"No way! This is too cool," my best friend, Aimee, said, digging out my great grandmother's Ouija board set. It was an antique from the 1890's; so old, in fact, that it wasn't even a complete board. All it consisted of was an array of tiles with each letter of the alphabet, including a few for Yes, No, and Goodbye. A tiny table called a planchette served as the "portal" for the spirits. It was one of the very first Ouija boards made, and must have been worth a small fortune. I wondered why mom hadn't gotten rid of it. "Could we try it?"

"No."

"Come on, it'll be fun," Aimee coaxed me, shaking the box in my face.

I pushed her away. "No way. I am not messing with that stuff."

"Please, Cecelia," she said, rolling her eyes, "You're like, completely emo. Aren't you supposed to be obsessed with death?"

I looked away from her. Aimee was my best friend, but she still had no idea what was going on with me. I tried to ignore the little voice in my head that told me no one ever really would. "Not funny."

She shrugged it off. "Whatever. Please, please, please do this with me?" She folded her hands and pleaded me with her huge blue eyes. I sighed and nodded, so she screeched and got to work setting up the board.

I sat down across from her and looked around at our dismal surroundings. We were up in my dark attic, amongst shadowy relics of outgrown baby clothes and decorations from when we actually celebrated Christmas, or anything else for that matter. Aimee insisted on coming up here, but I hated it; it just reminded me of all the things my family had blocked out, packed up and discarded. Though I must admit, it was the perfect atmosphere for a séance, what with the rain pounding down on the roof and the dark figures.

I looked away and watched Aimee reverently set up the game. You'd think that she was some sort of high priest of voodoo or something.

"Remind me why you're making me witness this?" It was really the last thing I wanted to do.

She sighed impatiently, as if I was a student who repeatedly asked stupid questions. "My grandma said that the spirits can answer any questions you have. There are some things I need to know."

"Are you hearing yourself? Your grandma doesn't even believe in dinosaurs."

"Just shut up and put your fingers on the triangle thing."

I rolled my eyes and lightly touched the planchette. Aimee followed and shut her lids tightly.

"Oh, spirits, is anyone there?"

"I think that if the planchette starts to move we can assume someone's here," I quipped. She glared at me.

Suddenly, the triangle started to vibrate. We gaped at each other as it settled on yes.

"Who are you?" I asked, despite myself.

We watched in amazement as it moved toward the A, and through the rest of the letters until it spelled out Alexander Hart.

"Oh my gosh," Aimee breathed, "How old are you?"

Fourteen.

"So are we! When did you die?" I glared at her, but she ignored me.

A long time ago.

"What's it like?"

I hit her in the head. "Why would you ask that?"

Torture.

She gasped. "Are you evil?"

"Stop asking questions like that!"

The triangle started to move to Goodbye, but Aimee exclaimed, "Wait! I haven't asked my question yet!" The planchette stopped, and settled back in the middle. She smiled. "When will I have a boyfriend?"

"That's your urgent question?" She shushed me.

Soon.

"Who?" she squealed.

Marcus.

"No! Not possible! He worships the devil!"

I rolled my eyes. "He does not."

The triangle moved to Goodbye. I smirked. "Hey, what about my question?"

I wasn't being serious, but the planchette hesitated, as if the ghost was contemplating if I was worth his time. Slowly, it trudged back to the center.

"Ask it something," Aimee encouraged, probably hoping I would get a worse answer than she did.

I took a deep breath. There was only one thing I really wanted to know. "When will I die?"

The triangle paused for a never-ending moment. Slowly, painfully, it spelled out:

Burn this board.

Then it slid to Goodbye.