Page 5 of Mine After Midnight

I shake my head, a soft laugh escaping me. ‘Don’t make me sound so boring.’

My gaze drifts to the dining table, where half the surface has been taken over by recording equipment: microphones on small stands, tangled headphones, a laptop with editing software open on the screen. It looks more like a tiny studio than somewhere you’d eat dinner.

The girls started a podcast a little over a year ago. At first, it was just the two of them talking into cheap microphones in Tess’s bedroom, giggling their way through awkward recordings and posting them online for fun. People loved it. Now, in their weekly episodes they sit down to talk about everything – dating disasters, money problems in your twenties, health kicks that last two weeks before collapsing, messy friendships, bad sex, good sex, the strange chaos of trying to figure out life while everyone pretends they already have. Nothing is off limits. I love listening to it. It’s half advice, half storytelling, but mostly just the two of them being completely unfiltered with each other.

Tess is the thoughtful one – the calm voice that tries to see both sides of every story. Elodie, on the other hand, has absolutely no filter. If something ridiculous has happened to her that week, the entire internet is going to hear about it.

The dining table setup tells me they must have recorded recently. Tess’s notebook sits open beside the laptop, pages full of messy bullet points and scribbled ideas.

Elodie notices where I’m looking. ‘Careful,’ she says. ‘If you get too close, we’ll stick a microphone in front of you.’

I snort softly. ‘Absolutely not.’

Her grin widens. ‘Oh, come on. The listeners would love you.’

I shake my head. ‘I’m not exciting enough to be on there.’

‘As if.’

‘Maybe one day.’

Elodie leans back into the couch, clearly interested in that answer.

‘Okay, enough doom and gloom. We need a distraction.’ She grabs her phone from the coffee table and starts tapping at the screen with purpose. ‘Let’s go out tonight.’

Tess groans. ‘El, I look like I’ve been crying for forty-eight hours straight.’

‘Which is exactly why we’re going out.’

‘Where are you thinking?’ I ask.

Elodie’s thumb freezes on her screen, her eyes widening. She tilts her phone toward us. ‘There’s a Fright Night event at Shadow Land Amusements tonight.’

My stomach dips. Shadow Land. I haven’t heard that name in years. The old amusement park at the edge of town is fun, but also creepy, depending what time of the year you go. I remember going there with my sister. She dared me to go on the roller-coaster, convincing me it wasn’t ‘that bad’, and then laughed wickedly when I screamed. I swallow, a lump forming in my throat. It’s been a while since I thought about my sister, but being back here is just as difficult as I expected. She’s everywhere I look.

Tess perks up a little, wiping her face. ‘Fright Night? Like costumes and jump scares and people pretending they’re going to murder you in dark hallways?’

Elodie beams. ‘Exactly that.’

‘I don’t know …’ Tess starts, but Elodie shoots us both a look that says she’s not accepting no for an answer tonight.

‘Is tonight the best night for that kind of thing?’ I ask hesitantly.

‘Bryn, come on,’ she says, nudging my foot with hers. ‘You’re back. Tess is heartbroken. I’m bored. This is exactly the night for it.’

Tess nods, surprisingly eager now. ‘Yeah. Honestly, getting scared out of my mind sounds kind of therapeutic.’

I shrug, releasing a small laugh. ‘Right. Nothing says healing like a grown man in a zombie mask chasing us with a plastic chainsaw.’

Elodie waves her hand dismissively. ‘Don’t be reasonable right now, Bryn. We’re going.’

Maybe I need this, too. Something that isn’t grief or memories or awkward run-ins with people who remember the girl I used to be. The bright, bubbly girl who had ambition and the world at her fingertips.

‘Fine,’ I say, lifting my hands in surrender. ‘Fright Night it is.’

Elodie pumps her fists triumphantly. ‘Right!’ she says, already springing off the couch. ‘No time to waste. Let’s get ready.’

Tess laughs, pushing herself up from the cushions. I shake my head, smiling despite myself. I follow them down the short hallway toward Tess’s bedroom, where clothes are already strewn everywhere. Dresses are draped over her chair, shoes are half buried under a pile of jackets, and makeup is scattered across the dresser.