Rika tightened her grip on my uniform sleeve. Her hand was trembling violently, sending a chill spreading from her skin into mine. I stood frozen, staring in horror at the metal coin on the wooden board. From the corner of my left eye, Grandma with the dragon-headed staff and the betel-chewing woman shook their heads anxiously, but they chose to remain standing far away in the corner of the classroom.
“Nina, what are you guys doing?” I asked, my voice restrained. The air inside the classroom felt so heavy that it was difficult for my lungs to expand fully.
Nina didn’t answer right away. Her lips stretched into a wide, unnatural smile. The ends of her two braids hung stiffly over her uniformed shoulders. “You don’t believe it, do you? This coin is really moving on its own.”
“Don’t be crazy, Nina!” Rika shouted in a half-whisper from behind me. Her eyes were wide as she stared at our four friends. “Take your hands off that coin right now! You know Mr. Darmawan just walked past the hallway, right? If the teachers find out you’re playing Ouija in class, we could all get punished!”
“Shh! Rika, be quiet!” hissed Ria, the tall, willowy student sitting to Nina’s right. Her forehead was creased with anger, while her eyes remained locked on the coin. “Don’t interrupt the process! We just made contact. If the coin comes loose, it might get angry.”
“Who’s going to get angry?” I asked pointedly. I took one step forward, even though Grandma with the dragon-headed staff had whispered a warning beside my ear. The supernatural whisper was faint, drowned out by the roar of wind that suddenly blew in through the gaps in the windows.
Wati and Intan, the two other students sitting across from each other, went pale. They pressed their lips tightly together, too afraid to look at either me or Rika. Their fingers visibly trembled on the surface of the coin. “Ask it, Nina,” Intan whispered hoarsely. Her swollen eyes stared fearfully at the wooden board. “Ask its name.”
Nina cleared her throat softly. Her voice sounded slightly different, deeper and flatter than her normally shrill voice. “What’s your name? Please point to the letters for us.”
The classroom suddenly fell silent. I held my breath. From two meters away, I watched the golden-yellow metal coin closely. It wasn’t being pushed by the movements of Nina’s fingers or those of her three friends; their fingers were applying barely any pressure, practically hovering over it. Yet the coin slowly shifted. The scrape of metal against the wooden board rang loudly through the silence. The coin moved toward the letter S.
Rika let out a soft gasp, her warm breath brushing the nape of my neck. The coin stopped for a moment, then curved toward the letter E, shot quickly to L, then back to L, and finally came to rest directly over A.
S - E - L - L - A.
“Sella?” Rika whispered in shock. Her voice was almost swallowed by fear. “Lana … that coin spelled Sella’s name.”
I felt cold spreading all the way to my fingertips. “That’s impossible. Sella was just taken home by her family a few minutes ago. They had just put her in the car.”
“You must have deliberately moved the coin to those letters, right?” Rika accused as she stepped closer to the circle. “You’re just messing around to scare us!”
“God, Rika! I didn’t push it at all!” Ria cut in loudly. Cold sweat dripped from her temple, running down her narrow cheek. “My finger was only touching it! Something inside the board is pulling the coin!”
“Everyone, calm down,” Nina interrupted in a cold tone that sounded completely unfamiliar. Her eyes remained fixed sharply on the coin. “Let me ask another question.”
Nina lowered her head slightly, bringing her face closer to the board. “How old are you?”
The metal coin began moving again without pause. This time its movements were rougher and more abrupt. It shifted to the row of numbers at the bottom of the board, pointing to 1, then quickly moved to 5.
15.
Sella was fifteen years old, exactly the same age as the rest of us in tenth grade. My throat felt painfully dry. I remembered the image of the tall, bulky, faceless black shadow that had just embraced Sella’s body in front of the black MPV. Was that the thing playing with my friends right then? I glanced toward the two twin grandmothers, silently asking them for an explanation. Grandma with the dragon-headed staff shook her head. Instead of an explanation, she gave me a sharp warning. “Don’t let them continue this misleading game!”
But before I could step forward and knock the wooden board aside, Nina hurriedly asked her next question. “How did you die?”
“Nina, don’t!” I shouted instinctively. But the coin had already shot forward. Its movement was wild, spinning rapidly around the letters and spelling out each word with horrifying precision: G - A - N - T - U - N - G D - I - R - I.
The room suddenly felt frozen. The jasmine scent that had initially been soft and faint changed into the stench of rotting flesh, burning my nose. Wati let out a small scream as she covered her mouth with her free left hand, while Intan began sobbing.
“Suicide by hanging?” Ria’s voice trembled violently. “This is insane. This is completely insane! Sella isn’t dead! She was just possessed in the school health room and taken home!”
“You’re joking, right?” Rika stared at the four girls, her face deathly pale. “Your game isn’t funny at all!”
“We’re not joking, Rika!” Nina snapped, her eyes wide. But doubt and fear now clearly showed on her face. “The board answered! We didn’t control it!”
