Page 36 of Theoretically Straight

I snort, perhaps a little aggressively. “Nope. Taking a break from dating for a bit.”

Her smile vanishes, and her gaze drops to her bag. “Oh,” she mumbles, nervously twisting a finger in her hair, clearly trying to think of something more to say but coming up empty.

To be completely honest, it feels nice to see her be the one to squirm a little for once. Perhaps not even the most spiritually mature people are immune to feeling guilt after all.

…which immediately makes me feel guilty for even thinking something like that. Crap.

I bite my lower lip. “Sorry. What I mean is, I’m just not interested in anyone right now, you know? Like at all. I’m not saying it’s anyone’s fault. I just haven’t found anyone worth pursuing.”

“Yeah,” she replies. “No, right, of course!” The tightness in her expression melts away, and she’s bright and sunny Sienna again. “Don’t worry, she’s out there somewhere! God already has a plan for both of you, and you’ll meet her in His timing.”

“I know,” I say, smiling this time, making sure my tone isn’t sarcastic or weird. I glance at my phone to see if I have any texts from Caleb but also to see the time. “Well, I think they’re going to close soon, so we should probably get going.”

“Okay!” Sienna is on her feet and struggling with her bag, but as soon as I’m up, she wraps me up in a hug. “I’ve missed you, and I’m so glad we were able to do this today!”

“Me too.”

“See you tomorrow at church?”

“Yep. See you then.

Friday, September 15

Wren’s basement has always felt like a home away from home to me. There’s just something so comforting about the worn, wood-paneled walls and the thick carpet that’s been stomped thin enough in some places to see the backing poking through. Wren took over half of the space for their special effects set up a few years back, with clear plastic drawers stacked high, overflowing with countless colors and textures they use to make their looks. Over the summer, they revamped the corner where the bean bag chair used to sit and made it into a backdrop area for them to take pictures of their finished looks for their portfolio. I keep telling Wren they’d probably crush the Insta game if they’d just start posting those pictures, but they always shoot the idea down.

“You’d get thousands of followers like that–” I snap my fingers as I follow Wren down the creaky stairs from their living room. “And people would be able to appreciate your work!”

“We’ve been over this,” Wren says with a sigh, collapsing onto the ancient plaid-patterned couch. “I don’t do it for the clout. Anyone can get people to like a photo online. My art is personal. I’m literally transforming myself with it, and that’s a really intimate process.”

“I get it, I get it,” I say, raising my hands in defeat as I sink into the cushion beside them. “Actually, I don’t get it, but I don’t have to. I just want everyone to tell you how awesome you are.”

Wren snorts a laugh. “I am awesome, Caleb. I don’t need a thousand followers to tell me what I already know.”

“Fair enough.”

Wren digs into the sofa for the remote, turning the TV–the only thing in this basement besides their make-up station that’s from this decade–on and scrolling over to the YouTube app. It’s just a few minutes till five, and Hudson never misses an upload deadline for a Triple H video.

“Do you think they’re going to do a follow-up on Saint Catherine’s?” Wren asks, settling into their seat and hanging one leg over the armrest.

“I doubt it. Hudson hardly ever does follow-ups. The last one I can remember is the one where that guy broke into that psych hospital outside Chicago and caught all that insane stuff on camera with the lights and the creepy EVPs.”

“Oh right, wasn’t that stuff all faked?”

“Yeah, that’s why Hudson made another video to debunk all the shit that was on the recording. He called the guy out for being a fraud, and he got the bogus vid taken down in, like, three hours.”

Wren clicks over on the app to refresh. “Well, here it is. Let’s see what we’re getting into today.”

I pull out my phone, checking to make sure I didn’t miss a text for Theo. We’ve been talking sporadically through the week, and I really wanted him to come watch with us tonight, but his shift at work started at five.

“Salutations, Haunties, it’s your good friend, Hudson, back with another tale of high strangeness for you.” Hudson intros the show like normal, his signature black t-shirt and perfectly parted hair a comforting presence in the room. “Before we get started, I wanted to talk about this clip that many of you have sent me over the last week. This apparently comes from a TikTok user, TheoreticallyTheo05, and was taken from the basement of the Saint Catherine of Bologna Church in Specter, Georgia. Watch closely now.”

Wren turns to me wide-eyed. “Isn’t that–”

“Shh!” I shush them, grabbing the remote and smashing the volume button. The screen goes dark for a second as Hudson’s usual background is replaced by Theo’s video of the classroom. I can hear his breathing as he pans across the room and the first orb comes into view. Then, the second floats into frame just before the video ends.

“There you have it, Haunties. Now, we haven’t been able to authenticate this particular video, but it seems like there’s something going on down in Specter. I don’t know about you guys, but it’s definitely caught my attention. Be sure and leave a comment below if you think this is legit or just another faker. Now then, let’s dive into today’s topic–”

I mute the video, pulling out my phone.

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