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It was one of the most searing days Peace Valley had ever seen—the kind of weather you don’t expect until August. Before 7:00 a.m., the humidity was already thick, and a heat advisory had been issued for the next several days.
Strangely enough, the ghosts couldn’t take the heat either (pun intended). There hadn’t been a single ghost sighting since the heatwave started, which made Team Spirit happy—at least for now.
Most people stayed indoors, trying to keep cool. Sixteen-year-old Jamie Ramsey was doing exactly that, chilling in his room with his favorite musical playlist humming through his earbuds.
Next to him sat a tall bottle of carbonated water, which he sipped occasionally while sinking deeper into the music and out of the world. The gay teen sighed happily, totally vibing.
Until—
KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK.
He flinched.
“Jamie?” his mom Jezebel’s voice called through the door—firm enough to cut through the soundtrack but still gentle.
He tugged one earbud out. “Yeah?” he called, confused. A glance at the clock told him it was creeping toward early evening. Not that it made a difference in the heat.
Shoulders slumping, he opened the door to see his mom—perfectly put together, as usual. Most people called her beautiful. Jamie always said it was her soul that was beautiful.
They were progressive Jews and proud of it. And while some people at synagogue still gave him nasty looks for being openly gay, his family? They didn’t give two shits. All they cared about was whether he was safe, loved, and happy.
Her smile seemed to light up the dim room—he’d left the lights off to keep things cooler. “We’re leaving in a few. You sure you’re okay missing Ruben’s open mic?” she asked kindly.
Jamie blinked, still foggy. “Wait—oh. Right. Yeah. You and Dad are taking him to Waverly Gyros. Well, at least the AC works there! And free drinks all night!” he added brightly, now catching up.
He scratched his head like something was crawling through his brain.
Jezebel sighed. “So you also remember why you’re not coming?”
Jamie hesitated. “Because… someone has to stay home in case the AC breaks?”
She chuckled, leaning on the doorframe with one raised brow. “Because your Uncle David and Aunt Talia finally got a night out after nearly a year of canceled plans, and you promised to watch the twins.”
Jamie’s gray eyes blinked fast—brain booting. “Wait. That’s today?” His face went pale.
“You promised,” she said simply.
His expression went from blank to horror. “Oh crap.”
Jez shook her head, half-smiling as she glanced around his messy room. “I knew you'd forget. Looks like you forgot to clean, too.”
He groaned, flopping back onto the bed. “It’s not my fault our family tree loops in on itself. Your little sister married Dad’s little brother. That’s like cousin math you need a spreadsheet for.”
“You’ve met Megan. She probably has one,” Jez quipped, already turning to go.
Jamie dragged himself up and started digging through laundry for clean clothes. “I swear, I love them, but if Ashley tries to unionize again—”
“Give her cookies,” Jez called. “You’ll do great. And we’ll drop you off—no point letting you melt on the sidewalk.”
Jamie didn’t argue. Secretly, he was relieved. He hated running. The rest of the family might be into it, but philosophically, Jamie was opposed. Running was for ghosts, gym class, and emotional solos at the end of Act I. Not because you forgot what day it was.
Ten minutes later, they pulled up outside his aunt and uncle’s house.
David and Talia’s place was a cozy mid-century ranch tucked near the end of Hartman Street—warm brick, pale blue shutters, and a curved walkway leading to the door. No three floors. No HGTV glow. But it felt real. Like the kind of house where kids could spill grape juice and no one would act like it was arson.
Jamie let himself in with the spare key under a mat bearing a Hebrew proverb.
The house smelled like cinnamon, fresh ink, and clean laundry. A very Talia and David combo.
Unlike Jezebel’s clean-lined, HGTV-inspired aesthetic, her younger sister’s house was a charming mess of personality. Mismatched cushions, handmade pottery, soft rugs, scuffed furniture. A dozen books stacked on the coffee table mid-discussion. Earth tones. Thrifted flair.
David’s influence was everywhere too—framed movie posters in the hallway, a “World’s Okayest Dad” mug (on a coaster, naturally) on the counter.
Jamie smirked.
A few minutes later, David and Talia entered the room.
David wore jeans, a pressed shirt, and his usual neat beard, now salt-and-pepper. His kippah was perched comfortably on his head—as always. Jamie thought he looked like the kind of dad who’d fix your brakes and then grill your prom date.
Talia, meanwhile, was taller than both Jamie and her sister. She had long blonde curls pinned up for the heat, hazel eyes behind copper-framed glasses, and a distinct beauty mark on her right cheek. A soft seafoam shirt and lilac leggings made her look cozy but put-together. Around her neck: the same Star of David necklace Jezebel wore—the one they’d gotten at their bat mitzvahs.
