Read Online The Everafter by Amy Huntley - Free Book Online

D-O-U-G-P-RE-S-T-O-N the planchette spells on the board. Amber is outraged. Doug Preston has wanted to hook up with her for almost a year now, and she’s not interested.
    “You pushed it,” Amber accuses Lacey. “You wanted it to say that!”
    “I swear I didn’t,” Lacey counters.
    Everyone else is laughing. “It’s not funny,” Amber protests. “It’s her turn to find out who she’s going to prom with her senior year!” She puts a serious and mysterious look on her face and demands that the board tell her the answer to this question.
    S-C-O-T-T-T-U-R-N-E-R the planchette spells. Scott Turner is a total dork. No one is ever going to go to senior prom with him.
    “Now you’re pushing it,” Lacey says.
    “Ha, ha. It’s not so funny now, is it?”
    “Okay, you two, let someone ask it a real question,” Sandra demands.
    Cindy and Diane sit at the board, and Cindy asks, in the spookiest voice she can come up with, “Is there a spirit in the room with us?”
    The planchette creeps its way over to the word yes . A quarter of an inch from the word, Diane screams and removes her fingers. Cindy forces the planchette off the board. “Ohmygod,” Diane says, “I swear I wasn’t moving that thing.”
    “Me, either,” Cindy agrees.
    “There’s really a spirit here in the room with us,” Diane says.
    “Whooooaaaahhh.” Amber’s sarcasm rolls out along with the ghostly sound she makes.
    Diane glares at her. “I mean it. You try asking the room if there’s a spirit here!”
    “No, thanks.” Amber laughs. “I had my turn, and I already know how it works!”
    “Oh, I’ll do it.” I sigh.
    “I’ll help,” Tammy offers. “Will you pick up that whatever-it’s-called thingy?” she asks Cindy, nodding toward the planchette. “It’s by your feet.”
    “I’m not touching that thing!”
    “What ever,” Tammy says, and leans over to grab it. “It’s just a game, you guys.”
    She places the planchette back on the board and looks expectantly at me. “Who’s asking the questions?” she wants to know.
    “I’ll do it,” I offer. The other girls gather around us, and I ask, half joking, “Is there a spirit in the room?”
    Tammy and I hold our hands steady, trying to relax to see if the planchette will move on its own.
    It does.
    Really.
    I truly don’t think Tammy’s doing anything to it, because her face is turning ghostly white. “Stop it,” she whispers to me.
    “I’m not doing anything,” I tell her honestly.
    As the planchette spells out I-S-E-E-Y-O-U, the other girls become deathly quiet. All jokes have ended.
    My fingers are shaking. I don’t want to know the answer to my question, but I feel compelled to ask it anyway. “Who do you see?” Even my voice is shaking.
    M-A-D-I-S-O-N.
    It’s my turn to glare at Tammy. “You’re doing this, aren’t you?”
    “No. I swear. I’m not.”
    And I have to believe her, because her hands are shaking, too.
    “Who are you?” I ask the room.
    L-I-K-E-Y-O-U-I-A-M-D-E-A-D.
    Cindy screams.
    “Shhh!” I yell at her. “Shut up. You’re not the one that’s getting told you’re dead, all right? So just shut up!”
    “Why are you here?” Sandra asks the room.
    Tammy stands up suddenly, knocking over the chair. Sandra takes her place at the table. “Put your fingers back on the planchette,” Sandra tells me. I don’t much want to—at this point, who would?—but I’ve taken orders from Sandra most of our lives.
    I-A-M-S-O-R-R-Y.
    Amber starts giggling. “Way to freak us out, Simpson. Could we be stupider? Why are we trying to scare ourselves to death?”
    “Shh,” Diane tells her.
    “Who are you?” Sandra asks the room again.
    T-A-M-M-Y.
    The room is silent for a second, and then Tammy yells, “This is a bunch of crap! You guys are making fun of me, aren’t you? I’m outta here.”
    She storms up the stairs.
    I jump up to follow her. “Wait! Tammy! I’m not doing it. Honestly.”
    She turns on the stairs and gives me a