“To whom it may . . . Uh, concern?” 

“It’s not a letter to the school board, Lizzy. It’s a fucking Seance!” 

“Right,” Lizzy corrected herself, shifting her body, sitting cross-legged always bothered her. “Dear dead people?” 

“For shit’s sake, Lizzy,” Krissy slammed her hand on the wood floor, forcing the rest of the girls sitting around the chalk drawn line to pop their eyes open. “Shut ‘em!” She hissed, pissed that no one could keep their eyes closed for more than thirty seconds at a time. “I call the spirits of this place. I command you come forth and speak with us tonight.” Krissy’s voice was thick on the heavy summer air. A bead of sweat dripped down her back. She wouldn’t admit her fear. 

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Mackenzie muttered, clutching her stomach. Her eyes pinned tight to avoid the wrath of Krissy. 

“Lock your gullet, you swine.” Krissy ordered. “Spirits only! Come forth, be here with us. Show us what you want with the spirit board.” 

“Spirit board, or spirit bored?” Angela leaned back on her hands, her rebelliously wide-open eyes glaring at Krissy. 

“Don’t start with me, you twat! Spirit! I command you show yourself!” 

Mackenzie gurgled—a noise that drew all the eyes her direction. She proceeded to vomit purple liquid onto the spirit board. 

Angela fell backward laughing. Lizzy grabbed hold of Mackenzie’s hair to hold it back while she puked out her guts. 

“You asked for spirit, and you got it. About a pint of vodka, I think. Purple shooters, was it?” 

“You’re all a bunch of assholes.” Krissy shouted, then sighed. She reached out to hold Mackenzie’s clammy hand while she wretched the rest of the night’s alcohol into the center of the painstakingly perfectly drawn circle of chalk.