The metal-framed loudspeaker mounted in the upper-right corner of the classroom wall suddenly crackled loudly. It felt as though my heart didn’t have even a moment to steady its rhythm.
KRRRKKK… KRRRRKKK…
Mr. Darmawan’s nervous throat-clearing broke the silence from inside the information center. His voice coming through the loudspeaker sounded deep, hoarse, and weighted with profound grief. “Attention, all teachers and students of SMK Negeri 04 …” Mr. Darmawan paused for a moment, and a heavy sigh sounded through the speaker. “Inna lillahi wa inna ilaihi raji'un. Our student from the tenth-grade Beauty and Makeup class, Sella Anjani, passed away a few minutes ago on the way to the hospital …”
The gold coin on the wooden board suddenly hurled itself into the air, bounced across the tiled floor with a sharp clink, and finally came to a stop near my feet. Intan screamed hysterically on the floor, hugging her own knees. Wati covered her face with both hands, her body shaking with hoarse sobs. Ria slumped in her chair, staring blankly at the wooden board, which now appeared utterly silent.
“No … this can’t be …” Rika whispered, stunned. The hand gripping my arm trembled so violently that I could feel her pulse. “Sella … Sella really died?”
I stood frozen in place. The information struck my consciousness like a blow from a blunt object. Sella died on the way there? But whose spirit had just answered our questions through the board? Why had the board said the cause of her death was suicide by hanging, when Sella had just been carried out of the school alive, even if she was possessed?
Near the classroom cabinet, the betel-chewing woman suddenly spat thick red saliva at the metal coin on the floor. Her spit evaporated into a thin, sharply hissing smoke. “Deceitful demon!” the betel-chewing woman hissed angrily, her reddened eyes staring straight at the coin.
The loudspeaker came on again. “All students are expected to remain in their respective classrooms until the last class period ends. Thank you.”
Several hours passed agonizingly slowly. The midday sun gradually moved westward, changing the sky beyond the windows from pale blue to a gloomy copper orange. The tragic news of Sella’s death had spread rapidly throughout the school, bringing a cloud of grief and fearful whispers among the students. I could only sit motionless at my desk, staring at the rows of trees in the schoolyard as they slowly disappeared beneath the afternoon shadows. Every time I closed my eyes, Sella’s hysterical face in the school health room and the faceless black shadow driving its claws into the girl’s back flashed through my mind.
The bell announcing the end of the last class rang loudly, breaking the anxiety that had hung over us all afternoon. Students’ footsteps scattered through the hallways, but the tenth-grade Beauty and Makeup classroom remained quiet and empty. The classroom door opened. Ms. Retno, our homeroom teacher, walked in slowly. Her usually friendly face now looked swollen, and clear lines of exhaustion showed beneath her eyes. She carried a sheet of paper and a pen. “Everyone,” Ms. Retno called in a soft, hoarse voice. She stood at the front of the blackboard, looking at us one by one. “I know today has been incredibly difficult for all of us. Losing Sella so suddenly must have left you shocked and grieving.”
Wati and Intan began quietly sobbing at their desks again. I glanced at Nina. Her head was bowed deeply, her fingers tightly interlaced on top of the desk.
“This afternoon, the school will send representatives to pay our respects at the mourning house,” Ms. Retno continued, raising the sheet of paper in her hand. “Anyone who would like to go with the teachers, please come up front so I can write down your names now. We’ll leave together on the school bus in ten minutes.”
I turned to look at Rika, who sat beside me. She looked hesitant, her anxious eyes watching me as if asking for guidance. “Lana, what do you think?” Rika whispered. “Do you want to go pay your respects?” I nodded slowly. Guilt and a powerful urge to find answers about the strange events of that day churned in my chest. I had to see Sella one last time. I wanted to make sure what had really happened to my classmate. “I’m going, Rika,” I answered firmly. “I want to go to Sella’s house and pay my respects.”
“Then I’m going with you. I’m scared to go home alone while I keep thinking about all this,” Rika replied quickly.
From the middle row, Nina and Ria suddenly stood up from their chairs. Nina glanced at me briefly before looking at Ms. Retno. Her face was still pale, but a flash of regret and tense determination shone in her eyes. “Ms. Retno, Ria and I would like to go too,” Nina said, her voice trembling.
Ms. Retno gave a faint smile and nodded. “All right, Nina, Ria, Lana, Rika. Come up front so I can write down your names.”
The four of us walked toward the teacher’s desk together. Behind us, Wati and Intan quickly shook their heads when invited, apparently too afraid to face that bitter reality directly. As my name was written on Ms. Retno’s sheet of paper, I felt a cold breeze brush past the nape of my neck. From the corner of my eye, I saw Grandma with the dragon-headed staff floating near the classroom exit. Her wrinkled face looked extremely serious as she slowly nodded at me, as if giving both her blessing and a warning about the danger waiting to welcome us at the mourning house.