"Olivia Richmond had everything any girl could ever want. A beautiful house, perfectly straight blond hair, a handsome boyfriend and a close circle of friends. She began her junior year of high school with everything in the world going for her. She had even just received a brand new red Prius for her Sweet Sixteen, and everyone at Weeping Willow High School knew she'd be named Homecoming Queen at the annual fall dance."

I dared not look up to try to catch Violet's eye, but her mention of a new red Prius had caught my attention. How had she known that there was a red Toyota parked in the Richmonds' driveway at that very moment? Had she guessed?

Violet was a noticeably different kind of storyteller than Mischa. She didn't attempt to make her voice sound spooky or scary. Her voice was steady, confident, and she told her story solemnly, as if it was factual. Time seemed to slow down as she assembled the tale. I could hear the Richmonds' grandfather clock ticking at the top of the stairs, hear Candace swallow quietly, two feet away. Olivia's breathing was rhythmic but shallow, and her eyelashes fluttered as if she was dreaming. Violet's locket threw little glimmers of light around the basement as the flames in the fireplace reflected off of it.

"The night before the Homecoming dance, when the Weeping Willow High School football team was clear across the state claiming a victory over the team in Kenosha, Olivia was pulling together the final details for her big date with Pete. She had already found her perfect buttercream-colored dress, and a pair of earrings that would look fantastic dangling from her ears, just barely brushing her tan shoulders. But she was still missing the perfect pair of shoes to match her dress, and time was running out. She announced to her friends after school on Friday that she was going to drive to the mall in Green Bay in search of the perfect pair. After combing the mall and settling on a pair of shoes that weren't ideal, she found that the brand new car she had received for her birthday wouldn't start in the lot. She tried and tried to start its engine, but it just stalled."

"As heavy storm clouds filled the sky, Olivia accepted a ride back to Willow with a classmate from her high school who happened to recognize her car in the mall parking lot. They began the long drive back to their small town down the wooded rural highway as Olivia's mind filled with thoughts about the upcoming Homecoming dance, as well as the new complication of having to get her car towed out of the mall parking lot in the morning. The raindrops falling from the sky turned to hail, and before Olivia and the student behind the wheel could even see what was happening, they were hit head-on by a speeding truck that didn't see them in the other lane. Olivia's ribs were shattered, her internal organs splayed out across the front seat of the wrecked car. Her right arm was severed and discovered twenty feet away from the automotive wreckage after the hail storm. Both of her legs were crushed beneath the crumpled dashboard, pinning her into the front seat, preventing her escape even if she had remained conscious long enough to try to crawl away from the wreck. When the truck driver was able to bring his truck to a skidding halt and rushed to the car to see if either passenger had survived, he had to turn away, because Olivia had also been nearly completely decapitated. Her head dangled from her shoulders by a few cords of muscle and chunks of skin, having been knocked clean off her spine."

"Three days later, as her shocked family and the grieving town of Willow assembled for Olivia's wake, her body lay in a closed coffin, light as a feather, stiff as a board."

I was in such a state of awe from the gruesome detail and calmness with which Violet had brought an end to Olivia's life with words that my mind wasn't even focused on whether or not the game would work. An odd feeling of static had fallen across the room, and out of the corner of my eye I could see that the fire in the fireplace was blazing higher and brighter than it had previously all night, even though an hour ago when I had gotten up to use the bathroom, the logs were already glowing red, lit from within. As we began chanting and Olivia's straight body, her mouth frozen in a frown, began to lift with ease, I began to genuinely feel frightened. An uneasiness had slipped up against me, a sensation that someone—or something—was patiently observing us.

"Light as a feather, stiff as a board," we chanted together, slowly, ever so slowly, lifting Olivia's weightless body with our fingertips inch by inch. I became increasingly aware of my desire for the trick to fail. It's only a game, I reminded myself.  Vague, intangible recollections of my father's explanation that phenomena like the one experienced in this game could be credited to group hypnosis formed like a brick wall in the back of my thoughts.

