Open Mind: Chapter Six

You never met my mother, but you should know that when Mom made a threat, she followed through -- without fail. That next weekend I found myself in the passenger seat of the truck, arms folded and lips pressed shut as Mom drove me to the cul-de-sac where Heather apparently lived. The sun had already begun to set and Mom was merciful enough to agree to not commit to the “slumber” part of this party. She pulled into the driveway and looked over at me. She was trying so hard not to smile and let slip how much satisfaction she got from this power move.

“I’ll call around 10 to see if you’re ready to go.”

“Don’t bother. I’ll be ready by 7 -- last week, 7 o’clock.”

“Oh stop, Skylar. You’re already here -- try to have a little fun.”

The concrete pathway to the front door of Heather’s house was immaculate. The perfectly green grass was so neatly trimmed and lined with delicate little stones. Her family had decorated the yard with harmless Halloween decorations that belonged in a toddler’s book on Halloween -- smiling bats, laughing jack-o-lanterns, and singing zombies. Someone clearly missed the point of the holiday.

I knocked on the face of the not-so-ugly witch that covered her front door. One of the girls from my Math class, Genevieve Hendricks, answered the front door. Unconsciously, she let out a tiny sigh. I gave a small smile; a peace offering to assure her that I was no more excited to be there than she was excited to have me.

“Do you have a gift or anything,” she asked, her voice laced with judgment.

I laughed. “I actually forgot this was supposed to be a birthday party. Should I … go get one?”

“Well, you’re already here. Maybe she won’t notice.”

“What’s she going to do, kick me out?” I let myself in the front door. Genevieve shut the door behind me and followed me into the living room.

“Make sure you take your shoes off. You can just leave them by the door. Her mom is a real bitch about it.”

I slipped off my checkered shoes and kicked them gently towards the other pile of sneakers. The pattern made it immediately obvious which shoes were mine. Very helpful for a quick escape, if need be, I thought to myself. “Where is her mom?”

“Out on business for the weekend. It’s just us.”

“Does she know?”

Genevieve scoffed. “That we are having a party? Of course. But what happens at Heather’s house stays at Heather’s house. Got it?”

I got it. Turns out that was not at all true, however.

Genevieve led me down the green carpet-covered stairs to the basement den. There were six other girls hovering around a small television set on the floor. I didn’t recognize most of them. The hive of girls turned their head my direction excitedly, but realizing it was me, their shoulders slumped and they returned to the television.

“Have you seen the new episode of Gilmore Girls,” Genevieve asked.

“I can’t say that I have.”

Genevieve, who was barely interested in my answer in the first place, shrugged her shoulders and returned to the circle of girls. As I came down the stairs, I recognized a seventh girl in a fuzzy pink saucer chair named Candice. She was the only other girl at the party in the same grade as me, but we never had classes together. She was also the only girl who acknowledged me with a smile before returning to the book she was reading.

I took a seat in the purple saucer chair beside her -- the only other place available to sit. She glanced up briefly to see who had sat beside her and returned immediately back to her book. I sat in silence as the other girls laughed and chatted about the TV show they were watching.

“How do you know Heather,” Candice asked me. She didn’t look up from her book at all, but it was clear that she was listening.

“I don’t. I just accidentally got an invitation and my mom forced me to come.”

Candice laughed to herself. She placed a bookmark in the spot where she had stopped reading and laid the book in her lap. She turned slightly in her chair to face me and lowered her voice. “That was my fault. Heather invited another girl from our grade, Abby, to the party. And I don’t like her -- sorry if you do, by the way. I took out her invitation and stuck it in a random locker.”

“Thanks for that,” I responded flatly. “Is this your first Heather party, too?”

“Oh God no,” Candice laughed. “I’ve been to a couple. They need me.”

“For what?”

Candice grinned. “See for yourself,” she said as she rose out of the chair. I followed her to the den bathroom, which was directly behind the circle of girls in a darker corner of the basement. The door was closed, so she knocked before ushering me inside. It was a tiny room, lit only by the light of the den outside. There was a smudgy mirror above the porcelain sink that was embedded into a cheap counter. The counter was covered with stacks of red plastic cups. In the dingy bathtub was a large blue cooler. Candice walked over to the cooler and opened it. Inside was a cloyingly sweet, deep red concoction that smelled like off-brand fruit punch Kool-Aid.

“Is there a reason you filled a cooler with Kool-Aid?” I asked naively. “They make pitchers, you know. Pitchers that can fit in a kitchen instead of a nasty bathtub.”

