by Alexis Bass
“Don’t worry, Collins Pruitt. The locks have been changed, and faculty can’t get in here.”
“And if faculty realizes the locks have been changed on them, then what?” Theo snaps.
“Oh, right,” Sebastian sighs.
“This is your fault,” Theo barks at him. “You have to sacrifice yourself.”
“Fine,” Sebastian says. He doesn’t move as the door handle jiggles again.
“What are you waiting for?” Theo nudges him toward the exit.
“They aren’t going to believe I’m in here alone.”
“Shit.”
“And given my track record, they aren’t going to believe I’m in here with you.”
Theo sighs again. They’re both looking at me.
“What’s going on?” I protest.
“That’s perfect,” Theo says, turning to Sebastian. “She has no information to spill.” If he only knew. He looks to me and grips my hand in his. “Listen to me, Collins—you’re new here, and your father is the Jacob Pruitt; you’re going to be fine. But if you say anything about what we did in here just now, you will spend the rest of your time at Rutherford regretting it. Got it?” He doesn’t wait for me to answer. The doorknob has started to rattle again. “GO.” Theo pushes us in the direction of the door and rushes around the corner. Sebastian turns off the light as he opens the door.
Dr. Libby is standing on the other side with his hands on his hips.
“Mr. Guerrero, what a surprise.” He sighs. “Miss Pruitt.” He looks at me with disappointed eyes. “Come with me.”
We follow him down the hallway. While we’re walking, I glance at Sebastian. He winks at me.
Dr. Libby escorts us into his office, and we sit in the brown leather chairs across from his desk.
“Would either of you like to tell me what you were doing in the storage closet?” he says.
“Nothing,” Sebastian says. “These days, I get away with nothing—you know this, Dr. Libby.”
Dr. Libby squints at him. His glasses slide down his long nose. After a moment, he takes the time to push them up.
“Miss Pruitt?” he says.
“It was nothing,” I blurt out. My hands are shaking, so I fold them in my lap.
“No funny business?” he says.
“None,” I say. My face gets hot imagining what he’s assuming. The things he thinks Sebastian and I might’ve been doing in that dark, isolated room.
“We’re very, very sorry,” Sebastian says. He gestures with exaggerated movements with his right hand as he talks. “It won’t happen again. It was a momentary lapse in judgment, and you found us before anything started to get funny. I don’t want you to overreact here. And I certainly don’t want any stigma or unfair consequences to fall on Collins Pruitt her first year at our wonderful, exceptional school.” He does an overexaggerated chin scratch, when I notice the large gold ring on his pointer finger. The reason for his hand motions. Something he wanted Dr. Libby to see. “You know what I’m saying, Dr. Libby?” he taps his finger against his lips, the light glinting off the ring.
Dr. Libby glances downward in a way that makes me think he wants to smile but doesn’t want us to see.
“Far be it from me to mess with tradition,” he says. He clears his throat. “So in keeping with the Rutherford tradition of reprimanding students for breaking the rules, the two of you are not permitted to attend the next five social nights.”
I gasp, and I know I should be thankful that this is all that’s happening to us, but this sound comes from my genuine feelings because the truth is, I love those nights in the upperclassman common room, with no one ever pretending they’re lame, being rounded up with caffeine-free sodas and healthy snacks, expected to play games and have deep discussions on couches, with no television and low background music we didn’t have control over. There’s something earned about them that makes them delicious. Rutherford’s schedule is no joke. Every second of our time is accounted for from the second we wake up to the moment bed checks are completed. Our days are full of classes and office hours and study sessions and club meetings and sports. And I love every second of it. Even the hardness of it, how the field hockey adrenaline rush I get is intense and all that time in the classroom and studying, the constant stream of information that is both tiresome and exhilarating. Not to mention it provides the potential for interacting with Jasper.
“I’m sorry, Miss Pruitt, but those are the consequences,” Dr. Libby says.
“I understand.”
