Dad nodded encouragingly, and I stood up a little straighter.
“Last year, she died in a car accident,” I told him. “And it wasn’t until her funeral that everyone found out the truth about why she gave up her singing career.” I held up the picture, and Mi Jin stepped closer with her camera. “Her daughter, Ana, had cancer. Flavia wasn’t married, and Ana was her only child. She was really protective of her—she didn’t want Ana to have to deal with the media, especially after she got sick. So when she heard Ana’s diagnosis, she quit singing and stopped appearing in public. She kept Ana’s treatments really private, too. When Ana died in 1998, Flavia managed to keep it out of the news. She kind of turned into a recluse afterward, and eventually, the media lost interest in her. But when Flavia was killed in that car accident last year, everyone found out about Ana. Because Flavia had bought this plot years ago so she could be buried next to her daughter.”
I pointed to the smaller tombstone. “That’s actually who Oscar and I are going to try to contact. Ana Arias.”
Jess lowered her camera, and I exhaled shakily.
“Kat, that was awesome,” said Mi Jin. To my surprise, Jess nodded in agreement.
“I mean . . .” She glanced over at Dad, who was beaming proudly at me. “How in the world did you learn all that stuff about her daughter?”
“I looked online to see if any famous people were buried here,” I told her. “Everything I found was in Portuguese, but Oscar translated most of it. There are a few other celebrities and politicians, but when I read about Flavia’s daughter, I figured she’d be the best one to try to contact. She was eleven when she died, and Sam always says the ghosts of children are more likely to contact other children, and . . . Why are you both looking at me like that?” I demanded, because now Jess wore Dad’s same goofy smile.
“Future journalist,” Dad said triumphantly, raising his arms over his head. I wrinkled my nose.
“What?”
“You treated this like an assignment,” Jess told me, pointing to the picture in my hand. “All I said was, ‘Hey, let’s go film something in this cemetery.’ And you did the research. You found the story. Like father, like daughter.”
I rolled my eyes. “If you say so. Ouija time?”
“You bet.” Jess snapped back into director mode. “Oscar, Kat, over here. I want to get you two on either side of the board so we can see the tombstone between you. Mi Jin, this way . . .”
I sat cross-legged opposite Oscar, carefully moving a few bouquets out of the way. Future journalist? I wasn’t so sure about that. Although I actually had enjoyed researching Ana. In fact I’d gotten so caught up in it, I’d accidentally blown off video chatting with Trish and Mark.
Oscar unfolded Mi Jin’s electronic Ouija board and flipped the switch on the circuit board that was set between YES and NO. I jiggled the planchette, which held the mouse, over the letters until its little red light started winking.
“Remember, no faking it,” I told Oscar in a low voice. “If this doesn’t work, we’ll just have to figure something else out. We can’t trick the viewers.”
“Yeah.” He drummed his fingers on his knee, eyeing Jess. “Although you know if we do somehow contact Ana, viewers will think it’s fake, anyway.”
“Not all of them,” I pointed out. “Some of the fans really believe in this stuff.”
“Right. So . . .” Oscar leaned closer, tapping the planchette. “What difference would it make if we moved this thing around instead of a ghost?”
“Oscar . . .”
“It’s like you said,” he whispered. “No matter what, some people will believe and some will think we’re faking it. But that’s better than nothing happening at all, right? We need to make it entertaining. That’s what Roland always says.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but Jess suddenly crouched in front of us, setting her camera on a short, squat tripod. Mi Jin stood behind the tomb, getting an overhead shot of us with the Ouija board.
“Okay,” Jess said. “I’m not here, Mi Jin’s not here, don’t worry about looking into the cameras. Just talk to each other about Flavia and Ana, then give the board a try. And remember, we’re going to edit this, so don’t worry about whether things feel slow or boring.”
I gave Oscar a pointed look, and he made a face.
“Ready?” asked Jess.
I nodded, wiping my palms on my shorts. Oscar bounced up and down a little. I wondered if he was nervous, too. The thought made me feel slightly better.
“All right, here we go.” The red light on Jess’s camera blinked on again.
Immediately, Oscar picked up the picture of Flavia and Ana and made a show of leaning it against Ana’s tombstone. “Tragédia Segredo de Flavia,” he said in a loud, solemn voice, pointing to the headline. “All the stories we found online focused on Flavia Arias. But this story is really more about Ana. Don’t you think, Kat?”
I stared at him, mouth open. Why was he talking like a news reporter?
“Uh . . . sure?”
“According to this story, Ana was really shy around the media before her diagnosis,” Oscar went on. “She loved going to her mom’s shows, but she hated the attention she got.”
“Well, some people don’t like having cameras shoved in their faces.” I couldn’t help shooting Jess a quick glare, and I heard Dad stifle a laugh. Jess waved at him to be quiet, although I could see she was smiling, too.
“And some people love it.” Oscar batted his eyelashes at the camera, and I groaned. Overhead, Mi Jin’s shoulders were shaking with silent laughter. “Anyway, I read that Flavia once told off a bunch