Candice pulled back the bathtub curtain further to reveal several empty glass bottles of vodka and rum. A pit formed in my stomach as I put the pieces together in my mind.

“I always get an invite to these things for one very simple reason -- my brother has too many bottles in his room to count.”

“He really doesn’t notice?”

“If he does notice, he doesn’t say anything. He’s kind of stupid, like most brothers.”

“I wouldn’t know. My brother is stationed somewhere overseas.”

Candice inhaled sharply and snatched a couple of cups from the counter. She offered one to me, and I hesitated. I had always assumed that drinking was something I wouldn’t have to worry about until I was in college -- or at the very least an adult. I thought about my father, watching from some great beyond and wishing better for me than the drunken path he had chosen for himself. I thought about my mother, spending every weekend closed up in her room with a bottle of Jack.

Candice’s smile turned downward as she watched me, having read between the lines of my reaction before I had a chance to stop myself. She took both cups and dipped them in the drink.

“I’m sorry,” I blurted out.

“Tell you what,” she said. “Just take the cup. You don’t have to drink it, but at least just carry it around and look like you’re drinking it. That should keep the girls off your back about it.”

I gently accepted the cup from Candice, and a genuine smile crept over my face. This girl I had never met was showing me a level of compassion and friendship that I hadn’t experienced since I moved to the town, and I couldn’t help but tear up. Candice shot me a judging glance and I was quickly reminded how little I actually knew about her.

The couple hours that followed became an increasingly frantic blur. It started out innocently enough. Candice and I were content to sit in our chairs and talk about the book she was reading -- The Thrill of the Hunt. It was a vampire romance novel, and the one she was reading was the third in the Nightstalkers series of books. I couldn’t possibly understand how a romance series with the word “stalker” in it could be very compelling, but I have to admit that her retelling fascinated me. Jamie, the romantic interest, was a monster overcoming his urge to feast on the protagonist, Lindsey Lumiere. The scent of her was irresistible to Jamie, and he --

You know what, I’m not going to get into all that. You told me that you don’t like romance novels. You called them predictable and trashy, if I remember correctly. You weren’t wrong about that, but I hope that you don’t ultimately find this story to be the same.

In any case, I was just happy to have someone to talk to. Candice did not seem like the other girls -- she spoke with a rushed tone that suggested that people did not often listen to her for long. It was as if she were sticking her neck out every time she opened her mouth; it was as if she were ready for me to cut her off abruptly at any moment. But I didn’t. I just listened as she rattled off plot point after plot point.

I noticed the other girls glancing over at us, whispering among themselves before returning to the show. I paid them no mind, and Candice did not seem to notice anyone else was in the room with us. Once the episode of their show had ended, the girls migrated to the bathroom in order to refill their drinks. Heather stopped beside Candice and flashed a wide, forced grin.

“It’s so great that you two are getting along so well.”

“Y-yeah,” Candice muttered. “Thanks for the invite, by the way.”

“Of course! I wouldn’t dream of having a party without my favorite Candy!” Heather swatted at Candice’s shoulder playfully, and Candice regarded it with indifference. Heather noticed the cold reception and cleared her throat awkwardly. “Well, we are refilling our drinks and then we are going to play a game. You have got to play with us.”

I looked at Candice, who looked back at me with a panic. “Of course we will, right Candice?”

“Y-yeah. Sounds fun.”

“Great!” Heather smiled again, her bright white teeth overwhelming her mouth. “You’ll love it.”

The girls stayed in the bathroom for quite a while, laughing like hyenas celebrating a nasty zebra corpse. Candice and I returned to our conversation, and she asked me what I liked to read. I had to admit that I didn’t read as much as I probably should. She asked me what else I liked to do, but talking about video games and music didn’t seem to spark the same interest from her, so we hopscotched around a few more innocuous subjects before the girls poured back into the room. They clustered around us, drinks in hand. Heather was the only one left standing once all of the girls found their seats.

“I’m thinking that we should play Never Have I Ever. Everyone know how the game works?”

I did not, but I assumed that the rules were pretty self-explanatory.

Heather asked the first question.

“Never have I ever … skipped school.”

Every girl in the circle took a drink, including Candice. I did not understand the rules as well as I thought, and I was the only girl who didn’t take a drink. The circle cast their judgment upon me.

“What’s your name again?” Heather asked.

I looked around the room, even though I knew she was talking about me. “Me?”

“Yes, the only one who I’ve never met before and who was not invited to the party. Have you seriously never skipped school before?”

“Oh no, I have.”

“Okay then. You should take a drink. That’s how the game works, remember?”

“I’m okay, really. I can just watch.”