That little detail always made Jamie smile. Even when they didn’t look alike, that necklace reminded him they still were.
“You made it,” Talia said warmly.
“Ay, there’s our babysitter,” David added, clapping Jamie on the back before ruffling his already-messy hair.
Jamie huffed. “I’m many things, Aunt Talia, but being a flake isn’t one of them.”
David chuckled. “That’s real dedication.”
Jamie smirked. “So—is this a big-deal date, or more of a ‘we finally escaped the house’ situation?”
“Both,” Talia replied. “That new Italian place near the middle school. Dinner and dessert. And no—we’re not rushing back.”
“We already won by leaving,” David said solemnly.
Jamie grinned. “Well, you don’t have to dress fancy for that place. I’m happy for you. Just… be prepared. My boyfriend Wendell went there last week. Apparently, some lady had a meltdown over someone else getting more breadsticks.”
Talia laughed. David gave her a look.
She cleared her throat. “The girls are in their room. They’ve been planning for this all day.”
“Please tell me they didn’t make matching welcome signs again,” Jamie groaned.
David grabbed his keys. “We’d better go before it gets hotter out. Good luck with your mission.”
Talia rolled her eyes. “Text if there’s an emergency.”
“I’ve got it covered. Go have fun,” Jamie promised.
“Good boy,” she called as they left.
Once the car pulled away, Jamie let out a long sigh. Then quietly recited a prayer for strength.
He found the girls by sound—
Not soft sound. Planning sound. Urgent whispers. Scatterings of paper. Possibly glitter.
He knocked gently. “Peaceful entry. Nobody scream.”
“AAAAH! Jamie’s here!” Ashley shrieked, launching herself off her bed like a gremlin on a trampoline.
Megan, calm as ever, looked up from her clipboard. “You’re late. But we factored that into the schedule.”
“You made a schedule?”
Ashley nodded. “We were gonna make a PowerPoint, but Megan said we don’t have the software.”
“I said it wasn’t necessary,” Megan muttered.
Jamie held up his hands. “Okay, before anyone unionizes again, I brought a plan.”
They both froze.
“Two words: Prismara High.”
Ashley gasped. “The new one?! Prismara High: Color Clash?!”
Jamie flopped onto the couch. “Yup. Magic powers, glitter swords, emotional growth, sparkly metaphors. A cinematic masterpiece.”
Megan raised an eyebrow. “How long?”
“Ninety minutes. Exactly.” He reached into his bag. “With snacks.”
He unveiled Bissli, chocolate rugelach, and sliced apples with honey. “All kosher. All Jamie-approved.”
Ashley grabbed the remote. “This is the BEST babysitting night ever.”
Megan gave a rare smile. “I’ll allow it.”
As the theme song blared, Jamie leaned back and took a bite of rugelach.
Not bad for a night that started in a panic.
By the time the credits rolled, Ashley was passed out on the floor, covered in crumbs. Megan sat cross-legged, arms folded, analyzing the screen.
“That cafeteria battle was totally unrealistic,” Megan declared. “You can’t recharge a friendship amulet mid-fight without a cooldown.”
“She made a rainbow bridge out of tears,” Ashley mumbled, barely awake. “That was awesome.”
Jamie snorted. “She cries glitter. That’s a lawsuit.”
“I liked her,” Ashley said. “She’s nice. And her outfit matched her soul.”
“She’s fine,” Megan said. “But Tara was the only one who remembered they were in school.”
“She talks to plants,” Jamie reminded.
“But realistically.”
Jamie raised a hand. “Okay, but Serena? Total mom friend. Secretly in charge.”
“She’s like Elsa if she joined drama club,” Ashley said dreamily.
“I liked Gemma,” Jamie admitted. “Big sword energy. No patience. Relatable.”
“You always like the protective ones,” Ashley teased.
Megan scribbled in her notebook. “Raina’s chaotic good. Gina’s chaotic neutral. She’s not evil—just bored.”
“Victoria’s the scariest,” Ashley yawned. “Storm powers and no boundaries.”
“So… middle school,” Jamie said.
He stood, picking up snack wrappers. “Alright, Prismara Scholars. Bedtime. Brush teeth, say your Shema, and no summoning sparkle wolves.”
Ashley giggled. “Only if they bring glitter cookies.”
As the girls shuffled off, Jamie flopped onto the couch and stared at the paused screen.
“…Still better character arcs than half the shows I watched at their age,” he muttered.
Then he smiled.
Yeah. He could hold down the fort just fine.