“I got us shots!” Clara brought the silver tray of cloudy shot glasses to the formica table. She slid into the booth next to a girl staring meekly at the table and across from a stone-faced girl, with braids bound tight in a bun. In doing, Clara bumped her head on the sharp-edged stained-glass light. It spun, casting bright rays in the downstairs den.

The remnants of a sleepover scattered across the cold, hard tile floor. Sleeping bags, a tape recorder, makeup kit and mirror, and

“Every-frickin’ time!” Clara cried. She punched the light – cracking the glass.

“Are you ok?”, whispered Sarah, touching her on the shoulder. The touch lingered – Clara brusquely shrugged her off.

“Why are we doing this HERE?” Clara demanded.

Yvette grabbed the light – fixing it firmly in place. She jutted her chin towards the cloudy mixtures – “What’re these?”

Clara smiled brightly, “I figured, we could each take one and… it’s over settled. Completely random,” “Except you know which is which,” whispered Sarah.

“I’ll drink last then,” suggested Clara, “What did you bring?”

Sarah pulled out a thick, wooden hunting knife. She made several attempts to open it. Yvette, rolling her eyes, grabbed it from her and flicked open the heavy blade.

Sarah reached out her hand, but Yvette gripped it. Sarah tentatively reached and, with peeling the fingers off of Yvette’s hand, pulled the blade from her.

“You want to play spin-the-knife?” Clara gasped.

Sarah’s face pinched. Tears welled. “Let’s just quit.”

Clara patted Sarah’s hand, “You’ll get nothing. Your mother has breast cancer,” she inhaled – blinking away tears that had formed – “And I’ve never been… anywhere! When I win, I’m gonna go somewhere!”

Yvette reached over and took a shot – held the cloudy mixture in her hand. She lifted it up to Clara who sat ram-rod straight and took the same. Delicately – they clinked. And threw them back.

Clara’s mouth twitched first… foam bubbling up from her lips. She struggled then slumped back in her the booth. Sarah gasped and clutched her, moaning. Clara looked far, far away… and smiled.

The clink of a glass. Cloudy mixture ate through the formica. Yvette pulled her hand away.

Sarah pointed the knife at Yvette. Calmly, Yvette reached up to the light bulb.

“Perhaps it would be better… if we did this in the dark.”

Sarah asked “What did you bring?”

The light went out.

“Bubble-gum”, came the voice of calm, calm Yvette.