Clay's party is, apparently, open to both stoners and non-stoners alike.

That's the first observation I make when we walk down the trail into the heart of the forest preserve serving as the hub of the party. The second is that despite my first observation, the air still reeks of weed.

"I love what they've done with the place." Nick nods to the visitor center, its low walls and picnic tables now filled with partying teens and all that follows in their wake: coolers, kegs, and all the like. At one of the firepits a little ways off, a large group of people is dancing to mumble rap, their silhouettes defined against the blaze behind them.

"Heyyyyyy," someone croons, and the three of us turn to see Clay stumbling towards us. "You dudes made it!"

"Thought we'd drop by," I manage to say. I think the entirety of the party's weed smell might just be Clay, but I keep that to myself.

Clay keeps nodding, even though I stopped talking about thirty seconds ago. Eventually, he catches himself, realizing that he is the benevolent host of this party, and raises his can of beer to the starry sky. Without fail, everyone else follows suit.

"To Willow's Crest!" Clay shouts, his voice somehow carrying above the sounds of the party. "And to the Harbinger! May they bring more, uh, dead people!"

Everyone must be pretty hammered, because they start hooting and hollering to that excuse of a toast.

"What a way with words," Jase marvels wryly.

"He should write your dad's speeches." Nick nudges Jase with a wink, and Jase just shoots him a tired look.

Clay directs his attention back to us. "Oh, hey guys. Did you just get here?"

Nick, Jase, and I look to one another, but before one of us can answer him, Clay's eyes widen as a group of people hurry past, towards the treeline. "Oh, dudes! They're playing Ghost in the Graveyard!"

He takes off after the raucous group.

"Should we join them?" Nick asks.

He and Jase both glance at me, as if asking permission. I don't get a chance to answer though, because someone else answers for me.

"Dressed like that, you definitely shouldn't."

We spin around to find a girl with dark hair walking towards us, a can of Sprite in her hands. She seems familiar, and that's when I place her. The girl from Marie's bookshop, Ailana.

"Oh?" I ask. "What makes you say that?"

Ailana smiles, flipping her dark hair over one shoulder. "Because all of them are drunk off their asses and will probably ruin your fancy get-ups." She wags a finger towards us.

"I'm sorry, I don't believe we've met," Nick says, his voice low. "I'm Nick."

He makes to move between Jase and I, but we both elbow him. He yelps, gripping his sides, but not without shooting us withering looks.

"I know," Ailana says simply. "We have Physics together."

Nick goes bug-eyed, and Jase and I snicker. Classic Nick.

"So, Ailana, right?" Jase asks. Ailana nods, confirming her name, and Jase continues. "Did you get the job at Madame L'Mort's?"

"Oh!" Ailana laughs good-naturedly, as if she'd forgotten. "Yeah, I did!"

"That's great!" Jase says. He motions to Nick and I. "You'll probably see us there a lot."

Ailana quirks an eyebrow. "Is a bookstore really the hottest ticket in this town?"

I laugh. "Not necessarily, but it's a special place in and of itself."

Ailana shrugs and takes a sip of her Sprite. When she lowers it, smacking her lips, she points over to group of people all huddled around an empty fire-pit. "What're they doing?"

I make to answer as we instinctively move closer, but words fail me when I see what they're doing.

"Are you all crazy?" Nick speaks my thoughts exactly, looming over the Ouija board in the middle of the group.

"The hell, bro?" Someone asks. "It's just a game."

"No, no, it's not," I rebuff. "It's a portal."

"It's a portal," someone else mocks. "Give me a break."

"Look, it's moving!" A girl squeals, and everyone is sucked back into the game.

Ailana is eyeing us warily. "What's your guys' problem with it?" There's a certain air of skepticism in her eyes, but I can't place if its placing her on our side or theirs.

Jase shakes his head. "There's just a lot of bad things tied to Ouija boards."

"Like, really bad things."

