haunted

Chapter 3: black sheep

"Well, fuck me sideways." Fatin hands the phone back to Leah. "That place is actually haunted."

Leah's brain short-circuits. Out of all the things Fatin could have responded with, from a shock spurred series of expletives to a muttered joke to mask unease, she never expected this. It takes her a moment to pick her jaw up off the ground and sputter, "You knew?"

"Duh." Fatin props an elbow on the steering wheel to face her. Her expression remains nonchalant, which baffles Leah to no end. How the fuck is she so chill about this? "People love a good ghost story. Why else would I have gone back there?"

Fatin says this casually and matter of factly, which makes Leah want to knock her elbow off the wheel just to wipe the unfazed look off her face. She takes the high road instead, "So you've been gaslighting me about Jeanette this entire time?"

"No," Fatin pauses. "But that would've been pretty funny." Leah scowls at her, and Fatin explains, "My mom's a real estate agent; I heard her talking about the house once. Nobody ever sold it because every prospective buyer was convinced it was haunted."

"Why?" Fatin gives her a flat look, and Leah rolls her eyes. "I mean, besides the obvious."

"The usual." Fatin waves a hand. "Footsteps in empty spaces, flickering lights, and the sound of music playing in the middle of the night."

"No reported sightings of Jeanette?"

"Not that I know of."

Leah nods, filing away the information for later. Still disgruntled at being left out of the loop, she adds petulantly, "Y'know, you still could've told me."

"I wasn't sure how you'd take it." Fatin waits a beat. "Judging by your conspiracy theory tendencies and lack of fucking chill about well, anything, I figured not well."

"Oh fuck off," Leah snaps, though it doesn't hold any real bite to it. As annoying as Fatin is, Leah is self-aware enough to recognize that she wouldn't have taken the rumors of a ghost haunting very well.

Fatin smiles brightly at her, not put off in the slightest. She turns back to the wheel. "Put the GPS on speaker, and read me the article out loud." She pulls onto the road. "I wanna know how she kicked the can."

"How savoir-faire of you," Leah replies, voice laden with sarcasm.

"Bless you."

"I didn't-" Leah stops herself short. "You're fucking with me."

"Obvi." Fatin glances at her expectantly. "So, are you gonna read it or what? I don't have all night."

Leah shifts in her seat, trying to make herself comfortable and failing. "I can't believe you're treating this like a fucking audio book."

"With all the suspense, it's more like a true crime podcast, but please. Don't let that stop you."

Leah forces her gaze down at the screen, because as satisfying as snapping back at Fatin would be, nothing beats satisfying her own curiosity.

'A Gentle Spirit': Remembering Jeanette Dao '14

By Rhonda Wolfe '76 - November 8, 2012

Jeanette Dao '14 died November 1, 2012. She was 16 years old. Dao is survived by her father, Lam Dao and her mother, Qui Dao.

---

"Okay, but how?"

"Fatin?"

"Yes?"