[sic]

by Scott Kelly

  “I want the whole world to play, if it helps them. I want people to start their own rings and do this themselves. I suspect I’ll need to help them, at least in the beginning. As for Kent, like I said, I don’t think the game was at fault,” David spoke calmly. The boy with no feelings. “The game only gives someone permission to act. Discovering how you feel can be terrifying, but the player has the responsibility and the power. That’s the point. What you’re feeling is survivor’s guilt. Maybe you need some time to think.”

  “Christ,” I muttered. “You’re blind to it, again. You know you do this, David. You know you can’t tell when you’re pushing too far. I’m telling you, like I always tell you, that you need to take a step back from this and think about it. Yeah, Kent was responsible, but you pushed him into it. You’re just manipulating these people. Eureka can help people, I agree, but we need to make sure people are in the right place for it.”

  David swept his arm across the group. “Eureka gets them ready; that’s the point. Force people to accept their fears.”

  “Are you really trying to help people? Or just fucking with them for your amusement?” Didn’t realize how much David could infuriate me. Or, always had, but never admitted it. “Look at everyone here. Are they trying to get enlightened, are they pushing themselves to deconstruct? I don’t blame the game, I blame you guys. Kent was only here because he was in love with Cameron, because he wanted to impress her. Steven’s got the same problem. Cameron’s here because she’s sleeping with you—”

  “What?” The question shot from Steven’s mouth.

  He didn’t know. Everyone was silent.

  Steven rose, back stiff, still staring straight ahead, face cast orange in the fire. A log collapsed and a shower of sparks rose. Somewhere in the woods, a coyote howled, followed by the yipping of countless pups. His eyes focused, then unfocused. He looked at Cameron, then David, then back at Cameron. Finally putting it all together.

  “None of that is true,” Steven said, voice barely a whisper, face frozen. “I’m leaving, anyway.”

  David clucked his tongue and Cameron let out a distressed sigh. The group was falling apart.

  Let it burn. “I’m sorry, but there has to be a line somewhere. David, you always told me I was the first person to really see what the game was. Well, I’m ending it. Someone died—that’s the line.”

  I watched Steven; we locked eyes for a moment, preparing to walk in separate directions, away from the campfire—maybe for the last time. Steven relented first, turning and stepping off past the trees and into the forest.

  “I’m not tagging any of you. Maybe never. I’ve been thinking about this game, what Eureka means to us, what we do with it. You guys can play without me, I don’t care, but I’m not taking part. I think when the game makes us leave people we love, sometimes we lose control. Kent and Cameron—”

  “You and Nora,” David said.

  I stumbled over my words—how much did they know about Nora? “Whatever. I don’t need to hear this from you. Relationship advice from someone sitting with his harem.” I turned my back on David and his madness, ready to walk away for the first time in my life.

  “Wait!” Emily called out behind me. “You can’t do this. Don’t be a prick, Jacob! Play with us. Don’t go, Jacob. I…I sort-of like you!”

  I kept walking.

  31. Predators circle, just past the campfire

  Now

  “Good for you,” Mr. Aschen says. “I was starting to wonder if you had it in you.”

  “I knew you would like this part,” I admit. “I don’t know if what I did was right, or if I was just reacting because Geoff died and they didn’t care. It did feel good to say ‘no.’ They left me alone for a while, too. Little bit of cold war. And what was left, anyway? Steven gone, Kent gone. David wasn’t going to come beg, and I didn’t know what to do. Just kept shaving my head. The weeks kept passing. Sometimes I wanted to talk to him, to tag someone, but I spent most of the time with Nora. It was going pretty good, until about last week, when things started happening. Emily things.”

  *

  Last week

  Hated pressing the clippers to the base of my skull. Always made me shiver, every time I ran them up my head, vibrating my brain. Shook the guilt out.

  No grate, just a dank pipe down to the septic system. Staring into the drain like it was the barrel of a gun; dark hole that swallowed my mind. Never happy, even though things were going well. Had Nora. Loved Nora. But, everything suffered the effects of my own cruel conscience.