He walks behind us as we leave his office. He waits by the doorway of the upperclassman common room as we gather our things. Theo, Anastasia, and Ariel are sitting at a large round table playing cards with Stewart and Daiki and a few others. Jasper is seated there, too, and though he’s hanging back with his legs outstretched reading a book, I do notice cards in his hand. He looks up when he sees me, and I watch his eyes tick back and forth between me and Sebastian. The whole room starts to take notice; subtle stares at Sebastian and me, knowing glances exchanged between people after they clock that we’re both being escorted away by Dr. Libby. I can feel all their eyes on me, actually. When I look to Sebastian to see if he notices it, too, he gives me a small smile, a light shrug. And then he lets his eyes linger on me as he picks up his jacket hanging off an arm of the couch. I’m aware of the rest of their stares as I pull on my coat and grab my purse. Unwanted attention—or maybe I do want it. Maybe, in fact, I kind of like it. Are they jealous? Do they think I’m naïve for being caught with him? Or is this the kind of admiration that’s contagious? People noticed the way he looked at me and think there’s something to see. He’s captivated with me, so I must be captivating.
Jasper looks up from his book one more time. Right at me. He doesn’t seem irritated. Just curious. Like the rest of them.
Sebastian wasn’t part of the plan to get to Jasper. But maybe he could be.
I’ve gathered my things and wait for Sebastian by the door next to Dr. Libby so he can escort us back to the dormitories. I watch as Sebastian moves past Joyce, who is also at the table with Theo and Anastasia. He pats her on the shoulder, and her hand comes down over his, giving his a tight squeeze. They stare at each other for a second; something unsaid between them. It’s brief, but still obvious and unguarded.
“Mr. Guerrero, please hustle,” Dr. Libby calls from the doorway.
It sort of bothers me that he did that—and it humiliates me at the same time, because everyone saw the look between him and Joyce, too—that special gesture just for her. Was he reassuring her that whatever happened between us that we’re getting in trouble for was nothing? Like he can be brazen and flirt with me and still only care what she thinks.
But then when we reach the place in the path where he’s to go right and I’m to go left, he raises his hand and waves obnoxiously.
“Good night, Collins Pruitt. Sleep tight. Don’t let the bedbugs bite. Dream a little dream of me.”
“That’s enough, Sebastian,” Dr. Libby says.
Sebastian waves once more. A big, overstated gesture. This time, I get it. The ring on his hand is gone. He winks at me, and I smile so he’ll know I saw it. Even if I don’t know what it means. Looking back now, I think Joyce must’ve been the one to take it from him—to steal it away to be placed in that box for whatever game I’ve unknowingly entered into.
Twelve
Theo, Anastasia, and Ariel don’t talk to me about what happened in the storage room. I know better than to bring it up.
I don’t hear about the game or my earrings again until several days later, when I’m studying next to Anastasia in the third-year girls’ lounge, and she passes me a piece of paper that says, Meet me in the bathroom at 1:00 a.m. She and Ariel stare at me like they’re waiting for something. I take my pen and write, OK.
They look at each other. Anastasia writes, Wear shoes and bring a coat and take out your retainer. They wait again, and again, I write, OK. Then Ariel grabs the paper and rips it up into very
small pieces.
That night, I set my phone alarm to vibrate and nestle it under my pillow as I lie in bed. I’m sure I’ll be too anxious to sleep, but between the drills at field hockey practice and studying, it’s the same as it is every day, and I’m unconscious the second my head hits my pillow.
At five minutes to 1:00 a.m., I’m jolted awake by the tremors of my alarm. I slide out of bed and put on my boots; I grab my jacket. I walk quietly down the hall and into the bathroom at the end of the corridor. Anastasia and Ariel are waiting for me, long sweaters and puffy coats covering their pajamas.
“Are you ready, Collins?” Anastasia says, smiling at me.
“Ready for what?”
Ariel says, “Just nod.”
“Let’s go,” Anastasia says.
We take the stairs, our shoes padding the cool tiles. As we reach the main level, where the dorm faculty stays, I whisper, “Won’t they hear us?”
