“Wishful Thinking”

The first guest would arrive in 44 minutes, and I was sitting in my bedroom closet. Alone, in the dark.

I took a deep breath and struck the match. I watched it burn for a moment, steeling my nerves before lighting the wick of the orange pillar candle in the center of the floor. Then I glanced at my reflection in the full-length mirror leaning against the wall in front of me. It was now or never.

The next step was the one I was least looking forward to. I had never done well at the sight of blood, especially my own. Before I could think about it any further and chicken out, I grabbed the X-Acto knife sitting next to me and quickly jabbed the sharp tip into the index finger of my left hand.

I would pass out if I saw so much as a drop of blood, so I wrapped the piece of cloth around it and pressed firmly. When I was sure I was in the clear, I pulled away the cloth and slid it under the ugly orange candle. Out of sight, out of mind.

I double-checked to make sure everything was in order before continuing. Everything had to be perfect. If even a single sugar cube in the bowl in front of the mirror was out of place, I could die—at least, that’s what I’d been led to believe.

As far as I could tell, everything looked how it was supposed to. I had followed the instructions to the letter. Content with that knowledge, I closed my eyes and chanted the words I had been memorizing for the last few weeks. As per the instructions, I spoke them exactly four times:

“I call upon the stories old, desired ones of warmth and cold. With this gift, I summon thee to take part in my revelry.”

Now I just had to stare at my reflection in the mirror for four solid minutes in silence before I could make my wish. Do you have any idea how long four minutes is? I do. It is an eternity.

A lot of things could still go wrong at this point. There were a lot of weird contingency plans in the ritual instructions I found on Reddit. They were supposed to help you avoid negative outcomes.

Most of those instructions only worked in the earlier stages of the ritual. They would tell you how to end it in the event you couldn’t light the candle within four tries, or if you saw a reflection in the mirror that wasn’t your own. You know, weird, trivial things like that. They were supposed to be signs you were in danger—or maybe the entities just didn’t want to be bothered by people sitting in dark closets. I can’t say I blame them.

When my four minutes were up, I pulled out my iPhone and popped into my notes. I had gone to great lengths to craft my wish carefully and eliminate any loopholes they could use against me. They loved twisting your words around and turning your hopes and dreams into a shitshow, so you had to be specific about the way you worded your wishes. I guess if I were that powerful and had nothing better to do, I would screw with people too. You had to pass the time somehow.

I took a deep breath and voiced my wish.

“I wish for Jacob Meyers of 2315 Bushnell Ave. in Riverside, Ohio to suffer from and survive a career-ending injury tonight.”

Was taking away the thing Jacob loved more than anything else petty? Maybe. It depends on how you look at it.

I knew better than to go out with him, really; I did. There was just something about him. He was the kind of guy who could lie through his teeth, and you would just smile, nod, and accept it as the gospel. He had a cult-leader kind of charisma. When he asked me out at the beginning of summer break, I was mostly just shocked that he even knew my name.

I was nervous, but he told me he loved me, that I was the only one for him. He told me everything I never even knew I wanted to hear. He was my first, my second, my third. We did it all summer, okay? Do not judge me!

A week before school started, I found out that there were five of us—five girls he had strung along, who worshiped the ground he walked on. It was the way I found out that set this plan into motion.

Kira was the first to realize what was going on, and she did not take it well. She outed all of it on Snap and tagged us in it. She tried to kill herself that same night, but her dad found her and got her to the hospital in time.

Since then, the five of us have started hanging out. It began as a support group, but after a month, it became something else entirely. Two weeks ago, we began officially plotting our collective revenge. The only actual rule was that it had to be something he would survive. He needed to suffer for what he did.

Kira found the ritual on some subreddit dedicated to paranormal games and convinced us all that it would work. The guy who posted it claimed to be an expert on Celtic lore, so we figured it was legit. I volunteered to try it out. I didn’t believe in any of this bullshit anyway, to be honest, but the thought of it was empowering.

Even if nothing happened, I felt like I was taking back the weird power he had over me. We all were.

