One silver spoon, untarnished.

Every Tuesday without fail, Margaret polishes it to a gleam. This tradition continues despite the fact that I've never seen anyone use the utensil.

Instead, it sits on the edge of the cabinet, nearly forgotten except for its Tuesday cleanings.

Tonight, though, Margaret is gone, at a movie with her new boyfriend. One she acquired only two days after her other one disappeared.

It is a Monday, the day that people my age hated above all other days. The day that signified that the weekend had slipped through our grasp once again and showed us that we would be mourning its demise until the day of its return.

Katie invited herself over, along with her boyfriend Levi, her sister, her boyfriend, and the twins.

It's all a bit of fun, she told me that afternoon. We'll eat ice cream and slip out of the house long before your sister returns.

Sure, it wasn't the first time that we had done such a thing, but never once had Katie invited herself over and never had we done it without Margaret's permission.

However, minutes after the boyfriend's car had pulled out of the driveway with Margaret safely buckled in the passenger's seat, Katie's parents' minivan pulls up.

My friend, the one I had had since first grade, leaps out of the back seat, waving a gallon bucket of ice cream triumphantly.

We brought your favorite, she laughs as the other five pile out of the minivan and stream towards the front door.

Like ants drawn towards the last drops of honey.

When's Margaret supposed to return? Steve, Katie's sister's boyfriend asks, something in his eyes telling me that they didn't come for the ice cream.

I shrug. Three hours or so. She thought that they might stop for a late dinner or something.

Katie's sister giggles and bats her eyes at him as they push past me, likely seeking an empty room, one that they know is far from their parents' watching eyes.

The twins and Levi have no such motives, plopping down on our worn sofa and watching the kitchen where Katie has disappeared with the ice cream.

Where's the other spoons? My friend displays a meager offering of four spoons, not enough for each person waiting for some of the sugary goodness. I know you have more than this somewhere.

I furrow my brow before pulling open the dishwasher. They're all in here, Katie. We forgot to run the dishwasher last night.

She sighs and surveys the kitchen. It wouldn't do to ask one of us to share a spoon, and we most certainly can't use the dirty ones. Is there no others?

I open my mouth about to propose that I use one of the dirty spoons, after all, some had passed my lips, when her eyes light upon that silver spoon.

Why don't we use that one? I've never seen either of you touch it except when Margaret polishes it.

Katie, I think Margaret doesn't use it... I start to protest, but my friend's already snatched the shimmering utensil from its cradle.

Ignoring my protests, she shoves a stack of bowls into my arms before trotting into the living room with a fistful of spoons and the ice cream.

The boys appraise the treat with an air of relief. Katie blushes at the enthusiastic praise that she receives for planning such a wonderful idea.

I dutifully dole out the ice cream as she fills the bowls to the brim. Levi reaches for the silver spoon, but she raps his knuckles.

I'm going to use that one. Just in case Margaret protests, she tells her boyfriend, and he compliantly chooses another one.

The twins have resettled themselves by this point and are shoving melting ice cream into their mouths as they argue over what movie to watch.

I nervously eye the clock before biting my lip as Katie picks up the silver spoon.

Katie, I really think...

She hushes me before scooping out a spoonful. My own bowl lies forgotten as I watch her raise it to her lips.

She notices my gaze and scowls.

Really, must you eye me like that? It's only a spoon. Margaret isn't going to kill me for using it.

Chastised, I turn my eyes away, only to return them after she stares retching.

Levi takes her hands. Whatever is wrong, Katie?

She curls her lips in disgust, glaring at her ice cream. It tastes like someone bled in it.

The twins quickly direct their arguing skills to her, even scooping up spoonfuls of her ice cream to prove that it doesn't taste like blood.

Seeming convinced, my friend takes another small bite before throwing up all over her boyfriend.

It tastes like blood! She wails, shoving the bowl to the floor where it shatters, as Levi is struggling not to vomit himself. You poisoned it!

I realize her last statement is directed at me, and I raise my hands in defense.

I didn't touch your ice cream!

You just hate the fact that I'm using the spoon that Margaret seems to worship! You are trying to ruin me!

I shook my head, holding out my hand for the silver spoon. I promise you, Katie, I didn't touch it. I think there's something else at work here.

She clutches the spoon closer, and I hear a car door slam outside.

Margaret's home, Steve calls down the stairs, too late to help anyone.

Margaret sweeps in the door, humming. The sound stops as soon as she sees us all standing in the living room, and her gaze lights upon the silver spoon gleaming in Katie's grasp.

What are you doing with the spoon? She asks in a deeply quiet voice as she stalks towards us. No one touches it except for me.

It was just a taste, Margaret, Katie whispers, holding the utensil out with a shaking hand. We could find no other spoon.

Margaret snatches it from her. As she strikes my friend hard enough to send her crumbling against the mahogany coffee table, I see the spoon fall from her grasp.

One silver spoon, stained with dried blood.