“BAH!” I bang against the armrest and immediately wrench a hand up to my forehead. Someone’s glaring at me from the chair a foot away, and it’s not Terry. Siri’s sitting there like a nightmare incarnate, silently watching me with saucer-wide eyes, in a black sweatshirt with her hood up like a scary nun.

“I’m going to let you two talk alone before I join you,” Terry says from down the hall.

After the stitches earlier, I explained away the whole incident in the vaguest of terms. She thinks: Siri and I go way back, and we had a mild disagreement in the canoe.

I turn back to Siri. Her eyes are completely bloodshot.

“Jesus Christ, blink. You’re gonna go blind, Sier.”

She flinches as I say her name.

“Are you okay?” I ask. “I have a gazillion questions for you.”

She remains silent.

“For real. Are you not going to speak? First the weird shower attack, then you flip the boat and leave me drowning in the lake. And now you’re what, the girl from The Ring? Are you trying to kill me?”

“Are you a ghost.” She says this like it’s a statement, not a question.

I glance over my shoulder and back at her.

“Is there a specter behind me that you’re speaking with?”

Her brows descend menacingly. “I’m talking to you.”

“I’m not a ghost. I’m your sister.” I enunciate each word like she’s hard of hearing.

Siri lets go of a guttural scream.

“What the hell, Siri?!” I lean as far from her as possible on this tiny blip of a couch.

Terry comes rushing in. Siri drops her face into her hands, folding forward with a straight back like she’s made of wood.

“Are you okay? What happened?” Terry demands.

I keep my eyes trained on my sister. The girl’s folded in on herself like a lawn chair.

“Siri’s feral, it’s fine.”

Terry seats herself between us. “Girls. Clearly something’s going on here.”

I grin. “Girls? Terry, come on, you’re like two years older than me.”

“Jamie, I’m thirty-two. I’m twelve years older than you,” Terry corrects.

I wink at Terry. “Wow, fast math, that’s impressive.”

Siri unfolds back into a human posture. “Could you not talk to our retreat leader that way?” she snaps.

“Could you not act like a scary movie caricature?” I ask sweetly.

Her brows descend with a vengeance. “You’re such a gluteus maximus trench.”

I throw a hand over my heart. “Thank you, you’re a hot air balloon.”

“What does that mean?!”

“Were we not calling each other random shit?”

“Ladies!” Terry yells over us. Siri tenses.

I turn to the retreat leader. “What’s up, Terr?”

Her head slowly swivels back and forth between the two of us. “Wait a minute.”

“Hey, Siri, set a timer for a minute,” I tell the room.