The Sleepover

by Jen Malone

  “I’m scared of the low dive, but the high dive doesn’t bother me,” says Veronica, cracking open a can of Mountain Dew. She wiggles the metal tab on top until it snaps loose and then reaches across to untie Anna Marie’s sneaker. She threads the tab through the shoelace and then reties the laces. “There you go. Happy birthday.”

  “Um, thanks?” Anna Marie says, adjusting the tab so it at least lies flat against her shoe.

  “Oh, but don’t worry. Your real present is coming later.”

  “Oh. Um. Okay, well, thank you again. . . .” Anna Marie, speechless, twice in one night? She shrugs at us and pops the top on her own soda can, leaving her tab in place. “Let’s start. Who wants to go first?”

  “I will,” Paige says, surprising exactly no one. Paige loves being the center of attention. She gives an evil wiggle of her eyebrows and then says, “I never . . . have been swimming at night.”

  No one touches the bowl of M&M’s.

  Paige wrinkles her nose and then turns to Anna Marie. “Your turn.”

  Anna Marie takes an extra-slow sip of her soda and seems like she’s deep in thought. I can tell Paige is about 2.2 seconds away from getting on Anna Marie’s case, when Anna Marie finally takes a deep breath and says, “Okay, let’s see. Omigosh, this is hard. You know how when you need to think of something and your mind goes completely blank? That’s totally happening to me right now—no, wait! I got one! I never faked being sick to miss school.”

  Paige pops candy into her mouth, while I laugh and sit on my hands. “My mom would see right through that. Half the time school is more fun than my house anyway. At least there I can wear lip gloss in peace.”

  “I don’t need to fake sick to stay home,” Veronica says. “I’m homeschooled, so I’m already there. Sometimes I fake sick so I can go to the doctor, though. I love getting shots.”

  No one knows how to respond to this, so there’s silence for a moment until Veronica cheerfully says, “My turn next! I never read the last page first on a new volume of Get Fuzzy.”

  Surprise, surprise, no one reaches for the bowl. Veronica stares at the rest of us. “Wow, you guys are disciplined too.”

  Paige just moves on. “Meghan, you’re up.”

  I know exactly what to say now that it’s my turn. I look right at Paige and give her my most innocent grin when I say, “I never . . . kissed a boy.” I’ve been dying to know the answer to this one ever since Paige got back from summer camp and started acting all mysterious whenever the topic of kissing came up.

  Paige tilts her head and raises her eyebrows at me. “I’m impressed, Megs. Way to kick it up a notch.”

  She looks each of us in the face, waiting to see if anyone will reach for a chocolate. Then she very slowly slips her hand into the bowl and extracts one green M&M, smiling as she pops it into her mouth.

  “Omigosh, Paige! Who? Was it that guy from camp last summer? And why didn’t you tell us?” Anna Marie jumps up and pretends to throttle Paige, but in the struggle, Veronica’s Mountain Dew gets knocked over, causing us all to scream so loudly, we barely hear the doorbell ringing above our heads.

  Anna Marie holds up her hand to shush us and then whispers, “Who the heck could that be?”

  Veronica wipes her glasses clean on her shirt. “Oh. That’s probably my present.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Imagine Your Happy Place

  We race up the steps, giggling and tripping, but right as we reach the top, we hear Anna Marie’s little brother open the door.

  “Who are you?” Max asks. Paige opens the basement door a crack, and all four of us peek out at the front entrance. We have to squeeze along the top two steps so our heads line up one on top of the other in order for us all to see.

  “Call me Madame Mesmer,” says this wispy, otherworldly voice. I can’t see the person talking because she’s still outside. “I’m the hypnotist, here for the birthday party show.”

  Hypnotist? I can’t turn my head to look at my friends because of the way we’re wedged in, but I hear Paige whisper, “Cooooool.”

  Max tugs his friend into the doorway next to him. “Hypnotist? That’s so great. Are you gonna hypnotize my sister? Can you get her to be my slave? Dude, how killer would that be?”

  “Hypnotism doesn’t work like that, my child,” Madame Mesmer says. “But if you don’t invite me in, I might just work my magic on you so you will hiccup from now until next week.”

  Max looks nervous. “Oh, um, no, thanks. I hate hiccups. Please. Please come right in!”

