 My friend Marco said he made it out that he got the idea from a horror movie where they played hide and clap. And when we were all racking our brains for a party game on New Year's Eve, Marco had been the first to make a suggestion. That sly smile of his that girls like so much, crinkling his eyes as he told us the rules. The game requires at least three people, though four or more is better. One person is picked to be the questioner, basically the game s version of it or the monster. Everyone else is a whisperer. All of the lights are turned off in the house and every whisperer goes and hides while the questioner sits in the dark counting to 60. After that, the questioner gets up and begins hunting. They re blind just like the rest, but they have the advantage of asking questions any other than those directly identifying the name of the whisperer or their brethren. Feeling their way through the dark, they can call out questions the whisperer must answer, though they may answer softly as their name implies. It was at this point that Ryan raised his hand with a smirk. What was stopping someone from just not answering or mouthing the words? Marco hadn t returned his smile, instead looking over all five of us with a seriousness I wasn t used to from him. That person would have broken the rules of the game and would be punished accordingly. This prompted some laughter from us, but I could already hear the nervous excitement I was feeling echoed in my friend s voices as well. Marco seemed not to notice as he went on. The questions and whispered responses served two purposes. The first was a means of locating the whisperers. When someone was found, they became a questioner too. If, however, a questioner figured out who their prey was before touching them, they could call out the whisperer s name and then grab them, turning them into a sacrifice and putting them out of the game. This continued until everyone had been turned or sacrificed to the dark. When Marco was done, Brittany immediately began turning off lights while Sarah and Jesse started snickering as they headed off to get another drink before we started playing. Marco glanced at me before turning to look at Ryan. Want to be a questioner? Ryan frowned. Not really, man. This all sounds lame as shit. No offense. Marco let out a short laugh. I don t know, man. No offense. But it sounds to me like you're just scared of the dark. Ryan s face was already darkening when I stood up and walked between them. No, no. I ll do the question thing. Marco met my eyes. Become the questioner. Yeah, that. I ll do it. Darkness is so subjective when all the lights were off and I was first blind and alone, I felt uncomfortable, vulnerable. But then I heard a nervous titter of laughter from another room and I remembered that they were hiding from me. Grinning to myself, I stepped forward carefully and asked my first question. Do you have short hair? I heard a faint, yes, from somewhere in the dark, followed by a softer, no. From farther away, maybe up the stairs in the hall I thought I was entering. I froze for a second, but hearing nothing else, I went on to something more specific. Did your senior prom date puke on you? I heard a short yelp of laughter from upstairs, followed by three faint, no whispers, two from upstairs and one from the back of the house. But I was waiting for someone else, yes. I stepped forward and turned to my left, barely remembering to shout out Britney before lunging forward and poking her in the stomach. Grinning, bitch, she swatted me away, yay, I'm sacrificed or whatever, I'm going outside to smoke. She let out a curse as she bumped into a chair and then made her way to and out the front door. I let the echo of the closed door trail off before I asked my next question. Are you going pre-med? Upstairs, faintly, no, yes. And then downstairs in the back, a single no. I was beginning to wonder about that. There were six of us, and yet the most I'd ever heard was four whispers. Sarah was pre-med, so she was upstairs. Was one of the others too far away or quiet for me to hear, or were they just not saying anything? Frowning, I edged along the wall until my foot hit the bottom stair. I wasn't as familiar with Jesse's house upstairs, but at least I knew Sarah was up there, somewhere, and oddly enough, I was feeling a strong urge to win. Whatever that meant. My hand found the banister as I started making my way up the stairs. I could wait till I got at the top, but maybe if I asked my next question on the way up, I could pinpoint Sarah and keep her from trying to slip by. I wasn't sure what to ask next, so I finally just said the next thing they came to me. What do you want to do after this? Drink. Watch a movie. Both upstairs. And I recognized Sarah's voice coming from the re- Watch them all die screaming. I let out a yell as I pitched forward on the stairs, barely catching myself as I rolled over onto my back. That had come from right behind me, nestled in a breath that was hot and rotten as it coiled around my neck. Who was that? Suddenly, a light came on upstairs. There was no one on the stairs with me, no one around that I could see at all. Looking behind me, I saw Jesse and Sarah coming down the stairs, worried looks on their