We nimbly climbed from our knees and onto our feet when we had raised Olivia to the level of our eyes. From there we continued to lift her, from the height of our hips until she was level with our shoulders, her arms crossed over her chest, her silvery blond hair dangling toward the ground.

"Holy..."

It was Candace who broke the spell without warning. All at once, we were snapped back to our senses, and before we had an opportunity to even feel the full weight of Olivia's body in our hands, she had dropped to the ground with a thud and was rubbing her behind good naturedly. Relief washed over me.

"Thanks, guys!" she teased, not at all hurt in her tumble back down to the carpet.

Despite the fact that we had all played the silly game before when we were younger, and had experienced the effect firsthand, everyone but me was delighted with our small success. It was as if Violet had cast the spell on us so effortlessly, with such ease, we hadn't even had to exert an ounce of thought toward making the chant work. After a few minutes of listening to my friends' casual celebration, my fear dissipated and I felt a little victorious, too.

"That was amazing!" Mischa exclaimed, her entire face ignited by a smile.

There were so many questions about how Violet had constructed the odd and gruesome story.

"Who was the driver?" Olivia asked. "I wouldn't just accept a ride home from Green Bay with anyone."

"And you skipped the part about where Olivia buys her dream dress," I teased Violet.

"Yeah. It would be helpful to know where I'm going to find that dress," Olivia said.

Violet blushed, her lily white skin heating up into a deep pink. "Sorry, I'm not a fortune teller. Just making up stories, here."

"Do me next!" Candace insisted, dropping down to her knees on the floor.

We reassembled our little circle, eager to see if Violet could deliver the phenomenon with such conviction a second time. This time, however, I was a little afraid that my reluctance to participate was going to be noticed by the others. There was something disconcerting about the confidence with which Violet had told Olivia's story. A warning voice in my head urged, Don't do it again. Not another person.

"Okay, we all have to calm down and focus or it won't work," Violet reminded us as she adjusted Candace's head on the pillow in front of her knees on the floor.

She drummed her fingertips on Candace's temples and stared up at the ceiling, lost in thought. "Candace Cotton. What should we do with Candace Cotton?"

As soon as the story came together in her mind, the expression on her face changed. Her gaze steadied and she looked down at Candace, who dutifully closed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest as Olivia had done. Olivia had assumed Candace's position down near the feet, and had daintily placed two of her curled fingers beneath Candace's heels, her palms facing the ceiling. Candace took a deep breath, preparing herself for Violet's terrible story, her chest heaving toward the ceiling as she took in air, and then sinking back toward the floor as she exhaled.

"It was the end of October and Candace's family was far away from Willow on a spur-of-the-moment vacation. Candace was excited to show off her new bikini at the beach, and to test out her swimming abilities for the first time. The waves were mild that day, so she blew off her parents' insistence that she try her luck with a surfing lesson instead to wade out into deeper water on her own. At first she stayed close to the shoreline, not venturing too far away from where her brothers were building sandcastles on the beach. The water was warm and tempting, not nearly as cold as she had been expecting, so she waded in deeper, to her hips, and remained there until she felt confident she could handle herself in the stronger currents."

"After she disappeared, her brothers told her parents that they saw her walk straight into the deeper currents, right at the waves, as if on a mission. Unafraid, as if she was daring the ocean to come and take her. They said a wave washed over her and the ocean just swallowed her whole, enveloping her in blue and carrying her away. Her body washed up three days later, two miles down the shore, barely recognizable. Much of her long blond hair had been torn away by the current. Her pasty, blue skin was waterlogged and falling off of her bones, exposing the layers of bloated muscles beneath the surface of her flesh."

I felt Candace twitch above my fingertips at this horrific description of her own body.

"Fish had eaten her eyeballs and some of her internal organs. The stink of her rotting corpse was unbearable. After her devastated parents identified her decomposing body at the coroner's office, it lay on the metal autopsy table... light as a feather, stiff as a board."

"Light as a feather, stiff as a board," we repeated.

Unbelievably enough, Candace's body, heavier and larger than Olivia's, began to lift just as easily as Olivia's had. I did not dare to look up at the other girls raising Candace with their fingertips for fear of being the one to ruin the thrill, even though my heart was racing in terror. We only got Candace about two feet off the floor when she startled and we dropped her.

