Sean pulled Mickey’s hand toward his face so he could scratch his nose.

“Don’t be afraid.”

Mickey twisted on the blanket. There was a pit in her stomach like the time she took her bike over to the big park when she was seven, the one across the busiest street. Like she didn’t know which was scarier—to succeed or not.

Then, the air shifted. They all felt it at the same time. Mickey could tell by the tightened grip on both of her hands. It felt like someone was watching them.

“That’s right, Sarah,” Ruth went on. “Come to us; tell us what happened to you. Did you drown?”

“We already know that,” Sean said.

“Shh!”

The water slapped against the shore, and then again. Mickey felt cold all over.

“Did someone hurt you?” Ruth asked.

Mickey could see the candlelight flicker through her eyelids, even though there wasn’t any wind.

“Who drowned you, Sarah?”

Mickey tightened her grip on Sean’s fingers, and he squeezed back. She wanted to cry with gratitude for him just then, for their shared experience of faking bravery to impress this new outsider, and their shared blood that kept them together, separate from her.

There was a sudden crack in the woods and Mickey whirled around, but Ruth yanked her arm back to center.

“Don’t open your eyes,” she hissed.

Another crack. A rustle, a screech of birds taking flight.

“It’s okay, Sarah. You’re safe with us. There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Ruth said, louder this time. It seemed the scarier the world, the stronger Ruth’s confidence. And for the first time, Mickey realized her friend had grown up on fear.

“Tell us, Sarah, so we can help you. Who killed you? Was it Philip? Give us a sign.”

The crash that followed was so loud, even Ruth dropped Mickey’s hand. Candles scattered, extinguishing as they rolled into the dirt.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Silas bellowed, his voice violent enough to scare away the rest of the birds, and anything else that might have dared come close to them in the dark.

PEYOTE

THE ELEVATOR STOPPED, BUT the doors didn’t open. I was about to put my hands over my head and concede when a screen dropped down, covering the door. It was all white except for scrawling black text.

Welcome to the Sixth Floor! click here to begin.

I looked at Cal and she shrugged. I tapped and the text disappeared, replaced by a spinning circle of colors from the cheapest crayon box.

Then the circle froze.

“A classic,” Cal said.

Answer the following questions to find your perfect spirit guide!

Which form are you more inclined toward?

1. Human
2. Animal
3. Nonspatial/light being

Cal pressed “animal,” and I didn’t object.

What is your most successful way of receiving instruction?

1. Kindly
2. Forcefully
3. Passive-aggressively