13-year-old Josiah Loomridge's phone buzzed, a small pulse in his hand that reminded him how badly he wanted his life to change. Emily. Again. He knew before checking the screen.

"Pick me up. 8 PM. Don't be late."

He hated her texts, the way they felt like commands. Not even a question... just an expectation. 

Emily simply knew he'd keep showing up, like he was her fucking toy.

After all, that was his job. To be her puppet.

He knew better, but he still picked up his pace to get out the door all the quicker for Emily. After all, her Highness didn't tolerate excuses and he didn't have the energy for an argument.

Wandering the halls of his family's large estate, Josiah felt a bit like an animal trapped in a cage. Loomridge Haven was a quiet, ancient mansion with a vast and complicated history. That was Josiah's favorite part about living there—the history. But tonight, he found no comfort in these old halls.

Sure, the place was quiet... but it was far from peaceful.

His parents had finally stopped pushing him toward Emily every second of every day, satisfied now that their son was dating the girl "the other parents liked." They loved that she was well-known, clean-cut, and from a good family. They didn't, however, seem to give a shit about the way she turned on people, or the cruelty beneath her glossy smile. Or maybe they just weren't very observant...

Emily was waiting for him outside the gates of Loomridge Haven.

"Finally," she muttered, not even looking at him, her attention already glued to her phone. "You know the party already started, right?"

"Yeah, I know." Josiah's voice came out flat, tired.

Emily didn't seem to care if Josiah was tired. She was already texting someone, her thumbs moving furiously over the screen, probably bragging about how she was going to make her grand entrance at the party fashionably late. The party was sure to be another night of posing, pretending, and watching Emily torment anyone she deemed beneath her—which was almost everyone.

Leslie wasn't like that, though.

Josiah liked the new girl. She didn't belong at these parties, never tried to fit in, never seemed to care. He still didn't understand why Emily hated her as much as she did. It was a lot, and it was confounding.

In any case, it was one of the many things he hated about her; she took pleasure in tearing down people like Leslie with her blunt, disarming ability to "go there." She knew how to cut to the core of a person—to use someone's deepest, darkest fears and insecurities as a tool to dig under their skin with just a few words. She took delight in it, like it was a game.

And Josiah just stood there.

He could break up with Emily —walk away from the status she gave him. But he didn't. He played his role because his parents expected him to. It kept them off his back.

Why couldn't Emily just get into knitting... or Minecraft or something?

Who knew? But until either day arrived when she got a fucking hobby, Emily's favorite pass time would remain the same: bullying.

And Leslie never fought back. Not once. She'd just take it, let her eyes drop to the floor, shoulders curling inward as if she could disappear if she tried hard enough. And that made him angrier. Not at her. At himself. I could stop it if I wanted. I could.

Emily sighed dramatically next to him, tucking her phone away. "God, Tyler's place better not be a mess this time. Remember last week? His older brother's beer all over the floor? Gross."

Josiah grunted in response, his mind elsewhere.

Leslie was in his head again.

She'd been getting in his head for a while now, ever since that night when he had woken from the weirdest dream about her... and Old Sam... 

Ever since then, he had seen her differently. He saw something raw, something real. There was something broken in Leslie. Something bruised. And somehow, that made him feel more connected to her than anyone else.

But he couldn't say a word to anyone about how he felt. He didn't deserve her. The thought burned every time. He was with Emily, and let her do that horrible shit to people.

As they approached Tyler's place in the middle of The Grove, music was already thumping from inside the house. The kind of music that made your bones vibrate.

A typical Friday night at Tyler's.

As soon as they rounded the corner, and Emily heard the music, she tore into the house. "I'm going to find Miranda. Don't disappear on me, okay?" Her voice carried that familiar warning tone, the one that said she wasn't asking.

He nodded, watching her stride off toward the house.

He thought about Leslie again.

That pull. It had started so subtly, this feeling in his chest that said he had to be near Leslie, like she held some answer he couldn't figure out yet. It wasn't just attraction. No, it was deeper than that. There was something else.

He'd noticed it more and more lately, this unspoken connection, this invisible tether that seemed to tighten whenever she was near. It made him feel alive in a way Emily never did.

