the fireplace for cleaning up ash, and swept up the small shards.
“Okay, Madison, it’s your turn,” Taylor said.
“I have these.” I held up a set of pom-poms from when Cassidy and I did cheer together in sixth grade.
“And these.” I put an old pair of pink ballet slippers in the box.
“And this.” I held up a program from a dance recital we’d done when we were six.
“Oh, I can’t forget this.” I showed them a small silver bracelet—Cassidy and I had worn matching ones at about the same time we wore identical clothes. Which was most of elementary school.
“Not to mention these.” I pointed to a stack of books on the footstool. “We used to trade books back and forth all the time.”
“I think you’re going to have to narrow it down. The box isn’t that big,” Olivia said.
“Okay. I’ll pick what seems most important.” I slid the ballet slippers in with the dance program, two paperbacks, and one pom-pom. “Done. Can one of you seal it up while I start the fire? And can the other one write down the names so we can toss them in when the fire is ready?”
Olivia picked up the roll of packing tape and pulledoff a strip. “What should I write on here?” She grabbed a bottle of nail polish from the collection I’d put on the coffee table for our sleepover. We usually paint our toenails while we sit around watching movies. “How about, ‘our stuff’?”
A minute later, while I was stacking logs in the fireplace, I heard Olivia say, “Why isn’t this showing …? Oh, hold on a second. I grabbed clear.” She started laughing.
“Here, Oblivia, use this.” Taylor handed her a bottle of purple glitter polish. “I’m done.” She waved the sheet of paper in the air, showing us Cassidy’s, Kayley’s, and Alexis’s names written in large letters.
“I just want to get this over with,” Olivia said. “It’s starting to feel kind of creepy. Like voodoo dolls. Then again, those don’t work.
This
is going to work. Right?”
“Wait a second. When did you try voodoo dolls?” Taylor asked.
“Remember that time your neck hurt really badly, and you thought it was from a new trick you did on the balance beam?” Olivia asked.
Taylor’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”
Olivia giggled. “No, I’m only joking. Why would I do that to you?” She laughed again. “I actually tried it on someone else.”
“Who?”
“I refuse to answer on the grounds it might incriminalize me,” said Olivia.
“Incriminate,” I corrected her.
“Whatever. I’m not saying.” Olivia smiled. “So, how’s that fire coming along?” She nudged me in the side.
I backed away from the fireplace. I’d arranged the logs and stuffed kindling underneath them, and now all I had to do was throw in a lit match. Easy, right? I lit a match. And then another and another. Each one went out instantly as soon as I laid it in the fireplace.
I grabbed some sheets of newspaper from the bin beside the fireplace and stuffed them under the kindling. I lit the newspaper on fire with a new match, then turned around. “Ready?”
Olivia waved the paper with the mean girls’ names on it in the air. “Ready.” She tossed it in the fireplace. We all stood back, waiting for the paper to catch fire. But the newspaper hadn’t ignited the kindling, which didn’t ignite the logs. The names just sat there, turning slightly tan, smoldering on a log.
Why was this taking so long? I glanced at the clock above the fireplace. It was already seven fifty-five, and we wanted to watch a movie that started at eight.
“Light already!” I cried. I looked around for something else to put in to make the fire happen. I grabbed the extra black and green pom-pom and tossed it in.
WHOOSH!
There was an instant, blazing fire.
Taylor clapped her hand over her face, covering her nose. “Ew! That stinks. Why is there so much smoke?”
“Uh-oh. I think we just polluted the entire house,” Olivia said.
Mom came running down the stairs,
“Okay, Madison, it’s your turn,” Taylor said.
“I have these.” I held up a set of pom-poms from when Cassidy and I did cheer together in sixth grade.
“And these.” I put an old pair of pink ballet slippers in the box.
“And this.” I held up a program from a dance recital we’d done when we were six.
“Oh, I can’t forget this.” I showed them a small silver bracelet—Cassidy and I had worn matching ones at about the same time we wore identical clothes. Which was most of elementary school.
“Not to mention these.” I pointed to a stack of books on the footstool. “We used to trade books back and forth all the time.”
“I think you’re going to have to narrow it down. The box isn’t that big,” Olivia said.
“Okay. I’ll pick what seems most important.” I slid the ballet slippers in with the dance program, two paperbacks, and one pom-pom. “Done. Can one of you seal it up while I start the fire? And can the other one write down the names so we can toss them in when the fire is ready?”
Olivia picked up the roll of packing tape and pulledoff a strip. “What should I write on here?” She grabbed a bottle of nail polish from the collection I’d put on the coffee table for our sleepover. We usually paint our toenails while we sit around watching movies. “How about, ‘our stuff’?”
A minute later, while I was stacking logs in the fireplace, I heard Olivia say, “Why isn’t this showing …? Oh, hold on a second. I grabbed clear.” She started laughing.
“Here, Oblivia, use this.” Taylor handed her a bottle of purple glitter polish. “I’m done.” She waved the sheet of paper in the air, showing us Cassidy’s, Kayley’s, and Alexis’s names written in large letters.
“I just want to get this over with,” Olivia said. “It’s starting to feel kind of creepy. Like voodoo dolls. Then again, those don’t work.
This
is going to work. Right?”
“Wait a second. When did you try voodoo dolls?” Taylor asked.
“Remember that time your neck hurt really badly, and you thought it was from a new trick you did on the balance beam?” Olivia asked.
Taylor’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”
Olivia giggled. “No, I’m only joking. Why would I do that to you?” She laughed again. “I actually tried it on someone else.”
“Who?”
“I refuse to answer on the grounds it might incriminalize me,” said Olivia.
“Incriminate,” I corrected her.
“Whatever. I’m not saying.” Olivia smiled. “So, how’s that fire coming along?” She nudged me in the side.
I backed away from the fireplace. I’d arranged the logs and stuffed kindling underneath them, and now all I had to do was throw in a lit match. Easy, right? I lit a match. And then another and another. Each one went out instantly as soon as I laid it in the fireplace.
I grabbed some sheets of newspaper from the bin beside the fireplace and stuffed them under the kindling. I lit the newspaper on fire with a new match, then turned around. “Ready?”
Olivia waved the paper with the mean girls’ names on it in the air. “Ready.” She tossed it in the fireplace. We all stood back, waiting for the paper to catch fire. But the newspaper hadn’t ignited the kindling, which didn’t ignite the logs. The names just sat there, turning slightly tan, smoldering on a log.
Why was this taking so long? I glanced at the clock above the fireplace. It was already seven fifty-five, and we wanted to watch a movie that started at eight.
“Light already!” I cried. I looked around for something else to put in to make the fire happen. I grabbed the extra black and green pom-pom and tossed it in.
WHOOSH!
There was an instant, blazing fire.
Taylor clapped her hand over her face, covering her nose. “Ew! That stinks. Why is there so much smoke?”
“Uh-oh. I think we just polluted the entire house,” Olivia said.
Mom came running down the stairs,
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