not.” Another drum of his fingers against the steering wheel. “You celebrate Thanksgiving in September?”
“Yep.”
Sawyer doesn’t call me strange, but it’s painted all over his face. He turns into the driveway of the correct house and cuts the engine. The house is one of those brick ranches with two huge trees in the front yard. I dig my notebook and a pen out of my backpack as well as the folder that has the thick packet of information for the project. “You ready?”
“Sure.” I wonder if he eats sarcasm for breakfast so he can vomit so much of it during the day.
We leave the car, walk up to the stoop and after only one ring of the bell, Max opens the door. He has a welcoming smile when he sees me, and I hug him. “Max, this is Sawyer. Sawyer this is Max. He’s a good friend of my dad’s. Max is a ghost hunter.”
Dad and Max have beers together on Fridays and play poker together once a month.
“I’m actually an accountant, but I like doing some ghost hunting on the side.” Max shakes Sawyer’s hand, and anxiety twists my muscles. Max needs to say the words, he needs to invite me in and I breathe out in relief when he says, “Come in, come in.”
Needing to be invited into someone’s home is one of my many quirks.
The only place to sit is the couch built for two and a recliner. Max takes the recliner so that leaves the couch for me and Sawyer. I sit, Sawyer drops beside me and I have to scramble to keep from falling into him. Even though I do keep myself upright, our knees bump. The touch surprises me and it must surprise him as well. He jerks away, as do I, but there’s really nowhere for either of us to go.
Good thing I’m small otherwise I’d be on the floor.
“So which one of you is possessed and needs me to exorcise them?” Max asks then adds as he chuckles, “Just kidding. What can I do for you today, V?”
Sawyer’s head shoots in my direction at the mention of V. That’s what my friends call me, and Sawyer’s not a friend so he probably hasn’t heard this before.
“We’re going to do a project on whether or not ghosts are real, and I was hoping you could tell us how to prove they exist.”
Max readjusts glasses that seem to be permanently lopsided on his face. “I did a vinegar and baking soda volcano when I was in school.”
“That sounds boring. Now tell us what to do.”
Max goes to the closet and returns with a crate and a duffel bag. He explains about how before we do an investigation of a place that we need to do some research about the possible spirits that could be there and how that will help us connect with the ghosts. “You need to understand the difference between local legend and fact. If ghosts are there, they might be there for a purpose. Be willing to listen to them with an open mind instead of approaching them with a mind-set of what everyone else has to say.”
I lean forward, enchanted with the idea of connecting with a spirit, at least one who isn’t my mom. Sawyer, on the other hand, keeps crossing and uncrossing his legs and looks as comfortable as a lobster about to be put in a boiling pot.
“Did you know that Thomas Edison once said in an interview that he tried to build a ghost phone?” Max says. Sawyer shakes his head, and I’m writing in my notebook.
“Most spirits don’t have enough energy to create audible sounds like we do, but some can muster enough energy to leave a sound on a recording,” Max continues. “Some people believe that a ghost can’t talk, but can gain enough energy to alter the static near the coil of the microphone to create a voice to communicate with, which is why you can’t hear the voice with your own ears. This type of communication takes a great deal of energy, which is why most EVPs—or electronic voice phenomena—are very short.”
“But there are ghosts that people can see and hear,” I say. “How’s that possible?”
“Full-bodied apparitions are rare events, but it can happen. Those ghosts are very strong.” Max opens his duffel bag and takes out a recorder. “I like using digital recorders so I can run the recordings through the computer. Ghosts are in another dimension than ours, which means