  A woman steps into the hallway, and now I can see the person who matches the voice. She’s extra-tall and skinny, wearing clunky Mary Jane heels and swaying a little bit in this super-long, filmy skirt. It’s impossible to see what color her hair is since she has it all hidden underneath a velvet turban that’s wrapped tightly around her head. But her eyebrows are thick and dark and her lips are painted a deep maroon. She has these two spots on her cheeks that look like blush, but if so, she needs the tutorial Paige’s sister gave us on blending. As she shakes off her bright-orange coat, the dozens of bangles marching up her arms clang against each other in a weirdly musical way. She looks a little like she bought a Halloween costume marked GYPSY at Party Central. Someone elbows me, but somehow we all manage to hold in our giggles. Right below me, Veronica softly breathes an “oooohhhh.”

  Madame Mesmer glances around the entryway and then says, “I presume your sister is the birthday girl. Where would I find her? And what about your parents?”

  “My mom is taking a bath, and I have instructions only to interrupt her in case of an emergency. Think this counts as one?”

  “I’d venture not,” Madame Mesmer says, adjusting her turban with both hands. Each of her fingers has a clunky ring on them. As if she senses our presence or something, she turns toward the basement door.

  Veronica gasps and loses her balance. She tumbles forward into the hallway, taking the rest of us down with her like we’re a bunch of bowling pins. All four of us sprawl across the wood floor.

  “Um, hi,” Anna Marie offers from her spot on the ground.

  The woman seems completely unconcerned that four kids have basically fallen at her feet. “Hello. I’m Madame Mesmer.”

  Paige grins and pops up. “Score one for Veronica. This is actually a Grade A present. Follow us.”

  I get up way more slowly, brushing off my butt and trying to get out of Madame Mesmer’s way. The funny gut-churning feeling from when we were looking at horror movie titles is back. I don’t know anything about hypnosis.

  Paige leads the way while the hypnotist glides behind. Max and his friend try to sneak down the steps after us, but Anna Marie notices right away and says, “Oh no. Not you, doofuses!” and points them back to the first floor. They groan and moan pretty loudly about it, but eventually they slam the door.

  Veronica immediately begins picking things up from around the room (the bowl of M&M’s, her stack of Get Fuzzy comics, the cans of soda we’d abandoned when our game of I Never got interrupted) and stacking them on the wood bar. “I don’t know how much space you’ll need,” she says to the strange woman.

  “Are you Veronica?” Madame Mesmer asks, referring to a sheet of paper in her hand.

  “Yup, that’s me. And that’s Anna Marie—it’s her thirteenth birthday tomorrow.”

  “Hi,” says Anna Marie again, with a tiny wave. Madame Mesmer gives her a cool smile in return. She is a lot bit creepy, and I can tell by the expression on Anna Marie’s face that my best friend feels the same way. Paige, of course, seems nothing but calm and collected. As usual. Ugh. How do some people get so lucky not to be scared of anything? I feel like I’m nervous about ev-ery-thing.

  Madame Mesmer arches one eyebrow and launches into this long spiel:

  “Welcome, girls. I am Madame Mesmer, queen of hypnosis. I will help you explore the hidden depths of your subconscious. If you’re open to my talents, you will experience a show of epic proportions, where you’ll expan
d your mind and challenge your preconceptions.”

  I avoid the other girls’ eyes. I get that this is a party act, but at the same time, it feels like something is tickling its way up my spine and into the pit of my stomach, where it flies around like a bee trapped underneath a drinking glass. I’m so not used to this weird combination of fear and excitement that comes with trying something completely unknown. I sneak a peek at Madame Mesmer’s turban and clunky rings and decide, yes, this definitely has the potential to be epic. The question is: epic good or epic bad?

  “Please be seated,” the hypnotist orders. We all follow her instruction obediently, arranging ourselves in a semicircle on the floor, the sectional couch propping up our backs. Everyone else seems intent on avoiding eye contact with Madame Mesmer, but I steal glances at her from underneath my lashes. I totally suspect Paige is trying not to burst out laughing (if Paige isn’t afraid of anything, she’s not gonna start now with a woman who mixes orange and yellow in her outfit), but Anna Marie looks superserious, and Veronica is leaning forward breathlessly.

