Page 45 of Cackle

“No,” I say out loud. I put the bottle down on the coffee table and stand up. “One, it’s not possible. Two, I’m only psyching myself out because I’m vulnerable and alone. If Sam were around, I wouldn’t even entertain the idea.”

But he’s not, and I am entertaining it.

It would be just my luck, wouldn’t it? To move to this charming, picturesque small town and befriend an impossibly cool, glamorous stranger, only to find out that I’ve wandered into some kind of creepy Halloween town with haunted houses and curses.

Terrible things can happen to women who are alone. And here I am. No family, no friends. No boyfriend.

I’m pacing around my living room, allowing myself to indulge in this ludicrous theory, contemplating my chances of survival if this is an actual real-life horror situation, when my phone goes off.

It’s Sam.

I pick up.

“Hey, sorry I missed you yesterday. I just got out of work and am walking to the train, so I thought I’d call. How’s it going?”

It’s amazing how quickly the rest melts away.

“Good! How are you?”

“Also good,” he says. “Probably not as good as you.”

“On a scale of good to good, how good are you?”

“Medium good.”

“I’m low good.”

“Why?” he asks.

I hear a siren going in the background, car horns blaring. For some reason it makes me nostalgic for the city.

“Something weird happened today at school and now I think there’s a curse.”

“What happened? And from what I know about curses, which is of course a lot, they’re not real.”

“I know,” I say. “Some kid puked up a spider.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“That’s not even the worst part.”

“How?”

“The spider was . . . still . . . alive! It was still alive!”

“What? That’s not possible.”

“I swear.”

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not! It was the craziest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Annie,” he says, “I don’t believe you.”

He’s laughing, but it doesn’t matter. It’s a mean thing to say to someone. An ugly thing.

“Okay,” I say. “Don’t believe me.”