“It’s fine,” Anastasia says, her voice low and quiet. “This is Thursday night when the faculty all go to Mrs. Wiggins’s house to watch Love Match at Paradise Hotel. They all go and have too much wine and will sleep through anything.”
I’m not entirely confident in this theory, but I follow them past the rooms of sleeping faculty, through a door at the end of the hallway near an emergency exit that’s unmarked. It creaks as we open and close it when we step through. We all use the flashlights on our phones to descend a narrow staircase with no railing. I notice as we reach the bottom of the stairs that I don’t have any service. We turn down a hallway that is first as tapered as the staircase, but as we walk, it gets wider and wider. The floors are paved, and the walls are tiled like a subway with matte-gray tiles. The grout is stark white—either perfectly preserved or this underground tunnel has been remodeled. I think of Sebastian flashing the gold ring in Dr. Libby’s office, the emphasis Dr. Libby placed on tradition when he gave us our punishment, and wonder if we’re getting away with anything at all. Or if these Rutherford secrets are somehow respected and anticipated by those who run things here.
The corridor continues to widen until we reach a circular area. We can hear others approaching on the opposite side—voices and scuffling. Boys coming from the other end. It’s Theo and Sebastian with Stewart and a fourth year named Randal Law, who plays water polo with Theo. Stewart holds the light streaming from his phone flashlight as Theo opens a metal compartment in the wall. He pulls on a lever, and the circular area connecting the tunnels between the boys’ and girls’ dormitories lights up. Above us is a chandelier. A fancy one with a metal circle holding candles with light bulbs for wicks.
“Pretty wild, right, Collins Pruitt?” Sebastian is wearing red plaid pajamas under a bright yellow ski jacket and a lively smile.
“Where are we?” I say.
“The room that connects the tunnels,” Stewart says. Unhelpfully.
“We don’t know what these were used for,” Sebastian says. “Maybe originally they were meant for shelter from war or something. Or secret society meetings. Or for middle-of-the-night sneak-outs between the two dormitories.” His eyes linger too hard and too long on me when he says this, as his lips turn up into a lopsided smile.
I glance away when I notice Stewart and Anastasia talking. He tugs on the strings of her jacket, and she pets the velvet along the collar of his robe. We’ve been interacting more and more with Jasper’s table during dinner. Flirtations are rising between Stewart and Anastasia. Jasper still leaves early. Now I’ve gathered he goes to either the lacrosse gym or a private room he’s reserved for himself in the library or back to his room to study.
Jasper and Daiki appear next. Both are in plain sweats and black winter coats. When we capture the attention of the lacrosse table, I spend a lot of dinner trying to remember my own name around Daiki while daydreaming about being his girlfriend and getting to kiss him after every game and go on vacation every winter to visit his grandparents in Japan the way I’ve come to understand his current girlfriend does.
The next to arrive come from the girls’ dormitory—Joyce and a fourth year named Kiara Laurence. Theo, Anastasia, and Ariel exchange glances, and I’ve gotten to know them well enough now to understand this look is judgment for Joyce’s label-covered slippers and jacket.
“Who has it?” Joyce says.
Jasper slips off his backpack and reveals the contents of the box.
“Collins should get her earrings back since she didn’t get to play,” he says. A quick side-eye to Sebastian, who smirks.
“We were the sacrifices to keep the secret,” Sebastian says. “Rules apply to her, too, even if she doesn’t know what they are.”
“He’s right,” says Theo. He meets my eye. “Don’t worry.”
But Jasper sighs, and I do—I do worry.
Jasper hands Sebastian two red dice.
He refuses them, putting his hands up. “Ladies first. Come on, Jasper.”
Jasper crosses the circle to get to me. I hold out my hand, and he sets the dice in my palm.
“I just—roll them?” I feel embarrassed asking this because honestly, what else does one do with dice? But Jasper nods like this is a perfectly reasonable question.
He steps next to me so the ground in front of me is clear. I rattle the dice in my hand and then kneel and let the dice fall. Everyone bends forward to see how they land.
“Two sixes,” Stewart announces.
The room is filled with a mixture of sighs and gasps. I can’t tell if this a good thing.
