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  “Yeah,” I said lightly, tapping the Elapse to hide the fact that my fingers were shaking. “Battery’s dead.”

  He frowned. “Already? Did you forget to charge it?”

  “I guess so.”

  Another lie. When I turned the Elapse on five minutes ago, it had been fully charged. Then, one photo later, it was dead.

  It looked like my attempt at psychic photography hadn’t been a failure, after all.

  It was quarter to midnight by the time we got back to the hotel. We’d gotten plenty of creepy footage: the mist creeping up the bridge and over our feet like spindly fingers, rocky cliffs disappearing into the clouds, words in Mandarin scratched into the stone railings. Sam and Lidia had spent a full thirty minutes in one spot, both claiming to feel a gentle pushing sensation on their backs.

  But when we gathered in Jess’s hotel room to review the video, it was obvious the only thing everyone really wanted to see was the thing on the bridge. And Oscar and I wanted to see if it was the Thing.

  We’d huddled together in the backseat of the van on the drive back, talking about what had happened in hushed tones. I’d noticed Dad glancing at me in the rearview mirror a few times, and I couldn’t help feeling guilty. I hadn’t lied to him, but I definitely wasn’t telling him the full story. I was still too afraid of what his reaction would be if he knew.

  Now, I watched as Mi Jin tried to hook up Jess’s camera to the TV. “It’s not gonna work,” she said, tossing a few cords on the floor. “We don’t have the right adapter.”

  “Laptop will do,” Jess replied. “Hand me the cable.” Her eyes sparkled as she connected her camera to the laptop, and I glanced around at everyone else. No one was saying it, but I could see the anticipation on their faces. My breathing grew shallow, and I closed my eyes, trying to relax. I’d been so preoccupied wondering about the Thing, I hadn’t really considered how potentially huge this could be for the show. Actual footage of a ghostly figure.

  Dad’s face filled the laptop screen, and Jess pressed fast forward. “Hope no one minds if I skip ahead,” she said.

  Roland thumped his fist on the desk three times. “Let’s see some ghost Kat!” he joked, and everyone laughed. I smiled, but my lungs felt squeezed tight.

  “Here we go.” Jess sat back, and the room fell silent.

  The laptop’s volume was too low for me to hear from where I was sitting, but it didn’t matter. I watched the screen as Roland talked into the camera. Just behind him, Dad was looking around, hand in his pockets. Then his eyes widened, and he pointed. The camera swung in that direction, and there was the tunnel entrance. I could see the mist swirling around the bridge on the other side. And in that mist, very distinctly, was a figure. It was too foggy to make out much detail, but it was there, standing by the railing, the profile of its face barely visible.

  But very familiar.

  I held my breath. The next part happened quickly. Dad headed for the tunnel, calling my name. The camera zoomed in. The fog churned in a particularly strong breeze. The figure turned and faced the tunnel, and I felt a jolt of recognition—my eyes, my nose, my mouth. Then there was the distant sound of Oscar’s voice, the camera whipped around, and there was the real me. On-screen Jess’s scream came loud and clear through the laptop’s speakers, and the camera fell.

  Jess pressed pause, and the screen froze. For a second, no one spoke. Then Roland swore softly under his breath.

  “Play it again,” Dad said. His voice was weirdly flat. Jess didn’t reply, just hit rewind. This time, she played it back in slow motion. And when the figure on the bridge turned to face the camera, she hit pause.

  It was the Thing. No question. Most of its body was shrouded in mist, but I was pretty sure it was wearing a dress, and I’d bet anything it had a long braid down its back.

  Jess hit play again, and the slow motion resumed. The footage moved slowly, seamlessly, as the camera swung around from me on the other side of the tunnel to me on the bridge behind Jess.

  No editing. No tricks. A ghost Kat, and then the real Kat.

  Passport to Paranormal had never captured anything like this footage before.

  Once again, everyone turned to look at me. My face burned, and I shook my head, unwilling to speak. I needed to be alone, I had to think about this. What did it mean?

