The six of us spent every Friday afternoon together, and we fell deeper and deeper into the secrets of Gonfalon. We’d pause in the hallways at school to discuss theories. We met up in the diner. We lived in two worlds at once.
Zac never quite fit, though. The game didn’t include as many battles as he wanted. He had to share the spotlight. Ever and Finn didn’t take kindly to his biting humor, calling him out on his not-so-politically-correct remarks, even when the rest of us shrugged it off. He became increasingly possessive.
We inevitably broke up at the beginning of our senior year, just after last summer. He didn’t take it gracefully.
“Are you saying you’d rather spent time with those losers than with me?” he’d demanded, though he was the one who’d spent the summer doing community service because he’d drunkenly totaled his mother’s car, and he’d already been suspended for a week when he got caught cheating on a test, the real sign of a loser.
“They’re not losers, they’re my friends,” I told him.
He snarled and slammed his hand into the locker behind me. “You don’t have friends. You have pet projects.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You don’t belong there.”
“I do, and we’re good together. They’re talented, all of them. They’re creative. They’re interesting.” Even though my heart was racing, I reached out and patted his cheek. “You’re the one who doesn’t belong, Z.”
He shook his head in disgust. “You’re truly your father’s daughter. One of these days, you’ll find out that life can’t be organized to your preferences, and the choices you make come with consequences. When that happens, don’t come crying to me, because I will enjoy every minute of it.”
He was wrong, of course. In the game and out, we were far better off without him, though it took several months to adjust to the new normal. I didn’t even consider inviting him here. I did rub it in his face that we’d be reuniting this weekend and celebrating three years of the game.
When Ever suggested bringing in another player after Zac left, I cut them off before they’d finished speaking. I knew what they meant—they correctly pointed out our group was Wonder Bread white, and they knew some people who might be a good fit if they felt comfortable at the table—but we’d finally gotten the balance right. Why fix what wasn’t broken?
It was perfect at the start, and it will be perfect again.
One last time. I repeat that to myself as I part with Finn and Ever and head to my room upstairs. Subtle theme: storybook love. Everything in my room reminds me of the stories I built—posters from WyvernCon, a quilt made from costume pieces, and an old-fashioned storage trunk full of drawings, designs, and dreams (and one of Zac’s shirts) that I dare not show anyone.
I unpack my heavy backpack and ignore the shadows that dance around me. I have nothing to worry about. It’ll all work out the way it should.
I just have to make sure the group stays together, including Finn, who very nearly bowed out twice already. I can’t help but admire that he showed up. Finn was there when it started. He should be here now, when it ends.
Because Zac was wrong: I can and will design life exactly to my preferences.
Four
Carter
“Everyone, listen up,” Ever shouts down the hall, leaning out of their room. “If you haven’t changed yet, do so now. I want to make the most of the time we have.”
“Suit up!” Liva calls, following Ever’s declaration.
In my room, aptly themed “haunted mansion,” I deposit my suitcase on my bed and massage my arms, then begin to unpack. I know it’s important to keep up appearances, but this was blatantly ridiculous. If my parents want to show off wealth, they could’ve bought me a fancy backpack too. But no, they said, traveling around with a backpack looks cheap and vulgar. I’m staying at the Konigs’ cabin, aren’t I? I shouldn’t look out of place.
I wish I could’ve told them I was going to look out of place regardless. Liva’s style is effortlessly elegant. No matter what I do, no matter how hard I work, no matter how much I try, I’m always going to look tacky in comparison. Even this room, done in subtle shades of black and gray, is decorated to understated perfection. If Liva wanted to hurt me, this would be the perfect way to do it—invite me to this cabin and remind me of everything her family has and mine doesn’t.
She wouldn’t care—doesn’t care—about something as small as a suitcase. But try explaining that to my parents. It was hard enough explaining that I couldn’t skip this weekend. They didn’t want me to make a bad impression at work by taking vacation time. No matter that it’s technically only an after-school job and I’m not supposed to work full-time. “You reap what you sow,” as my mother is fond of saying. “Work hard, keep your head high, and you’ll get what you deserve.”
If those words were true, we’d have a cabin of our own, and the status to go with it. My parents work as hard as Liva’s father. I work harder than she does. And it’s not like we have it bad, at all. Not like Ever.
But we don’t count in any way that matters. Liva’s after-school job is as her father’s assistant. I work in the same office, but all I’m tasked with is pushing papers.
Once I get to college, I’ll find a way to change that, by any means necessary. A flicker of guilt pulses in my mind, but I push it down. I’ll show them all.
“Don’t you have any passions you want to pursue?” Ever