Ailana keeps looking at us with that strange look in her eyes, the one that I recognize on every person's face when I confirm that some strange happening has been paranormal. Like even though there are no other answers, they still won't open their minds to believe in that which can't be seen.

I don't realize I'm bristling until suddenly, the group falls quiet amid the chaos of the ongoing party, and I'm drawn out of my mind.

"What?" I ask.

Jase's eyes are wide, locked on the Ouija board. He doesn't say anything, which makes things worse.

"Jase?"

"Look."

He points to the board, to where the planchette is drifting across the board in swift, almost aggressive strokes.

"Which of you assholes is moving it?" One boy asks gruffly, shooting a look at the other players.

"None of us are moving it, Jason!" The girl cries. Her cheeks have gone so red, she almost looks like she'd about to either scream or cry. Her gaze floats back down to the board, and she muffles another squeal.

"Oh, come on." Ailana huffs a breath, perching herself onto a nearby picnic table. "It's just a game."

I shake my head, not finding it within myself to try and defend the sanctity of this ritual to an outsider like her at the moment. Instead, I look back to the group.

"What did you ask it?" I ask.

Another boy looks up at me, fear in his beady eyes. When he speaks, his voice is tinny, so soft that I have to lean in to hear him.

"We asked what it wanted."

"And what does it want?" Nick asks, casting a wary look around the group. His gaze meets mine for a split second, and he quickly looks away as the planchette stops moving across the board, drawing our attention.

R-E-V-E-N-G-E.

"Revenge." I breathe. Everyone's still so spooked, so I try to laugh, but it sounds weak. "How typical, am I right?"

The girl looks back up at me, and I know what she's about to do, but I'm still too slow to stop her when she removes her fingers from the planchette and scrambles away from the board.

"Bailey!" Everyone exclaims.

"I'm sorry!" Bailey pushes herself to her feet. "I don't want to play anymore."

"We didn't say goodbye!" The gruff boy, Jason, protests.

Bailey merely shakes her head, and for a moment, I almost feel bad for her.

"It's just a game," she says, but whether it's to the rest of us or just herself, we don't know, because she storms off down the path, to where another group is delving into the woods.

We all watch her go, the planchette still stuck on the E of the board, as if even whatever vengeful spirit they've contacted is watching her go as well.

"Well," Nick chimes, his voice alarmingly chipper for the atmosphere of the game. "I think this is when we should head out--"

Nick doesn't get to finish, because at that moment, the sounds of people sprinting out of the woods in a panic sends the party spinning off its axis. Everyone falls quiet as we turn to face a group of kids emerge from the treeline, fear-stricken expressions on their faces like masks. I quickly recognize two of them as Bull Shark and Celery, Clay's unexciting friends.

"--It was crazy, man! Something just came out of the trees and the next thing we knew, Clay was gone!" Celery was saying from between pants.

Nick, Jase, and I exchange looks, drifting closer to where the group is recuperating. A few people have gathered to ask them what's up, but even while the rest of the party-goers have fired the music and conversations back up, it's easy to catch their concerned eyes wandering back to the treeline.

"Tim, did you guys...y'know..." One of the guys gathered nearby Celery gestures noncommittally. "Take anything?"

"Nah, man!" Celery--Tim--rebuffs. "I know what I saw! I wasn't tripping."

"Tim," I say, snagging his frantic attention. "What happened?"

Tim shakes his head, dragging a hand through his wild head of unruly curls. "Clay's gone!"

"What do you mean 'he's gone'?" Jase asks.

"Yeah, weren't you guys all playing Ghost in the Graveyard?" Tim's friend asks.

"Well, yeah," Tim says, catching his breath. "But I swear, I saw something!" He looks back to me, as if noticing me for the first time. "Stella! You tell them: it was a ghost or something!"

All eyes turn to me, and for the first time in my life, I regret my affinity for the paranormal. I force myself to look back to Tim, choosing my next words carefully.

"Well, Tim, isn't it possible that Clay's just hiding somewhere? That is the point of the game, right?"

