On Friday, March 16, 1956, Allison Groves did not show up to her classes. Rumors circling the second year class related that she'd spent the whole night throwing up. The truth was nothing so severe: she'd simply left her dormitory at a little past eleven the night before and went down to the infirmary complaining of an upset stomach.

Of course, the real truth was even less severe than that: Allison Groves was perfectly fine.

Shannon, Caleb, Ginger, Ollie, Jared, and Dexter took a little extra time at the end of the school day to go to the infirmary to see how Allison was doing. Miss Winters had let them in with a multitude of mutterings about all the things she had to see to, most of which the group did not quite catch. Allison was awake when they came in. She was sitting up in bed, dressed in her pajamas, reading a book. Even from a distance she seemed exhausted; her eyes were surrounded by dark purple rings—a sharp contrast to an unusually pale face—and she seemed to be having trouble keeping them open. She smiled when she saw them, though, meaning she had to at least be in good spirits.

That was not exactly true, but it was a very peculiar situation Allison Groves found herself in that day.

Shannon took a seat at the foot of Allison's bed, and the others gathered around one side, looking down at her with half-smiling faces laced with uncertainty, like somewhere in the back of their minds they expected she might collapse into a fit of some kind. The rings around her eyes were worse up close. Her glasses amplified them, illustrating their full color palate.

"Tough day, huh, Al?" Caleb asked, the corner of his mouth twitching.

"It's been...long," Allison said carefully, shooting him a dirty look. "And don't call me that."

"Hope you're not contagious," Jared said.

Allison flapped her hand and made a 'pah' sound. "Miss Winters wouldn't let you in here if she thought you had anything to worry about. Besides" –Allison's voice lowered considerably and she glanced furtively at the few other occupied beds in the infirmary— "I'm not."

It was not guesswork or wishful thinking; she said the words so assuredly it could have been nothing other than pure fact. Allison looked around the room again, letting her gaze linger longer this time on each occupied bed, calculating, gathering information and making decisions that were a mystery to the six people at her bedside.

Shannon Malone thought that perhaps she saw a little of what Allison was thinking in that moment.

It's now or never.

"I'm not sick," Allison said, her voice casual but soft. She took her book—which had been lying open and face-down across her chest—marked her place with a bookmark that looked like merely a torn strip of paper, and set it on the small white table next to her bed. The words bordered on pure absurdity, at least in Shannon's opinion. When she was looking straight at Allison's pallid face and sunken eyes, it seemed absurd indeed. She had a feeling that if she touched Allison's skin it would be clammy.

"So this is just a new look you're trying out?" Dexter asked dryly, gesturing vaguely with his hands.

Allison fixed Dexter with a curiously appraising look, but Shannon wondered if it was really directed at him.

"I'm not sick," Allison said again, shrugging. She looked down and played with the crisp white bed sheet. The silence that stretched the following seconds was loaded.

"Why are you here then?" Caleb asked. His voice sounded strangely grown up, like the voice of a parent indulging their child. However, he peered at her with eyes clouded in confusion but not disbelief, something that was mirrored in all of Allison's visitors' faces.

Allison shrugged again, walking her fingers across the sheet. "I've been...working on something."

"You've been working on something in the infirmary?" Jared asked doubtfully, giving a short glance around her bed as if looking for signs of Allison's work.

"Well, actually, not really," Allison said, and then her lips twitched. She looked like she was thinking of a private joke. "In fact, I haven't been in the infirmary for most of the day."

Allison looked very nearly proud of herself and her assertion, and there was still the undeniable twinge of amusement painting her expression. Shannon frowned exceedingly slowly, like the muscles in her face were having trouble keeping up with her bewilderment. Somewhere in the back of her mind she had catalogued the fact that, in spite of her façade of nonchalance, her voice was hushed. She did not want just anyone to hear her.

"Uh-huh," Jared said. "Are you being medicated right now?"

"Shut up, asshole," Allison said, but her irritation was half-hearted. She sucked in a deep breath through her nose. "Look, you guys...you're not gonna like this." Her fingers danced on the bed sheets again but she looked around at the group, even if it seemed she had to force herself to do it. "I'm gonna try to lure the monster out."

Her voice was so low Shannon—and presumably the others—had to strain to hear. Somehow, Shannon was not surprised by what Allison said.