Something rustled just behind me. By the time I looked back, there was nothing there. I ignored it and turned back to face the mirror and finish the ritual. I noticed that the cloth with my blood on it was missing—and the bowl of sugar cubes was empty. Weird, but whatever.

Before I could process any of that, my reflection shifted in the mirror. It was still my face, but I had no control over it. It grinned at me with a chilling level of sadistic satisfaction and said only one word before the candle went out and darkness consumed me:

“Granted.”

I felt a heaviness in my chest. Of all the outcomes I expected, this had not been one of them. The party was about to get a lot more interesting.

The other girls knew not to show up early, and I doubted any of the guests would either. I had to admit the first person exactly 44 minutes from when I started the ritual. Before now, I’d always thought the magic number was three. Either I was wrong, or the fairies hadn’t gotten the memo.

My thoughts turned back to that asshat, Jacob. Not all of us had been wined and dined by him, or had that magical summer fling we thought would never end. Actually, it seemed like only Kate and I had gotten the full “boyfriend experience.”

For Beth and Charlotte, it had been a one-night stand. More of a booty call, really. There had been a promise to call in the morning, but Jacob wasn’t so good at following through. It took some time before Kira felt comfortable enough to fill us in on her particular tragedy.

She’d been dosed at a rager and passed out. The next thing she knew, Jacob had half her clothes off and was going to town on her in some random room at that evening’s party house. I know all the details, but I’m not going into any more than that.

Afterward, she was threatened into keeping her mouth shut by some of the cheerleading squad. That made me wonder how deep all of this went. The other guys on the team definitely knew about it, too.

Based on the various responses to Kira’s snaps, it seemed like almost half the school knew. What about the coaches? The teachers? In Riverside, football seemed to be more important than local politics. Was everyone just trying to cover up for their quarterback hero? The whole thing made me sick to my stomach.

I had gone so deep into thought that I lost track of time. I probably would have zoned out for a lot longer if the doorbell hadn’t rung. In a panic, I yanked my cell phone out of my pocket to check the time as I ran to the door. I had come this far, and I had no intention of screwing this up now.

I sighed in relief, seeing that I still had two minutes. A glance through the window confirmed it was my girls. I was greeted with haunted eyes and stoic nods. I waited until the 44-minute mark on the dot and let them inside.

After assuring them multiple times that everything was good to go, a nervous energy took over the room. We all just sort of sat around in silence, waiting for people to show up. That half-hour felt like yet another eternity. I had expected this, though. No one worth partying with ever really showed up on time, and we’d only invited the kind of people who understood the unwritten rules—the kind of people who needed to be taught a lesson or two.

Jacob was the last person to show up, around an hour into the party. Well, of the people I recognized, anyway. Another five people came in after he did. None of them were familiar to me or any of the girls, but each gave me an exaggerated wink when I let them in.

I can’t even properly describe them. They all looked so different from everyone else—or maybe they just felt different. Even that’s hard for me to explain now.

They fell on the party like social piranhas, immediately capturing the attention of scattered cliques. Within minutes, they were telling stories, singing songs, and dancing. I’d never seen anything like it. None of us had.

It was Kira who recognized the fae for what they were and filled us in.

“I didn’t think they would come in person, but there they are. Keep your distance unless they approach. Remember to remain polite and thankful, but whatever you do, don’t accept anything from them. I think we’re probably in the clear here, but let’s play it safe,” Naomi explained.

She was mostly just reminding us of what we had learned about the fae when we first started planning all this. Naomi had insisted upon the research, just in case. She was right, though. None of us expected them to show up. Maybe we just hoped they wouldn’t, and they’d somehow work their magic from afar. We were so naïve.

For a while, everything seemed like it was going as planned. People were dancing, drinking, and doing most of the things you expect based on decades’ worth of shows and movies about underage parties—well, the good ones anyway.

Most real parties are just awkward get-togethers where we sit on our phones, text each other, and wait for someone else to get the good times rolling. Spoiler alert: they almost never do.

This one, though, was definitely a rager, and we all knew the drill. The more reliable among us took shifts, keeping an eye out for the cops. My house was pretty remote—our nearest neighbors were a few miles off. Still, it was better to be on the safe side with things like this.

