Page 97 of Middle of the Night

“No.”

“Because if you are, you should have told me and spared me from having to put up that stupid tent.”

Now, as Ethan sits alone in said stupid tent, he realizes that would have been a perfect time to admit what happened. Because his parents will clearly know something is wrong when Billy fails to show up. And then Ethan, despite telling the others he’d remain silent, will have to admit what happened.

Maybe he should just do it now and get it over with.

Part of him wants to, if only to relieve some of the guilt he’s feeling, while another part of him wants to because he knows it’ll get Billy into trouble, too. If he isn’t already. And Billy deserves it, Ethan thinks with a surprise flash of anger. Russ was right when he said it was all Billy’s fault. None of this would have happened if he hadn’t led them to the Hawthorne Institute.

Where he had gone yesterday.

Which he had failed to tell Ethan.

Because he was too busy buddying up with Russ.

Ethan starts trembling again, a by-product of all these clashing emotions. He feels sorry and guilty and scared and mad all at once. Humming through it all is a sense of wanting.

He wants to remain best friends with Billy, just as he wants Billy to be, well, different. When the Barringers first moved in next door, Ethan had been intrigued by Billy’s eccentricities. It was refreshing to meet someone his age so utterly himself. Now Ethan worries what will happen if Billy remains quintessentially Billy.

Not that he’ll ever find out. After today, he’ll be shocked if Billy ever speaks to him again. Which is all the more reason to suck it up and tell his parents what happened.

Mind made up, Ethan starts to crawl out of the tent, only to be stopped when he notices something completely unexpected.

There, standing stock-still in the yard, is Billy.

TWENTY-SEVEN

I hold the phone in my trembling hand, too nervous to check the trail cam’s app but too curious to ignore it entirely. A feeling of dread, thick and clammy, spreads in my chest as I keep my index finger hovered over the app’s icon.

Billy might be right outside the tent.

The only way to find out is to look.

Which I’m still not sure I want to do. It’s not that I’m afraid of Billy. Despite what Fritz said about ghosts holding a grudge, I suspect that if Billy’s intention was to hurt me, he would have done it days ago. But I’m not unafraid, either. Understandable, considering it’s a ghost I’m dealing with.

Billy or not, whatever’s outside remains there. I continue to hear it between the chirping of crickets. And I won’t know how to deal with whatever it is until I see it.

With a jab of the screen, the trail cam’s app springs to life. I avert my eyes, focusing on everything but my phone. The pads of my fingers gripping its edge. The battery level in the top right corner. Finally, with nothing left to look at, I peek at the screen through half-closed eyes and see the now-familiar view of the backyard at night and…

A deer.

Two feet from the tent.

Grazing on the lawn.

My entire body, tensed to a breaking point, suddenly relaxes. A sigh of relief slides out of me. I even let out a chuckle, for the whole situation is absurd.

The deer outside the tent suddenly sprints away. I hear the startled thump of its hooves just before the phone, still clenched in my palm, erupts once more into sound.

Ping!

This time, there’s no hesitation. My gaze zooms directly to the screen and the latest picture taken by the trail cam.

The deer is gone, but nothing else has taken its place. The image on my phone shows unoccupied lawn, trees behind it, half of the tent I currently sit in filling the left side of the frame.

So what set off the trail cam?

Ping!

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