Somehow, Club Day was even more miserable when you were stuck at a booth. Cami spent the first hour craning her neck to try and make eye contact with everyone who walked past, waving candy around like they were goddamn pom-poms.

By the second hour, gloriously, people were starting to notice them. Less gloriously, it wasn’t the best kind of attention.

“So, do you guys spend all your time trying to prove ghosts are real?” asked a snobby-looking senior. He towered over them. Cami spotted the crumbs of the Writing Club’s complimentary cookies in the guy’s attempt at a beard. “Because, spoiler alert, ghosts aren’t real.”

Before Cami could tear into him, Jane stepped forward, raised a placating hand. “It’s not really about proof, or even about just ghosts. It’s a weekly meetup and discussion of anything under the umbrella of supernatural or paranormal. Skeptics are welcome.”

“Why would I, a normal person, want to go to something like this?”

Again, Cami opened her mouth, retort ready to fire, but Jane beat her to the punch. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t believe in most supernatural phenomena. I do, however, find it pretty interesting. You can be fascinated by stuff you don’t believe in.”

“I had a Greek mythology phase as a kid,” Cami added, just so she wasn’t standing there looking like a caricature of a kicked puppy. “I never believed in any of the gods or anything, though.”

Jane shot her a look that all but asked aloud, Remember in second grade when you slept with a mirror under your pillow in case Medusa broke into your house?

Cami pretended not to see it.

“I’ll think about it,” the guy said, though you could tell he’d already more or less forgotten what they were talking about.

There were a few more people like that. Cami got the creeping feeling that by the end of the day, she and Jane would have sealed a shared reputation as absolute nutjobs.

Just what she’d been trying to avoid. Shit.

She sank below the table. Jane shot her a look and was about to say something, but someone else approached her.

“Hey, does this club cover cryptids?” He asked. Cami recognized the voice: Tim, from her English class. The one that was now her and Jane’s. Her hands fluttered at her sides, remembering that she was finally sharing a class with her best friend.

“Sure does!” Jane replied. “Cryptids, phantoms, anything under the supernatural umbrella.” Cami didn’t have to look up to know Jane was talking with her hands, all sweeping gestures and wiggling fingers.

“Great!” Tim exclaimed. “Great that it’s you I’m talking to, too. See, a few years ago, I swear I saw a skinwalker just outside town.”

Jane went eerily still beside her, the way one does when their soul leaves their body. Cami took this as an opportunity. She leapt up from under that table like a jack-in-the-box on speed, loudly declaring, “That’s not a cryptid--”

“Shit!” Tim yelped, jumping a good foot back. “Cami, you scared me.” Then, before she could say anything, he went on, “Hey, while I’m here, I’ve gotta ask: the party, dude. What happened there?”

“Party?” Cami echoed. She was a lot of things, and she tried to see herself as open-minded, but parties were where she drew the line. Especially summer parties. Those were a special kind of hectic.

And once that lone word left her mouth, it was like she’d cast a spell. All of a sudden, people not only saw their booth but bothered to approach it.

“Shit, you’re Camilla Wilde!” a man practically shouted, pushing his way to the front of a rapidly-growing crowd. “Is it true that half the people who showed up got alcohol poisoning?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Cami asked, backing away, straight into the Freakspotters posterboard. It fell with a depressing flump.

“Playing dumb won’t get you out of this one,” cooed a woman Cami had never seen in her life. “We want everything. Beans, tea, the whole fucking grocery list.”

There was a murmur of agreement. The people got closer, pressing up against their cheap little table.

“I think there’s been a mistake,” Cami said weakly.

“Everyone knows someone who went,” the woman insisted. “Come on, Cami. Tell us what went down. No one’s said anything.”

Cami opened her mouth, but no words came out.

Jane groaned. “Are any of you here for our club?”

That shut them up. The strangers looked amongst themselves, a collective laugh rippling through the crowd.

“Yeah,” Cami added, finding her voice again. “I’m not going to be answering any questions about this rumour. I’m here advertising my club.”

The spell lifted. People faltered, blinking like they’d just woken up, like they didn’t remember how they’d gotten there. One by one, they wandered off.

Cami was about as good at hiding her feelings as she was at nuclear physics. It didn’t take long for Jane to ask, “Are you alright?”

“Never better,” Cami mumbled. “Do you wanna just pack up and head out? We've only got another ten minutes, anyway.”

“I was kind of hoping to leave early,” Jane admitted. “Tech class starts in twenty minutes, and it’s always good to show up early.”

The sooner we’re out of here, the better, Cami thought but didn’t say? Who the hell had started a rumour about her throwing a party in the woods? It was completely nonsensical, not to mention comically off-brand. “Let’s clean up,” she muttered.

Someone had stolen the bowl of candy in all the chaos, so all that was left to deal with was the table and its chairs. The poster board had been trampled beyond legibility, so all it needed was a one-way trip to the recycling bin. It lay in a pile of its own glitter, which it’d been shedding all afternoon.

“Let’s do the table together,” Jane offered. “Can you grab the other end?” She placed herself on one side.

Just as Cami had picked up her side, a small voice asked, “Are you guys the Freakspotters?”

Cami jumped, dropping the table. Jane cursed, stumbling back.

“You nearly crushed my toes!” she hissed.

“Not like you use them that much.”

“I need them to walk, y’know.”

Cami turned to the source of the voice. It was a girl, one that more or less radiated freshman energy in the way her eyes kept darting around and the way she clung to the straps of her backpack like they were a lifeline.

“That would be us, yeah,” she said. “Why, are you interested in joining?”

The girl nodded vigorously. A crown of coiled violet curls bounced around her as she did it, threatening to break free of the beret that held them. “I really, really love the supernatural. And paranormal. Both of them! Though I’d say I love mythical creatures the most. Especially fairies! I saw one in my garden as a kid. Also, uh, my name is Rachel. Rachel Fernweh.”

Cami and Jane exchanged a glance. Neither of them had expected a believer in fairies, but this was the first person to show sincere interest in their club. What did they have to lose?

She could believe in Santa Claus or ethical capitalism, for all Cami cared. As long as she came along.

“Our first meeting is next Thursday,” Jane said, evidently thinking the same thing. “We’re room 304, in the science building.”

“So get ready to talk freaky!” Cami added, grinning so hard it almost hurt.

Rachel smiled right back, the kind of smile that could power a small country. “Can’t wait! See you there!” And with that, she was off.

“I’d call today a success,” Cami said, picking up the table. “Three whole people in that little room on Thursday! That’s great!”

“Don’t drop the table this time,” Jane grumbled.

Cami threw her hands up in surrender, and just as she was about to apologize, she heard the telltale thud.

“Oh,” she breathed. “Whoops.”