“You don’t just watch in Never Have I Ever,” piped up another girl in the circle. “That’s not how it works.”

“Okay, then do you have like, a Sprite or like, a ginger ale or something because I don’t know that I --”

“Honestly, Sipher --”

“Skylar,” I corrected.

“Skylar. Right,” Heather said impatiently, brushing her one long blonde bang from her face. “This is how the game is played. You can either play the game correctly, or you can go home.”

“Oh please, don’t kick me out,” I deadpanned. “Anything but that.”

At that moment, the phone rang from behind me. Heather jumped to her feet and bolted past me, her hip bumping against my bouncing leg.

“Hello…? This is Heather. Oh, hello Ms. Miller!”

I whipped around to face Heather. She tilted her head and grinned with sinister intention. I mouthed don’t, but it was no use.

“We are having such a great time. Skylar is in the bathroom right now, but do you think she can stay a bit longer? We just started playing a game and I think she was really into it.” She paused, listening to my mother. “Awesome, I will let her know. Thanks a bunch, Ms. Miller.”

Heather placed the telephone back on the receiver with a satisfied huff. She turned to face me and shrugged. “I guess you’re stuck here with us, Skylar.”

She returned to the circle and the game resumed. Candice shot me a reassuring look before asking her question.

“Never have I ever … had a crush.”

All of the girls took a drink except me. Again, they stared.

“Skylar,” one of the girls snapped. “The rules, remember? You take a drink --”

“-- if I’ve ever done the thing you said. Yes, I know the rules now. I’m following them.”

“You’ve never had a crush on a boy before?” Heather asked the question with a tone usually reserved for interrogating alien species.

“No, I haven’t.”

“Well, it’s your turn to ask a question,” Candice said to me. I racked my brain to think of a question, but nothing came to mind. I could feel the eyes of all the girls burning into my skull.

“Never have I ever … failed a math test.”

Heather scoffed. “What kind of lame ass question is that?” She took a drink anyways, along with half of the other girls. Candice and I did not.

The next girl asked her question. “Never have I ever kissed a boy.” The girls moaned excitedly in unison like a brood of hens as they raced each other to take drinks, eager not to be the one girl who didn’t drink. Candice and I both did not drink again.

Genevieve leaned forward, swaying slightly, and scoffed. “Seriously?” Her speech had become noticeably slurred. “You’ve never kissed a boy? Either of you?”

Candice was bright red and sunk into her saucer chair, but I didn’t move. Genevieve rose to her feet and approached me.

“Drink up, bitch.”

“Excuse me?”

“I know you’re lying. I know you’ve been kissed.” She tossed her ponytail from her shoulder and leaned in closer. “Girls who haven’t been kissed are easy to spot.”

“Then you need new glasses.”

She got even closer.

“Fine. Never have I ever kissed a girl.”

I raised the glass to my lips, trembling. Genevieve’s eyebrows climbed her brow and her eyes grew wide. I could hear the collective gasp from the girls. I took the drink into my mouth, swirled the sickly-sweet nectar with my tongue, and spit it out into Genevieve’s face. She stumbled backwards and collapsed on the floor. I laughed, but I was the only one.

“Are you serious,” I challenged. “No, I’ve never kissed a boy or a girl. How the hell can I kiss anyone when no one talks to me? I can’t even get a boy to look at me, let alone kiss me. And not one of you has ever even talked to me until today. I don’t even know who half of you are.”

Maybe it was the adrenaline that made me feel invincible, but I took what was left of the drink in my cup and I chugged it. It was so poorly mixed that the stringent taste of the vodka choked me. I gave in to a coughing fit, struggling to catch my breath. The girls cheered, emboldened and proud. One of the girls grabbed my cup and rushed to the bathroom to refill it.

Genevieve rose to her feet and stomped. “Seriously, guys? You’re cheering this whore? She just spit in my face and you all think that’s funny?”

“It was, Genevieve,” Heather snapped. “Now sit down and quit making a scene. Skylar is finally ready to play.”

Genevieve pouted while wiping the spray from her face. She took her seat in the circle and folded her arms reluctantly. The other girls paid her no mind and returned to the game at hand. The girl returned the drink to me, which she had filled more than Candice had.

The questions went back around the circle, and they were pedestrian enough. Each question was interrupted by a flurry of stories and anecdotes, which I listened to with passing interest.

“Never have I ever been in a fight.”

“Never have I ever seen a ghost.”

“Never have I ever cussed in front of my parents.”

“Never have I ever seen an R-rated movie.”