  “Very good.” Madame Mesmer nods, her eyes settling eerily on each of us. When she stares me down, it’s all I can do not to shiver. Eventually, she moves on. Creeeeeepy.

  “Now, let’s cover a few basics before I begin. Hypnosis is an ancient and powerful art, and you will explore it under my trained tutelage. If you open your mind to the suggestion of what we’re doing here tonight, you will find it easier to enter into the trancelike state that is called hypnosis. Contrary to popular belief, you will not be asleep. You will experience something more akin to a daydream. You will be in full control of your body at all times and very aware of your actions. I can’t make you do anything you don’t want to do.”

  Anna Marie giggles, which I can tell is out of nervousness, and Paige shoots her a look that very clearly says, Zip it! Madame Mesmer watches us all quietly before continuing.

  “You will feel very relaxed, and you will lose all inhibitions. You will be steered by your subconscious, the part of you that controls your actions in the background so subtly, you aren’t aware of it. For example, when you breathe in and out, you aren’t aware of every breath. That action is controlled by your subconscious. But under hypnosis, your subconscious will drive your actions. You won’t feel the need to weigh and measure every act. You will just go with everything.”

  This time Veronica giggles. (I don’t know her well enough to tell if it’s nerves or not and, considering how many other times tonight she’s said the exact opposite of what I thought she would, I can’t even begin to guess how she’s feeling about any of this. Except it was her idea. Maybe she’s even done this before.) Anna Marie elbows her and says, “Shh.” As if she hadn’t been doing the exact same thing moments before. But I’m not about to turn on my best friend.

  On the one hand, I really wish I could switch off the part of my brain that makes me so cautious about everything. How great would it be to just go with the flow? But on the other hand, I don’t know if my brain will let me do it, even if I want to. I also don’t know if I trust Madame Mesmer. Or hypnosis.

  I trust me. I may be cautious, but at least that’s gotten me all the way to twelve and three-quarters in one piece. Tonight was supposed to be all about trying out a whole new, fun Meghan, but this feels like a little too much, a little too fast. I want to let go on my own terms, after weighing the danger factors and all the other stuff I might need to consider.

  Um, I think I might be really, really bad at being Fun Meghan. Sigh.

  Madame Mesmer continues. “If I suggest something silly that you might not do under normal circumstances—such as braying like a donkey, for instance—you will be happy to do it because you won’t feel self-conscious in the least. You’ll just find it fun. Does that make sense?”

  All four of us nod, but then Veronica raises her hand like she’s in school. Madame Mesmer points to her. “Yes?”

  “Well, I just wondered. What if we normally wouldn’t feel self-conscious about braying like a donkey in front of people?”

  For a second it looks like Madame Mesmer wants to smile, but then the single eyebrow goes up again and she simply says, “In that case, we’ll have to find something else for you to do.”

  She claps her hands, and I jump a little. I wasn’t expecting that. My stomach burns with either nerves or pizza gas (but I’m guessing nerves), even though everything Madame Mesmer is saying sounds really okay, and maybe even fun. It’s just fear of the unknown, I tell myself. It doesn’t exactly calm me down.

  “Shall we get started?” Madame Mesmer asks.

  All four of us nod, and I hope no one notices my nod isn’t exactly enthusiastic.

  “Okay, then. I want everyone to silence all cell phones or anything else that could provide a distraction.”

  Paige and Anna Marie fiddle with their phones. I’d turned off my Ladybug phone the instant I got into the car with Paige. The thing was nothing but sheer embarrassment, and the less I had to acknowledge it, the better. One phone call to my mom before bed, and then I can ignore the phone again until pickup time tomorrow afternoon. Veronica must not have a phone, because she just sits there, smiling at all of us.

  Madame Mesmer flicks off some lights and drapes a few scarves she’s brought across the rest of the lamps so that the room is cast in this weird, sort of spooky glow. “Make yourselves as comfortable as possible,” she says. “Feel free to lie down if you’d like.”

