“You weren’t waking,” she says. “You’re still drunk.”
“Yeah, that’s what six shots of tequila will do to a girl. We need to stop accepting those damn challenges.”
I’m grumbling, but the truth is that I watered my shots, and as a result, I’m barely hungover. Trinity has been on edge. Yesterday, I made the mistake of glancing sidelong at the new clubbing dress she planned to wear on camera. I was eyeing the tiny sheath of shimmering fabric, thinking, “Damn, I wish I could wear that,” but she took my look as criticism, and we had to delay the taping while she changed. I watered down my tequila while she was gone, knowing it wouldn’t take much to set her off again.
I glance at our stats. Fifty percent more views. Double the comments. Triple the link shares.
“Ugh,” I say. “Casper must be back.”
“I’m glad you find this amusing. How aboutthis?” She points at two comments.
gonegirl5:
You thought I was gone, didn’t you? You thought you got away with it.
gonegirl5:
I’m dead, and it’s your fault, and I’m going to make sure everyone knows.
I snicker.
Trinity slowly turns on me. “You thinkeverything’sfunny, don’t you, Hannah?”
“No. I do, however, thinkthisis funny.” I intone the comments in an ominous voice. “It’s B-movie dialogue.I know what you did last summer.I’m actually surprised it doesn’t say that. Maybe it’d be too on the nose.”
“Someone is accusing me of being responsible for their death, Hannah. That is not, in any way, amusing.”
“You?” I read the comments again. “I don’t see anything saying these are about you, Trin.”
She points at the orb. Is it clearer now? Itseemsclearer. I definitely see what looks like eyes and a?—
I shake that off. The power of suggestion.
“Still not seeing why this is about you,” I say.
“It’s overmyshoulder. The ghost is always right there, next to me.”
“Trinity,” I say, as carefully as I can. “That is not a ghost. It’s a lighting anomaly. One person decides it’s an orb, and suddenly everyone sees spooks, and then someone’s gotta take it to the next level and accuse us of murder.”
“It doesn’t say ‘murder.’ It just says we’re responsible.”
“Maybe that’s why the comment moderation didn’t pick it up. It lacks whatever words are on the intern’s watch list. I’ll reportit.” I hit a few keys. “And now we’ll prove this is not a ghostly orb. It isn’t worth a bump in stats if it upsets you.”
“You think I’m overreacting.”
“No, I think it’s understandably unsettling,” I say evenly as I pull up the original video. “I’ll find out what’s going on, and our next show will be spook-free.”
“It’snot there,” Trinity whispers.
In front of us, the screen is divided into two panels. One shows the online show from two weeks ago, paused where the orb is clearest. The other window is a direct feed from the camera, stopped at the same spot.
There is no orb on the original video.
I’d started with last night’s show. When I didn’t find the orb there, I went back to the previous show. Same thing. Now I’m at the first one. There is undeniably an orb in the online version and not even a hint of stray light in the original.
At a noise, I look over to see Trinity gripping the mouse, her hand trembling so much it chitters against the desktop.
“Hey,” I say, squeezing her arm. “This is good news. It means the orb didn’t originate at our end. There’s definitely no ghost. Someone tampered with the online version.”