The girls and I scattered ourselves among the guests to keep an eye on things. We each made small talk and put in appearances throughout the cliques. We cycled throughout the entire house, only to do it all over again, giving one another a knowing look when our paths crossed. My house is pretty huge, so the cycle can take a little while.

On my third cycle, Jacob cornered me on my way out of the first-floor bathroom by the laundry room. I knew this would happen at some point. It was something we had all prepared ourselves for.

“Hey, Abs!” Jacob all but screamed over the music. “I’m glad I ran into you. We should talk.”

It was one of those embarrassing moments where you’re shouting over the music, and it stops halfway through between songs. I don’t even think he noticed, though, and if he did, he didn’t care. Jacob wasn’t the kind of guy who felt things like embarrassment. He always acted like he was above all the things us commoners had to deal with. Typical douche-bro behavior.

“Oh, hey, Jacob,” I replied, trying to keep my cool.

Before I could object, he was leading me into the laundry room. Between those bright blue eyes, his dimples, the use of his nickname for me, and the touch of his skin, I was powerless.

I snapped out of it at the sound of the door shutting and locking behind us. The number one rule the girls and I had made was that none of us would end up in a room alone with him at the party. If you found yourself in that situation—because we all knew the power he held over us—you were supposed to message the group chat so someone could come and save you.

Before he turned to face me, my phone was in my hands. I had just sent the 911 text to the girls by the time our eyes met. He carefully took the phone from me and set it on the dryer. It wasn’t like he jerked it out of my hands or anything. He had that way of making you feel like it was what you wanted—that having his full attention was more important than anything else in the universe.

“I know what you’re up to, Abs, and I’m a little hurt, if I’m being honest. Did our… love… mean nothing to you?”

His words seemed slow and far away, like I was hearing them underwater. How could he know what I did—what we did?

“Come on, Abs. You weren’t exactly subtle about it. Not once have you ever thrown a party, and suddenly you invite everyone over who’s on or connected to the team? I thought you were smarter than that,” he said, disappointment tainting his voice.

I glanced at my phone.

“It won’t do you any good—or them, for that matter,” he revealed, a sickly grin ruining his beautiful face.

“What do you mean? What did you do, Jacob?” I could barely choke the words out.

“They’re busy, just like you are. The second we realized that something was going on, we made a plan of our own,” he said.

He came closer, pressing me back against the wall. Just as I started to struggle and call out for help, he slapped me. Just like that. I was stunned.

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Abs. No one really cares about any of you. How did you think this was gonna play out, huh? You’d reveal us as assholes, and somehow everything would be right with your little world? Everyone here knows what happened. You think there’s only five of you? There are dozens, Abs. Dozens. Hell, maybe more. I’ve never had to do math in my life,” he said—and slapped me again for good measure.

The door handle rattled, like someone was trying to open it. Then someone started banging on the door. I took advantage of the distraction and did what my parents had always told me to do in a situation like this. I kicked him right in the balls. Not a pathetic little kick, either. I reared back my foot and shoved it forward into his crotch like I was aiming for a field goal.

I turned to run for the door as Jacob fell to one knee, but somehow he grabbed my ponytail and yanked me down with him. He came down onto my throat with his other knee, pinning me down and choking me at the same time. He held me there, coughing and screaming about something I couldn’t understand. Even the banging on the door was fading along with my vision.

Suddenly, the door exploded, and I could breathe again. I was confused at first. Pieces of the door were raining down everywhere, and I could hear Jacob screaming bloody murder. The next thing I knew, this gorgeous, cottage-core girl with the most beautiful green eyes I had ever seen was helping me up and asking if I was okay.

“Uh… yeah… Yeah, I guess so,” I stuttered.

I’d love to lie and tell you I stuttered because I was still in shock, but I don’t think that was it at all. I’m totally straight, just a FYI, but hot damn. She took my breath away. I shook it off when I remembered what Jacob said about my girls.

“We have to help them! They’re doing something to my friends,” I shouted and made a mad dash for the door—or what was left of it.

