“No,” he says, passing me. “It’s Frederick.” He flashes the phone’s screen to me, just to ease my concern. “I’ll be a couple minutes. You can start calling upon air particles without me.”
“No one likes a skeptic,” I retort.
“On the contrary darling, everyone loves me.” He smiles as though he’s the exception. He is, in a lot of ways, though I won’t ever admit it to him. He puts the phone to his ear, disappearing into the bathroom for privacy.
We’re all in a wide circle, the sleeping bags cushioning the floor.
Lily hugs her popcorn bowl. “Is anyone else scared of ghosts?”
Lo’s smile dimples his cheeks, and he swoops an arm over his wife’s shoulders. “I’ll protect you from the supernatural, love.”
“What if Rose conjures a demon?” she combats.
“I’m not going to conjure a demon.”
“Because she is the demon,” Lo tries to whisper this to Lily, but his voice echoes off the vaulted ceiling.
“Return to hell, Loren,” I rebut.
“Not if you’re there.”
I consider grabbing the bear spray and directing the nozzle at his face.
“What first?” Daisy interjects and thusly breaks our small argument that could’ve escalated into a fight.
This slumber party is about rekindling old times together while bringing in new things, all of the guys and Willow.
“Light-as-a-feather first.”
Daisy wags her brows at her boyfriend. “I think we should do Ryke first.”
It comes off as a sexual innuendo.
“I’m rating this party G,” Lo says, “for Gross.” His voice is lighthearted, not meaning the words as anything more than a joke.
Daisy smiles. “I give it a NC-18-to-27 rating.” She extends her arms theatrically. “No Cake for any of us.” She puts her hand to her forehead, feigning fainting. “The horror.”
Everyone laughs, even me. When we quiet down, I motion to Ryke, “You need to lie in the middle of the circle.” He does as instructed without complaint.
Lo eats popcorn out of Lily’s bowl. “Good luck, bro. May your sacrifice bring us twenty days of good harvest.”
Lily pokes his chest. “We’re playing light-as-a-feather, not sacrificing him.” Her head whips in my direction. “Right?”
In no way would I harm one of our own. “We’re not sacrificing anyone,” I declare.
“You girls may not be able to lift me,” Ryke warns us.
I laugh shortly. We will conquer.
“We’re the Calloway sisters,” Daisy proclaims, nudging my arm and then Lily’s. “We can do anything, right?”
“Definitely,” Lily and I say together.
“Plus Willow,” Daisy adds and raises her hand to the eighteen-year-old girl. Willow high-fives her with a growing smile, and I recognize now that Daisy is better at integrating people on the fringe of groups than maybe I am.
Lo shuts off the lights before returning to his popcorn.
“Are you going to participate?” I ask him.
“I’m going to casually observe my brother being picked up by a bunch of girls at a sleepover.” He snickers like this is too good to pass up and eats more popcorn.
“I can fucking hear you giggling,” Ryke tells Loren, about to turn his head, but I snap my fingers and he looks at the ceiling again.
“Is the sacrifice supposed to be talking?” Lo asks me.
I ignore Loren, and I sit on one side of Ryke with Willow, and then Lily and Daisy are on the other side of his body. After I give brief instruction, we each slide no more than two fingers beneath him. I’m near his shoulder blades.
I say first, “Light as a feather, stiff as a board.” The girls then begin to repeat the chant with me.
“Light as a feather, stiff as a board.”
“Light as a feather, stiff as a—”
“Cock.” Lo causes Daisy to break out in a fit of laughter, ruining the concentration of the ritual. Lily is probably a new shade of red, but I can’t even tell in the dark, the candles only adding a dim, orange glow to the room.
I wish we started with Lo in the middle—then I could’ve purposefully dropped him on his ass.
My glower should send Loren shrinking, but he just stares right at me, unaffected. “What?” he says. “You knew I was going to do it.” When I had slumber parties with Lily and friends, he always crashed them, and whenever we reached this part, he’d make the same infantile comment.
“For some insane reason, I thought you would’ve matured past ten-years-old.”
“I’m twenty-five. I am acting my age. My ten-year-old self was the one ahead of his time.”
I wave my hand at him, silently telling him to shut up. My heart may be smiling though—if a heart can smile. It is like old times, but better…I look at Daisy. “Let’s do this again.”
Daisy gives me a thumbs-up, and Willow and Lily nod, ready.
We begin the chant in hushed whispers, “Light as a feather, stiff as a board.”
“Light as a feather, stiff as a board.” We begin slowly raising Ryke with only our fingers. His body feels more weightless as we go higher, transitioning from our knees to a crouch.
“Light as a feather, stiff as a board.” It becomes easier, his body hovering off the ground with our teamwork and focus.
“Light as a feather, stiff as a board.” We’re standing, and he’s now four feet off the ground.
“Light as a feather.” Ryke is at my shoulders. “Stiff as a board.” Our voices grow in octave and the chant picks up pace. He continues to rise higher and higher, past my neck, past my head.
“Holy shit,” Lily curses in surprise.
Instantly, his body feels like a ton of weight, ready to snap my index finger into two. Lily gasps and lets go first, then Willow falters, and Ryke crashes downward.
Onto me.
My ass hits the floor hard, maybe karma for my evil thoughts towards Loren Hale. Ryke’s left elbow digs into my ribs, his body weight crushing me. This is not ideal.
“Fuck,” Ryke curses. “Rose, are you okay?” His sincerity and concern is greatly appreciated.
“This is a new game.” Connor’s voice electrocutes my insides. I can’t see him past Ryke’s large head. Ryke picks himself off me as quickly as he can and apologizes to me, not to Connor. Since I’m the one he body-slammed into the ground.
“Enrage a spirit already?” Connor says as he steps over bowls to reach me in the middle of the sleeping area. His eyes sweep me for signs of injury. I’m all in one piece, and my glare must calm him enough because he never mentions ice bags or trips to the hospital.
“No,” I say, straightening my black pajama top.
Connor puts a foot on either side of my legs and he squats in front of me, the whole motion caked with dominance, and I freeze altogether. “Were we playing twister without the mat?” he asks, and I notice the wine glass in his hand. I didn’t see him slip out of the bathroom and into the kitchen, but if he did, he saw our game.
He’s just being an ass. His lips rise as he takes a sip, intolerably slow. An infuriating, attractive ass.
“Light-as-a-feather, stiff-as-a-board,” Lily answers. “We were lifting Ryke.”
He knows, I want to say, but I’m having a stare-a-thon with my husband. I will not blink and lose.