"Oh my god, that was crazy!" she shrieked, throwing her hands to her face to press her own cheeks. Her eyes were glossy, watering with excitement. "I could actually feel you guys lifting me!"

All of my friends were bubbling over with enthusiasm then, thrilled with our success. I was quiet and smiled in an effort to appear like I was having fun, but I was really wishing that someone would pull out a game of Twister or suggest that we do something—anything—else. Violet had become the party hero.  The warm rush I'd felt surge through me during my encounter with Henry upstairs had abandoned me completely. My limbs were cold with fear, the same kind of nervous fear that overtook me when I watched horror movies. An enjoyable fear, but a sensation that I hoped wouldn't last long. Self-conscious, I wondered if I was the only one who was a little freaked out by the grotesque details that Violet was so easily able to conjure as elements of her stories. She spewed such disgusting descriptions so casually that I wondered if she was some kind of sociopath and we'd somehow overlooked her mental disorder over the last two weeks, distracted and awed by her big blue, innocent eyes and long lashes.

"You're so good at this!" Mischa exclaimed.

"I'm okay," Violet admitted, not wanting necessarily to be admired for her strange storytelling skills.

"I've never even been to a beach before," Candace said, "other than at Lake Winnebago and that doesn't even count. But it was so real! I could practically smell the salt water as you were telling the story."

"This is so much fun! I'm so glad you suggested doing this," Olivia gushed. Suddenly, she pointed directly at me. "Let's do McKenna next!"

"No, no," I said, holding my hands up in protest. "That would be too weird."

"Come on, McKenna!" Candace egged me on. "You have to. We're all doing it."

Violet's not doing it¸ I thought to myself.

I found myself stretching out on the floor between them all, easing my head onto the upholstered couch pillow. Violet's fingertips grazed my temples, cool pressure against my head, touching me so lightly that I could barely feel her skin against my own.

 "Oh," Violet said suddenly, the second her fingertips touched my temples. She sounded surprised. "This is going to be a tough one."

At my feet, Candace's eyebrows shot up her forehead in alarm. Mischa and Olivia exchanged concerned, knowing glances.

"Why?" I asked, looking straight up at Violet.

"Usually when I play this game, I get a good idea as soon as I touch someone," Violet explained. "But I don't have any ideas for you. The only thing I can think of is fire, but it doesn't feel right. I mean, I can tell a story about fire if you want. But I don't know if it's going to work."

My heart began beating furiously fast and I wanted to sit up and bring an end to the stupid game right there and then. I knew it wasn't fair; Violet was new in town and couldn't possibly have known how eerie her words were. For me, the party was over. I wanted to call my mom even though it was after midnight and ask her to pick me up immediately. But I couldn't do that. I was sixteen, not a baby, and I couldn't even find the strength to sit up and relieve Violet from having to tell my story. I desperately didn't want Candace, Mischa, and Olivia to think I was too chicken to play. It felt as if my continued inclusion in the popular circle depended entirely on my cooperation with the game.

"Don't tell a story about fire," Olivia said finally, with tenderness in her voice that suggested she knew how much that would terrify me. "Anything but that."

"No! Tell it!" urged Mischa. "Wouldn't that be so scary, if McKenna were to die just like—"

"Stop, Mischa," Candace commanded, silencing her. "That's totally messed up."

The basement was quiet for a moment as the girls' eyes locked. Without a single word uttered, I sensed Mischa back down. I looked up at Violet, and flinched when I found her looking directly down at me with an expression that told me she knew exactly why I couldn't stand to hear about my own demise in flames. She knew about Jennie. I was certain of it, and it chilled me to the bone. I sat straight up, bolting away from her, my concern with popularity temporarily forgotten.

"I don't feel like playing anymore," I announced in a shaky voice.

"It's okay," Candace assured me. "Mischa can take her turn."

"Yeah, I'll go," Mischa volunteered.

