Page 42 of Creation's Captive

Sarah walks over to the bottles and claims a bottle of red. “Thanks, Conner.”

“Not running tomorrow morning?” I ask.

“Nope,” Sarah answers. “But I was assigned three more papers today to get done by the end of reading week, and if that’s not a reason to drink, then I don’t know what is.”

“Ouch,” I sympathize. I forgot next week is reading week. “Are you guys all going home for fall break?”

Conner squeezes in beside me to get some pizza. “I am. My mom wants to wash my sheets. Can’t imagine why.”

I laugh as I reach for a fruity-looking bottle of white wine. I know this label – it tastes like juice and is just sweet enough to make you forget the hangover it will bring.

“Maybe she wants to cry over all her lost grandchildren,” Isaac answers, grabbing three slices of pepperoni. “I’m going home too. My folks need help cleaning the gutters, and I’m looking forward to not worrying about cooking or doing groceries for a week.” He grabs the second bottle of white wine.

Sarah has already propped herself up onto my small army of pillows. “I’m leaving Thursday. Mom got us tickets to go to some resort, and she wants all the kids there for family bonding time.”

“Always so fancy,” Isaac says as he places his plate next to her and sets up his laptop at the foot of my bed to play the movie.

“What about you, Viv?” Conner asks. He’s still in the tiny kitchen with me, eyeing me curiously. “Are you headed home for reading week?”

The kitchen can barely fit us, and I can feel his warmth beside me. Conner is gorgeous with his messy blond hair and hazel eyes. He’s built like a tank, thanks to his ruthless gym worship.

I should be at least a bit excited that his attention is focused on me. And yet, there’s nothing. There is no spark, not even a tickle.

Have I mentioned I think there’s something wrong with me? Maybe I’m so damaged from my past that I only feel safe enough to be aroused by fictional men.

Conner waves a hand in front of my eyes. “Earth to Viv. You still with us?”

I blush, “Sorry – what did you ask me?”

Conner puffs up with extra confidence, clearly thinking he’s the reason I lost my train of thought. He’snot entirely wrong – but boy, would he be disappointed at hearing the specifics.

“I asked if you were going home over fall reading week.” He reminds me.

“Oh!” I stammer, trying to wrap my head around an answer that won’t make me sound weird. I’m too socially awkward to be that clever. “Oh god, no. I’ll never go back there if I can help it.” I shudder before walking out of the kitchen.

I sit next to Sarah, so Conner has no choice but to sit on the opposite end next to Isaac. Conner looks like he’s about to pry into my personal life when Isaac shushes us and puts on the movie.

The movie is about a person whose house is haunted by killer ghosts. I appreciate the irony, though I’ve yet to meet any malevolent ghosts. Unless you can call ignoring someone malevolent, but it’s more passive-aggressive than anything. Right now, I think I would welcome an angry ghost. If it cares enough that I exist, maybe we can have a chat.

As the movie ends and the credits start to roll, I stretch from the bed and turn to the others. Sarah is snuggled into Isaac’s arm, and Conner looks half asleep, head propped behind his arms. I am 99% sure he just flexed when he saw me looking at him. I quickly turn my attention back to Sarah and Isaac.

“You guys ready?” I ask as I move my eyebrows conspiratorially. The more I hang out with these goofballs, the more I feel myself relaxing and coming out of my shell. I’m broken, but maybe it isn’t permanent.

Sarah jumps from the bed, half-empty wine bottle in tow. “So ready! Especially since it’s your place and not mine. After that movie, no Ouija boards at my house – ever.”

Giggling, I fetch the board and lay it in the center of my bed. It’s still too dark to see the letters with just my twinkle lights on, so I light some candles on my dresser and night tables.

“Setting the mood, Viv. Love it.” Conner remarks as we all shuffle to sit around the board.

The room is glowing from multiple sources around us, and the flickering candlelight makes our shadows dance across the walls. I reach over to my bedside table and pick up a shot glass to place in the centre of the board.

Always classy.

“Okay.” I start. “So, we need someone who will take notes, and then three of us will place our fingers on the shot glass to try and communicate with the other side. Any volunteers for note-taker?”

Isaac reaches over behind him and re-opens his laptop. “I’m in for note-taking.” His laptop screen adds a blue glow to the room.

“Okay then.” I smile. I try to squish down the tiny bit of hope that is blossoming in my chest over finally getting some answers.

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