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.

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