talking about. We need everyone’s combined energy for it
to work. We al need to concentrate and each put our index
finger on the base of the glass. Don’t press too hard, or the
energy gets clogged and it won’t work. Once we make
contact with the spirit, it’l spel out what it wants to say to
us. Okay, let’s get started. Everyone put your fingertips on
the glass
. Gently
.” I had to hand it to Abby. She was pretty
convincing considering I was quite sure she was making
everything up on the spot. The girls complied eagerly with
her instructions.
“What now?” said Madison.
“We wait for it to move.”
“Seriously?” Madison rol ed her eyes. “That’s it? What
stops everyone from just spel ing out whatever they want?”
Abby glared at her. “It’s not hard to tel the difference
between a joke and a real spirit message, Mad. Besides,
the spirit wil know things, things no one else could.” She
tossed her hair. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand. I only
know because I’ve had a lot of practice. Now, are we ready
to start?” she asked in a solemn voice.
I dug my fingernails into the rough carpet beneath me,
wishing there were some way to slip out of the room
unnoticed. When Mol y struck a match to light the candles
someone had arranged on the floor, I jumped. She brought
the flame to the wicks and the candles sizzled to life.
“Try not to make any sudden movements during the
seance,” Abby said, glaring pointedly at me. “We don’t
want to alarm the spirit. It has to feel comfortable with us.”
“You know from experience or from what you’ve seen on
the John Edward show?” Madison asked sarcastical y,
unable to help herself.
“The women in my family have always been very
connected to the
other side
,” Abby said. I didn’t like the way
she emphasized the words
other side
, as if she were tel ing
a ghost story at school camp.
“Have you ever seen a ghost?” Hal ie asked in a hushed
voice.
“I have,” Abby declared, deadly serious. “Which is why I
should act as medium tonight.”
I didn’t know whether Abby was tel ing the truth or not.
People sometimes caught flashes of the dead as they
crossed between worlds. But most of the time ghost
sightings were the result of a rampant imagination. A flash
of a shadow or a trick of the light could easily be mistaken
for something supernatural. It was different for me—I could
sense the presence of spirits al the time—they were
everywhere. If I focused, I could tel who was lost, who had
just passed on, and who was searching for their loved
ones. Gabriel had told me to tune them out—they weren’t
our responsibility. I remembered when my elderly friend
Alice had come to say good-bye after she’d passed on the
year before. I’d seen her outside my bedroom window
before she faded away. But not al spirits were as gentle as
Alice; the ones that were unable to let go of their earthly
attachment lingered for years, becoming more and more
twisted, driven mad by the life around them that they could
never be part of again. They lost touch with humans, came
to resent them, and often acted out in violent ways. I
wondered how keen Abby would be if she knew the truth
about what was real y out there. But there was no way of
tel ing her, not without giving myself away completely.
The girls nodded in agreement, happy to relinquish rights
to the role of medium. I felt Mol y shiver beside me. “Now
join hands,” Abby said. “And whatever you do, don’t let go.
We need to form a protective circle—if you break the circle
you set the spirit free.”
“Who told you that?” Savannah whispered. “Doesn’t
breaking hands just end the seance?”
“Yes, and if it’s a harmless spirit then breaking hands wil
send it back to rest, but if it’s vengeful then we have to be
careful. We don’t know what we’re summoning.”
“Wel , how about we just summon a nice friendly ghost,”
Madison said, prompting Abby to give her a contemptuous
stare.
“What, like Casper?”
Madison didn’t appreciate being mocked, but we al
knew Abby was right. “I guess not,” she conceded.
“Then it’s luck of the draw.”
I bit my tongue to refrain from commenting on Abby’s
foolproof plan. Conducting a seance on the one night of the
year when it was actual y likely to work was stupid in the
extreme. I shook my head and tried to banish my doubts. I
reminded myself this was nothing more than a childish
game; something most teenagers dabbled in for fun. The
sooner we got it over with, the sooner we could go
downstairs and enjoy the rest of the night.
Mol y and Savannah, who were sitting on either side of
me, each took hold of one of my hands and gripped them
tightly. Their palms were clammy and I sensed a
combination of fear and excitement. Abby bowed her head
and closed her eyes. Her blond hair flopped inconveniently
in front of her face and she interrupted her invocation to
tether it into a loose ponytail with the Day-Glo hair tie she
wore around her wrist. Then she cleared her throat
theatrical y, cast us al a meaningful look, and began to
speak in a low voice that sounded like a chant.
“Spirits that walk the earth, we invoke you to come
forward and dwel among us! We mean you no harm; we
only want to make a connection. Do not be afraid. If you
have a story to tel , we want to hear it. I repeat, we wil not
harm you; in return we ask that you do not harm us.”
The room swel ed with a deadly silence. The girls
exchanged uneasy glances. I knew that some were now
regretting expressing so much enthusiasm for Abby’s
project and wished they were downstairs drinking with their
friends and flirting with the boys. I gritted my teeth and
turned my thoughts away from the distasteful ceremony that
was taking place before me. I had enough sense to know
that disturbing the dead was not only unwise, but insensitive
too. It went against everything I’d been taught about life and
death. Hadn’t they ever heard of the expression
rest in
peace
? I wanted to pul my hands away and leave the room,
but I knew Abby would be furious and I’d be wearing the
label of
buzzkill
for the rest of the year. I sighed heavily,
hoping they would soon get bored when no response was
forthcoming and abandon the game. Mol y and I exchanged
dubious glances.