  Once, I’d lectured Steven about quitting because of the people playing the game, and not the game itself. With Geoff dead, I found myself on the opposite side of my own words.

  People killed people. Eureka was just a tool.

  Still. I held firm, didn’t tag anyone. It’s all I had—hair in the drain. Penance.

  Poor Geoff. Poor Kent.

  No sleep. Everything disjointed, coming in staccato bits and pieces. Almost never went home—every day after school, I’d go to Nora’s. Vaulted ceilings and stone floors. Where I grew up, the plastic floors gave a little bit when you put your foot down. Everything shifted and rocked with you.

  Nora’s home was stable. And that big window with the lake in it, and us on her couch, and we were cozy silhouettes. This was the life I never knew. Holding hands, making fun of the TV and the very stupid people who appeared on it.

  Just happy to be with her. Something about her felt so normal, so right. Like things would just be easy for once.

  She lived on a cul-de-sac pretty far out of town, technically another zip code. A good twenty-minute drive from the school. So, when a little blue box crept by the window at ten miles an hour, I never thought it might be coincidence.

  Like everyone, I’m the subject of events out of my control. Unlike most people, my events wore oversized sunglasses and drove around in my stolen car.

  Nothing to do but hold Nora closer. I didn’t see Emily again, but I walked on eggshells for the rest of the night. Didn’t relax until I kissed Nora goodbye outside of my dad’s trailer and laid down in my cot to pretend I could ever get some sleep.

  I woke up late for school and rushed to get dressed in the cramped confines of the mobile home. From sleeping to out the door in under five minutes—a skill I perfected over the years. I jogged along my usual route. It normally took me fifteen minutes to make the trek, but this time, I’d need to get there within ten or I’d miss the tardy bell and end up in detention.

  I’d made plans with Nora, so that wasn’t an option. These things were always a turn-off for her, and our relationship was starting to progress. I needed our time together to go smoothly for at least a few more weeks, so we could get settled down. After that, I might risk screwing up again—not that I planned on it, but these things seemed to follow me.

  My old car, for instance, which was crawling up behind me and matching my jogging pace. That was bound to contain screw-ups.

  I ignored her for a few moments and continued moving along. I considered running off into the trees beside the road, but didn’t want to give the pale-skinned teen the satisfaction of seeing me retreat.

  “Looking good,” Emily called from the car.

  “Leave me alone.”

  “We need to talk,” she said.

  “No, we don’t. I need to get to school.”

  “Why?”

  “What do you mean ‘why?’ So I can graduate.”

  “You never cared about that before,” Emily accused.

  “How do you figure?”

  “I don’t like yelling. Could you get in the car?”

  “Not a chance in hell,” I said, remembering the last time I’d been in a car with her.

  “Well, can we at least stop so I can talk to you?”

  “No,” I said, “and stop following me.”

  “I need you,” Emily said. “You’re right about everyone else. David is not as fun anymore. Too much Cameron. And now I’m losing you, too, and i
t’s all because of that little lame-ass Nora.”

  This made me stop. She stopped as well, but too slowly, and I got hit by my own car. The bumper rammed the side of my knee, knocking me onto my hands, grill inches from my face.

  “Leave me alone,” I said, climbing up. “You don’t want to admit I could leave, because then it might make you stupid for not quitting.”

  “You know I can’t do that,” she said, grinning behind oversized shades. “This is the one thing that keeps me occupied.”

  “You need a hobby.”

  “I need Eureka. So do you. So we cracked an egg—so what?”

  “Shut up,” I said, voice hollow. “You have no idea. Geoff died, he was my friend.”

  “Was he? Funny, I didn’t get that impression. I thought you were ashamed of him.”

  “Shut up,” I repeated, shaking my head. “You don’t get it. I doubt you can.” A car approached in the distance, fog lights bouncing over potholes in the road.

