Amber isn’t sure how she feels about it. Sure, new content could be fun, but if someone around town is already mad enough about their renovation to make this account . . .
Mr. Cole silently places his crust on his plate and gets up to leave the table. Rookie mistake, Amber thinks. Like a T. rex’s, Mom’s vision is based on movement.
“You’re not going anywhere,” she says. Mr. Cole freezes. “We need to talk.”
The triplets stand up in unison. This is their cue to leave. “We’re, uh, going to unpack,” Amber says.
They’re on the second landing when the fighting starts. Even with a floor beneath them, they can still hear the strained sound of their parents’ discussion.
“How did you think it was okay to make a decision like this without talking to me?”
“Just what we needed,” Cecily mumbles as Amber strains to hear her dad’s response. “A house with good acoustics.”
“Let’s go to the third floor!” Rudy says, steering his sisters away from their rooms and down the hallway. “To investigate. Guys, we get to post about the ghost. We need to find out everything that happened here.”
He leads them upstairs. Another floor almost muffles the sound of the argument happening below, but not entirely. Amber knows this one could go on for a while.
The third floor is unfinished, punctuated by empty bedrooms and hanging tarps. In the half-light of a mostly burned-out lamp, it’s creepy enough to be distracting. Rudy walks down the hallway.
“I think I’m going to sleep in the suicide room tonight,” he says. “Maybe take some nighttime footage, like in those TV shows.”
“Didn’t Mom say we needed approval—”
“Oh, come on, Cecily,” Rudy cuts her off, getting right to the heart of the matter. Amber knows that her brother knows as well as she does that Cecily is actually scared. “It’s not real.”
Cecily doesn’t answer.
“Rudy Cole, ghost hunter,” Amber snorts, giving him a friendly shove on the shoulder. She winks at Cecily.
“Come on!” Rudy says, walking out onto the landing. “It’ll generate great traffic. Our fans are going to eat this up!”
“You’re not wrong about that,” Amber muses, setting off down the creepy hallway after her brother. It takes her a few steps to realize that she’s not being followed. “Cece?” she asks.
“You’re not that scared, are you?” Rudy asks, pausing before the stairwell. “I mean, sure, it’s kind of creepy, but just think of the traffic we’re gonna get . . .”
Cecily wraps her arms around herself. “What do you guys think about the . . . account?” she asks. She doesn’t say its name. Her name.
Amber answers slowly. “I mean, it’s not really Alex Grable, right? Like Mom said, it’s just some kid messing with us. Someone local who stopped by before we moved in and took the profile picture.”
“Or maybe it is her,” Rudy teases, wiggling his fingers for emphasis. “Rising from the dead to make an Instagram account. That’s what I would do if I were a ghost. Maybe she’s haunting the house right now.” He reaches for the turret room door and turns the handle.
It sticks.
“Didn’t that realtor lady unlock it?” he asks. He tries it again. The noise of the dead bolt against the doorframe seems to echo just a little too much. It’s locked.
“Come on, let’s go downstairs,” Amber says. Her sister’s fear must be rubbing off on her because she feels a shiver go down her spine.
“Yeah, that’s where the key is,” Rudy says, leading them back to the first level. But as soon as they reach level two, Amber knows they won’t make it to where the key hangs in the kitchen hall.
Muffled voices sound off below. At first, Amber can’t make out any words, but then Rudy opens the door to the dumbwaiter and the sound echoes up to them. “I know things have been hard, but I believe in this family—” Their dad’s voice is tinged with desperation.
“On second thought,” Rudy says, closing the dumbwaiter door. “I can get the key and sleep there some other night. Don’t want to walk into that hurricane.”
Cecily nods.
“Hey, cheer up!” Rudy says. “Let’s watch a movie or something.”
Amber shoots him a relieved glance. She knows Rudy is eager to ghost hunt, but Cecily seems really freaked out; ghost research can come later. Amber is following them into Cecily’s room when she remembers all the work she has to do. “Got photos to edit,” she says, her face falling. “You’re not going to facetune yourselves.”
“Can’t you do it later?” Cecily asks. She’s perked up for the first time since dinner. “Come on. I want to watch some sci-fi.”
Amber gives Cecily a look. Easy for her to say—all she has to do to pull her weight on the account is sit there and be perfect, photogenic Cecily. But Amber? This won’t be the first time she stays up half the night editing photos.
“You’re coming,” Rudy says, grabbing her arm and steering her into the room. In spite of herself, Amber gives them a small smile. “Cecily’s right. You’re not going to die if you post an unedited photo.”
Cecily feigns a melodramatic heart attack, and Amber actually giggles. She follows the two into Cecily’s room and sinks into her air mattress, smiling as she listens to her siblings fight over whether to watch sci-fi or action. Cecily finally lets Rudy pick and runs back downstairs to get Speckles.
Amber takes out her phone to check the ’gram one last time. She freezes.
“I wish Mom had let me put your cage in my room,” Cecily coos at the rabbit as she walks back into the room. “The kitchen is so far! And you’re just so fluffy—” She catches sight of Amber and pauses. “Amber? You okay?”
“It’s Alex Grable again.”
“Don’t call it that.” Cecily shudders. “She’s dead. I hate