"Allison, that's suicide," Caleb said, but he was grim, like he knew he was fighting a losing battle, even before it had begun. Unconsciously, he had followed Allison's example and spoke softly, giving his words even less clout.

"I don't care," Allison said. She made a fist and brought it down on the bed sheet like a judge's gavel. "Someone has to do something."

"Not you," Shannon said, trying to sound firm. She thought she succeeded in sounding ill. "Allison, this is something the grown-ups should take care of. We don't even know what we're doing."

'Grown-ups' sounded silly and childish once it was out of her mouth. But then Shannon felt a bit silly and childish having this conversation. And that was the point, wasn't it? They were children, after all.

"Maybe you don't know what you're doing, Shannon," Allison said, a bit harshly, "but I do. I have to do this."

"Allison," Ginger began, her face drawn up into something resembling a wince, "how?"

Allison looked around the room once more, spending a copious amount of time on the boy closest to her. He was three beds to the right and snoring soundly, but she looked at him doubtfully. When she looked back to the group Shannon saw her eyes flash back in his direction once more even though she tried to hide it.

"Just like I said." Allison's voice was just a whisper. "Astral projection."

Suddenly it all made sense to Shannon.

"That's what you've been doing all day," she said. "That's why you look so terrible. You've been practicing."

Allison at least looked guilty. Her eyes drifted downwards a number of times as she tried to fight the urge to turn her whole face down, away from the group's scrutiny. She pulled gently at the bed sheet with her thumb and forefinger.

"It was easy," she said. "If anyone saw me they'd just think I was asleep. And I'm always sort of aware of what's going on around my real body, so if Miss Winters or anybody came to check on me I could come back to myself right away. Like I just woke up. I was just trying, you know, to see how long I could go and how far away I could project myself. It's just...it gets tiring after a while."

"But what...what do you plan to do?" Ginger asked. Her almost-wince had not disappeared; if anything, it had grown more pronounced.

"Don't you get it?" Allison asked. "I'll use my projection to lure the monster out. Or monsters. Whatever it is."

"You want to be bait?" Ollie asked.

Ollie had not spoken since the six of them had arrived, and now Shannon rather wished that she hadn't. Her voice was so soft and so high and sounded so afraid; it grated awkwardly on Shannon's bones. She did not look at the girl because she knew that if she did she'd find Ollie's face caught in that bizarre illusion she often found it in, making it seem that any second she'd begin to cry.

Shannon half-expected Allison to protest, but all Allison said was, "If I have to be, I guess."

"You are medicated, aren't you," Jared said. His voice was borderline monotone and what he said was not really a question.

"Will you quit it?" Allison said in exasperation. "I'm not. I'm serious."

Just as they all knew she was. Perhaps they had all even seen this coming. Perhaps they had realized they had not really convinced her to forget it.

"Look, I'm not asking any of you to do this with me," she said. "But I have to do this. I have to."

The boy three beds down let out a snore that sounded surprisingly like a semi-truck driving by. Allison looked around in nervous surprise, like she'd just been caught at the scene of a crime. After a pause she made a noise somewhere in between a cough and a laugh and shook her head.

"Allison," Shannon said, placing her hand gently on the other girl's, "you don't have to do this. It's too dangerous. There has to be another way—"

"You don't understand," Allison groaned. "You just don't. This is something I have to do. I...I can't really explain why."

For one short, strange moment Shannon could see the ghost of Mabel Starkowski written on every inch of Allison's countenance. It was almost as if she was looking at the face of two people at once: the face of her friend and the face of a girl she had never met. She could not reason either out. She understood Allison's dedication to her friend but she felt like she was only seeing half of the picture. Something was missing. Allison and her motivations were more a mystery to her now than ever.

"Allison, we can figure this out," Caleb said. He looked her straight in the eye. "I know why you think you have to do this. But it's not worth it—so much could go wrong—"

"No, you don't," Allison said, quietly but firmly. "You don't know, you don't get it."

"Then explain it to me. Explain it to us." Caleb looked at her, face pleading. Allison folded her arms and looked away.

"Allison, you're talking about using yourself to lure out monsters that have already killed people," Dexter said.

"Well, not really," Allison protested feebly. "It won't really be me, it'll just be a projection of me, so I'll be fine—"

"What if something goes wrong?" Ginger asked.