  “I can’t…I can’t be myself, Jacob. My self has problems. Look, I could play the game without you, but it wouldn’t be the same. What’s the point of changing all the time if no one around knows who you’ve been?”

  The approaching car fully formed as it emerged from the morning mist. A police patrol, crowned with a rack of lights and antennas. I began waving my arms at the cruiser, trying to get his attention.

  Emily noticed. She slunk low in the stolen car, pulling around me and past the cop. As the policeman passed, I stuffed my hands in my pockets and decided to walk to school. Suddenly, being on time didn’t matter as much.

  32. Self defense

  Now

  “We have dangerous minds, Mr. Aschen. Playing Eureka made us realize certain truths about life that many people claim they understand, but don’t really know like we do. We’ve lived through the experiments.”

  Mr. Aschen smirks. “Like what, Jacob?”

  “Well, Steven knows that for the most part, other people decide our identity. We learned that by playing Eureka.”

  “You’re wrong. Everyone decides who they are,” he says.

  “Do they? Everyone can choose how they see themselves, that’s true. But they can’t decide how other people see them. And which one affects you most? Let me ask you, because it’s very relevant to my situation: If everyone thinks you’re a murderer, but you know that you’re innocent, how much does it matter? You’re still in prison.”

  He grunts, nods. “That’s an extreme example.”

  “Steven’s an extreme guy. He knows how this works, because he knows Eureka. He started to dabble in the black arts. Dangerous weapons, Mr. Aschen.”

  *

  Two days ago

  The last day of school. When I arrived, Steven was waiting—perched on one of the cement banisters, next to the stairs. His hair all freshly tipped, blond spikes molded into peroxide points. Little rectangular glasses, diamond stud earring.

  Steven’s face was the worst. Just radiant smugness, begging someone, anyone to please punch him. Every smile, every pause—everything, Steven trying to convince everyone of his own genius. I’d witnessed the same snide superiority in the people who made fun of me for being poor. Except, Steven was poor too, and that somehow made it even more annoying. Weird, what you see in your childhood friends once you get older, get some distance.

  I tried walking past without saying a word, but he called out to me: “Tag me. Tag me, and I won’t do what I have planned today.”

  I stopped halfway up the steps and turned to face him. “You quit,” I reminded him. “Why would I tag you?”

  He smirked and glanced to the side before facing me again. “You quit, I am just starting a new group. And I want you in it. Let David hang out with the girls, I don’t care. We’ll have new girls.”

  “You don’t know any girls, Steven.”

  “I’ll meet them,” he said, arms folded across his chest.

  “You put weed in Kent’s locker.”

  “I know. Interesting, right? How you can just put something in someone’s possession—easy enough to do—and now their identity is changed. They are responsible for my action, which now defines them. Even if they have no idea who did it. That’s powerful, you know? Interesting stuff.”

  “It’s not happening,” I said. “If I ever tag someone, it won’t be you. Mostly out of spite. I don’t really give a shit, Steven.”

  I walked past. He stood, mouth open, but said nothing.

  Wished I really didn’t give a shit. Unfortunately, the threat probably wasn’t a joke. I didn’t want to end up in jail or kicked out of school—what would Nora think?

  He could’ve done anything. Maybe nothing—maybe his plan was to make me paranoid. If so, his plan worked.

  The first two classes of the day passed without incident, which only made me more nervous. Went to my locker between first and second, checking for some hidden paraphernalia. Nothing.

  Then, third period. No Cameron. Her seat was empty.

  “What’s wrong?” Nora asked as I sat down and froze with my hands clutching the desk, staring at an empty chair.

  “I…I just don’t feel good,” I lied. Strange, for Cameron to miss school. There were no coincidences today.

  “Go see the nurse,” she said. “And I hope you feel good enough to come by tonight.”

  “What?”

  “You’ve gotta listen to me rehearse my speech,” she said. “You promised, remember?”

  “Speech?”

