Envy (Fury) by Elizabeth Miles

“Parties, yes. Please,” she said, shooting Em an apologetic look. “So, in addition to the pajama party—which is so soon, btw!—and the Spring Fling, I think we should have a special party for you, Skylar. Or rather, you should throw your own party.”
    Skylar looked doubtful, and Em raised her eyebrows. Gabby was really going all out on her little project.
    “It could be like your coming-out party!” Gabby said, gaining steam as she always did when she was envisioning a social event. “Like a debutante ball, but Maine-style. I’ll be pretty busy with dance committee stuff, but you could plan it, and I could help!”
    Em watched Skylar’s face break out into the most genuine smile she’d seen all night. It was clear that she worshipped Gabby, that her gratitude was miles deep. And whose wouldn’t be? Ascension was a tough pool to dive into, full of social sharks swimming in established hierarchies. Gabby was giving Skylar an in.
    Ping. Ping. Ping.
    The freezing rain that Gabby’s mom had predicted earlier this week began tapping against the window like tiny fingers rapping on the glass. The sound of the sleet lulled Em into akind of trance until she heard Skylar’s voice, as though from far away, saying, “What if we had it outside? Do people do that here? I mean, I know it’s still cold, but we could have a bonfire . . . ?”
    Now Gabby was the skeptical one. “A party outside? In March? March in Maine is still winter.”
    “You’re right, it was a stupid idea.” Em watched Skylar’s face fall, and she couldn’t stand it. She had to rescue her.
    “Think about it, Gabs,” Em said. “It could work. A big bonfire and a few of those heat lamps that your dad bought for his ice-bar party a few years ago? People would remember it, that’s for sure.”
    Skylar smiled at her gratefully, and Gabby nodded slowly.
    “It could work,” she said. “We could tell people to bring thermoses, and flasks, and those little heat-pocket things that you put in your gloves.” She was getting more and more excited. “It’ll be like maple-sugaring parties! Except no adults! And no horse-drawn carriages!” She looked off into the distance, still scheming. And then a smile grew wide across her face. “We could have it at the Haunted Woods,” she said. “Do you know about them? Out by the new mall?”
    Every nerve on Em’s body went on alert when she heard Gabby mention the mall. She hated even thinking about that place. For the thousandth time she found herself thinking about those red seeds, how gritty they’d tasted, how Ty had watched her swallow them. She began to tune out again, refocusing her attention on the sleet and the wind.
    “There have been some pretty great parties out there,” Gabby continued. “They call it the Haunted Woods, but it’s really only haunted by awesomeness. Wouldn’t you say, Em? Remember that one time—”
    Skylar cut in. “My aunt said they really are haunted. By three women . . . three witches who burned in the woods, like, a thousand years ago. They’re the ones doing the haunting. That’s what my aunt says.”
    Em’s attention suddenly became very focused. “What? What three women?” Her voice was thick, and she had to clear her throat.
    “Earth to Em,” Gabby said, shaking her head in mock disappointment. “You zone out, it’s not our job to catch you up.”
    “I was just saying,” Skylar explained after swallowing a mouthful of whipped cream, “that my aunt Nora—that’s who I’m staying with—told me a crazy story about the Haunted Woods. I’m not sure I want to throw a party there.”
    “Don’t be silly,” Gabby interjected. “It’ll be legendary! We’ll invite literally everyone.”
    “What’s the story?” Em asked again, laser-focused on Skylar.
    “Oh, I don’t really know much about it,” Skylar answered nervously. “My aunt is just all into the supernatural, and she told me that there were three witches in those woods who were