“Tough break,” Anastasia says.
“Pas bien,” Stewart says.
“I’ll take her results, and she can have mine,” Sebastian says.
“That’s fair,” Theo says. “Since it was your fault she didn’t get to play the normal way.”
“Are double sixes bad?” I say.
“The worst,” Ariel says.
Anastasia explains, “We work off a point system, ranking the winner as one. You got twelve.”
“That’s last place,” Joyce adds.
“Yeah, she gets it, Joyce,” Ariel says.
“She’s not in last place; I am.” Sebastian retrieves the dice from the ground. He squats down and rolls them. “She got…” He examines the dice. “Five.” He looks up at me and smiles. “Congratulations, Collins Pruitt.”
“All right, then.” Stewart types into his phone. “The result are in. Sebastian…” He nods toward Jasper’s bag. Sebastian reaches in and pulls out the prescription bottle.
“That’s what the loser gets every time,” Anastasia tells me.
“What is it?”
“It’s full of oxy and cocaine.”
“What?”
“The loser has to take it. It’s a risk. Having illegal drugs on you at this school. Much riskier than actually taking the drugs.”
“I don’t know about that.” But my palms are sweaty at the thought of having to hide something that would definitely result in expulsion.
“And the winner is,” Stewart announces, “Theo.”
Everyone sighs.
“He always wins,” Anastasia says.
Theo reaches into the bag and pulls out a watch, different from the one he’d put in but still big and shiny.
We go down the line, everyone taking something from the bag. I end up choosing the Dior wallet. I’m not sure what the fun is in this exchange. We all have wealthy parents. We have nice wallets and jewelry. Surely, Anastasia’s parents could buy the diamond earrings she wanted of mine—which she didn’t get because Joyce beat her to them. It’s a weird reward for this crowd.
“What’ll the next game be?” Stewart asks Theo.
“Winner’s choice,” Anastasia tells me.
“Spades,” Theo says. “We’ll break off into groups.”
Stewart and Daiki high-five this decision. I smile to myself. Thanks to my dad, I’m excellent at Spades.
“For next month,” Stewart starts. Everyone takes out their phones. He assigns the staggering times for ever
yone to go to the storage room to drop off their stuff and which social next month the game will take place. The meeting to exchange gifts happens at the same time—the third Thursday of the month when the teachers get together for drinks and to watch their guilty pleasure show. We mark these times and dates in our calendars, and Anastasia instructs me to label the events with an X.
As we walk back to the girls’ dorm, Anastasia takes my arm and gives me what she calls the lowdown.
“The game is a tradition,” she says. “Jasper and Theo’s mother used to play it, and she told them it was their duty to start it up again when they were enrolled. Most of the legacies have traditions like these that they pass on to their kids. I was asked to be a part of it because, obviously, Theo is my best friend. Stewart and Daiki were brought in by Jasper. Theo brought in Ariel and Rand, from water polo. Ariel brought in Sebastian sophomore year, and Stewart brought in Kiara last year. Rand brought in Joyce.” She pauses to roll her eyes. “And now I’ve brought in you.”
“And everything is done exactly how it was when Mrs. Mahoney was here?”
“Yes—same rules about sneaking into the supply closet to deposit your contribution. All we’ve added is the pill bottle forced upon the loser. Sophomore year, Theo invited this girl Zara Wilmington to play—she was ultimately expelled, but she left her drugs in the collection box because to her that was a great reward, and she was banished from the school before she could claim her prize. It’s been the loser’s prize ever since, and the winner doesn’t have to put anything in.”
“How do people know what to put in as a prize?”
“All it has to be is something of value. So vague, right? That’s why I encouraged your diamond earrings. Which reminds me—” She lets go of my arm and rushes a few steps ahead of us to catch up with Joyce and Kiara.
“She just means, if there’s something you want from someone, ask them to put it in the box,” Ariel says, stepping closer to me as the hall narrows.
Something I want? Interesting. Something wanted and something of value aren’t necessarily the same thing. And sometimes you don’t know how much value something has until it’s exposed.