The Game

one

I don't really know how it started. Or when. Middle school maybe? It could've been elementary?

We've been playing The Game forever. Every Friday. At lunch. In our little corner of the cafeteria.

Ruth.

Calvin.

Me.

And Brody.

Brody is the centre of my existence. Just like I am the centre of existence for everyone in Summerhill High. To everyone except Brody.

We've all been friends since kindergarten. The four of us, the four musketeers. We ascended the popularity ladder together and took our rightful places on the throne of Summerhill.

I'm not being obnoxious. I'm just stating the facts. We were born to be popular. Just like some are born to have brown hair or green eyes. It runs in our blood. My mother was popular in school. Her mother was popular in school. And so on and so on.

They say popularity can change you. But none of us have changed. Towards each other anyway. Ruth Charleville is still as cheeky as ever, with chocolate skin and corkscrew curls to match her wild personality.

Calvin Webber is identical to how he was in elementary. Still as stylish. Still as arrogant. His style has evolved over the years.There's nothing in the school dress code about rocking wacky eye colored contacts so usually Calvin wears pink and purple contact lenses. For the drama.

The only thing that changed about Brody was his smile. The braces in middle school paid off. His breath no longer smells of his breakfast. Now he can grin at me and whisk me off my feet. I've been completely besotted with him for years. He has no idea, of course. Him finding out I've dreamed about us sipping champagne in a hot tub could ruin everything.

Not just my friendship with Brody, but my relationships with Ruth and Calvin too. They'd never forgive me if I rocked the boat and plunged our popularity into jeopardy.

I would make the front page of the Summerhill Reports! School newspaper. It would ruin me. And Brody. His football career would be tarnished with taunts from the opposing team; catcalling me and making snarky comments.

The only time I can make moves on him is during The Game. In The Game, we can be whoever we want. Strangers, lovers, friends with benefits. Anything.

Just as long as we do what the other asks.

It sounds kinky. And sometimes it is. Sometimes we dive so deep into ourselves, we don't recognize one another. Our deepest, darkest secrets pulled to the surface and our identities get sucked into our ribcages.

It's the most passionate game of truth or dare one could dream of. But all players must abide by the rules.

Rule number 1: there are no limits.

Rule number 2: there are no secrets too important for The Game.

Rule number 3: an eye for an eye.

Rule number 4: blood for blood.

Rule number 5: the other players are not your friends.

Everything is on the line. Money, clothes, jewelry, secrets, lies and dares.

So far, nobody has been pushed over the edge. Until now.

                            ***

It was Ruth's turn to roll the dice. She gave me one of her dazzling veneer smiles and my mouth ran dry.