I got maybe three steps from her and stopped. She placed a hand on my shoulder, and suddenly I was calm. Dead calm. I couldn’t help but feel like everything was going to be okay. No—like everything was okay. Then she spoke.

“Your friends are waiting for you. Everyone is waiting for you,” her soothing voice all but sang the words.

She took my hand and squeezed it gently. That feeling of comfort grew stronger. I let her lead me to the great room, where most of the party had been when I had headed to the bathroom forever ago.

Music still played, but the scene before me was one out of a nightmare. I’ll try to explain it the best I can.

Half the people were eating and drinking. By that, I mean a gluttonous act where they were stuffing liquids and solids alike down their throats, whether or not they fit. They were choking as they crammed it all in, then vomiting it up and doing it again. A few of them were shirtless, and you could actually see how swollen their stomachs were, like they might burst at any second.

Just about everyone else was dancing. When I say dancing, I mean they were running around and spasming to the music. They screamed almost in unison as their shoes tore and their feet split. They left bloody footprints all over the carpet, unable to stop moving.

Despite everything, I wanted to feel sorry for them. Another gentle squeeze of my hand told me that everything was going to be okay. I can’t explain it now, but that’s how it felt. I was watching people party themselves to death, and I just stood there and watched it, like it was an episode of Outer Banks.

She took me to my girls, and we stood together. Each of us was holding the hand of someone I didn’t recognize. The fae, I remembered Kira saying earlier. Five others slipped into the room, dragging people behind them. They laid out Jacob and four of his teammates in the middle of the room.

“Be still, children,” the woman holding my hand said calmly, yet loud enough for everyone to hear.

Within seconds, everything and everyone were still and silent.

“You humans never cease to amaze me. For centuries, we have watched you grow and menace the world around you. We watched you crawl from the darkness of our forests, and secretly we hoped you would make us proud, like all parents hope for their children. While some among you are an exception,” she said, turning to us and gracing us with a kind smile before continuing, “the rest of you are gluttonous pigs who have forgotten the lessons you learned so long ago. No more shall we sit idly by and watch you destroy the world that was given to you. No more shall we watch your chaos destroy the innocence and kindness within those who truly deserve better.”

The five fae released our hands and stood together in front of us, looking at everyone gathered before them. We held each other’s hands instead and stood in a line behind them. Something about that felt right.

“Let this be a warning to all of you, to all of your kind,” she said before they descended upon Jacob and his friends on the floor.

Their fingers elongated into talons, tearing into the shoulders of their victims. They ripped open the flesh that covered the brachial plexus and played their nerves like banjos before shredding them, as the boys shrieked and begged for it to stop.

There was no emotion in this for the fae. It was like watching someone at the dry cleaners fold clothes. It was a job that had to be done, just as it had been done a million times before—and would be done a million times again. That’s the only way I can explain it.

When the fae were finished, everyone came to their senses all at once. Our guests started screaming and nursing their injuries. They flooded out through the front door, trampling each other in a panic. Those who couldn’t walk dragged themselves out or were carried by friends—Jacob and his cronies included.

Before long, it was just us and the fae.

“Well, ladies, I hope it was everything you wished for. If you need us again, you know how to reach us,” she said with a wink, her green eyes twinkling.

And just like that, the fae left us there to clean up the mess we had made for ourselves.

The cops showed up a few hours later. Blood and all kinds of gross stuff were everywhere, and there we were, just sitting on the floor, holding hands in shock.

More than half of our guests—and I use that term lightly—were hospitalized. No one, not even my girls, remembered exactly what happened, only that it happened at the party. They held us for questioning, but once lawyers got involved, it was all over from there.

The official story—and the one the news outlets had a field day with—was a party gone wrong. We were the modern-day Reefer Madness, a shining example of everything that could go wrong when teens let loose with “drug-crazed abandon.”

I pretend not to remember what happened that night, but the truth is, I’ll never be able to forget it. Every time I look into a mirror—and hello, I’m a teenager, the mirror is life—I’m reminded.

The reflection smiles and winks back at me, wearing a face that isn’t really mine. And sometimes, if I look closely enough, I can still see her green eyes staring out from behind my own.