dude.” He’s already out of the room. I call out after him. “It’s not called a séance! I swear, if I hear you call it that one more time …”
7
The Brofficial Séance
It’s Halloween night.
Well, not quite the night. More like the mild first half of the evening before anything’s really begun. Only toddlers and little children are trick-or-treating at their parents’ side before the sun’s properly gone down. Very unscary and super unthreatening outside.
