Penny is a big part of why I'm leaving.

The words funneled in one ear and out the other as Arielle drove south. She downloaded an app to track Stella's flight—her gut was uneasy after hearing how afraid Stella was—and took her time cruising down the coast, driving as close as possible to the sea. She loved the ocean. Its breezes, its crashing waves, the way its scent lingered in your nose for days even after leaving. The seagulls screeching overhead as you tried to nap on the soft sand. The sounds of kids throwing volleyballs and the sizzling of barbecues near the parking lots.

She'd taken many vacations to California with her family, before it was broken. Before her mom died and her brother perished soon after. Before her father lost his mind and moved them across the country to escape. She'd seen San Francisco and its Golden Gate Bridge, its hilly streets, its vibrant shops, and eclectic restaurants. And Los Angeles, muggy and gloomy yet bustling with life, not well-suited for a young girl her age, but fascinating nonetheless. She preferred San Diego, she had to admit, and had been there a few times.

But deep down, she always knew; she didn't belong on the west coast. The instant she moved to Ohio—considered part of the Midwest—she sensed her lungs expanding at last. Her heart came to life, bruised and battered as it was after all she'd been through. Her body seemed to mold into the city, to thrive and awaken, to live. And she found Jade and Stella; or more like they found her.

Her angels. Her sweet-natured, a bit on the exotic and crazy side, best friends. So warm, so welcoming, so accepting of her secretive nature and difficulty opening up. They loved her at first sight, complimented her fiery hair, asked her what her favorite colors were, invited her to slumber parties and weekend outings and study-sessions.

Soon enough they were so inseparable, they became the talk of their High School.

The terrible trio, they called us.

Arielle suppressed a laugh at the thought. At how she and Jade and Stella were far from terrible, and most of the time not even a real trio. They split off all the time; Jade had special obligations with her family and its riches, and Stella drifted off to her mother's occult events. In the meantime, Arielle... burrowed a hole in her bedroom and watched reruns of Gilmore Girls and stuffed her face with popcorn. They had different lives, different personalities... but they always clicked, and Arielle missed that so much.

During college, they lost touch. Jade fell into destructive habits of drinking and partying. Stella argued with her mom so often she had to move out. And Arielle struggled to make ends meet and afford an education, too. They tried to hang out, to keep in touch, to maintain their friendship—but it was hard, harder than any of them could have imagined. But next thing they knew, Jade calmed her ways, Stella returned home, and Arielle obtained her Associate's degree and dropped out. That's when they understood their friendship was precious and needed maintenance. That it should take precedence over everything else.

Before Jade died, they'd created a rhythm; an adult rhythm, she liked to call it. One where they worked, dealt with the responsibilities of being grown-ups, then got together over coffee once a week to complain about it. Like housewives, but none of them were near that level. More like college graduates needing a breather after drowning in the depths of real life.

The closer her car took her to Florida, the more the crisp, salty smell of the sea wafted in through her open windows. It brushed through her unkempt crimson tresses, filtered into her nose, and cleaned her lungs, her stomach, her heart, her soul.

She wasn't born near the ocean, nor were either of her parents particularly fond of it. But Arielle considered herself a child of the water, nonetheless. Jade had taken her to the Sunshine State once, on a Spring Break what felt like eons ago. She'd wanted to bring Stella, too, but of course her parents threw a monumental fit to halt that from happening. They barely tolerated Arielle's less-than-worthy presence; they downright refused silly Stella, descendant of a renowned occultist and medium.

Arielle recalled the glamorous hotel they stayed at, with a view on one of the most beautiful beaches she'd ever seen. The lustrous balcony overlooking the wispy, silk-like sand, the colorful parasols and patios and boardwalks. And not to forget the delicious tropical fruit drinks with their little umbrellas—that she and Jade stole several sips of before getting caught—and the suntan oil aroma that dotted the skin of every woman walking by.

Jade wore a lime-green two-piece bikini, and her dark-bronze skin glistened in the sun like a brown tourmaline. She ran through the waves like an excited puppy; Arielle sat and watched her for hours, smiling, laughing, admiring her and her life. But was it admiration? Or was it... love?

Did I already have this brewing inside?

They had finished Sophomore year, about to be Juniors. Both were frivolous with boys and loved attention, both were excellent students that teachers had high hopes for. And at the beach, Jade thrived; bubbly and extroverted, sporting her designer flip-flops, taking swigs of her hidden flask. Arielle, the shyer one, spent her moments sending selfies to Stella to make it seem like she'd been there with them.

Would Florida ever be the same? Would Arielle ever get those sensations again?

Rolling past the state-line, she heard Jade's voice rumbling on in her head.

"This is the life, Ari. Beach, booze, and boys."

Arielle had agreed in those days. The beach sent her heart to flutter and her soul to rest. The booze cleared her fears and loosened her up. And the boys... she liked the boys. The surfers jogging past them, waving—mostly at Jade—the servers depositing their trays of fruit or their bowls of chips and salsa. And of course the wannabes, boys of lesser means who slid into their private beach hoping to meet celebrities. They only met Jade and Arielle, but that never seemed to bug them.

So when did things change? When did I... like girls, too?

Arielle couldn't recall a time she'd ever been attracted to someone of the same sex. Sure, she'd often ogled women marching by, but more out of envy of their well thought-out looks and impeccable make-up. She'd never pictured herself wanting more; wanting a touch, a kiss, a seductive whisper.