Five long minutes elapsed with only the sound of our
breathing and Abby periodical y repeating her incantation.
Just as the girls were beginning to get restless and
someone complained openly about a leg cramp, the crystal
glass began to wobble. Everyone sat bolt upright, each
girl’s attention ful y restored. The glass shook for a moment
longer and then began to teeter its way across the board,
spel ing out a message as it went. Abby, as self-appointed
medium, cal ed out each letter the glass touched until it had
spel ed out a clear message.
Stop. Stop now. Leave this place. You are all in
danger.
“Oooh, that sounds exciting,” Madison said mockingly.
The others looked at one another uncertainly, trying to
determine the person in the group who was behind the
prank. With everyone’s fingers on the glass, it was
impossible to tel who was moving it. I felt Mol y clutch my
hand tighter as another message began to be spel ed out.
Stop. Listen. Evil is here.
“Why should we believe you?” Abby asked boldly. “Do
we know you?”
The glass now seemed to move in giant swoops, entirely
of its own volition. It swam across the board and came to
rest defiantly on the word
YES
.
“Okay, now I know this is a joke,” said Madison. “Come
on, own up. Who’s doing it?” Abby ignored her protest.
“Shut up, Mad. No one’s doing it,” Hal ie snapped.
“You’re breaking the mood.”
“You can’t honestly expect me to believe …”
“If we know you, tel us your name,” Abby insisted.
For several long seconds the glass seemed to stal .
“Told you this is al a load of crap,” Madison began, but
no sooner had she spoken that the glass resumed its
dance around the board. At first it seemed confused,
lingering under some letters and then steering away
suddenly as if to tease us. It seemed uncertain to me, like a
young child, not entirely familiar with the process. It
careered across the board spel ing out
T-A-Y
. Then it
stopped as if it were unsure what to do.
“You can trust us,” Abby urged.
The glass slunk back to the middle of the board and
slowly looped across to spel out the final three letters,
L-A-
H
.
It was Mol y who broke the uncomfortable silence.
“Taylah?” she whispered in a voice that came out sounding
strangled. Then she furiously blinked back tears and glared
around the circle.
“Okay, this isn’t funny,” she hissed. “Who did it? What the
hel is wrong with you guys?”
Her accusation was met by a flurry of head shaking and
protests. “It wasn’t me,” they each said. “I didn’t do it.”
I felt a chil run down my spine. Deep down I knew none of
the girls would stoop so low as to bring their dead friend
into the game. Taylah’s death was stil fresh, no one would
dare joke about it. And that meant only one thing—Abby
had made a connection, broken the barrier. We were
treading on dangerous ground.
“What if it’s not a joke?” Savannah suggested tentatively.
“No one here would be that sick. What if it real y is her?”
“There’s only one way to find out,” Abby said. “We have
to summon her and ask for a sign.”
“But she just told us to stop,” Mol y protested. “What if she
doesn’t want to be summoned?”
“Yeah, what if she was trying to warn us?” Hal ie shivered.
“You’re al so gul ible.” Madison rol ed her eyes. “Go
ahead and summon her, Abby, nothing’s going to happen.”
Abby leaned forward, bending low over the Ouija board.
“We command you,” she said, her voice deepening. “Come
forward and show yourself.”
Through the window, I saw a dark cloud drift across the
sky, obscuring the moon and completely blotting out the
silver light that had been fil ing the room. For a moment I felt
Taylah’s presence, radiating warmth as strong as the heat
in the hand I held. But just as suddenly she vanished,
leaving nothing but a cold space in the air.
“We command you,” Abby repeated with heightened
emotion. “Come forward!”
The windowpanes rattled as the wind started to howl
outside. The room suddenly felt very cold, and Mol y wound
her fingers so tightly around mine she was almost cutting off
my circulation.
“Come forward!” Abby commanded. “Show yourself!
At that moment the window flew open and a harsh wind
rushed into the room, snuffing out the candles in an instant.
Some of the girls squealed and gripped each other’s hands
more tightly. I felt the wind on the back of my neck, like cold,
dead fingers. I shuddered and hunched forward, trying to
protect myself from it. Savannah whimpered and I knew she
felt it too. These girls might be oblivious to most things, but
anyone could sense that there was now a presence in the
room and it was none too friendly.
I knew then I had to say something before it was too late.
“We have to stop this,” I cried. “It isn’t a game anymore.”
“You can’t leave now, Beth. You’l ruin everything.” Abby’s
eyes darted around the room. “Is someone here?” she
asked. “Give us a sign that you can hear me.”
I heard Hal ie gasp and looked down to see the glass
drifting silently across the Ouija board. It came to rest on
the word
YES.
Savannah’s hand in mine was now slippery
with sweat.
“Who’s doing that?” Mol y whispered.
“Why have you come?” Abby asked. “Do you have a
message for someone here?”
The glass spun in a circle across the board and
responded with the same message.
YES.
“Who is it for?” Abby asked. “Tel us who you’ve come to
see.”
The glass slid down until it found the letter
A.
Then it
loped graceful y from letter to letter as it began to spel out a
name. Abby looked confused as she put the name together
in her head.