As soon as it was over, Serena began giving us instructions. Janet positioned herself at the edge of the futon and squatted down with her head between her legs. She breathed deeply as Laurel counted to a nervous twenty. Then Janet straightened, put her thumb in her mouth, and Serena pushed, hard, on her solar plexus, and Janet crumpled as if dead onto the futon. I held back a gasp at the whites of her eyes. But after only a moment or two, she shook her head and blinked up at us.

“How long was I out?” she asked.

“Just a second,” Laurel said.

“Olivia, you go next,” Serena said. I stepped into my place in front of the futon, and finally looked over at Luke, who was leaning against a tree with his hands in his pockets, as if he were watching the most mundane performance: a lawn being mowed, an animal being born.

“Did you know,” Luke said, “in Ireland they call this game the American Dream.”

There is a moment right before you lose consciousness, when you’re still aware of the world around you, but feel a profound dissociation from it, as though you’re merely a witness to a space you have no part in. Then comes the rush of euphoria and heartbeat, the lightening, the blackening. I had done this before, of course. On a mountain very much like this one. But back then I hadn’t understood what lightness meant. Maybe this was what my father had been looking for, I thought as I fell, maybe this was what I had missed.

Now I know that the American Dream can leave you in a coma or even kill you. But of course, we knew that back then too. It wouldn’t have been any fun otherwise.

When I opened my eyes, hours or minutes or years later, I saw, peering over me, the enormous head of the Buddha. But no, it was only my father, smiling, his hair long again, his eyes somehow dark. Then of course it was Serena pulling me upward, and I shook my head clear. I kept hold of her hand for a few extra moments, to make sure she was no imposter. I didn’t look at Luke, though I could feel him there, like a heat flare, burning.

Next it was Laurel’s turn. Her eyes rolling, her sigh like cut flowers as she fell.

“I was dead longer,” she said when she opened her eyes. “Wasn’t I? I was dead longer than both of you.”We nodded. She had been unconscious for nearly half a minute. It meant nothing to me, but I saw Janet lick her lips. Even at this she hated to lose.

Serena went last. She squatted down, hyperventilated, and stood, blowing on her thumb. Janet pushed her in the right place, but Serena only took a step back.