faces. Sarah crouched down on the step above me. Are you okay? Did you fall? I shook my head. No, I mean, yeah, but that wasn't why I yelled. I gave a slight shudder as I looked back down the stairs into the darkness of the front hall. Someone was right behind me, whispering in my ear. It freaked me out. It must be Marco. Ryan had appeared suddenly at the top of the stairs to his face already growing red. That shithead has been weird all night. I don't know if he got into some bad weed on his little camping trip or what, but I'm about to pound his. He trailed off as he saw me shaking my head. What? You saying it's not him? I shrugged weakly as I stood up. I don't know. It didn't sound like him. Didn't feel like him at all. Like any of us. Ryan rolled his eyes. Jesus tab. I know you've got a crush on him or whatever. Ow. He flinched as Jesse jabbed him in the ribs. He went on with a lowered voice, but you could have gotten hurt. Okay, let's just find him and find out what the hell he was thinking nodding. I took Sarah's hand and went back down hitting the lights at the bottom of the stairs. We started calling out for Marco and after a minute, Brittany came back in with a questioning look. When we told her what had happened, her momentary look of satisfaction that I'd fallen was replaced with concern when she saw how upset I was and how angry Ryan was becoming the longer we looked for Marco. 15 minutes later, and we had searched the house and yard for him twice with no luck. Calls to his phone went straight to a full mailbox and texts got no response either. We were sitting back down in the living room when Jesse gave a small laugh. Happy New Year, I guess. It's 1203. We all laughed with her, but the sound was brittle. Everyone was unhappy and on edge and I started to feel guilty about spoiling the party for everyone. Look, I'm sure it's fine. He probably just left as a practical joke and it worked because it freaked me out. I shrugged. Him not answering his phone is a bit weird, but who knows? Maybe it's part of the prank. I looked at Jesse. Did you call him about the party or did he call you? She frowned. Neither. I was out jogging yesterday and when I came back, he was sitting on the steps outside. He hung out for a minute. I asked him about his camping trip after Christmas and told him about the party tonight. Ryan leaned in. Did he seem okay to you then? Jesse shrugged. I mean, I guess. We only talked a couple of minutes and I was tired. I wasn't looking for anything, you know? He nodded. Yeah, who knows? Him and his weird bullshit game smirking. He went on. That's why I didn't even play it. Ryan blushed slightly. Sorry, Tav, wasn't trying to be a dick to you, but I wasn't playing by his stupid rules either. Just sat upstairs in the bathroom the whole time. Quiet as a church mouse. The next day, I got a call that Brittany had died from smoke inhalation. Apparently the apartment below hers had an electrical fire that pushed smoke up into her bedroom while she slept. They claimed she never woke up, though I wondered how they knew. Wondered if she'd had a few moments of panicked clarity before she choked to death on gray air. I didn't have to wonder about Ryan. He was working a last weekend shift at his father's steel mill before heading back to class. He'd done it every summer and holiday since he was 17. But that night, the night after the party, there was a mis-roll on one of the hot rolling mills. 30 feet of red molten steel shot out like a spray of burning, silly string hitting the wall and two of the men. It only burned the other man's leg, but Ryan. When he was drunk enough at the wake, Ryan's dad told me and Sarah that it had coiled around his boy like a python, burning and crushing him down as it tightened, cooling from the air on the outside and the blood and meat within. He'd been on the floor less than 50 feet away and the last memory he had of his only child was watching helpless as he died screaming. No one has seen or heard from Marco in the last two weeks. He still doesn't answer his phone or his door and no one we ask knows where he is. Last night, I finally tracked down a number for his mother. She lives in Chicago and we'd never spoken, but I figured it was worth a try to see if she'd heard from him. Hello? Hey, um, Ms. Sandoval. This is Tab Morris, um, I'm a friend of your son Marco. Oh, that's, have you heard from him? I gripped the phone tighter. No, that's what I was going to ask you, I, we've been looking for him. When did you last hear from him? There was a long pause. And when she spoke again, the woman's voice seemed thinner and more lifeless than before. It was the day after Christmas. He left to go camping, always rushing off to do something. But he was supposed to be back in two days. When he didn't come back in three, I called the park service. They had a record of him camping there, even found where he'd stayed. But no Marco, not there or anywhere. No one's seen him since. Another pause. And when she spoke again, a new worm of hope was buried in her words. When, when did you see him last? Have you seen him since he went camping? I slumped down to the floor, barely hearing my last words to her over the hammering of my heart. No, no, I don't think I have.