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of ash right now.
    Sharon shakes her head. “Why do you encourage him?”
    When we reach my house, we hurry upstairs to my room to avoid detection. We’re happily talking and printing off shots when Mom comes into my room, asking if Sharon would like to stay for dinner. I hide the death photos in my desk as she comes in. I don’t want her to see them because I’m afraid she’ll wig out and send me to counselling again. She did that when I was eight for cutting all the heads off my Barbies.

    I was just bored, I think, or the forces were particularly strong that day. But the shrink decided I suffered from antisocial behaviour. He wanted to put me on some kind of pediatric antidepressant but Mom freaked and told him to forget it. And that was the end of that.
    I know Mom wishes I were more like Peggy, all excited about things. She never says anything directly, but I can tell by the way she looks at me sometimes that her lifewould be a whole lot easier if I were a little more “peace, love and happiness.” If I could explain to her about machines and invisible forces she might understand, but I can’t, so there’s no point even trying.
    Sharon’s an ace about eating over. She pretends to be excited when Mom serves stuffed squash flowers, even though she’s a hard-core carnivore.
    “What are you girls up to tonight?” Dad asks.
    “I have a cheerleading practice at eight,” Peggy says.
    She’s really going to see her boyfriend for a make-out session. I overheard them talking on the phone. But I won’t blow the whistle on her yet. I may need this information for blackmail leverage in the future.
    “Do you need a ride?” Mom asks.
    Peggy shakes her head.
    “What time will you be home?”
    “Probably late because we’re all going over to Josie’s afterward to talk about our strategy for the trials this summer.” She flashes her sweetest metallic smile, and Mom and Dad are totally duped.
    “What about you two?” Dad asks me.
    “We’re gonna snort coke and walk the streets.”
    Sharon kicks me under the table. Mom just sighs.
    Dad keeps eating. “Fine. Just make sure you’re home before midnight.”
    We’re really going to a bush party on the outskirts of town. I almost never go to these things but I heard that Darin’ might go. Sharon has her eye on a guy from another high school named Gus. Neither of us has a licence and we definitely don’t want our parents todrive us so we’ll have to walk. I just hope Darin’ actually shows.
    “May I be excused?” Peggy asks.
    She hasn’t even touched her squash flower. Dad reaches over and takes it from her plate, putting it on his own.
    “More for me,” he says, smiling at Sharon.
    Sharon smiles back, but she hasn’t touched her squash flower either.
    After dinner, we primp for a bit then begin our trek to the hinterland for the bush party. Sharon chatters non-stop about Gus, telling me how gorgeous and amazing he is, etc., etc.
    “I think Chocko lives out here somewhere,” she interrupts herself as we tramp down this lonely road.
    I look around at the barren farmland. “There isn’t a house in sight. Do you even know where we’re going?”
    Sharon’s leading because she got the coordinates from Gus. She points across a field. “It’s over this way, I think.”
    We leave the road for the field and continuing hiking for what seems like an hour before reaching the edge of the woods. Sharon continues to chatter. I’m fed up already and we haven’t even got to the party yet. To make matters worse, it’s pitch-black in the woods and there are all these spooky, unidentifiable sounds. The ground is kind of spongy and wet, too. My boots are getting all dirty.
    “If Darin’ isn’t there, I don’t want to stay,” I say.
    “He’ll be there.”
    “Well… if he isn’t, I don’t want to stick around.”
    “God, Sioux, he’ll be there.”
    A century later, we’re still bushwhacking through the forest, desperately trying to find this stupid party.