Hello again, Story Club members. I'm Ivy, your ghostly host with the most and keeper of the strangest,

spookiest tales on earth. Today is another Ivy's chilling tale. This cautionary tale story club

members might make you not want to hang out with the cool kids.

It's one I call blood ritual.

The campfire flickered in the chilly summer night.

The orange flames painted dancing shadows on the surrounding trees.

Maggie Batson was sitting with about 30 other campers and wasn't in a social mood.

She was attending Mellowwood summer camp for two weeks.

Her parents had forced her to attend.

It was only day five out of 14.

Most of the kids were from small towns, or they acted crazy.

She had pretty little in common with them. And then they were the lame arts and

crafts, campfire sing-alongs, and activities like sit-up contests. Boring. Maggie was having none of it.

She couldn't do arts and crafts to save her life, wasn't a singer, and she got nauseous whenever

she tried to do even one sit- setup. Maggie found three of her fellow

campers interesting, though. For one thing, they weren't running around making fools of themselves

like the others. They seemed to observe everything with detached coolness. They acted like they were

better than everyone else. Maybe they were. Caleb Joyce had the face of a movie star and a penetrating

stare. Kyle Morrison had blonde curly hair and an intense presence, and Marla Weston had fiery

Auburn hair and a wide smile. Through the crackling campfire, Maggie watched them. You know what,

to heck with it. Maggie thought.

I'll talk to them.

...