GREY

Cranking out our first drafts had felt like torture. Even with Cody's annoyingly deft skills at literature, I just couldn't keep up. It was seven p.m. before I'd managed to eek out anything resembling five cohesive paragraphs, and it wasn't long after that when Cody said he needed to head out.

It was his sister.

Again.

I'd summoned my best poker face as I waved him goodbye, then the rest of us had headed home not long after.

My parents still hadn't made it back to my house, so I let myself inside. I was in the middle of plodding over to the pantry to grab some hot chocolate when I felt my phone buzz against my thigh.

Sliding it from my pocket with one hand, I pressed Answer, then started rifling through the collection of Kellogg, Little Debbie, and Nestle bundled up on the pantry racks. "Hey, Dash," I said as I scoured the shelves.

"Grey...hey, man," he mused, the words shaking through the air. "Did you...um...get home safely, bud?"

"...Yeah." I tilted my neck, palming a box of marshmallows. "Everything okay?"

He sighed. "I'm fine, man, just...I wanted to say I'm sorry."

Huh?

"I didn't mean to bite your head off this morning about the funeral. And what I said about Cody...well, you're my best friend too, Grey." Faintly through the phone, I could hear him shuffle as he kicked at the floor. "Look, I'll talk to him about the towels, alright? And I totally get it if you still want to go to the funeral, just...be safe, okay?"

"Oh, um...thanks." I rubbed the back of my neck. "You didn't have to call just to tell me that, man."

He hesitated. "...So, are you still gonna go?"

I gulped. "I—I don't know."

"Well, whatever you decide, I've got your back, yeah?"

"Okay, dude. I appreciate it, seriously." My lips twitched upward to a grateful smile. "Good night, Dash."

"Night, man."

****

I'd lied to Dash when I said I didn't know—no way was I missing that funeral.

Slipping into a suit and tie that next morning felt weird, to say the least—not to mention sneaking past my parents. I'd gotten up in the middle of the night to move my car across the street, hoping against hope that our home's soundproof paneling was as impenetrable as advertised.

By some miracle, they'd stayed asleep even as I skulked back in, tiptoeing up to my bedroom after leaving a note on the fridge to cover my tracks in the morning: Going out for a walk, then heading to Dash's. Love you!

The moment my mom and dad left for work, passing the door ajar to my bedroom—and the closet inside, where I was hiding—I scuttled in clunking dress shoes down the steps and ambled through the backdoor, toward the towering bushes that shielded our home from the neighbors.

I made it to my car parked behind the cul-de-sac gym, scanning the area warily as I climbed inside and plugged my keys in the ignition. I gave a low exhale, let the frosty chill of my breath wisp into the air before my car whirred to life with a welcome burst of warmth.

My phone blipped with the arrival of a singular text, and I glanced at the screen as I adjusted the car mirrors. Cody?

I swiped, his message alight in a glowing bubble of blue.

Hey, man. Talked to Dash. He thinks I took things too far yesterday screwing with you about English.

My thumb hovered above the digital keyboard, just as another message blipped through:

My bad, dude. Just messing around. I didn't mean to be a dick.

I hesitated, grateful I'd turned off read receipts.

Can you say something, man? Please?

I gulped.

Guess you're still asleep. Call me when you can, okay?

The rumble of my engine thudded in time with his final message:

Let me make it up to you. I was joking, alright? Just give me a call, bro.

I clicked off my phone, slid the volume notch to silence.

I guess a part of me felt good to see Cody grovel like that after how he kept going after me the day before—much as I hated to admit it. But right then, I knew I couldn't respond anyway.

I stared in my rearview mirror and adjusted my tie one last time.

I've got a funeral to go to.

****

The humble exterior of the Redemption Grove African Methodist Episcopal Church didn't stick out much on the grainy highways of Browning Heights. I drove up outside, my car rolling onto a parking lot with no defined spaces, the gravel mingling with patches of green that sprouted between jagged cracks.

It must've been at least twenty minutes that I sat in my car, debating if I really ought to go inside. Or perhaps I was just gathering the courage; I'd been so certain the day before, but being surrounded by so many new faces seemed almost instantly to freeze me in place. I barely registered that I hadn't turned off my car's ignition until I noticed the pulsing heat that still blasted at my face.

Crumpling down into my seat, I began staring at the church's entrance through the rearview mirror when, along the side of the building, a man dressed in all white slid open a side door I hadn't known was there. I watched as he slipped inside, stealing a furtive glance over his shoulder before disappearing into the building's shadow.

Propping my body upright, I twisted to the car door and unhitched the lock, ducking out of the vehicle and keeping to the outer edge of the nearby shrubs. My feet darted along the path of broken asphalt, bolting to the same side door I'd seen moments before. I eased my way inside and tiptoed across the floor toward the reception desk, the sound of tearful cries wafting from a few doors down, in what I could only assume must've been the main sanctuary.

The low thud of footfall from behind jolted me back to attention. 

I whirled around to see no one there, nothing but a coal-black wall towering from pressed carpet patterned in grays and blues.

What was that sound? I knew I'd heard it. Someone was there; someone was walking by, maybe even running. But all I could see was the shivering shadow cast all around, cowering from the edges of light that filtered from the side door I'd entered and—Hold on...

I traced the light from the entrance, eyes narrowing as it stopped a few feet past the door on either side. Yet somehow, at the room's other end, a single blur of glowing yellow peeked just above the floor, right where the wall of shadowed ebony met the carpet's azured silver edge.

Is that...no, there's no way. I stalked forward on tiptoes, my back to the entrance as I sidled along, each step sounding in my mind like the thunderous clod of a troll, come to stomp its own bridge to dust and rubble.

My hand descended as I finally met the wall, as I drew closer to the isolated strip of light hovering just above the floor. "Dude," I breathed, sliding two fingers under what I now knew was an opening—a secret passage, hidden in the mist. I pressed at the wall above the light, felt it give way to the weight of my palms.

I turned back as the wall opened, glancing over my shoulder as the newfound brightness at my fingertips extinguished the shadow that had feathered against my back. Drawing a deep breath, I stepped inside and closed the panel behind me, shutting myself inside a bright new cage that rained orange light.