Spirit Streaer

"This is a stupid plan, and you're going to get us banned from the whole building if they catch us," Lacey couldn't get her face out of her phone, even when she had a decent point to make. I saw her half an hour ago, making a list of the pros and cons of confronting the President on his "field trips" into abandoned buildings. It'd take her another two hours of courage for her to move on to all the other reasons.

"First, keyword 'if' in BIG letters, I don't think anyone has been here since The Force Awakens came out. Seriously, three dorms with his poster so far. And second, who cares if we're in here fucking around?" Johnny had a tripod slung over one shoulder with a penny board resting on the other. His back must have been aching with all the camera shit he brought. Lenses, lights, whatever else his rich parents got him two birthdays ago, he had it all. Really, out of all of us, he believed in ghosts the most. He knew they were fake, but he respected the viral videos as short films and got way too artsy about it.

With him as President of the University's Ghost Hunting Club, we're essentially his YouTube interns. "Raid the fridges? Might be some gunk that has really aged to perfection. I only got two tall boys, and Hazel and I will go through them faster than y'all can get to take one." I held up my plastic bag, depressingly low on snacks and beer. Really, I wished I brought a keg, but my bank account said only two big cans or I'm out on the streets. Maybe once I graduate I can be an alcoholic with a fatter paycheck, but for now, I starve.

"Bathroom Banshee, that'll be our ghost video," Hazel nudged me in the arm, "get Charlie going and she'll cry about every ex and every saga. It's like she's reading it off cue cards, every detail memorized. I see it as a real 'you'll die if you watch this' movie. Give her just a sip of any rotten Bud Light and she'll terrify you."

"And if you give it to her, she'll puke and cry, think the same sound a horse makes when it begs to get shot." I shot a grin at Jess.

"Like you puked down Hannah's dress at senior prom?"

"God no, screw Hannah, hope she dies in a ditch!" My voice echoed, bouncing off the walls. I heard my voice come back at me through the dark. A chill crept over my skin. For a moment, the void had eyes, and it watched me, critiquing me in silence.

"Keep your voice down!" Lacey hissed in that crazed loud whisper only librarians used. She had the glasses to match, and arguably the hairstyle too. "Campus police could be on us in seconds!"

"Good, I'll plant these on you." I held up the beers. Before I could blink, Hazel snatched hers and wandered down one of the dark dangerous hallways.

"Why? You're twenty-one," Lacey scoffed.

"And you're twenty, and I know jail would change you for the better."

"Go rot, Charlie."

"Hey pals, can we not fight? You're ruining the vibes the atmosphere allows, which can and will mess up the shot, and our night." Johnny had a way with words. He dressed in only plaids and baseball caps and had the charisma to never pull off that look. However, his two key traits were his lax policy on drinks during club activities, and even more so, an appreciation for people who left him alone to work rather than try to help.

"Cool, got it, when it's time to throw stuff in front of the camera do you want us to howl and scream and stuff?" Hazel asked.

"No, find a crop top or a towel, anything that looks ghosty when you wave it around in the dark, that's what the other guys online are doing," Johnny explained with little enthusiasm, already neck deep in cameras and ignoring a barrage of complaints from Lacey.

"What'd he say?"

"Be ready to throw four hours from now, maybe a rag or something."

Hazel and I dipped our heads into every old dorm and closet we could. For an old dorm room closed decades ago for an unsolved murder, the place had little scary about it. Looters like us had come through pulling open drawers and drawing dicks on the walls. Hell, the place was still connected to the power grid. We just couldn't turn them on or else Johnny would have to start his camera ritual all over again.

"Let's prank him," the idea came out of my mouth while I was off thinking about being anywhere but here. "Make him pick a spot with nicer chairs."

"I miss the old club, where we watched horror movies and drank every time someone screamed," Hazel muttered, rolling her eyes. "President and Vice need to take notes."

"We're the last of the old guard, if people are going to care about the club, let them have it. Johnny and Lacey, though, need to learn to let loose, whether they're in charge now or not."

"Like the Haunted Hot Tub party?"

"That, but more along with that time we had brownies while watching Scooby-Doo."

"Jesus, I do miss the old club," Hazel spat. I could tell. She used to dress up nice for the meetings, but now it's always a hoodie, beanie, and yoga pants. Her hair's always tied back now too. I can tell that she's never worried about impressing me, but she did look good when she tried.

I passed Hazel my empty beer can. "When Johnny does his photo I'll jump out, then when he's checking the thermal-whatever, you jump at him and make him cry or something."

