“I’m not a ghost,” The Freak says.

  “You look like a ghost to me,” Loretta says. “I’m scared.”

  “That’s only because we haven’t met,” The Freak says.

  “True. She’s really nice,” David says. “But our story’s still going to sound unbelievable.”

  The Freak says, “We don’t have much time. I have things to tell you.”

  She looks at me. “If you don’t stop selling drugs, you’re going to end up in prison,” she says. “And you’re right about your family.”

  “Okay.”

  She turns to Malcolm. “You know what’s about to happen. Keep loving him. We’ll take good care of him.”

  “Okay,” Malcolm says.

  The Freak gets serious on her face and looks at Loretta. “Your dad is at a Super 8 motel outside of Morgantown, West Virginia. I’ll make sure the right people know about that, okay?”

  “Okay,” Loretta says.

  She turns to David. She walks to him and hugs him, and his arms grip real flesh—not some Scooby-Doo apparition. She pushes the hair away from his eyes and says, “You’re not missing half of you. You’re whole. A whole person. You’re better off than a lot of people who know who their dads are.”

  “Will she ever tell me?” he says.

  “She can’t tell you. She doesn’t know. Do you understand?”

  He nods into her shoulder, and she releases him.

  The Freak looks at me and David. “Some stuff runs in our family. In our genes. Like depression and anxiety. Marla has it. Gottfried, too. You all have it in your own ways. It’s a real thing, but people don’t really talk about it. It’s why you have your tunnels. Talk about it with one another. Look it up on the Internet. Don’t go through life like this just because your parents don’t believe there’s anything wrong with them. How do you think you got it?”

  All this time you thought the tunnel was a lie. You thought I was running from my bad decisions. From racist parents. You thought I was being dramatic. Turns out you were wrong. Did you ever think of that? That maybe you were wrong?

  The Freak looks at us. “The best part of all of you is underground if you keep thinking those people define you.

  “Our grandparents were rotten seed. Kept secrets. Worshipped money. Pitted their kids against one another. But we aren’t them. We can break free.” She shakes her head. “Or you can, at least.”

  “And you’re just . . . dead,” Loretta says.

  “Yes.”

  “Do you know who killed you?” I ask.

  “Yes.”

  “Will they go to jail?”

  “I’m taking care of that,” The Freak says. I shiver.

  “Jesus, what’s taking them so long?” Malcolm says.

  The Freak says, “I’m an old case.”

  We all hold hands and stay quiet. We eventually hear a car coming. No red-and-blue lights or any of that. We keep holding hands.

  Five cousins.

  Five accidental cousins. Volunteers.

  Descended from potato farmers.

  Underground.

  Now emerging.

  You think this is crazy. You think this is too cosmic to be real. You think what you want. This is the best buzz I’ve ever had, and I’ve tried it all.

  The Shoveler: See You Later

  We hear the car doors close and see their flashlights in the distance.

  It’s time for me to say goodbye to my perfect Freak. The meaning of life.

  “That’s potatoes,” The Freak says.

  “What’s potatoes?” Katie asks.

  “The meaning of life,” I say.

  “Depends on how you cook them,” Loretta says. “Mom-Mom makes this thing called Au Gratin and it’s disgusting.”

  “Shhh,” I say. “Let’s say goodbye.”

  The Freak says, “I prefer see you later.”

  “Okay,” I say. “Let’s say see you later.”

  We can hear the police coming. We hold hands, five cousins. I no longer care who Mr. ________son is or what he’s doing. I duck my head under raging waves of variables and remain calm. Control the brain and the rest is easy.

  Malcolm is crying, so I hug him into my side. Loretta catches the other half of him. Katie squeezes into my other side.

  The Freak says, “Thank you.”

  Before we can say thank you back, she’s gone.

  High-powered light lands on us, and two state troopers stop in their tracks when they see four teenagers holding one another, one of them sobbing himself dry.

  “What’s going on here?” one of them asks.

  Loretta says, “It’s a very long story but the facts you need to know right now are, our cousin has been missing for two years. Her body is buried here. Her killer is in Pennsylvania and already in custody. Sorry. Killers. Brothers. I have their names when you need them.”

  “How’d you find the body?” he asks.

  Loretta answers, “We looked hard enough.”

  Loretta seems as surprised by what’s coming out of her mouth as we are, but Malcolm keeps crying and Katie keeps a hold of my right side while I hold him up with my left.

  “You need to vacate the crime scene,” the trooper says. “Mark here will take your statements over at the police department.”

  The Freak whispers in my ear.

  Don’t worry. I’ll tell them everything.

  Malcolm Knows Where He Belongs

  I can’t wait to tell Dad about this. All of it, including how he’s going to die soon. He already knows he’s going to die soon. He’ll die a lot happier knowing that the Consciousness is real. Or whatever you want to call it. Belief systems are all pretty much the same if you peel back the layers.

  I’ve decided I’ll live with Marla and Gottfried when Dad dies. Moving to Jamaica would be nice, but people there already know the truth about poverty. They don’t think it’s a coincidence that they’re descendants of slaves and also poor in a country that was ruled by Colonialists for so long.

