The Witching Hour

Maggie Li was the epitome of a high-achieving college student. For the past three years, she’d maintained a perfect 4.0 GPA, all with the dream of getting into Harvard Medical School. Born and raised in Scranton, Pennsylvania, she’d decided to stay close to home for her undergraduate studies.

She’d been accepted into the University of Pennsylvania with a full-ride academic scholarship during her senior year of high school. But her childhood best friend and current college roommate, Cheyenne Miller, had swayed her decision. If not for Cheyenne, she would have been at UPenn.

Despite the opinions of her traditional Chinese parents and academic advisors, Maggie was content with her choice to attend Penn State. Her bond with Cheyenne was more valuable to her than the prestige of her degree. Why try to outshine a sky full of stars when you could be the brightest light in a starless night?

Cheyenne Miller was far from typical. Her tattoos, chain-smoking habit, denim vest covered in patches, and the constant blare of heavy metal from her orange foam headphones made her stand out. A natural whiz at science, math, and computers, Cheyenne could have achieved anything she wanted. But her anger issues and alcohol problem had landed her in a state juvenile detention center.

After her mother abandoned her and her deadbeat veteran father, Cheyenne had stayed behind to care for him until she turned eighteen. She wanted to stay close to home for college, and with her juvenile record, her options were limited. Penn State was her only choice.

Cheyenne chose zoology as her major, hoping a career in biology would eventually take her far away from Pennsylvania. When she learned that her childhood best friend, Maggie, would also be attending Penn State, she felt a sense of relief. She knew Maggie would help keep her grounded. After all, from what Cheyenne had heard, adult prison was a lot less fun than juvenile hall.

Dominique Jackson had always been a star athlete. As the third child of the famous professional baseball player, Willie Hayfield Jackson, she’d always been expected to shine like her two older brothers. Dominique had led her high school basketball team to the Ohio State championship, scoring a personal record of forty-four points in a single game.

After the championship, Dominique found herself signing a full-ride scholarship for basketball with Penn State in the Big Ten Conference. Knowing that there was no future in playing basketball, Dominique chose to pursue a degree in business, hoping to stay involved in the sports community she loved.

During her sophomore year, she responded to an ad posted by two female students looking for a roommate for their three-bedroom apartment near campus. A phone call and a meetup at a local pizza place later, she found herself forming a close friendship with Maggie Li and Cheyenne Miller.

What Dominique loved about her new friends was their nerdy nature and their complete lack of interest in sports. It gave her room to breathe, especially in a town where the stakes of winning and losing were higher than in her small hometown in Illinois.

As summer break approached and final exams loomed, Maggie sat in her dorm room studying flashcards while Dominique read from a textbook in the living room. Cheyenne walked into their apartment with a newspaper in hand. She tossed her car keys onto the table and read the folded paper for a moment before sitting down on a barstool next to the counter. She’d just finished her shift at the local diner, and her pink skirt and white apron were stained with coffee and pie crust. She let out a loud sigh of exhaustion and slapped the newspaper down on the counter.

“Guys, we need a summer volunteer job, or we won’t be graduating next spring. I’ve been looking for a week, and all I can find in the local papers are ads for single women to strip or wash cars. I don’t think those will count as helping the poor, needy, or children.”

Cheyenne stood up and started to untie her apron.

“Although, we might be able to make a case for some of those.”

Maggie put down her flashcards and walked into the kitchen from her bedroom, her hair held up in a bun by a pencil.

“Don’t worry, Cheyenne. I’ve got it covered.”

Cheyenne had gone into her room and was changing out of her waitress uniform when she heard Maggie in the kitchen. She took off her bra, threw on a Judas Priest shirt, and came back with a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

She opened the fridge, grabbed a soda, and gave Maggie a surprised look. “Well, don’t stop there. What volunteer position did you sign us up for without asking me?”

Cheyenne joined Dominique on the couch, lit a cigarette, and opened her soda. Dominique leaned over and took one from the pack.

“Seriously, what did you sign us up for? If you say anything about cleaning old people at Sunset Acres, I swear to God, Maggie, I’ll kill you.”

Dominique laughed and lit her cigarette from the end of Cheyenne’s.

“No, it’s nothing like that. It actually sounds pretty cool. Tell her, Maggie.”

Maggie joined her friends in the living room, sitting on the opposite couch and pulling up a wooden TV dinner tray. She put a plastic plate with four graham crackers and a white kitchen timer on the tray.

She set the timer for twenty-five minutes, took a bite of her cracker, and started to tell Cheyenne about their summer plans. The ticking of the kitchen timer filled the room.

“I found us a volunteer position as camp counselors at a summer youth camp not too far from here. They’ll provide housing and food, and we’ll get full letters of recommendation for our time and service.”

Cheyenne stared at the kitchen timer, her eyes wide. She’d always been annoyed by Maggie’s rigid organization. When Maggie finished speaking, Cheyenne raised an eyebrow and exhaled a cloud of smoke.

“Sounds cool. Just like Camp Big Bear in ’76. I think I still have that shirt somewhere. Anyway, should be fun. Where’s this summer camp?”

Maggie took another bite of her cracker, chewing thoughtfully with a hand over her mouth before she responded to Cheyenne. The ticking of the timer filled the room. “It’s in Nephast County. We’re headed to Camp Folter Lake, in Folter Lake National Park.”

Cheyenne tried to recall if she’d ever heard of the place, but came up empty. “Nephast County? Can’t say I’ve heard of it. Sounds like a made-up place. Where exactly is it?” She took another bite of her cracker, chewing with her mouth covered.

“It’s west of Forest County and north of Pittsburgh, right off State Highway 666. It’ll take us about an hour to get there. We start in two weeks.”

Cheyenne leaned back, blowing out a cloud of smoke. A harsh cough broke free from her throat.

“Highway 666? No kidding? Well, if AC/DC sang about it, then I’m in. Thanks for finding these volunteer gigs, Maggie. Dominique, good luck with your studying, and either quit smoking or buy your own. Cigarettes aren’t cheap, you know. Ladies, I’m off to hit the books. Good night.”

Cheyenne downed the rest of her pink soda and crushed the can in her hand. She retreated to her room, picked a cassette tape from a pile, and popped it into her Walkman. She hit play and the room filled with music.

As the others went back to their studies, Cheyenne lay on her bed and pulled a bottle of whiskey from under her pillow. She popped the cap and took a long, deep swig, holding a photograph in her other hand. The sound of electric guitars lulling her to sleep.