"Duck!" The yell comes as a snowball whistles past James's ear. He drops in time, giving me a clear shot at the thrower, a tall girl with a fierce pitching arm. My snowball catches her square in the shoulder, and she curses colorfully before retreating.
"Nice shot," James says, sounding genuinely impressed.
"I told you, Vermont winters. Brutal." Grabbing two more snowballs, I point to my next target. "Cover me?"
He nods, and we fall into a rhythm without needing to discuss it. I advance and throw while he creates a diversion, then we switch. Within minutes, we've moved to a better position, working together as if we've been doing this for years.
"Left side!" James calls. I spin and nail an approaching sorority sister who's been trying to flank us.
"Behind the blue barrier!" I point. James launches a perfect arc that catches two girls as they try to set up a sniper position.
Across the arena, Drew and Emily are engaged in their own personal battle, trash-talking the entire time. Gavin is leading a charge up the center, his size and reach making him practically unstoppable.
"We're actually winning," James says with surprise, ducking back behind our barricade to restock on ammunition.
"Don't jinx it," I warn them around a smile. There's something enjoyable about this silly game, especially with James next to me, his normally serious face all lit up and competitive, snowflakes stuck in his hair.
That's when everything changes.
"Well, would you look at that," comes a sneering voice from the arena entrance. "Delta Pussy Omega is playing with the girls. How appropriate."
I turn to see a group of guys in red jackets, Epsilon Beta Mu, the homophobic frat next door. Their president, a thick-necked jerk named Chad, because of course his name is Chad, leads about ten of his brothers into the space.
"We booked the next slot," Chad announces, tossing a snowball between his hands. "But why wait when there's such an entertaining little game going on?"
Before anyone can respond, he hurls his snowball directly at me. I dodge, but the intention is clear.
"Hey!" Drew steps forward, Emily at his side. "This is our time slot."
"Relax, Jones," Chad smirks. "We're warming up. Unless you're scared of a little competition?"
Several EBM brothers have already grabbed snowballs, and one launches one that hits James in the chest. He stiffens but doesn't react.
Emily and Drew exchange a look. Then Emily turns to her sorority sisters.
"Change of plans, ladies," she calls out. "Temporary alliance with DPO against these assholes. You in?"
A chorus of agreement rises from the purple-hatted women.
Drew nods to us. "New formation. Guys, partner with the Thetas. James, Caleb, take the right flank. Gavin, Tyler, left. Everyone else, center push."
Just like that, the two rival teams merge into one, quickly reorganizing against the common enemy.
"Aww, look at that," Chad mocks. "The fags and the fag-hags teaming up."
A snowball smashes into his chest so hard it knocks him back a step. Turning, I find James already loading another, his expression terrifyingly calm.
"Ten bucks says I can hit him in the mouth next time," he says conversationally.
"Twenty says I can hit him where it really hurts." I grab a particularly dense snowball and let it fly.Direct hit!Chad's got one hand on his face and the other cupping his now ice-coated crotch.
The battle that follows is less of a friendly game and more like an actual war.
The EBM guys quickly realize they're outmatched, not in numbers but in sheer determination. The sorority sisters prove to be ruthlessly accurate, and our frat brothers show no mercy.
James and I work our way around the right edge of the arena, systematically taking out EBM brothers who try to establish positions. We don't need to speak much; a glance or a nod is enough to coordinate our movements.
"Three at two o'clock,"
