I snagged her own hand and smeared my mark over the back of hers. “Oopsies.”
She bristled but didn’t say anything, moving on to the next person.
Then Shaun and another player brought forth last season’s hockey championship trophy like it was the Holy Grail. The golden cup brimmed with folded pieces of paper housing the first round of dares and our team numbers.
I plucked one when it was my turn, and Shaun canted his head to get a better look. “What did you get?”
I unfolded the piece of paper and read it.
Team number: 6
The key resides in the land of fiction.
“Huh. That’s quite interesting,” Shaun mumbled cryptically.
I frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Shaun quickly moved on to the next person without replying.
The low whir of conversation started once again as people matched with their partners. Callie and Gavino let loose surprised chuckles. By some twist of fate, they actually got paired together.
I walked around the foyer aimlessly, trying to find my partner without avail. So far everyone saidnowhen I asked them, “Are you team number six?”
“You have three hours to complete the game,” Darla hollered. “Shaun and I will be waiting right here for the winners.”
Every year, we got away with Initiation Night because Darla’s mom—Diane Hill—was the principal and St. Victoria was the legacy of the Hill women. They practically ruled and owned this establishment since its conversion from motherhouse to high school. Principal Hill willingly chose to turn a blind eye every year during the weekend of Initiation Night. As far as I knew, she had also participated in this tradition during her younger days.
By 3:00 a.m., Initiation Night would be complete. Everything would resume as normal once the weekend was over. No traces of the shenanigans that went on tonight come Monday morning.
Shaun blew a whistle with his fingers. “Good luck!”
Bodies scampered around, jostling my frame until I was pushed against the lockers. The pitter-patter of footsteps echoed as people broke away to start their dares.
Everyone was in pairs, except for me.
“Um, I don’t have a partner,” I drawled, confused.
Gavino and Callie blinked at me. My best friend rubbed my shoulder in comfort and glanced at Darla and Shaun. “How is it possible that Ella has no one?”
Darla ignored us and pretended to busy herself with her phone.
Shaun folded his palms over his cane, shrugging his shoulders almost comically under that ridiculous plague doctorcostume. Even in the dark, I felt as though he were watching me with a calculating look. “All forty-two of you were paired. Twenty-one teams. Maybe your partner got a head start?”
“Without me?” I hedged, surprised at my teammate’s audacity if that were really the case.
The ex-captain of the Rangers said slyly, “You never know. Maybe they saw your face, got scared, and ran away.”
I narrowed my eyes at his shitty sense of humour. “Wow. Thanks, Shaun.”
“You’re welcome.”
“We’re going to get started.” Callie added sympathetically, “You’ll be fine, Ella. Don’t worry.”
I was a little peeved to be in this predicament, but at this rate, I’d just have to get started alone.
I gave them what I hoped was an encouraging smile. “All right. Good luck, guys.”
Not that they’d need it since I’d be winning Initiation Night.
