"Hey, Auntie Esther, could I ask you some questions?" Laying on her stomach on the motel bed, she twirls a pen between her fingers.
"What about?" Aunt Esther is in the middle of unpacking the contents of a white paper bag and its infinite grease stains. That's tonight's dinner. Tiff already knows she isn't going to finish it.
"Town history?"
"Is this for what you're investigating?
"Well, it's not for homework." Tiff rolls her eyes good-naturedly, playing the part of the older teen like it was the role she was born for. "It's hard to find information about Fort Reverence on the internet. You can find a thousand things about Bigfoot being a psychic force controlling the president, but there's a three-sentence Wikipedia page about Fort Reverence, some local news from 2010, and just about nothing else, unless I want to delve into forums where people are being incredibly homophobic."
"Tell me about it." Aunt Esther doesn't mutter it even when Tiff expects her to.
"I know, right?"
"Shoot, no— I mean— Tell me about it." She takes another paper-wrapped burger out of the bag and sets it on the table to inspect the permanent marker scrawled across the top, frowns at it, and pushes it to the edge.
Esther snaps her fingers to call Kepler over from the window he's looking out of. When he obeys (because he knows what that snap means), she hands him a plastic container of fruit salad with melons in it. He takes it and makes his way back to the window.
Tiff considers it. Her aunt isn't one for mind games and punishment, but she can never be too sure. " You usually don't like to hear about what I'm doing until after I'm done with it. Are you sure?"
"I'm sure, Grapenut." Aunt Esther tosses her a paper-wrapped burger. Tiff almost doesn't catch it. "For the record, I got it with jalapenos. They called it a 'hot wing burger.' I know you like that kind of thing. I got it from that food truck at the edge of town, where those damn tourists are."
Burger in hand, Tiff sits up. She leaves the computer open. "What'd you get?"
"Mild version of the same thing. No jalapenos. Milder sauce."
"No jalapenos?" She holds a hand to her chest in faux-offense like a Christian woman hearing that someone else's granddaughter got pregnant out of wedlock.
"If they put some on there, I'll give them to you. I promise."
"And the pickles?"
"If they put pickles on a burger they weren't supposed to put pickles on, then, yes, I'll give them to you." Aunt Esther takes a seat on the bed across from where Tiff is. She unwraps her sandwich, folds back the paper to contain the contents, and raises it to her mouth while she gestures for Tiff to keep talking.
"So... It's some sort of undead. Or, rather, she is— Or, rather, I'm assuming this is a she, but—"
"Tiff, please don't go on a gender rant right now. It's way too late at night for that."
"Sorry. Uh— speaking of, where's Drew?"
"He said he wanted to take a look around town, and... Well, who am I to stop him? So he has the car, and... It's all good." She nods, chewing her lip instead of her sandwich. If Tiff were Kepler, she would pat her aunt's face gently to get her to stop. She doesn't need to, though. Aunt Esther opens her mouth to speak, ending the motion all on her own (though the worry, presumably at Drew being in a town that has rejected both of the people in this room, remains). "So... You're investigating some other undead? Do you know what kind?"
YOU ARE READING
Beach Day
ParanormalIt's Christmastime and Tiff is returning to the one place she doesn't want to be: Fort Reverence, Florida. Between dealing with family issues she never quite got over and reuniting with her younger sibling, Tiff and her cousin Matt spot an undead wo...
