My smile wavered when the hockey team entered at the end, cutting my gaze elsewhere so I didn’t start counting bodies andsearching faces. “Me too, Cal.”
For decades, Initiation Night was a rite of passage—a coveted ceremony—taking place on the grounds of St. Victoria, where individuals from the cheerleading and hockey team broke into the school for a night filled with debauchery and mischief. In the afterhours, like a fever dream, it was a nail-biting and thrilling experience. It was a night that gave students the excuse to behave immorally and get away with it.
Restless anticipation thrummed through the throng of people gathered in the foyer, waiting for further instructions. We were breaking several laws by being here, but that’s what made it fun.
St. Victoria used to be a motherhouse—a convent, if you will. Less than a hundred years ago, it was converted into a high school. It’d been renovated through the years, but an eerie atmosphere was forever associated with the establishment.
In daylight, it was bearable. At nightfall, it was a beast. Like the walls lived and breathed old wives’ tales.
“Who do you think you’ll get paired with tonight?” Callie asked, adjusting the hem of her white minidress and her red cape. With her pixie blond hair and blue doe eyes, she resembled an angel instead of a slutty Red Riding Hood.
“Hopefully you.” A lot of the people in our senior class had been fake and gossip-hungry. I was big on protecting my peace and keeping only a few close people by my side.
I only trusted Callie now.
She smiled. “Yes, hopefully.”
“I’m going to win this year,” I manifested. “Watch it happen.”
I had a big competitive streak and Callie knew it too.
Last year, Darla Ivy Hill—my teammate, cheerleading co-captain, and nowex-best friend—and I were the reigning Queens of Initiation Night.
It was an epic competition. The level of exhilaration whenwe’d been crowned the winners was indescribable. I wanted to feel that rush again and break a record. No one in the history of Initiation Night had ever won twice.
“Well, here’s to you winning the game.” Callie raised her flashlight to mine in a toast. “You got this—”
“What are you ladies talking about?”
Cursing in unison, we both startled at the unexpected voice filled with amusement, resonating from our left.
“Oh my God!” Callie shone her flashlight at the intruder.
Gavino Ricci crossed his arms and leaned against a locker beside Callie, a devious grin sketched on his lips, showcasing a pair of fake fangs. His shoulder-length blond hair was mussed and he wore faded blue jeans with his old hockey jersey. I guess he was dressed as a hockey-playing vampire or something of the sorts. “Did I scare you?”
Callie swatted his bicep and jokingly glared at him. “Yeah, you did, asshole! A little warning next time, eh?”
“My bad.” Gavino appraised her like he wanted to devour her whole. “You look cute.”
Callie blushed under his perusal.
Not wanting to slice the sexual tension but also wanting to help escalate this, I inserted in a sly manner, “We were just talking about who we’ll get paired with tonight.”
Although Callie and I would make a wonderful team, I sincerely wished, like any good bestie, that she and Gavino got paired together. They were definitely into each other, but neither of them had the courage to make the first move. Perhaps tonight they’d get some action. It wasn’t uncommon for Initiators to abandon the competition and hook up with their teammate, especially if it was someone they’d been crushing on for the longest time.
Pressing his forearm on the locker above Callie’s head, Gavino closed into her personal space and said suggestively, “Isthat so? Maybe you and I will end up together.”
My eyes widened, shocked at his forwardness and double meaning. But also applauding him for it becausefina-fucking-lly.
“Y-Yeah,” Callie stammered, blushing harder than ever. “Maybe.”
Biting my proud mama smile, I angled away from them to give them privacy to flirt.
Meanwhile, my eyes swept over the darkness in the foyer, broken up by the wedges of light emanating from our torches, the caliginous sky visible from decades-old windows, and shadowy figures housing the familiar faces of those I had not spoken to since the summer.
I’d been so wrapped up in my world of hurt that once university started, I lost touch with a lot of my so-called friends. I didn’t mourn those lost connections. Not when I had more important matters to tend to.
I waved at a few of them with borderline ersatz smiles. Sometimes it was tedious maintaining a perfect, happy façade before others.