But Jade... ignited feelings in her. Jade, whose name caused sparks to titillate at her extremities, whose exquisite features made her lose her breath and her words. She was always composed in front of her, always craving to make a favorable impression. And yet, she was so comfortable when they were alone, in their pajamas, watching their favorite episodes of Ghost Adventures and mocking the worst.

Before she hit St. Augustine, Arielle located an isolated beach off the side of the freeway where she parked, took a deep breath—and cried. The entire drive—four and a half hours—she'd held in her sobs, not wanting to swerve off the road or lose focus. But now, far from home, farther from Stella, who had landed in Columbus, she couldn't pretend anymore. She couldn't be composed and calm and okay; because she wasn't, she wasn't, and might never be.

Because Jade died and left them with unanswered questions, with worries, with fears. She vanished, and no one knew why, and now spirits all over the east coast tormented her, teased her, taunted her. Spirits of the past, like Penny, whose secrets Jade perished with. Stella could dish out all the warnings she wanted to—Jade knew Penny most, whoever she was. And she perished before she could reveal anything.

But why did she perish? And how? Arielle planned to ask every specter until her vocal cords gave out. She'd find out, she'd get answers. No matter the petrification flaring in her gut and dulling her senses, she would. Jade had saved her on multiple occasions, dragging her from depression, convincing her life was worth it, showering her with friendship and love.

It's my turn.

As soon as she exited the car, strings of salty currents hit her cheeks. She smiled, though what she was about to do would bring no pleasure. Trudging to the trunk, she heaved out the trash bag containing the Ouija board and planchette, snatched the box of matches she kept for emergencies, and took them to the edge of the water.

At the line where the crashing waves stopped, she dumped the board out. She spat on it, for good measure—a quick gesture to show how horrible it made her feel—then ignited a match and dropped it onto the wood. As the thing engulfed in flames, she lept onto the planchette, jumping, jumping, jumping until she heard it smash beneath her feet. And she jumped more until it crunched and cracked and all that were left were tiny pieces of marble. Using the trash bag as a glove, she scooped them up and threw them in the fire that still swallowed the board.

As she waited, she gawked at the birds flapping ahead, at the sun dipping towards the horizon. Then at the bright azure sky, endless and empty and hypnotizing, not a cloud in sight. She raised her arms, hugging the air, embracing the atmosphere, breathing in the positivity that loomed around her. The tranquility, the silence.

Stella's crystals jingled in her pocket when she straightened up again. She patted them, a small smirk forming over her lips. "Oh, Stella. Too observant for your own good."

How had she known? It didn't surprise Arielle that Mrs. Sullivan figured out her feelings—she'd been doing that for years. She sensed the despair she harbored, the never-ending sorrow from the death surrounding her, the pressure to be like everyone else. But this, she had never voiced out loud. So how had Stella, the one who oppressed her true nature, who declined every gift her blood carried inside, figure it out?

Either way, for years, Mrs. Sullivan kept her secrets... and now, so did Stella.

Secrets... secrets... they hide in plain sight.

Did Jade ever catch on to it, too? Had she perceived Arielle's feelings? Or worse—had Stella told her?

"No... she didn't know." Stella made it clear she should find Jade if only to tell her. That her divulging might give them both closure, somehow.

I'll get that closure.

But how would Jade react? As long as Arielle had known her, she'd been obsessed with boys, enamored with men. She was definitely one-hundred percent straight, and might have been put-off by one of her best friends being helplessly in love with her. The idea infused doubt into Arielle's core, turning it to ice, to stone. Even the fire beside her did nothing to warm her as she pictured Jade snarling, rejecting her. Reminding her she'd never consider dating a woman, loving a woman like that.

"I like dudes, Arielle!" Jade's tone would have been thick with disgust; no question about it.

"But so do I, Jade! I like both, I like both!" She kicked at the sand, tears threatening to dash down her cheeks again.

She still found men intriguing. Still loved the sensations it brought her when a man gazed at her with interest—and not at over-the-top Stella or designer-dress wearing Jade. When a member of the opposite sex asked her for her number, manifested a desire to speak with her, dance with her, undress her. Her face swarmed with heat at the thought.

Prying from her drifting imagination, she realized the skies had darkened, and the Ouija board had turned to ashes.

"Time to ditch this thing, once and for all."

She removed her shoes and socks and rolled up her jeans as best as she could. Then, with help from the trash bag, she dug out all the ashes, the remains of the planchette, along with a hefty dose of sand, and waded into the water. The liquid sloshed up her ankles and calves, sending shivers up her legs—positive shivers. Those she associated with pleasure, with tingling sensations she enjoyed.

The ocean.

The water soaked her jeans, but she didn't care—she wanted to ensure the contents of the bag didn't wash up on the beach. She wanted to watch each tiny speck of ash drown and drizzle to the ocean floor. And she did. She dumped it all out, shaking the trash bag to release every last particle. Arms crossed, she stared into the water as it rippled against her, collided into her calves, splashed up to her face.

When the sun had set, she had to go—the hotel room would be waiting, comforting and cooling and quiet. She roamed up to the sand and whipped around for one last glance at the area where she'd dropped the Ouija board's remains.

"Die, you piece of shit."