I was four drinks in and starting to feel pretty good. The girls took a break to refill their glasses. Candice and I exchanged glances. She showed me her drink, which was still nearly full. I showed her mine, which was not as full -- I had taken each drink with more gusto than her, it seemed. We laughed as the girls re-entered the room. The girls returned to their circle, but they were huddled closer together. They leaned on one another and swayed.

“Never have I ever pictured a boy naked.”

“Never have I ever seen a boy naked.”

“Never have I ever touched a boy downstairs.”

The questions were getting weird, and most of the girls had stopped drinking -- except for Heather and Genevieve. The other girls ooo’d and ahhh’d at their slurping with the last question, but I wasn’t impressed. Either they were lying about it, or they had done it and it didn’t change my life in any meaningful way. I saw a boy’s penis in the third grade when he decided to flash everyone during “show and tell” -- I wasn’t impressed then, and I couldn’t imagine that it would be any more impressive in eight grade.

On Candice’s turn, it was clear that she was deep in thought. She hadn’t taken but one drink the entire time -- she admitted that she watched the R-rated gore-fest Planes, Trains, and Automobiles with her family, the absolute rebel -- and she likely wanted to turn the conversation away from sex.

“Never have I ever seen a dead body.”

All of the girls raised a cup to their lips.

“And not at a funeral.”

All of the girls lowered their drinks except for me. All eyes turned to me as a I took a strained gulp. A hushed silence fell over the circle. I shook my head.

“Come on, don’t look at me like that, alright?”

“Did you… kill someone,” one girl asked.

“God, no. No, I didn’t kill anyone. What is your problem?”

“No, no, she has a point,” Heather said. “You are kind of scary.”

“Thank you,” I retorted. “But no, I didn’t kill anyone.” I had a choice to make in that moment. I could either open myself up with the truth and allow these girls to judge me, or I could keep that part of myself hidden and continue to exist in shadowy mystery. The alcohol made the choice for me. “It was my dad.”

The girls gasped in unison. Heather stood up, and the girls followed her lead. They all surrounded me and put their arms around me. I was immensely uncomfortable, but it was also oddly sincere, so I didn’t fight it. One of the girls in the circle sniffled.

“We had no idea, Skylie,” Heather said.

“It’s Skylar, but thank you.” The group broke away from one another, took one drunken, loving look at me, and returned to their seats.

“Well, that was heavy!” Heather clapped her hands together. “I say we drink to Skylar’s happiness. She deserves to be happy, goddammit!” She raised her crimson cup towards me, and the others followed suit. I laughed and smiled, lifting my glass alongside them. For the first time, maybe ever in my whole life to that point, I felt as though I belonged. This was what so many girls felt -- what so many girls took for granted. It felt a bit strange that it took an intoxicated salute to my father’s death to have this moment, but beggars can’t be choosers, you know.

I was feeling awfully toasted by that point. I finished the last of the drink in my cup and looked at the bottom of it with disappointment. Candice had not put nearly as much in mine as the other girls had in theirs, but she looked at me with the same disappointment.

“You guys can keep playing -- I need to refill my drink.” Candice stumbled to her feet. One of the other girls leaned over to try and help her, but Candice waved her away.

“Oh, I need to refill too,” I chimed in. Heather and Genevieve exchanged a quick glance and then looked back to us.

“Go for it,” Heather said. “We can wait.”

Candice and I walked side-by-side to the bathroom, giggling and bumping into one another. I entered the bathroom first and fumbled for the light switch on the bathroom wall. I flipped the switch several times, but nothing happened.

“Heather…” I whined. “This stuuupid light isn’t --”

“Oh, the candle must have gone out.” She raced over to us with a small blue lighter in her hand. She entered the bathroom and grabbed a large, three-wick candle from the counter. She lit the wicks and set the candle back down. The smell of manufactured, fresh linen began to fill the air.

The flickering candle light was just enough to make out the outline of the cooler in the bathtub. Candice and I walked over to the cooler and lifted the lid to find a shallow layer of liquid still settled at the bottom. I tilted the cooler to one side and we filled our glasses with what was left. Candice turned to me, lifted her glass, and we slammed our plastic cups together, which nearly cracked mine. We laughed again and took a drink.

As we turned to head back to the living room, the bathroom door slammed shut. I dashed over to the door and tried to open it. It was obviously being held shut by the girls on the other side of the door. As much as I shoved, the door barely moved. After several hard shoves, I took a step back.

“Okay, real funny Heather. Dying laughing over here. Now open the door.”

“The girls and I were thinking it’s time to switch up our game. We decided on Truth or Dare.”

“Oh, I love that,” cooed one of the girls on the other side.

