Home > Black Ice(22)

Black Ice(22)
Author: Becca Fitzpatrick

I looked worriedly at Korbie. "Did he make you invite me?" I couldn't stand the thought of Calvin and Korbie snickering at me behind my back.

"He only does stuff like that to Calvin,” Korbie assured me. "Because you're his princess,” Calvin said in a dark, loathsome voice. "He doesn't care what you do."

"Get out,” Korbie snapped, leaning forward so her face was nose to nose with her brother's.

"Sure I will. But first, you guys know what tonight is, don't you?" Calvin said.

"Friday,” I answered.

His eyes glittered. "The thirteenth."

"Friday the thirteenth is a stupid superstition,” Korbie said. "Get out before I start screaming. I'll tell mom you were trying to look at Britt's underwear. She'll ground you from video games all weekend."

Calvin looked at me and I blushed. I was wearing my old white underwear with holes under the elastic. If he did see them, I would die of embarrassment.

"Britt wouldn't rat on me, would you?" he asked me. "I'm staying out of this,” I muttered.

"If Friday the thirteenth is just superstition, how come hotels don't have a thirteenth floor?" Calvin asked his sister.

"Hotels don't have a thirteenth floor?" Korbie and I echoed at the same time.

"Nope. Too unlucky. That's where the fires, suicides, murders, and kidnappings happened. Finally, people got smart and cut out the thirteenth floor."

"Really?" Korbie asked, wide-eyed.

"Not with a saw, stupid. They relabeled the thirteenth floor. They all became I2A. Anyway, there's a reason you should be scared of Friday the thirteenth. It's when ghosts rise from the grave and deliver messages to the living."

"What kinds of messages?" I asked, feeling the skin at the back of my neck crawl with delight.

"Even if we believe you, which we don't, why are you telling us this?" Korbie demanded.

Calvin reached through the tent door and dragged a blue duffel inside. I could tell by the way the fabric strained that something with sharp angles was zipped inside it. "I think we should see if the ghosts have a message for us."

"I'm gonna tell Mom you're trying to scare us on purpose,” Korbie said, glancing warily at the duffel before rising to her feet.

Calvin grabbed the sleeve of her pj's and dragged her back down. "If you'd shut up for five seconds, I'd show you something cool. Really cool. Wanna see?"

"I do,” I said. I glanced at Korbie and knew I'd said the wrong thing, but I didn't care. I wanted to keep Calvin in the tent as long as possible. His skin was golden brown from spending days at Jackson Lake, and he'd grown almost as tall as his dad. Korbie told me he'd started doing push-ups and sit-ups over the summer, and it showed. He was way better looking than any of the boys in the fifth grade. He looked like a man.

Calvin then pulled a wooden board from the duffel. The alphabet was printed in swirling black font on the face of the board. The numbers one through ten were printed below the alphabet. I knew right away it was a Ouija board. My dad wouldn't let me or Ian play with them. In Sunday School, my teacher told me the Ouija board had the power of the devil. A shudder tiptoed up my spine.

Calvin pulled a small, triangular device with a window encased at the center from the duffel and set it on the board. "What is it?" Korbie asked.

"A Ouija board,” I answered. I glanced at Calvin, and he nodded his head approvingly.

"What does it do?"

"It uses mediums-spirits-to answer your questions,” Calvin said. "Don't you have to hold hands when using the Ouija board?"

I asked, hoping the rumors I'd heard about the Ouija board were true, and that I'd look knowledgeable in front of Calvin.

"Kinda,” Calvin said. "Two people place their fingers on the pointer. I guess there's a chance your fingertips could touch."

I scooted closer to him.

"I'm not touching your gross, sweaty hand,” Korbie told him. "I'll start smelling like your jockstrap. I've seen you with your hand down your pants when you think no one's looking."

Korbie and I covered our mouths in a fit of giggles, but Calvin simply said, "You guys are so immature. I can't wait until I can hold an actual conversation with you."

Me too, I thought dreamily.

"Ready?" Calvin asked us, gazing earnestly into our faces. "There's only one rule. No pushing the pointer. You have to let it move on its own. You have to let the spirits guide it, because only they can see the future."

"Do you think there's a ghost in here?" Korbie stage-whispered, while muffing more giggles.

Calvin shone the flashlight around the tent, into the corners. It wasn't a big tent, but he wanted us to see that we were completely alone. If the pointer moved, it would be by preternatural means alone. "Ask it anything,” he told us. "Ask it about your future."

Will I marry Calvin Versteeg? I thought.

"If this really works, I'm gonna pee my pants,” Korbie said.

I was scared of the Ouija board, and scared my dad would find out I'd played with it, so I was grateful when Calvin said, "I'll go first." In a quiet, ceremonious voice, he asked the Ouija, "of the three of us, who is going to die first?"

I swallowed, staring nervously at the pointer. My heart felt tight in my chest, and I realized I'd stopped breathing. Korbie had been joking about wetting her pants, but I felt like I actually might.

At first the pointer didn't move. I met Korbie's eyes, and she shrugged. And then, slowly, the device began to glide toward the black letters.

C.

"I'm not pushing it, I swear,” Korbie said, glancing anxiously at Calvin.

"Quiet,” Calvin chided. "I never said you were."

A.

"oh, gosh,” Korbie said. "oh, gosh. oh, gosh!"

1.

"I'm scared,” I said, covering my eyes. But I couldn't stand the suspense, and splayed my fingers, peering through them.

"How does Calvin die?" Korbie whispered at the board.

R-O-P.

"Rop?" I said, unsure if this was a real answer. "Does it mean 'rope'?"

Calvin vigorously motioned me to be quiet. "who kills me?" he asked, his brow furrowing. D-A-D.

Something happened in the tent then. A muscle in Calvin's jaw jumped, like he was clamping his teeth together real hard. He rocked back on his haunches, and his brows tugged together as he gazed almost hatefully at the Ouija board.

"Dad would never kill you,” Korbie insisted softly. "It's just a game, Calvin."

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