I had to figure out a way to fix this. All I could think of was writing Rachel a note in her diary, hoping she wouldn't flip out completely. I told her everything. From the start. Because I knew if she read just the ending—I'm stuck inside you—she'd run straight to the nearest holy water sprinkler.
I hoped I wouldn't regret it.
Realistically, the risk profile was obvious.
She read it.
She flipped.
Screaming, pacing, full-on meltdown. Her scream hit the room like a fire alarm. She started rambling about possession movies—how evil spirits pretend to be friendly before they take over your body forever. Lovely.
But then, for some reason, she calmed down. Maybe because I kept apologizing like a broken record. I told her I was stuck. I told her I didn't want to hurt her.
She looked in the mirror, like she thought it worked like FaceTime, and started talking to me. I wanted to tell her, you can just speak, you don't need the mirror, but I kept it to myself.
And then she said, "You don't have to be mean about it."
Wait—what?
Could she hear me?
She could.
I tried telling something to her, and she responded. She was skeptical. Paranoid. But eventually, she believed it was really me.
She made me promise not to read her thoughts. I said I wouldn't. Then I explained that I can't help it. It just happens. Then she said if I could read hers, she should read mine too.
Yeah—no. That's not how this works.
She didn't take my word for it, of course. For the next ten minutes she kept stress-testing herself like she was running a diagnostic scan—touching a rosary to her chest, checking her arms for mysterious burn marks, even searching for "early signs of possession" like it was a flu.
At one point she held up her hand to the light to see if her skin flickered. I didn't have the heart to tell her that's not a thing outside movies.
She was terrified, but honestly?
Completely relatable.
We went to college the next day. Ezra was there. Kathy, still missing. Without thinking, I blurted, "How did it go, huh?"
Rachel nearly fainted.
She ran straight to the bathroom. "Don't speak without me!" she hissed.
Sorry. I didn't know I could just… talk. Before, I had to try so hard to say anything. She didn't care. She was mortified.
Later, Ezra said he'd taken the day off to hang out with a visiting friend.
Sure. And I knew about this friend. So did Rachel. We both rolled our eyes.
The day blurred by.
Miss Rosaline found Rachel and asked if she was feeling better. Rachel smiled. Lied. Said she was fine. Definitely not planning to go to church. Miss Rosaline didn't buy it, after all she did her master's in psychology.
She offered to drop us home.
I didn't like that.
And if it wasn't obvious enough, she didn't take us straight home. She drove us to the church. I wanted to run. I told Rachel, run, please, but obviously, that wasn't an option.
We were this close to walking up the steps when we noticed something. One of the stalkers, the same man from the burger joint, was standing across the street.
Rachel told Miss Rosaline, voice shaking.
Miss Rosaline didn't hesitate. She stepped out of the car and walked right up to him. We couldn't hear what she said. But whatever it was, he went pale. Paler than any human should look. And then he bolted like he'd just seen his worst nightmare come to life.
When Miss Rosaline came back, she smiled. Calm, reassuring.
"I told him if he didn't leave, I'd call the police," she said, as if that explained everything.
It didn't.
But I didn't have time to think about it, because just then, we saw someone walking up the sidewalk.
It was my brother.
And Meera.
They were walking home from the market, chatting like nothing in the world was wrong. Rachel and I didn't have to coordinate.
"Miss Rosaline, that's my brother," Rachel said, practically leaping out of the car. "We'll go with them."
Bless the universe for small mercies.
Miss Rosaline blinked, clearly thrown off by Rachel's sudden enthusiasm, but she didn't protest. She just gave one of those tight teacher-smiles that meant, fine, but I'll be watching.
My brother stopped mid-step when he saw Rachel piling out of the car like an escapee.
"Uh… everything okay?" he asked, shifting the grocery bags like he expected Rachel to launch into a full crisis report. Meera, bless her heart, didn't even question it. She just waved, cheerful as ever.
Rachel managed a shaky, "We're good, just needed the walk."
Somehow, they bought it. Or maybe they just decided not to ask. Either way, we were clear.
Walking with them felt… normal, for a change. Meera was telling a story about some festival her family celebrated. My brother laughed, carrying grocery bags in both hands. Rachel kept sneaking glances at them. I could feel her picking up on my sadness. I didn't have to say anything.
When we got to the house, she just… hugged my mom. Didn't even hesitate.
She said, "Hope that helped," under her breath.
I almost cried.
Thank you, I whispered, and meant it.
Inside, Rachel asked Meera, casually, like it was no big deal—if she knew any astrologers or spiritual guides. Meera lit up instantly.
"Of course," she said. "There's this couple my aunt swears by. They do readings and energy cleanses and… all that."
She scribbled a number on a scrap of paper. Rachel tucked it into her pocket. I knew she was smart enough to play it off as curiosity.
Back outside, Rachel tried calling Ezra again.
No answer.
And Dante?
Still nowhere.
Later that evening, while we were walking back home, we saw Ezra.
Walking with Kathy.
Of course.
We were about to turn the corner, but our thoughts were perfectly in sync. We were going to follow them.
I know. Stalking. But come on, we needed to know what was going on. They seemed pretty close for two people who were supposedly 'just friends.' Like one of those movies where the transfer student immediately latches onto the most attractive person of the opposite gender. And it always ends in romance.
Like I would ever let that happen.
And for once, Rachel agreed with me completely.
We trailed behind them, careful not to get too close. Kathy said something that made Ezra laugh, and Rachel felt it—that pinch of jealousy. I tried to pretend I didn't feel it too. After a while, they stopped. Kathy said goodbye. Ezra walked off in the other direction.
We looked at each other. Who do we follow?
We chose the obvious threat.
Kathy.
She went into the same burger joint, the one across from Billy's. Just a normal day—except one of the workers, the same stalker from before, spotted us.
My stomach flipped. But he looked even more scared than we were. Guess Miss Rosaline had rattled him good.
Then Kathy came back outside. With a guy.
Tall, good-looking, and his hair sat in that effortless 'I-woke-up-like-this' wave that men pretend isn't styled, and his jawline had the kind of symmetry influencers would pay rent for. Not as handsome as Ezra, but still.
Our eyes met.
Shit.
Stakeout: failed.
She smiled. Like she'd caught us doing something adorable instead of creepy.
"This is Kevin," she said. "My boyfriend."
Oh.
She explained, very casually, that long-distance was hard, so he'd come to visit for the weekend. That's why she'd missed classes. That's why she'd seemed secretive.
And here we were, convinced she was trying to seduce Ezra.
We nodded. Tried to look normal. She even said, "We should all hang out sometime!"
Sure. Because that wouldn't be awkward at all.
They left, hand in hand.
We went straight home. Rachel didn't even try to pretend she wasn't embarrassed. And honestly, same.
We texted the couple who did readings. Booked an appointment for tomorrow afternoon.
At least that part was sorted.
Now for the bigger problem. What are the consequences of overstaying my welcome?
Because Gramps had sounded genuinely terrifying when he said I wouldn't like the way he pulled me out. And something told me he wasn't exaggerating.