But he couldn't explain it. And it scared the shit out of him.

Tyler's house was packed, the party already in full swing. People he didn't care about drifted past... shouting, laughing, chugging Tyler's older brother's beer. Where were his parents? Josiah didn't want to be here. Not tonight. But he didn't have a choice. He never seemed to have a choice.

The house was buzzing with the usual faces—Tyler, Miranda, a few others, the regular crowd that circled Emily like she was a fucking Kardashian. Josiah moved through it like a ghost, half-present, always pretending to be part of it, but never really there. His eyes scanned the room instinctively, searching.

But Josiah knew better. Leslie wouldn't be here. She would have been tortured by everyone if she had come.

A strange, sudden ache formed in his chest—unexpected and unwanted. He found himself wondering where Leslie was, what she was doing. Alone, maybe. Probably curled up in her room listening to Radiohead or Bowie or the other artists Josiah also loved. He could just see her there... alone in her bed, avoiding the world.

And for some reason, the thought of her alone tonight felt wrong. Like he should be with her.

He shoved the feeling down. That wasn't an option. He had Emily. He had a role to play. And besides, Leslie probably hated him for standing by while Emily made her life hell.

He didn't deserve her. The thought repeated, brutal and relentless.

The room buzzed with the half-drunken chatter of rebelling 13 year olds. Josiah sat on the edge of the couch, staring at the ouija board Emily had laid out in the center of the room. The planchette gleamed under the dim lighting. Tyler's house was always like this: dim, too many people, too much noise.

Emily, sitting cross-legged in front of the board, wore a smirk that barely hid her internal anxiety from Josiah. He knew that look. She was always one for dramatics, for putting on a show, but there was something fragile in the way Emily's eyes darted around the room, scanning everyone's reactions. Underneath her mean girl persona, he knew how insecure Emily was. But no one else could tell, and it still didn't excuse her bullshit. 

"Alright," Emily said, her voice high-pitched and a little too cheerful. "Before we start, everyone swears on their mother's life that if the board says to do something, we do it. No backing out."

Miranda, who was perched next to Tyler, giggled nervously, glancing at Josiah as if to check if she was serious. Josiah shrugged. He didn't care much about the whole ouija thing—just something to pass the time while they waited for Tyler's older brother to show up with the real booze.

"Swear on your mom's life," Emily repeated, her voice firm this time.

The room went quiet, save for the faint music thudding from the next room. One by one, the group mumbled their promises. Emily made sure each one said it. Including Josiah.
More orders from the dictator.

They all placed their fingers lightly on the planchette, a sudden hush falling over the group. Emily was watching the board with unnerving focus now, her earlier playfulness replaced with performative importance. "Who's here?" she asked in a hushed tone.

The planchette didn't move at first, and Josiah stifled a yawn. Then, slowly, it began to glide across the board. Josiah felt his fingers twitch, but he wasn't pushing. No one was, right?The board spelled out something slow, deliberate.

L-O-V-E-S-P-I-D-E-R-S.

Josiah frowned. The word landed like a rock in his stomach. "Love Spiders?" He pulled his hands back slightly, glancing at Emily. She was brimming with mock-horror.

Emily swallowed. "Ask something," she whispered.

Josiah's mouth felt dry. "Who's the message for?"

The planchette moved again, quicker this time.

J-O-S-I-A-H.

He glanced around the room, but no one was laughing. Emily was staring at the board, her lips parted, eyes wide.

The planchette moved one last time.

S-E-E-L-E-S-L-I-E.

Josiah jerked his hand away from the planchette. "See Leslie? You pushed it!" he shouted at Emily. But she shook her head violently, her eyes wide with something close to fear.

"I didn't," she whispered. "Please... don't go see her, Josiah. Please don't."

He didn't believe her. Not for a second. He stood. "I'm going."

Emily grabbed his arm, but her grip was weak. "Josiah, I swear I didn't do it. Please, don't!" Her voice cracked.

He had to leave. He had to see her.

As the door closed, he heard Emily turn to the others and scream, "ALRIGHT —WHO WAS IT?!"

Maybe Emily hadn't pushed the planchette...

Maybe no one had.

Will Josiah find Leslie before it's too late? Read part two to find out...