“Okay,” I snarled. “I choose truth. I’m not a lesbian. Now let me out.”

“What about Candice,” Genevieve asked. “And don’t lie! I’ll know if you’re lying.”

“Yeah,” Heather said. “And if you’re lying, I’ll make you two sleep in there!”

Candice started to speak out, but then she stopped. The sound of her voice was trapped in her throat, and she started to cry. In the flickering of the candlelight, I could see in her eyes the fear and the shame bubbling to the surface. I mouthed the words “Dare” to her.

“D-dare,” Candice squeaked.

Heather took a moment to collect her thoughts. “Even better,” Heather laughed. “Kissing Skylar would be too easy. You’re going to kiss Bloody Mary.”

“Bloody what now?” I shouted.

“Bloody Mary. You say her name three times in the mirror and she’ll appear. And once she appears, Candy lays one on her!”

“It’ll be a first to remember!” Genevieve cackled.

“Seven minutes … in Hell,” another girl said, to uproarious laughter.

Candice gripped my arm and squeezed tight, and I shook her loose. She took a step back, offended. “I can’t do this,” she whined. “I’m not supposed to mess around with things like this … Ouiji boards and stuff. It’s of the Devil, and if my parents ever find out…”

“You are very quickly becoming my least favorite person here, you know that?” I said dismissively. “I’ll do it. Just … close your eyes or something if it makes you feel better.”

“Okay,” she whimpered.

“It’s not like there’s any such thing as a Bloody Mary or whatever,” I mumbled under my breath. I turned to the door and shouted to Heather, “so I just have to say her name three times into the mirror?”

“That’s the deal,” Heather said. “And I better hear lips smacking, Candice.”

“Assuming she has lips,” I muttered to myself. I approached the mirror and steadied myself. The drink had started to make the room spin ever so slightly, and it was getting more difficult to stand. I could just barely make out my dim reflection in the mirror -- my deep sandy complexion in stark contrast to the pale glow of Candice behind me.

“Bloody Mary,” I called out nonchalantly. As the last syllable left my blushed lips, I could feel the hairs on my neck stand on end. It was as if every nerve in my body became activated all at once, and I felt my stomach turn. Candice looked at me fearfully, sensing my change in disposition. I composed myself, unwilling to yield to the gaggle of dim-witted girls outside the door.

“Bloody Mary,” I said again, defiantly. Again, my nerves fired and sent a shiver up my spine. The candle flickered violently on the counter, then became frighteningly still. The light faded rapidly until it was barely lit. I couldn’t breathe.

“Don’t keep her waiting, Skylard!” Heather mocked.

“Bloody Mary,” I said breathlessly. The candle’s flame was snuffed out. Candice screamed and I stumbled backwards. I reached out helplessly to find the counter in order to ground myself, and my fingers slammed painfully against the porcelain top. I cried out, and in that instant, the candle’s flame raged and cast the bathroom in harsh, quivering light. In the mirror, I saw a shadowy figure reaching out to me. I could barely make out its shape, but it’s piercing cerulean eyes bore deep inside mine and stopped my blood cold. Darkness billowed out like a dense fog from the edges of the mirror and spilled across the counter.

Slowly, the creature clawed its way out of the mirror and across the countertop. I stumbled back from the mirror as it swiped at me with eldritch fingertips. It’s long, slender head twitched violently from side to side. As its arms spread wide, gangling, wispy feathers unfurled and spread out threateningly. It opened its mouth to speak, and its mouth was a rasping whisper.

“Little girl … opening mind and restless spirit…”

I couldn’t move. Every bone in my body turned to cement and I could do nothing but stare wordlessly at the needle-like claws of the creature growing closer until they were mere inches from my face.

“... you don’t belong…”

It pulled its hand back, and as it lashed out towards me, Candice shoved me aside as the claws sliced through her. She cried out in pain and collapsed onto me. The bathroom door flew open and flooded the room with light. When I opened my eyes, the shadow creature was gone. I could feel Candice’s warm blood dripping onto my neck and I shoved her aside. She scrambled backwards away from me towards the bathtub and clutched her neck. There were three thin, crimson slashes across the left side of her neck -- the creature had narrowly missed her throat. Candice trembled as half of the girls drug me out of the room and the other half descended on Candice to console her. She just pointed at me, shrieking and crying.

“What did she do to you,” Heather urged. “What did she do?”

“She … she brought out that … that thing! The Bloody Mary!”

The girls all turned to me. My heart was still racing and a pit formed in my stomach.

“Party’s over,” Heather said flatly. “You need to go home, Skylar.”