Mischa all too readily stretched out on the floor and gently set her head upon the pillow. I took the position at her feet, wanting to distance myself as much as possible from Violet. I was barely paying attention as Violet told the tale of Mischa's death, something about choking and turning blue. Instead of devoting my thoughts to the story, I found myself wondering about Violet. Who was this girl, really? Was it normal to have such control over this type of game, to be able to hypnotize one's peers so casually? Had she observed more with those huge blue eyes than we had noticed since the first day of school? Did she know more about all of our lives than she was letting on?

Perhaps because of Mischa's eagerness for the game to work like a charm, we lifted her higher than anyone else, barely breathing, we were so charged up as we raised Mischa's tiny body above our shoulders, level with our eyes, and then over our heads.

It was a buzzing from Olivia's cell phone on the coffee table that broke our concentration. Luckily for Mischa, we caught her before she fell five feet to the floor.

"Wow, you were really high up there, dude," Candace informed Mischa as Olivia bolted across the basement to grab her phone.

"It's Pete!" she whispered to all of us.  "He and Jeff Harrison are—"

Bam! Bam! Bam!

A loud knock on the basement storm window from the back yard made all of us jump in the air. Mischa screamed and we immediately heard commotion on the second floor as Olivia's parents sprang into action. We erupted into giggles as soon as we realized that the source of the knock was handsome Pete, squatting in Olivia's back yard with another member of the basketball team, Jeff Harrison.

We heard the door at the top of the stairs open and we all froze. Olivia made hand motions to Pete to back away from the window.

"Olivia, what's going on down there?" we heard Mr. Richmond call from the top of the stairs.

"Nothing, Dad!" Olivia chirped back in reply. "Mischa just saw a spider."

"Must have been some spider," Mr. Richmond said in a tone that suggested he knew she was lying.

Mischa and Olivia both suppressed giggles with their fingers. "It was," Mischa called over her shoulder.

"Get some rest, girls," Mr. Richmond encouraged us. "It's after one. Busy day tomorrow."

"Okay, Dad," Olivia said, just wanting him to go back up to the second floor and leave us alone.

She waited until he climbed all of the stairs back up to the second floor master bedroom, her head nodding slightly as she counted his footsteps, before dragging a chair over to the window to slide it open.

"Pete, what are you doing here?" she asked, standing atop the chair as the rest of us watched.

"Jeff and I were driving around and I thought it would be fun to stop by and wish you happy birthday in person," he told her, putting his hand up to the window screen separating them.

"That is so romantic," Candace muttered to no one in particular.

"That's totally sweet, but you guys have to get out of here! If my dad hears you, he'll call the cops!"

Pete vowed to leave quietly, but only after Olivia figured out how to remove the screen so that he could kiss her through the window. She fumbled with the screen in the window frame until it fell forward and silently hit the grass of the back yard, and lifted herself on her tip toes so that Pete could lean through the open window and kiss her.

"Isaac would never be that romantic," Candace grumbled.

An hour later, after the screen had been popped back into place in the window frame, we restored the volume of the music videos playing on the television, and snuggled into our blankets, finally ready to go to sleep. I spread out my sleeping bag on the floor closest to the television, turning my back on my friends as I heard them all begin to breathe more deeply and then snore.

I couldn't sleep. Everything about Violet's contributions to the game, including her suggestion that we play it in the first place, was troubling me. How had Violet, who hadn't gone upstairs all night, known that Olivia's parents had bought her a red Toyota? Was it possible that someone in our tiny town had told her about Jennie, even though the subject was an odd one to share with anyone new at the high school?

My eyes began to burn with tiredness and I noticed the time on the cable box near the television was 3:31 A.M. Suddenly I sensed that I wasn't the only one awake in the basement, and turned to find Violet sitting up on her sleeping bag across the room, rubbing her eyes.

"Sorry if I freaked you out earlier," she whispered, careful not to wake the others.

"It's okay," I lied, because that's what girls say. It wasn't okay at all, but after her impressive performance, I was a little afraid of offending her. I rolled over, turning my back to her once again. That night I barely slept, unable to shake the suspicion that the fire in the fireplace that had burned so wildly while we were chanting had never burned itself completely out.