My Best Friend's Exorcism(14)

“Are you seriously doing homework?” Margaret barked at Glee, who was sitting against her bed and seriously doing homework.

“This is boring,” Glee said.

“What about the Proclaimers?” Abby asked.

“No!” Margaret snapped.

“That one song is good?” Abby ventured.

Margaret flopped back in her armchair.

“This blows,” she groaned. “Seriously, I’m not feeling anything. Do you guys want to get buzzed? Glee, stop doing your homework or I’m going to hurt you.”

Abby looked down the room. Gretchen was at the far end, staring out the window, putting braids in her hair, then taking them out. Abby went over and stood next to her.

“What’re you looking at?” she asked.

“Fireflies,” Gretchen said.

Abby looked down into the side yard. The only light in the bedroom came from a few candles, so it was dim enough to see out the windows and all the way across the yard to the black treeline.

“What fireflies?” she asked.

“They stopped,” Gretchen said.

“I’ve got a ouija board,” Margaret volunteered. “Y’all want to talk to Satan?”

“Did you know that Crest toothpaste is satanic?” Glee asked, looking up from her Trapper Keeper.

“Glee . . . ,” Margaret said.

“It is,” Glee said. “If you look at the side of the tube, there’s a picture of an old man with two horns and the hair in his beard makes an upside-down 666. And he’s got thirteen stars around him. Ouija boards are made by Parker Brothers, who make Trivial Pursuit.”

“So?” Margaret sighed.

“So,” Glee said. “If you want to communicate with Satan, you’d be better off brushing your teeth than doing ouija.”

“Thanks, nerd,” Margaret said.

The dim room got quiet. Gretchen hid a yawn in the crook of her elbow. Someone had to rescue the night. As usual, it was Abby.

“Let’s go skinny dipping,” she said.

“Fuck that,” Margaret said. “Too cold.”

“Just for a minute,” Abby said.

The idea of being outside sounded nice.

“I’ll go,” Gretchen said, pushing herself up off the window sill.

“Let me finish this trig,” Glee said.

Margaret walked over to Glee and clapped her notebook shut.

“Come on, spazmo,” she said. “Don’t chap my rooster.”

The four of them rumbled down the three flights of stairs, flipped on the yard lights, and spilled out into the backyard.

“Turn out the lights,” Gretchen said. “So we can see the stars.”

“Abby,” Margaret said, “the switch is by the back door.”

Abby tromped back up the stairs, found the switch behind the microwave, and the backyard went dark again. Instantly, the sky got lighter and the crickets got louder. A fat orange moon hung on the horizon, right above the treeline. The night felt like it was listening to them as Abby tiptoed back down the stairs.

“So pretty,” Gretchen was saying.

They watched the moon for a second, each of them willing herself to trip, but the moon just hung there being a moon. Then Gretchen pulled off her T-shirt.

“Bodacious ta-tas!” she shouted, and then she ran into the darkness headed for the dock, shedding clothes, reaching behind her back to unhook her bra, her long legs taking leaps that ate up the grass as she disappeared into the shadows.

“Hold up!” Margaret called. “It’s low tide.”

Gretchen didn’t slow down. They heard her feet thumping fast along the wooden dock.

“Gretchen!” Abby yelled. “Don’t jump!”

They ran after her, Margaret and Abby in the lead, stepping on Gretchen’s shorts and underwear in the grass. Ahead of them came the sound of a shallow splash.

“Shit,” Margaret said.

In the moonlight, they saw that the tide had gone out and the creek had been reduced to a tarnished ribbon of silver water that ran between two high mud banks. For a moment, Abby saw Gretchen hitting the pluff mud and shattering her kneecaps, or landing in three feet of water and slashing her face open on a hidden oyster bed.

“Gretchen?” Abby called.

No answer.

She and Margaret had reached the railing at the end of the dock. Glee trotted up behind them.

“Where’s Gretchen?” she asked.

“She jumped,” Abby said.

“Shit,” Glee said. “Is she okay?”

They looked up and down the creek but Gretchen was gone. They called her name a few times, their voices echoing across the water.

Abby bounced down the ramp to the floating dock.

“There’s alligators,” Margaret warned.

“Gretchen?” Abby called across the creek.

No answer. Abby realized she was going to have to go in.

“Do you have a flashlight?” she called up to Margaret. “We should put in the boat.”

“And run over her head?” Margaret said. “Genius.”

“Then, what?” Abby asked.

“She can hold her breath like a bone,” Margaret said. “Wait for her to come up.”

The water oozed around the floating dock, rocking it up and down.