  “My valedictorian speech, asshole. Come on. If you go home early, give me a call and I’ll pick you up after school.”

  “Right, right,” I said. “No, I’m fine. I just need a second.”

  I felt flushed and frail. I wanted to explain things to Nora, but she wouldn’t understand. The moment I said the word ‘Eureka,’ she’d get pissed.

  “All right, class,” the teacher said. “Today is the big day. Today, I want a picture with all my favorite graduating seniors.”

  The teacher was like this. Constantly reliving high school, experiencing her wonder years vicariously through us. Worried about popularity—bad enough when the kids did it.

  I’d been hearing about the photo shoot for weeks, but with everything happening, I’d forgotten. From the frustrated look on Nora’s face, she’d forgotten, too.

  We filed out of the room and chatted our way down to the front doors of the school, where we interrupted foot traffic and took several horrible pictures with the teacher while she pretended to be best friends with all of us.

  This interruption put me further on edge. I didn’t want anything unusual happening today. After fifteen minutes of awkward hugs and high-fives, we were back inside. And here, my problems began.

  “My phone!” shrieked a girl from across the classroom. “Someone stole my phone!”

  “Check again,” the teacher said. “Are you sure it’s gone?”

  “It was in my purse,” she said. “I had it earlier. Someone stole it.” Voice in hysterics.

  Nora shrugged at me.

  “Did you have the phone in this class?” the teacher asked.

  “Yeah, just fifteen minutes ago.”

  “Let’s look, then. Maybe it fell out of your purse.”

  Other students bent and twisted in their chairs, searching for something that was obviously not in plain view. The teacher was getting frustrated.

  A growing knot of dread in my throat invited me to check my own backpack. I’d left it in the room while we got our pictures taken.

  With a breath of resignation, I pulled my bag open. A small square of neon blue light stared back at me. A pink cell phone, resting at the bottom of my things. Next to that, a woman’s white leather wallet.

  The phone let out a loud chirp; the screen displayed a text message from an unknown number. The message read: Tag me.

  I finally had a cell phone, and it was going to get me kicked out of school. I reached into the bag to turn the phone off, but the screen claimed the device was l
ocked. I fumbled with the keys blindly for a moment, with no luck. Couldn’t erase the message or shut the damn thing down without more time to fool with it.

  “Jacob?” the teacher asked. I looked up from my bag to find her standing right in front of me. “Did you find something?”

  “No,” I said, pulling my hand out of my backpack. The room was silent, now; everyone watched me.

  “Well?” the teacher asked. “I just heard a phone go off. Is that all the explanation we get?”

  “It sounded like mine,” she called from across the room.

  “It’s mine,” I lied. “Sorry for having it on.”

  Only Nora knew me well enough to realize this was a lie. Having her around was becoming a real liability. Without her there, I wouldn’t have to play by the rules. Without her, I wouldn’t have to graduate. Of course, without her, nothing else would matter.

  “It was his phone,” Nora supplied. “I saw.”

  The valedictorian was unimpeachable. The teacher accepted this. She moved back to her desk at the front of the class.

  Oddly attractive, finding out Nora would lie for me. After a few moments passed, I put my bag on the floor and pretended to shuffle through it. I flipped open the snap on the woman’s wallet: The teacher’s face on a driver’s license stared back at me. Yanked my hand out—might as well have a bag full of snakes. The teacher’s goddamn wallet, in my bag.

  The clock laughed down at me from the wall. Still fifteen minutes left in the class. This was Steven’s game. Violate my persona without my consent; forcibly shape who I am seen as. Where Eureka encouraged us to change ourselves, my rival now decided it would be better to simply force the change on other people for them. He did it to Kent, and now it was my turn.

  Why didn’t we have a say? What bullshit, this life. Identities were open safes anyone could tamper with, if they were willing.

  “Why don’t we call her phone?” some helpful little prick asked.

  “That’s a good idea,” the teacher said, reaching into her desk drawer for her own cell phone. “What’s your number?”