  Mi Jin broke the silence. “A doppelganger,” she said excitedly, clasping her hands on top of her head. “It’s a flipping doppelganger. I’ve researched them a ton for my screenplay. Wow. Wow.”

  Then everyone started talking at once, and they all had different theories. Astral projection. A reflection in the fog. An illusion caused by the demonic spirit that guarded the bridge. Jess rewound and played the video for a third time, then a fourth. Only Oscar and I stayed silent. Because we didn’t have to theorize. We already knew what it was.

  And here was the proof I needed to show Dad I wasn’t losing my mind. Or was it? What would Dad say if I told him that the ghost Jess had captured had ripped up his contract? Maybe he’d think I was just using it as a convenient excuse. Or maybe he’d believe me. Could I take that risk, when the consequence might be leaving the show for good?

  “Kat. Are you okay?” Dad was suddenly at my side, and I blinked.

  “Yeah.” I stood up abruptly. “I’m fine. Just . . . tired.”

  “Oh, Kat. I’m sorry.” Jess closed her laptop. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

  “No, I’m not scared,” I said, but my shaky voice gave me away. “It’s just kind of freaky, that’s all.”

  Mi Jin looked closely at me. “Have you seen it before?”

  “No!” I avoided Oscar’s gaze and willed him not to say anything. I didn’t know what to say. I just needed time to think. Alone. “No, never. I need to . . . can I go to bed? Sorry, I just—”

  “Of course,” Dad said immediately. “I’ll walk with you.”

  “It’s right down the hall,” I protested feebly, but Dad was already steering me toward the door. Neither of us spoke until we were back in my room. Dad closed the door and turned to face me.

  “Are you okay, Kat?” His brows were knit with worry.

  I swallowed, nodding. “Fine.”

  “Do you want me to stay?” he asked, and I shook my head.

  “I’m not scared.” It came out way too defiant.

  He sighed. “Okay. I’ll be right down the hall if you need me.” Dad put his hand on the doorknob, then paused. “Kat, sweetie . . . is there anything else you want to tell me?”

  “No,” I whispered. “I’m just tired, that’s all.”

  “Okay.” Dad smiled at me. But as he turned to go, I caught another expression on his face.

  He looked defeated.

  The door clicked closed softly, and I headed for the desk. The moment I plugged the Elapse in to charge, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out to find a text from Oscar.

  OB: This is crazy.

  I laughed shakily.

  KS: You said not to use that word.

  OB: I meant about people.

  This was followed by an eyeroll emoji.

  KS: Do you think they believed I never saw it before?

  OB: Think so. Mi Jin’s really into this doppelganger idea.

  I took a deep breath.

  KS: Good. If they think they have an explanation, maybe they won’t ask me for one.

  OB: I know you don’t want to tell them about the Thing, but what about thoughtography? They know you went to that exhibit, it makes sense that you wanted to try it. And it won’t make the footage any less cool.

  KS: But it wasn’t thoughtography.

  OB: What? But you projected it! Right?

  I pictured the two staircase photos again. One with a ghost, one without. Because the first photographer had projected it.

  KS: If it was a psychic photo, it’d
only show up on my camera. But Jess got it, too. And besides, THEY ALL SAW IT. With their actual eyes. That’s not thoughtography.

  OB: Ok . . . so what does that mean?

  KS: It means I didn’t project the Thing. It chose to be there.

  Exhaling slowly, I sat on the edge of my bed before adding:

  KS: So I can’t control it.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  STAY TUNED FOR DOOM

  P2P Wiki

  Entry: “Doppelgangers”

  Edited by: Maytrix

  An apparition of a living person, also called a “double.” Traditionally, if a person sees their doppelganger, it’s thought to mean bad luck. In some cultures, doppelgangers are believed to be harbingers of death. Others think a doppelganger serves as an “evil twin,” or another version of that person but with dark intentions.

  AFTER a rushed breakfast the next morning, Dad and Jess headed out for a full schedule of back-to-back interviews with locals, all of whom had different stories about their experiences on the Yongheng Bridge. Lidia was busy taking care of logistics for our episode in Seoul next week, and Roland and Sam started editing the footage from the bridge.