  I’m needed here because this is where the ignorance is. Even my own.

  I’m needed here because I now have three cousins to hold me up when I cry.

  I’m needed here because somebody has to help this family face their shit.

  I’ll still see Eleanor. She will become prime minister, maybe. I’ll take over Dad’s business, maybe.

  Dad and I have a lot to talk about.

  I look around the township police department, listen to the state cops and the local cops discuss how to deal with our case. Ours is a special situation. David keeps asking if we can go—if they can drive us back to his car. Loretta is eating every last piece of candy in the place—lucky it’s Easter. Katie is taking a nap on the couch.

  The Freak is entertaining me. She appears outside the window and pretends she’s swimming. She appears by the coffeemaker in the tiny kitchenette and mixes a cup of coffee, and delivers it to the chief’s desk. He says thank you. He looks up to see who delivered the coffee, and she’s already gone. Outside the window, miming. Hilarious.

  She stares at the chief. He says, “You guys can go now.”

  She stares at the state cop who drove me and Loretta here. “Come on, I’ll get all of you back to your car.”

  Some of us take a minute to use the bathroom before we leave. I go last and I flush the toilet twice, just to marvel.

  THE FREAK HAS BEEN STRAINED!

  The Freak has something to say. She says it to the men exhuming her from her dirt burrito. She says it to the coroner. She says it to the funeral director. She says it to you.

  DON’T LIVE UNDERGROUND FOREVER!

  NOT EVEN IF YOUR DAD WAS AN ASSHOLE! NOT EVEN IF YOU GET PUNCHED IN THE FACE BY A HALF-WIT BITCH! NOT EVEN IF YOU HAD TO DOUCHE WITH TURPENTINE! NOT EVEN IF YOUR MOTHER OWNS A DISGUSTING BELL! NOT EVEN IF YOU MAKE COLOSSAL MISTAKES!

  MAKE SMARTER MISTAKES!

  STOP BEATING YOURSELF UP!

  CONTROL YOUR VARIABLES!

  BLEND AND STRAIN!

  CHANGE YOUR MIND!

  The Freak knows this sounds corny because you’re so used to looking at hateful shit, right? News shows and conspiracy theories. Rape jokes and dank memes. You’re so used to the humor of the put-down that you didn’t see that you slid down a hole and into a tunnel.

  DIG YOUR WAY OUT!

  The Freak knows you want to know what happened next. You want to know if her cousins went home and met up for movie nights or badminton. But all that really matters is if you do that, not them.

  DIG YOUR WAY OUT!

  The Freak is tired of the Easter egg hunts, the race—the competition. She wins, okay? She’s dead, okay?

  NOBODY WINS!

  CHANGE YOUR MIND!

  The Freak knows everything now. She knows some days you try to make sense of your life and you fail. She knows you are not taken seriously. She knows you’re only as smart as the textbooks and the textbooks lie.

  DIG YOUR WAY OUT!

  The Freak knows you are not a potato.

  DON’T LET ANYONE PUT BUTTER ON YOU!

  The Freak knows you are not a set of car keys.

  DON’T LET ANYONE DRIVE YOU AROUND!

  The Freak knows you are not a door.

  DON’T LET ANYONE WALK THROUGH YOU!

  The Freak knows you can’t control all of these things. Look at the power she has. She can go anywhere and do anything. The one thing she can’t do is change the minds of the living.

  THAT’S YOUR FUCKING JOB!

  Easter Conversation in a Nissan Sentra

  Four cousins drive home from New Jersey. None of them are talking. The shoveler drives. Loretta, next to him, stares out her window. In the back seat, Malcolm and Katie have their eyes closed and their heads back.

  Until today, they were strangers, pretty much. Now, they are bonded for life.

  Katie is thinking about her racist family and trying to figure out what to do about it.

  Malcolm is thinking about having to live with Marla and Gottfried for the next two years and what to do about it.

  Loretta is thinking about how she and her mom are going to have a nice life now, without You-know-who, and what to do about it.

  And David, our shoveler, is thinking about how the four of them are underground. Like potatoes. He thinks: Underground is where everything starts. It’s not so bad.

  No one puts on music.

  The conversation in the Nissan Sentra is internal.

  KATIE. I need a new job. And I have to get a new number on my phone so no clients can find me. Then the car. Then move out of that house. But first, I smash the bell.

  DAVID. I don’t get why I think I should live with my mom forever. And I never thought about life after this. Always too busy moving. I have no idea what I’m doing.

  MALCOLM. I thought maybe I didn’t love Eleanor, but I do. It’s not just her ankles or anything empty like that. I really love her. I know I’m white and I know she’s Jamaican. And I know that it all seems like I’m chasing a culture and not a person, but I love her. I really do.

  KATIE. I can’t stop thinking about Ian and how I used him all those years. I really did. I didn’t mean to. I can’t figure out when he went from being my best friend to the worst best friend my mother could imagine. I miss him.

  LORETTA. Why do I miss my father? That makes no sense.

  KATIE. I always thought I was so much better than other white people. Since my ninth birthday party, I was part of us. The tunnel would protect me from them. But I think I might be them. Shit. I think we’re all part of them. I guess that means I’m finally out of the tunnel, then.

