“I’M OUT.”
The words sound harsher than I want them to. Final. Destructive. But I don’t regret them. Not even when Rachel’s bottom lip trembles and her eyes reflect a hint of rage.
“You’rewhat?” she asks.
“I can’t do this anymore,” I say. “I’m just a few weeks away from graduation. I’m trying to work things out with Nikki and... it’s just too much.” I shake my head and my hair swings around my shoulders. I decide to leave out the wholeI was threatened by our headmasterthing.
Here in some overpriced coffee shop in Alphabet City I feel anonymous and a little emboldened. No one knows me except her. I can speak freely. Except my words are really a cop-out. Just like that night in the sauna, I’m choosing to protect myself instead of fighting for Shaila. The guilt will eat at me, but I have to remind myself this isn’t just about me. It’s about protecting Jared, too.
“So that’s it? One false lead and you’re dropping this?” Rachel leans back against the rickety wooden chair. The tinyFormica table between us wobbles, causing our lattes to seesaw back and forth in mugs the size of ice cream bowls.
“It’s not like we have any other potential suspects,” I say. But Rachel doesn’t react. “You’re not in Gold Coast every day. You don’t know what it’sbeenlike.” Weingarten’s face appears in my brain, red and furious, wagging a gnarled finger at me.
Rachel narrows her eyes. “Explain it to me, then.”
“I’m the one who showed you the letter. Who has to deal with the fallout from Beaumont.”
“Just say it,” Rachel hisses.
“What do you mean?” My face begins to burn. I’ve seen this version of her before. Heard this voice. It’s how she was when she was a Player, urging us to drink, to dance, to perform. Her rage bubbles to the surface.
“Say it.” She bares her teeth.
I shake my head no and clench the mug in front of me.
“You think Graham’s guilty. You think Graham murdered Shaila because that’s the easy way out. That makes everything go away and you get to go on with your life, pretending like nothing happened. That you once had a friend who died and, boy, did that suck. It’ll be something you wow your college roommates with next year, or talk about at parties to make yourself seem interesting. Shaila will just be a blip on your perfectly recorded life. Graham will be someone you used to know who justsnapped.” She leans in so our faces are only inches apart. I can see the tiny little hairs between her eyebrows, waiting to be plucked. “But you know he didn’t do it. You know he’s innocent. You’re just too chickenshit to deal with it.”
“Fuck you, Rachel,” I whisper through hot, fat tears. “You don’t know what I think.” The words come up like bile, stickyand sour. There’s a real reason why I’m so mad. Why I’ve been soangryfor three long years. Initiation changed everything and it wasn’t just because someone killed Shaila.
I steady my breath and continue. “You’re using me now like you all used us then. Playing God and pulling strings to make us do what you want, just so you can watch.” I say it again, letting both hardened syllables land with a deliberate thud. “Fuck. You.”
Rachel leans back, her eyes wide. “That’s not what happened.”
“That’s how it always happens,” I say.
That was what we were told over and over and over again, as if somehow, that made everything okay. Those little words gave everyonepermission.But they didn’t. No one had permission to do that to us. And we didn’t have permission to do it all over again.
Initiation was the last time the eight of us were together.
We gathered at Nikki’s at six in the morning and munched on toasted bagels with cream cheese in silence while we waited for the call, the signal that our months ofhard workwould be over soon. Our official entry into the Players was upon us. No more lineups. No more pops. No more Player packs. All we had to do was get through the next twenty-four hours.
A big minivan pulled up to the house and we piled into the car in silence through wide double doors. Two hooded figures wrapped blindfolds around our heads and tied our hands together with zip ties. My stomach flipped and I pressed my shoulder into Shaila’s.
We drove for what seemed like hours. The only sound came from the stereo, which blasted the same Billy Joel song over and over. I still can’t listen to it.Only the good die young. Such bullshit.
Finally we pulled to a halt. Gravel crunched under the wheels and the air smelled heavy and salty, a little like the Fourth of July. Once we got out of the car, our shepherds removed the blindfolds. We were at Tina’s house, though we must have driven to the North Fork and back to pass the time. Her parents were gone for the weekend and all the other Players were standing around the massive remodeled farmhouse. We could hear techno music bumping from the backyard. Players’ voices rang out until one of our captors yelled for them to shut up.
It will be fun, Adam had said to me the week before.Just enjoy it.
We were led into the backyard, to everyone else, and then our drivers pulled off their masks. Rachel and Tina. My stomach settled. I was going to be okay. Rachel was the first person to be nice to me, to hand me the bio exam. She liked me because Adam liked me. And Tina, with her clumpy mascara and that little gap between her teeth, had always been soft. This was her house. She wouldn’t let anything bad happen here. I thought back to the moment we shared on the beach, giggling about Mr. Beaumont. I was going to be okay.
But I was so, so wrong.
A chant rang out, so full of elation it made me shiver. It took a minute before I could make out the word.
“Draw! Draw! Draw!”
Jake emerged from the crowd and turned to us, a smirk on his face. “You heard them. Draw!” He held out a stack of thick cardboard playing cards. There were eight of them. “Lowest number gets it worst.”