"I've thought it over!" Allison said, her sudden change in volume taking everyone by surprise and causing Ollie to jump. A girl in a bed across the room shot the group a dirty look and rolled over, facing away from them. The snoring boy snuffled but did not awake. Allison's ears turned red. Much more subdued, she continued. "I know it's dangerous, I know it's risky, I know it's stupid, but I...I have to know."

The unspoken 'to know what?' hung in the air around the group almost as if it were visible, but no one had the courage to pluck it out of space and ask it. They weren't sure they wanted to know the answer. Shannon herself thought that the key to Allison's motives would be in the answer, but in spite of that—or perhaps because of it—she did not ask.

"I'm doing it tonight," Allison said dully. "Midnight. If I concentrate very hard, I can project myself outside of the school onto the grounds. I'll just...wait. See what happens."

"You don't—" Caleb said.

"Someone has to and it might as well be me," Allison said.

"What do you mean?" Shannon asked, a bit wary of the answer.

"Because something wants me to!" Allison was able to stay quiet this time, but her voice was ferocious. "Hell, look at what happened on my birthday! That cow head was put there for me and you all know it. We keep ignoring all of this stuff. I can't anymore."

"No one's ignoring—" Dexter tried, but Allison held up a hand.

"No."

The boy three beds down mumbled something in his sleep and sighed. Allison looked over and him and rolled her eyes.

"He's been doing that all day," she said, as if the whole previous conversation had not happened. Before anything else could happen, Miss Winters was coming towards them, gliding across the ground in her long, confident strides.

"I would suggest wrapping up your visitation," she said, not unkindly. "I think the best thing for Miss Groves right now is rest." She held up a small vial. "I've a little something here I'd like you to drink. It should help with your upset stomach."

"Yes, Miss Winters," Allison said, and Shannon was fairly certain the other girl was glad to have the interruption.

The group dutifully shuffled back as Miss Winters moved forward. Shannon got up off of the bed. The vial Miss Winters held contained a red fluid, so similar to blood that it made Shannon a touch uncomfortable. She'd never seen a medicine that looked quite like that. Allison was unbothered and drank it in one.

"Now, really try to get some sleep," Miss Winters said sternly. "You're looking awfully peaky."

Miss Winters looked at the rest of them in a way that was not overly blatant but still quite plainly said that they should go. They lingered on for a few moments, waiting for some kind of resolution to a conversation they all knew had already ended. Allison gave them a sunny smile that was completely unlike her, and it was obvious that that was that.

"Hope you feel better, Allison." Shannon said and supposed that Allison knew as well as she that that wasn't really the message she wanted to relay.

"Thanks," Allison said. "See you later."

The group of them exited the infirmary almost as a solid entity. The air around them was charged, an unknown kind of electricity passing in waves between them. Unknown and dangerous. They made it all the way back to the deserted entry hall—a place Shannon hadn't seen empty like this since the beginning of the year banquet—before anyone spoke.

"This is about Mabel, isn't it?" Dexter asked, alternating glances between Shannon and Caleb. His voice, though quiet, seemed to echo in the empty hall. Perhaps that was just Shannon's imagination.

"Yeah, I think so," Caleb replied. He scuffed his foot across the smooth stone of the floor.

"She wants to find her," Shannon said, her voice sounding foreign to her own ears. "She thinks Mabel's still alive."

The words took on a weight they had not had when she thought them in her head. Shannon felt a little self-conscious.

"Still?" Ginger asked regretfully. "That was..."

"June," Caleb finished for her. "It was June."

Something that truthfully they all—even Shannon—knew very well. Shannon was aware of that same inexplicable fancy she'd had with Allison; she could see Mabel Starkowski, a girl she'd never known, in each of the others' faces. She realized with something akin to a shock that she had no idea how close any of them had been to the girl who'd disappeared last June. She had never thought to ask a one of them.

"Do you think she's really gonna do it?" Ginger asked.

"Oh, yeah, she's gonna do it," Caleb said. He looked back the way they had come. "You bet."

If any one of them was tempted to say what they were all thinking, none of them gave in. They broke up awkwardly and with few words; Caleb headed for the stairs and Shannon, Ginger, Ollie, Dexter, and Jared went for the entry door. No one mentioned it, but each of them spared a glance back to the hallway that led to the infirmary. Back to Allison.

She's going to get herself killed.

***Oh, Allison. Will you ever stop trying to get yourself killed? Anyway, thanks to everyone who voted and commented. It means a lot to me :)***