But so is Dana.

Isn’t she? Aren’t they all?

Kit is.

“If it could happen to Tammy,” Emily says, “it could happen to—”

“No,” Brandon says. “This had to be some family thing.”

“Family?” Kit asks. Hope in her voice. As if Tammy dying by her parents’ hands is a better world.

Brandon, shirtless, paces his bedroom, where posters of basketball stars adorn the walls. All of them are dunking. He’s taped photos of his own face over theirs.

“Yes,” he says. “An uncle. A family friend. A boyfriend. There’s gotta be a link. There always is. And it’s almost always family.”

“What are the chances of some random psycho breaking into Tammy’s house and hurting her like this?” Natasha asks.

For the first time, Kit eyes her like she would a danger. A threat.

Natasha started this. Didn’t she?

She almost asks, Where did you hear that story?

But Dana talks first: “Well, if it’s random, then it can happen to any of us,” she says. She’s wearing a tank top and her hair is in braids. As if they had a game in an hour. Kit feels these two worlds grating: basketball…but a baller now dead.

“The police will find him,” Stewart says.

“Him?” Kit asks.

“Oh, it’s a man for sure. You think a woman just…did that to Tammy?”

They all go quiet for a second. Some of their faces suggest, yeah, Stewart’s probably right. But they stare off into space, too, and Kit imagines a seven-foot woman standing in that space.

“Hey, I don’t wanna sound crazy,” Kit begins. She feels crazy. Feels close to the night she called an ambulance on herself. Yet these are her closest friends in the world. And the looks on their faces are not very different from her own.

“Don’t even do it,” Natasha says. “Don’t belittle Tammy’s death by suggesting a fucking ghost killed her, Kit.”

“I know,” Kit says. “But—”

“Ghost?” Brandon asks.

“I love ya, Kit,” Natasha says. “But let’s not go there.”

“Go where?” Brandon asks.

“Brandon,” Dana says.

“No, seriously. What do you mean?”

It’s impossible to tell on Zoom, but it feels like they’re all looking at Kit. Waiting for an answer.

She gives them one.

“Daphne.”

She looks down to her journal. Then to the desk drawer.

Natasha drops her head into her hands.

“Daphne?” Stewart says. He looks clueless. But he also seems to consider the name. As if…

As if he’s heard it before and never stopped to think about it.

“Wait,” Brandon says. “Who’s Daphne? The fuck are you guys talking about?”

Melanie signs off without a word. Emily shakes her head before doing the same.

“Jesus, guys,” Dana says. “Tammy died. This is serious.”

“Kit?” Brandon asks.

It’s the word “snuck” that wasn’t sitting right with her. Based on the story Natasha told, Daphne wouldn’t sneak anywhere. Kit suddenly wonders if there isn’t a hole in the Joneses’ front door, a silhouette like in the old cartoons: the shape of a seven-foot woman in denim having busted straight through.