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"This is stupid," Declan says. It's too late to back out now, though. Casey is here, and she's a huge fan of all this occult stuff and if he leaves now, he'll never have a chance with her.

They've got a crude circle drawn around them in salt and chalk, and a ouija board that Micah got at Toys 'R' Us sitting in the middle of their three person huddle. The basement is cold, damp, and there's a thin stream of light coming in from a small window against the far wall that faces the road. Everything feels distinctly spooky. Casey's fingers on the plastic planchette are trembling. Declan wants to hold her hand.

Micah's glaring at him, though, so he holds himself back.

"Why'd you agree to come if you thought it was so stupid?"

Declan shrugs. "It's fun watching you freak yourself out."

Micah nearly let's go of the planchette to throttle him, but doesn't. He's not sure why Casey decided to invite him at all, because Declan's never taken anything seriously, especially not anything even mildly supernatural. He only believes in things proven by science, although it's not like he's passing that class, or any others. He just likes to laud his complete lack of spirituality over everyone's heads. Especially Micah's.

"Micah, do you want to start us off?" Casey asks. Her nose is itching and her hair is falling in her face, but she doesn't dare take a finger off the planchette to scratch at it. She's also starting to get frustrated at Micah. She knows he's never gotten along with Declan, but she thinks they have a lot in common. If only they'd talk.

Micah sighs, closing his eyes. "Fine. Declan, shut up."

"I wasn't even saying anything-" he tries to retort, but is cut off quickly.

"Spirits, we call upon you to visit us tonight. You can use our board to contact us if you please," Micah says. He's forcing his voice low and steady, and he knows it's only adding to the atmosphere surrounding them. "Let me demonstrate."

Gently, he guides the planchette, with Casey and Declan's pointing fingers resting on it on either side of his own, towards an 'H', followed by an 'E', slowly and purposely spelling out H E L L O. He brings the planchette to a stop in the middle of the two lines of letters in the center of the board, and waits.

Nothing happens for a moment.

Declan doesn't believe in any of this stuff, and never has. His mother's always been a fanatic about the supernatural, hanging crystals on their kitchen window, tying dried flowers above the front door, drawing salt lines across doorways to stop spirits entering. He remembers the time he smoked in the bathroom, and his mother, fearing it was the ghost of his father, lit a bundle of sage and smoked the whole house out, until his eyes were red and burning from the scent of it.

But the planchet is moving, and he knows it can't be Micah or Casey. They aren't the type.

It's a quick, jerky slide, but the planchet ends up resting on 'YES.'

Micah's staring at him.

"It- it wasn't me!" he squeaks, and hates himself for it. He should be able to control his voice better than this, especially around Casey, who's trying to hide a smirk under her hair.

"You know, funnily enough I don't believe you-" Micah starts, but the planchet begins moving again, beginning a jerky slide towards the letters, before turning and pointing at 'GOOD BYE.'

"No, sorry spirit, don't leave us yet. What is your name?" Micah asks, his voice deepening again, eyes lowered. The basement is so, so dark. Declan doesn't want to admit how scared he is.

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