Shallow Grave Read Online Free PDF Page A

me.
    â€œReady?” Shannon asks.
    I nod.
    She pushes the bottle cap over to HELLO.
    â€œPut your hands on,” she instructs. “Just your fingertips, really lightly. You don’t want to be pushing on the disc.”
    I place my fingertips on the cap, copying her.
    â€œWe’d like to ask a few questions,” Shannon says. Her voice is loud. I glance at her, but she’s talking to the board. My stomach tightens.
    â€œIs there a spirit present?”
    Nothing happens.
    â€œWe welcome your presence,” she says. “We would like to speak with you. Would you like to speak with us?”
    We sit, our fingertips almost touching across the top of the bottle cap. I study her nail polish.
    Nothing happens.
    This is lame.
    Suddenly I feel incredibly stupid. What am I so worried about? I’m sitting with my fingers on the cap to an old bleach bottle, freaking out over talking to a bunch of letters that have been printed on an old chalkboard.
    And—big surprise—the letters aren’t talking back.
    â€œWould you like to speak with us?” Shannon asks again.
    Nothing. Our fingers quiver, moving the cap infinitesimally. Ideomotor movement. Just our smallest muscular movements affecting the placement of the lid. I’ve heard people say that’s all Ouija is. Just a bunch of nervous movements being taken way too seriously by whoever’s making them.
    Shannon tries again. “Is there someone here, in this building? Are you familiar with this building?”
    No response.
    I take a deep breath and relax my shoulders.
    â€œLooks like the spirits are asleep.” I catch Shannon’s eye and grin.
    And then the cap moves.

Chapter Eight
    I guess I really wasn’t expecting it. Skipping and stuttering a bit, the cap slides on a diagonal. Across the board. Away from HELLO.
    Toward YES.
    I yank my hands away.
    â€œPut your fingers back on!” Shannon barks.
    I put them back. She flashes me a look. “You can’t leave me alone on the board.”
    The cap stopped when I took my fingers off. It sits quietly now, paused between L and C.
    I feel like an idiot.
    But I also feel incredibly nervous.
    Okay, fine. I’m afraid.
    My fingertips feel hot where they touch the cap. Which is weird, because it’s cold in here. Maybe I’m pressing too hard. I ease off a bit until they’re just barely grazing the plastic. Still hot.
    I consider telling Shannon I’m just not that into it, but that would make me look like a sissy. So I don’t.
    Shannon turns her attention back to the board. “I’ll ask the question again,” she says. “Are you familiar with this building?”
    The cap stutters. My heart skips out a double beat and my ears whoosh with the sudden rush in my pulse. I force my fingers to stay put as the cap staggers toward the top of the board.
    YES.
    Shannon glances at me. “Were you ever inside this building?”
    The cap inches to the other side of the board. Scuff. Scuff-scuff.
    NO.
    Somehow this makes me feel relieved.
    â€œWere you a student at this school?”
    The cap flies backward, sliding like a puck on ice. Shhh.
    YES.
    â€œWhoa,” Shannon says. Her voice is shaky.
    I can’t help it. I jerk my fingers away again. “What the hell?” I whisper.
    â€œElliot!”
    Like a robot, I put them back. My head feels light, like I’m only half here. Shannon glares at me.
    She looks back at the board. “What’s your name?”
    Nothing.
    â€œWhat is your name?” Shannon repeats, a little louder.
    No movement.
    My fingertips hurt. It’s like I’m holding them against a heater. Those couple of seconds before your nerves realize they’re being barbecued.
    â€œAre you happy?”
    What kind of question is that? What ghost is happy? Do happy ghosts haunt places?
    I’m not surprised by the board’s answer: NO.
    â€œGreat,” I mutter.
    Shannon scowls at