  Oscar and I had just finished plates of scrambled eggs and soft steamed buns filled with pork when Mi Jin slid into the chair next to me. I saw her camera in her lap and groaned.

  “I don’t wanna.”

  Mi Jin smiled sympathetically. “Well, you gotta. We can’t have an episode where an actual apparition of one of our own cast members appears, and then not interview that cast member about it.” I made a face, and she added: “Or we could get started on Algebra II. Spring semester has begun, my lovely students.”

  Oscar was already getting to his feet. “Interview, Kat,” he pleaded. “Is being on camera really worse than homework?”

  “Is eating a tarantula really worse than drinking snake venom?” I muttered, but I stood, too. When I woke up this morning, Dad had warned me about this interview, so Oscar and I had spent the last half hour planning out how I’d respond—because clearly I wasn’t going to talk about the Thing and my issues with my mother on national television. I knew what I had to say. I just had to make it convincing.

  We found a quiet corner of the lobby, where a large painting featured misty mountains similar to the ones we’d visited yesterday. The picture was in black and white, except for the moon, which was bloodred.

  “Perfect backdrop,” Mi Jin said, positioning me in front of it. Oscar stepped forward hesitantly.

  “Both of us, or just Kat?”

  Mi Jin chewed her lip for a moment. Then she thrust her camera at Oscar.

  “Me and Kat.”

  Oscar blinked. “What?”

  “I want you to film me and Kat,” Mi Jin said, helping him hoist the camera onto his shoulder. “I know a lot about doppelgangers, and it makes more sense for me to be on camera talking to her about it. Do you mind?”

  “No!” Actually, Oscar looked pleased. He listened carefully as Mi Jin showed him the various buttons. Then she hurried over to join me.

  “Ready.” She laughed when I made a gagging face. “I know this isn’t your favorite part, but you’re always great on camera. All right, Oscar—go for it!”

  The red light flashed on, and Mi Jin turned to me.

  “So, Kat. After watching that footage of you and the ghost on the bridge about a zillion times, the whole crew agrees that there’s no way it’s some sort of reflection. We saw an apparition, and it looked exactly like you. Everyone has different theories, but what do you think it was?”

  I took a deep breath. “I think you’re right. I think it’s a doppelganger.”

  Mi Jin’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? Why?”

  “Well, Sam mentioned astral projection,” I began. “I researched that, and usually the person is unconscious or meditating and they project their—their soul, or spirit or whatever—to another location, and then they see what their spirit sees. Obviously, I was conscious the whole time, and I didn’t have any sort of out-of-body experience.” The memory of that roller-coaster loop sensation hit me, and I pushed it away. “Then Lidia and Jess thought maybe it was the demonic presence that supposedly haunts the bridge, and . . . well, I guess we’ll see what my dad finds out during his interviews today, but I know he did a lot of research before we came and I don’t remember any accounts of people saying they saw themselves on the bridge. A doppelganger is the only thing that makes sense.”

  Mi Jin did a little fist pump. “Yes. Exactly.” She winked at the camera and added, “I’m a little bit obsessed with doppelgangers, so I’m really excited about this.”

  “I researched those, too,” I went on, itching to get this over with. “They’re supposed to be bad luck, if you see your own. Some people think it means you’re going to die soon.”

  “True, but I have a theory about that,” Mi Jin said. “Do you know what a self-fulfilling prophecy is?”

  “Yes,” I replied instantly. “It happens in books all the time. Someone hears a prophecy, and then when they try to do something to stop it, their actions just cause the prophecy to come true. So it’s like it never would’ve happened if they hadn’t heard the prophecy to begin with.”

  Mi Jin smiled. “Exactly! A lot of the recorded accounts I’ve read of people who have died after supposedly seeing their doppelgangers . . . their deaths were a result of their reaction to seeing it. You know what I mean? Like, if they hadn’t freaked out after seeing their double, they wouldn’t have gotten on that train that crashed or whatever led to their death.”