  We all obey. It seems like she wants us to, even if she phrased it as a suggestion. I hug my legs to my chest for just a second or two and give myself a tiny pep talk that mostly includes the words, Breathe. Just breathe. I remind myself that we’re in Anna Marie’s basement. Mrs. Guerrero is right upstairs, taking a bath. When this part of the party is over, we’ll probably just paint our toenails and watch TV until it’s time to climb into our sleeping bags (or cot, if you’re Veronica) and whisper secrets about which movie star we’re crushing on (hello, Graham Cabot all the way) and what three items we’d want if we were stranded on a desert island. I already have mine picked out: my iPod, with one of those solar batteries that recharges in the sunlight; an array of shovels so I can spend my days making incredible sand sculptures and also SOS sand letters that planes could see from the sky; and a fishing net . . . because, entertainment aside, a girl’s gotta eat.

  “All right. Close your eyes, please,” Madame Mesmer says in a voice just above a whisper. “Now I’d like you to imagine yourself in your happy place, somewhere that is relaxing to you. It might be the beach. It might be a field of grass. Wherever you are, take a moment to look around. Now feel your surroundings. Feel the sun on your face and the sand or the grass under your feet.”

  I wiggle my toes but keep my eyes screwed shut. I try extra-hard to picture the art room at school with my class’s latest still-life paintings hanging to dry and the pottery wheel in the back corner. It’s fuzzy, but I force my brain to stay there. Is this working?

  “Good,” says Madame Mesmer. Her skirt swishes and her bangles clatter as she weaves her way among us, stepping over our legs. “Working bottom to top, you’re going to let each part of your body relax. Relax your ankles. Now press the backs of your knees into the floor. Feel them getting heavy and connecting with the carpet. Next relax your bum.”

  I can’t believe none of us giggle over the word bum. I have one about to bubble out of my throat, but I stop it with an exhale, letting my (mostly flat—blergh) chest rise and fall with deep breaths. This whole time my eyelids have been fluttering because they want so badly to peek, but now they finally relax, and I start to concentrate only on Madame Messmer’s voice. It’s soooo soothing. Maybe I can do this. Maybe I can let go.

  “Next I want you to imagine yourself flying through the air. Swoop your arms low on one side; now dip to the other. The wind is in your hair; you are a bird, incapable of falling. Just feel the freedom of flight; let the joy of it bubble up in your chest. Take a rest on a puffy cloud and then swoosh bac
k through the air again.”

  The room is totally silent, except for Madame Mesmer’s voice. Is anything happening? I don’t feel anything happening. But I’m going with it. I think maybe I even want it to work.

  “Okay, now, when I count to ten, I want you to slip into a deep state of hypnosis. One . . . two . . . three . . .” She continues to count until she reaches, “Nine . . . ten. You are now in a state of hypnosis. You are safe. Your entire body feels relaxed and free. You are peaceful as you sink into a deeper and deeper state of hypnosis. You are safe. You are free.”

  PART TWO

  CHAPTER FIVE

  One-a-Chick, Two-a-Chick

  Take me to New York. I’d like to see LA. I really want to come kick it with you. You’ll be my American boy. . . .

  I bolt upright, tangling my legs in my sleeping bag.

  “What the what?”

  The music from Summer Dance Party blares from the TV so loudly, I think the police might show up. There’s something hard underneath my butt; I scoot over, yank the remote out from my jumbled mess of covers, and jam my finger on the power button.

  Ahhhhh. Blissful quiet.

  Without the glare from the flat-screen, the room also goes to mostly dark, but there’s some crack-of-dawn light streaming in from the half windows, enough so I can make out the shapes of my friends as they start to stir. I can’t imagine how any of them slept through that.

  A beam of light shines directly into my eyes, forcing me to throw a hand over my face. “Paige! Seriously?”

  “This flashlight app comes in handy,” Paige replies.

  I respond by bunching up a sweatshirt I find next to me and chucking it at Paige. Too bad I miss by a mile.

  On the cot in the corner, Veronica says, “Christmas is crunchy,” then lies back down and promptly resumes snoring. Loudly.

  I sure hope I don’t talk in my sleep. Or snore. I’ve never been able to ask anyone before because I’m always sleeping alone in my room and there hasn’t been anyone to ask. But it suddenly hits me that I’m here. It’s the next day, and I’m here! My brain is still early morning fuzzy, so I don’t really remember making the conscious decision to stay last night, but clearly I must have. I hug my covers around me and celebrate with a happy little shoulder jiggle. I did it! My first true sleepover.