Graveyard Slot by Michelle Schusterman (classic children's novels .TXT) 📕

and the black-and-white composition notebook Dad had bought for me this morning. “Let me know when you’re done, okay? I need to write that post about the next episode.”

“’Kay.” His eyes stayed glued to the forums as I headed into the hall. I found Sam in the lobby, reading a magazine. Roland lounged in an armchair nearby, scribbling in a book titled 1,001 Brain-Twisting Crossword Puzzles. He arched an eyebrow when I sat next to Sam on the sofa and opened my notebook.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” Roland drawled. “All interviews with Sam Sumners must be arranged through his manager.”

Sam’s brow furrowed. “I don’t have a manager.”

“You do, actually,” Roland said, tapping his pencil against his mouth. “I hired one. He’s incredible.”

“Who is it?”

“Me.” Roland squinted down at his book. “Hey, do either of you know a four-letter word that means ‘really terrible at crossword puzzles’? Pretty sure it starts with a Q and ends with . . . um, also Q.”

I snickered. “Nope, sorry. And I’m not interviewing Sam. He said he’d tell me about this waterfall we’re investigating so I can write a blog post. Is that okay with his manager?”

Roland pretended to consider it. “Approved, I suppose,” he said at last. “Man, Jess wasn’t kidding about you, was she?”

“What?”

“She said you’re a natural journalist.” Roland wrinkled his nose as he erased something on his puzzle. “I watched the cemetery video. It wasn’t awful.”

“It was really good,” Sam told me seriously. “I’m impressed you were able to contact Ana so quickly.”

“Thanks,” I said. “If it was really Ana.”

Sam tilted his head. “You don’t think it was her?”

“I don’t know.” I didn’t want to tell him I still didn’t entirely believe Oscar hadn’t been pushing the planchette. “It wasn’t like when we contacted Sonja, that’s all. I was kind of distracted.”

“Why?” He studied me intently. Sam had a way of making people spill their guts, and I was starting to figure out why. He actually listened. Unlike most people, who only half-listen because they’re trying to figure out how they’re going to respond to you.

“Because of the stupid cameras.”

Sam smiled sympathetically. “I understand. I was uncomfortable with the cameras during our first few episodes, but now I barely even notice them when we visit a haunted site.”

“To be fair, you barely notice other living humans when we visit a haunted site,” Roland pointed out.

Sam ignored this. “You’ll get used to it, Kat. I promise. It’s just stage fright.”

I blinked. Stage fright? Seriously? But I’d never had that before. Not in the school play in fourth grade, when I played the Evil Queen to Trish’s Snow White. Not last year during class elections, when I’d moderated a debate in the cafeteria between Mark and the other class-president candidates. Sure, I’d been a little nervous, but in the fun kind of way.

This camera thing? Not fun, and I didn’t want to get used to being on TV.

But I didn’t say any of that to Sam. I just smiled.

“Thanks. Anyway . . . what’s the story behind this waterfall?”

Almost an hour later, I returned to my room with several pages of notes. I’d never really thought about this part of Dad’s work before. Back when he hosted a morning talk show called Rise and Shine, Ohio! I just thought his job meant sitting in front of a camera, talking about the news, and making jokes. It was definitely not a career I’d ever be interested in. But this—doing research and “finding the story,” as Jess put it—this part I actually liked. The whole time Sam had been talking, I was mentally writing my blog post. I even found myself planning out how I’d want to film the episode, if I were in charge. On the not-terrifying side of the cameras, of course.

Oscar was gone, and he’d left Dad’s laptop open on the desk. I sat down and clicked over to my blog. “Thirty-seven comments,” I mumbled. “Woo.”

EdieM: This is FANTASTIC! So proud of you, KitKat.

trishhhh: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

MARK: Nice! Love your shirt, btw.

Maytrix: Wow, excellent mini episode! Oscar, you crack me up. Can’t wait to see you guys on the next episode!

JamieBaggins: As an official Ouija Master, I proclaim this to be outstanding Ouija-ing.

skEllen: OMG THIS IS AMAZING!!! OSCAR IS SUCH A CUTIE! I HOPE YOU DO LOTS MORE OF THESE!!!!!1!!!

AntiSimon: Kat, this is really great! Thanks for sharing this story about Flavia and Ana with us. Oscar is too funny!

Heyyyyley: This. Is. So. COOL.

YourCohortInCrime: Wow, you could’ve at least tried not to make it obvious you were moving that planchette. Cheap stunt.

presidentskroob: what a tragic story

I scrolled through the comments, smiling when I recognized some of the fans from the P2P forums. Quite a few thought Oscar and I had faked the Ouija thing, but whatever. Some people would always be skeptics, no matter what.

There were a few anonymous comments, and over a dozen from people I didn’t know, either from real life or the forums. I’d nearly reached the bottom when one caught my eye.

kbold04: did u think kat wuz a boy at first? i did lol

I read the comment several times, and a strange, sour feeling sprouted in my stomach and wormed its way up to my heart. Numbly, I scrolled back up to the video and clicked Play, then skipped through the first minute or so until I saw myself on the screen. I clicked Pause and leaned forward, scrutinizing everything about my appearance.

Between the camera angle and the lack of light, it was impossible to see the super-short ponytail sticking out of the back of my head unless I turned. My black Frankenstein T-shirt was pretty shapeless—not that I had much shape to fill out a more revealing top, anyway—and I had on yellow board shorts and flip-flops. I never wore make-up, but that shouldn’t matter. Plenty of girls didn’t. And my face was . . . just my face.

I chewed my lip, staring hard at the screen. Did I look like a boy?

“There’s nothing wrong