"What?" Hazel rolled her eyes. "That prank sucks."

"So? Tonight kinda sucks."

"Flash the camera," Hazel said with a devious second of hesitation. "Come on, it'd be funny."

"Funny for you, maybe. Lacey'd get me arrested and Johnny would probably be even more awkward around women for the rest of his life."

"Seems little of consequence."

"Clean the bathroom tomorrow," I said, knowing Hazel's laziness better than myself.

"Deal, you don't know how funny it'll be seeing Lacey pitch a fit. Johnny may just delete it and say nothing but will give you googly eyes aimed at your chest from now on. I feel like a bitch right now, am I being too much of a bitch? Deal's off too if you actually think Lacey'd put you on a list."

"Jesus, say less, it would be funny and might as well fuck around and have fun with the club and what it is now."

"Are you sure?"

"Hazel, do you want to see your friend do something stupid or not?"

I leaned over the corner of the hallway. It was pitch black, an immense void of shadow that I hovered over like a diver a millisecond before breaching the surface.

I tried to imagine myself in my bathroom, or bed, or anywhere but here. Once, hundreds of people walked through this hall every day. And now I'll be topless in that same spot. My blood ran cold. For a second, staring in that darkness I felt the breath of something sweet but accosted by thorns. I was standing on the verge of something new and something devilishly enticing. I've played around before, and I've done it a lot. Even when I'm skinny dipping or going out without a bra, nothing has had this kind of a pull as I feel now. It tugged the fear from my heart and brought a wicked sense of bravery when I heard from the darkest Johnny's nasally call for "action!"

In that ocean of nothingness, the little red light of the camera glared like a small flickering wisp. One last chance to chicken out. I lunged out from behind the wall and into the hallway. No shelter, no scurrying my way back, it's all or nothing. I hook my thumbs on the bottom of my shirt, one of those old tees you have since you were a kid, from a summer camp five years ago, a shirt you can get dirty or stained without a care. My stomach shows first; kinda flat, kinda not, and covered in freckles. I'm a little insecure about it, I never wear crop tops. God, I wish I could pull off the look though. Then my fingers catch my sports bra. It protests for a second, but it pulls up almost willingly. I feel the cold air on my nipples. The weight of my breasts presses against my thrashing heart. They're small, also dotted with freckles, and kinda ugly too if you look at them from the side. Or at least, that's what my ex said once. I let the darkness drink in the sight of my breasts, I let it devour the sight of my exposed self. I gave the world a chance to unlock me, to understand every insecurity and discomfort, the knowledge of what I would choose to distract from or hide in any other form. Exposed, I let the camera try, if it dared battle the dark, to see me in my most desirable form.

I stood there for only a second. Then I sank back into cover, letting the sports bra cover my titties and begging my band camp shirt to cover up the rest. I glance back up at Hazel. She's covering her mouth, little giggles seeping out.

"You didn't see anything, did you?" I whispered.

"No, god no. But who cares, I've seen your chest before, bro."

"Fuck off, Hazel, do you think Johnny saw?"

"It's so dark I couldn't see you from three feet. You're fine, dude."

"Thank god," the words nearly got caught in my throat. My heart was still racing. The thrill lingered longer than I expected. That rush never went away. It lasted as long as I kept thinking about it. And that was all that was on my mind.

"Yo! Charlie and Hazel, come over here real quick!"

"Oh shit, I spoke too soon!" Hazel couldn't keep the laughter in any longer. A heavy wheeze flew out of her throat as she began howling.

"What is it, Johnny?" I left the hyena to her fate and moseyed over to the camera freak.

"You're not going to believe this, but I think we won the jackpot."

"The jackpot?" My heart stopped. A heaviness set in. I wanted to run, right now.

"There's this smudge on the corner, right there on the edge. I think that's the thing you threw, barely visible." I could make out the shape. I knew exactly what it was. I could see them, my boobs! But, the darkness, the distance, and the blurriness completely hide them behind a thousand other explanations. Or at least, I hope.

"So, what about it?" I hope he notices, how funny would it be?

"Last month there was this viral trend of a spirit being caught on footage, which became some big overnight sensation. This looks exactly like it, it has the same shape, and it's real footage, nothing edited and no AI, this baby's pure! We hitch a ride on the trend, and get this Ghost Club's YouTube channel going big!"

"Oh man, that's, wow, that's wild, man." Hundreds, god, maybe millions of people looking at me. They would have no idea what I did, or how I feel about it. They would be none the wiser. "Hey, Johnny," Jesus, this is how addicts start, "wanna do one more take?"