By Liz Matsushita
I am ten years old and I’m at a sleepover. It’s one of those nights where everyone is
trying to scare each other. We’ve probably just watched a bad 1970s horror film that had
way too much blood for our fifth-grade eyes. We might have tried to perform a lame
séance. Invariably, then, on one of those nights, someone will suggest doing the thing that
scares me the most:
“Say ‘Bloody Mary’ three times in a mirror and see what happens.”
My invariable response: NO. EFFING. WAY.