Tim furrows his eyebrows, as if some part of him hadn't thought of that but another part doesn't believe it regardless. "Yeah, but--"

"--But, Clay was also pretty intoxicated." Tim's friend cuts in for me, shooting me a sympathetic look. "Maybe he just passed out behind a log or something."

Bull Shark drifts over, nudging Tim. "He did crash in your bushes a few weeks ago."

Tim presses his lips into a thin line, then shakes his head. "I'm gonna kill that asshole!" He says it with a strained laugh, then punches Bull Shark in the arm. "Come on, he owes us a hit anyway."

They make to head back into the treeline.

"Uh, where do you two think you're going?" Nick asks, ever the voice of reason--but you didn't hear that from me.

Tim glances back to us, as if once more, forgetting we were there. "Back to find Clay and pummel his ass."

With that, he, Bull Shark, and their skeptical friend disappear into the treeline, the smell of weed and raucous chatter floating up in their wake.

"What better way to thank the host," Jase drawls with a shake of his head. He drags a hand through his hair and turns to me. "Should we head out?"

I cast one last glance around the party, to the group of teenagers scattered around the area without a care in the world.

Something doesn't sit right with me, and it's because of that Ouija Board. It's hard to get people to believe in the paranormal, much less respect it--especially when their device of choice can be bought in a children's store. Even if I don't believe in all the stories of the Harbinger, tonight is still a pivotal night. Jason and Bailey and the rest of their group could have contacted and summoned something sinister.

But as I spot Jason chugging down a beer, it could very well have just been some intoxicated teens thinking they're slick.

I turn back to Jase and Nick, and all it takes is one look for the three of us to head back out the way we came in silence, leaving the drunk, the high, and the supposed ghosts in graveyards behind us in the thicket of the wood.

-<>-

Over dinner, my family, Nick, Jase, and I are seated at our typical booth at Cliff's. Empty plates scattered before him, Nick's beaming as everyone laughs, another story well received.

"Nick, you are too much," Mom says between laughs. She wipes a tear from her eye, which somehow makes her laugh even more.

"I try, Mrs. Sawyer," Nick says. He catches me looking and winks as if to say, your mom likes me.

I shoot him a look that reads congratulations then avert my focus back to everyone else. "Thank you for coming, everyone."

Jase makes a face, nudging me with a playful look. "As if we didn't want to."

"Happy birthday, starshine," Mom says with a warm smile. "Your father would be so proud."

My smile stretches a little thin at that, at the dip in the mood upon invoking my father's presence. "I didn't do anything."

Except live another year.

My mom just touches my shoulder, her smile melancholy. She takes a breath to say something else, but that's when Cliff slides to the head of the table, trailed by that night's staff. Cliff's carrying a chocolate cake with eighteen candles nestled intricately around the violet frosting.

The standard American teenager within me wants to die at becoming the center of attention, especially as they all start singing to me. However, as Cliff sets the cake down in front of me, the candles don't just warm my face. They warm my soul, too.

"Happy birthday, Stella!" Cliff says happily as everyone starts cheering and applauding at the song's finish.

"Make a wish, Stel!" Nick exclaims, his eyes bright. Everyone starts echoing the command, clapping along until I'm left with no choice but to blow out the candles, a stupid grin on my face all the while.

"Cliff, did you make this?" Mom asks in awe as he starts cutting the cake.

"Now, of course I did, Miss Luna," Cliff says, handing her a piece.

Evie raises an eyebrow at the cake. "I bet my cookies can put your cakes to shame, Cliff."

Cliff roars his signature laugh. "Is that so?"

They start to talk about who-knows-what, so I look out the window. The sparse leaves still clinging to the trees rattle in the evening wind, and it's almost as if despite the music and clamor of Cliff's Bistro, I can hear the noise they're making.  Almost like sirens. Some kind of strange, haunting symphony of sirens to welcome the arrival of chilling autumn--and all that may come with it.