Page 18 of Theoretically Straight

“That totally happened! My grandpa said he was the one that found him!”

“That’s fake news!”

“What about the fire? Was the nun disgruntled?”

Quickly, the crowd turns on the guide, the arguing intensifying to the point where the guide has to shout.

“We will continue the tour through the parish! Please follow me and hold all questions till the end of the tour!”

Wren, Freddy, and I rejoin the group at the tail end.

“This is kind of lame,” Wren mutters, pulling out their phone again. “I thought at least we’d get some gory details. I was hoping to get some inspiration for a new look. All I’ve got so far is the overwhelming urge to fix our guide’s insane eyeshadow.”

“She does look wild,” Freddy agrees. “Do you think she knows the eighties are over?”

“Sorry, guys,” I say, a bit embarrassed as this whole thing was my idea. “I thought it was going to be way more entertaining.”

“At least there haven’t been any demon sightings,” Freddy says, elbowing me in the ribs.

The group bottlenecks at the exit of the cathedral, leaving us to wait as everyone funnels through the narrow door to the stairwell that leads up to the parish on the second floor. Once inside, we wait patiently for the line to traverse the stairs. Across from us, another set of stairs descends, but a section of dusty velvet rope blocks the path, a sign taped to the rope reading, “Basement closed to the public.”

“I wish we could go down there,” I whisper, standing on my toes to get a better look at what lies at the bottom of the stairs. But it’s too dark. There’s a flicker of movement in the shadows, and my heart nearly jumps out of my chest. It’s quiet all of a sudden.

“Did you see that?” I turn to ask Wren, but they’ve already disappeared up the stairs with the rest of the group. I look back down into the shadowy stairwell, giving myself a chance to come to my senses. A shuffling noise comes from below.

Am I really about to do this?

I duck under the rope and head down into the darkness.

It turns out that, unfortunately, Elise’s cynical prediction about the tour being lame and educational isn’t far from reality. The tour is extremely boring. While the Triple H episode has clearly brought quite a lot of attention to the historical site, it seems apparent that not all the attention has been positive or productive in the eyes of whoever owns the property.

Oh well. They’re not going to stop me from exploring that basement.

There’s eventually a perfect moment of chaos where the tour guide is just distracted enough by frustrated guests that I decide it’s time to make my move. I exchange glances with Oliver, and he gives me a knowing nod. Harrison and Elise are once again too wrapped up in their own romantic pining to even notice, but that’s okay because the fewer people notice my getaway, the better.

Thankfully, Oliver and I did our research ahead of time, so I feel prepared for this. We watched and rewatched the Triple H episode at least a dozen times last night and this morning, analyzing each and every scene to try to visualize the layout of the church before going in. We inspected dozens of other images and blueprints that we were able to dig up through hours of Google searches, so I’m pretty confident I know exactly where I need to go. I’m well aware that sketching out and attempting to memorize a floorplan of a century-old church building isn’t quite the same as actually exploring it in the dark by myself while also trying not to get caught, but hey, it’s definitely better than going in completely blind.

Slipping away from the crowd is surprisingly easy, but I still move quickly, my heart racing. There are two nearby entrances to the basement: one up ahead at the entrance to the parish and one that we’ve already passed at the entrance to the cathedral. As the tour guide begins guiding the group out through the parish up ahead, I sneak back to the entrance of the cathedral, duck under the velvet rope (complete with a sign that says, “Basement closed to public,” no less), and head down the stairs.

Despite everything, I feel a surreal sense of calm about the whole thing as I carefully creep down each ominous step. It’s kind of strange if I stop to think about it. When it comes to following the rules, this is my only exception. I am uncharacteristically determined to do whatever it takes to get some paranormal footage tonight, even if it means risking getting into legitimate trouble. Even so, what’s the worst that could happen?

The basement is absolutely as creepy as the Triple H episode made it out to be, and possibly even more. Of course, there’s no fancy camera work or professional lighting at all, so the actual darkness is far more foreboding. The distinct smell of mildew and dust lingers in the air, heavy and strong. Fortunately, there aren’t as many cobwebs as I was expecting, so I continue as quickly and as quietly as I can.

For the most part, I use my phone’s flashlight to guide my way, but up ahead, I spot where there’s some light pouring in from the other entrance to the basement. I listen carefully for where the crowd is moving upstairs before crossing the opening, hoping all the party members have already passed. I pause for a moment, silently listening to see if anyone followed me, then keep moving forward.

I recognize a familiar length of scorched wall from my research, and I go ahead and pull out my phone, double-checking that it’s set to vibrate. Opening TikTok as quietly as possible (media volume down, media volume down!), I adjust the appropriate settings and prepare to record.

Suddenly, I hear something behind me. Movement. Footsteps?

Holy shit, is this it!?

Trying not to panic, I grip my phone tightly, press record, and whip myself around to face the source of the noise.

I almost drop my phone as my outstretched recording arm rams into a solid, living person. Something akin to a yelp escapes my mouth before I can stop it, and the other person gasps at the impact.

“Sorry,” the stranger whispers. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

I stare up at the person—a tall, lanky teenager with curly hair—and sigh with relief that it wasn’t a corpse or a demon (or worse, a staff member). “It’s okay,” I whisper back, lowering my arm so I can stop the recording on my phone.

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