  “Yeah, that makes sense.” I frowned. “Although . . . you’re still basically saying if they hadn’t seen their doppelganger, they wouldn’t have died. So it is a . . .” I paused, trying to remember what I’d read on the P2P Wiki. “A harbinger of death.”

  Mi Jin looked impressed. “Touché. I guess it can be, depending on how the person reacts.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Oscar wave at me, and I knew what he wanted me to say. While we were brainstorming, he’d come up with the perfect way to end this interview. Bracing myself, I tore my eyes off Mi Jin, faced the camera, and smiled.

  “Will I die in the season two finale? Tune in to find out!”

  I held the smile another second, praying it looked natural. Then, mercifully, the red light turned off. Oscar struggled to lower the camera, but he was beaming.

  “That was awesome,” he said fervently. Feeling rather proud, I turned to Mi Jin. She wasn’t smiling, though. In fact, she looked kind of shocked.

  “Kat, you don’t . . . are you actually worried you’re going to die?”

  “What? No!” I exclaimed. “Not at all. Oscar and I just thought that would be funny.”

  “And it’s a great sound bite for finale promo,” Oscar added. “Isn’t it?”

  Mi Jin relaxed a little. “Yeah, it would be . . .” She gave me an uncertain look. “Not sure your dad would be on board with that, though. I mean, promoting an episode based on whether or not you’ll die?”

  I wrinkled my nose. “I guess he probably won’t like that.”

  Oscar’s shoulders sagged. “So should we shoot something else?” he asked, and I groaned loudly.

  Laughing, Mi Jin took her camera from him. “No, no . . . we’ll see what he says. But even if he doesn’t like that part, Kat, this interview was great. Love how you debunked those other theories.”

  “Thanks!”

  “All right, off to do some editing.” Mi Jin waved before heading to the elevators. Once she was out of sight, Oscar turned to me.

  “You,” he said, holding up his hand, “should consider being an actor, too.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Over my dead body,” I replied, but I high-fived him, anyway.

  Oscar and I spent most of the afternoon exploring the neighborhood, taking pictures of the giant col
orful gate a few blocks away and ducking into a coffee and tea shop when the wind got too chilly. When we got back to the hotel, Oscar headed for the business center, a small room near the reception desk with several computers.

  “Can’t you use one of the laptops upstairs?” I asked, stifling a yawn.

  He shook his head. “They’re all up there editing, remember?”

  “Ah.” I glanced at the time on my phone. “They’ll be stopping for dinner soon, though. Or, hey, you can always use the one in my room!”

  “Yeah, but . . .” Oscar glanced at me and sighed. “I’m supposed to video chat with Thiago in fifteen minutes, okay?”

  I grinned. “Ah.” Thiago was a boy we’d met in Buenos Aires, and he and Oscar had really hit it off. “In that case, I think I’m gonna just go upstairs and take a nap. Tell Thiago I said hi.”

  When I stepped off the elevator, I remembered I needed to let Lidia know that Oscar and I were back. Her door was slightly ajar, but I knocked anyway before stepping inside. The usual mess greeted me: cables and cords all over the floor, five open laptops on the desk and beds, Lidia’s giant whiteboard covered in notes blocking most of the window. Lidia was standing behind Roland, who was seated at the desk watching a clip.

  “Hey, Lidia,” I called, and she glanced up. “Oscar’s downstairs in the business center, and I’m going to take a nap.” Lidia gave me a thumbs-up and returned her attention to the screen. I barely had one foot back in the hall when Mi Jin yelled, “Kat, wait up!”

  She joined me in the hall a moment later and thrust a thick stack of papers into my hands. I let out an exaggerated groan.

  “Aw, is this homework?”

  “Ha, no.” Mi Jin stuck her hands in her pockets. “It’s my screenplay. Doesn’t have a title yet,” she added, and I saw that the top page just said UNTITLED, by Mi Jin Seong.

  “Oh, cool!” I said, suddenly feeling much more awake. “About doppelgangers, right? You’re letting me read it?”

  “Actually, I was hoping you’d give me some feedback.”

  My eyes widened. “What?”