  DAVID. I will never know who my dad is. I’m not sure how to tell Mom I don’t care about it anymore. I only care that she’s my mom.

  MALCOLM. I don’t know what to do about my dad dying.

  LORETTA. This family is like the train act. But not with Holloway. More like Gerald. Nothing will move the train.

  KATIE. I don’t think I’m as bad as my mother, though. I mean, I can still be the healthy bacteria. Maybe we can have an intervention or something.

  LORETTA. I miss my father because I’m not used to people being nice to me.

  DAVID. I have to talk to Mike about his tattoo. I have to tell him how sad I am that he turned out to be such a loser. Control the brain and the rest is easy, my ass.

  * * *

  Four cousins make plans in their minds.

  They are coming for their parents. They are coming for their grandparents. They are coming for you.

  KATIE. An intervention could work. We should have it at Marla’s house. Maybe I can smash the bell there. In front of everyone.

  DAVID. Mike is wasting his existence on the wrong words. I don’t understand how he doesn’t see it. I guess no one sees it. I guess that’s how things got this way.

  LORETTA. I think they’re only being nice to me because they feel bad for me.

  MALCOLM. Loretta and I have to hold some kind of intervention with Marla and Gottfried now that we both live there. No more lamb. No more bullshit judgments. I bet they can’t help it. I bet they’re going to be like this until they die. It’s in their genes.

  * * *

  Malcolm is the first to speak. “It’s in our genes,” he says. “We have to attack it on a cellular level.”

  Katie says, “Totally. Cellular.”

  Loretta says, “Maybe we have their genes, but we can still be fine. I’ll never be anything like You-know-who.”

  David says, “. . .”

  “What’s that smell?” Loretta asks.

  Malcolm sniffs the air and answers, “That’s the stench of human history!” When none of his cousins seem to understand, he says, “Landfill.”

  Katie says, “You want to know the truth about people, always look at their trash.”

  David nods at this and pictures his mother in the neighbors’ trash bags, finding the truth. Never finding his father.

  * * *

  Four cousins drive up the cul-de-sac and park next to Marla and Gottfried’s garage doors. They sit in the car for a while and say nothing. This is the beginning of something. Something good. Something new. Something you can’t paint over.

  Jake & Bill in a strainer

  Jake Marks writes letters to his brother, Bill, but never sends them. He’s been doing it since the online therapy. That kooky woman said it might help him work out his feelings. Jake doesn’t know how he feels. He feels like he’s in a blender most days—surrounded by so many ingredients and trying not touch any of them while they all swirl around. It’s dangerous. Never know what you’re going to find in a blender. Never know what you’re getting mixed with.

  Bill hasn’t called—not even for bail. Ashley has spent the night at her mother’s house. The wedding is off. The snake escaped from their car and could slither into anywhere, now.

  Jake is happy for the snake, happy for Ashley, and happy for himself. Living a lie is more dangerous than any blender/any snake/any brother.

  Sometimes at night, he sees the girl in his room. She’s got a lighter. He’s afraid she’s going to burn him alive, but all she does is burn his therapy letters to his brother. It means something. It means he has to stop thinking of Bill as family.

  Marla & Gottfried’s Curtain Call

  Gottfried watches his grandkids pile out of the painter kid’s car from an upstairs window. They stand around and talk—even Loretta. He’s happy for her. He wondered if she was well adjusted enough to talk to people her own age.

  He shakes his head and decides to tell Marla that the kids are too old for egg hunts. Next year they may as well just put a bowl full of candy on the table so everyone can share.

  Marla is in bed. She said something to Gottfried before she closed the door to the bedroom. She said, “. . .”

  Doesn’t matter what she said. Gottfried realizes that it never mattered what she said. He wasn’t listening. Too old to learn now.

  He makes his way to the garage to eavesdrop on the kids. They’re trading phone numbers. One of them tells Loretta that she should get a cell phone now that she’s free. One of them says they’ll make a group text. One of them says they should have a picture from tonight because it was such an important night. Gottfried is touched to think they found the day special after all Marla put into it. He imagines them on the other side of the garage door, taking pictures.

  * * *

  But then he hears them talk about their dead cousin.

  Dead. That’s what they say.

  Dead and buried. Solved a crime. One of them says, “I can’t believe she made me say things!” Another explains how the dead cousin would appear and disappear with no warning. Another says she used to light snowflakes on fire and read minds. Loretta says that’s how she got the red-sequined dress. Gottfried feels a pull in his gut like the time his mother made him eat green potatoes to teach him a lesson. He looks around the garage for something to vomit into.

  Dead. Dead and buried. Solved a crime.

  He knows who they’re talking about.

  The Freak—Gottfried had seen her.

  She was talking to him all along.

  The robins told him a thousand times that he was on the wrong path, but people on the wrong path don’t often listen to reason.

  Usually, they only listen to themselves.

  Gottfried can’t stop the tears that arrive. He makes a promise to himself.

  Inside the garage, four white walls are all he has to talk to.

  Pay attention to the robins, he says.

  Mate with purpose, he says.