“I hate toast,” I whisper, suddenly clutching Ivy by the arm. “It’s so dry. I really hate it.”
Ivy shrugs away. “Man up! We can do this. We just have to go fast and then freeze like we did as kids during freeze tag.”
Easy? EASY?
“Which part of running with a different crowd did you not understand?” I hiss. “I never played freeze tag! I played basketball!”
She grins at me; it’s cute, but I know the horror behind that grin and what it means. “Then you’re dead.”
“How are you so cruel?” I cling to her. “Who hurt you?”
She shoves me off her. “Oh, some big giant idiot in college, but I’m over it.”
“I’m not,” I say under my breath, making her own catch. Does fear cause a person to just blurt shit out like that? What the hell is wrong with me?
“Three,” Max’s voice comes over the loudspeaker.
I’m not ready.
“Two.”
“SHIT!” I yell. “Help!”
Ivy grabs me by the arm and holds me behind her.
“One!”
We’re still as the music plays, and “Maxine” turns around and then turns back. Another couple trips next to us, and shots ring out.
From a paintball gun.
I’m still not relieved because that shit hurts.
Maxine turns back around.
“Run!” Ivy shoves me forward. She doesn’t have to tell me twice. I sprint toward the line, then stop and topple over onto my knees. When Maxine turns back around, I’m as still as I can be.
I don’t get shot.
I can feel Ivy behind me.
She helps me up, and we make it across in record time, but my heart is still slamming against my chest.
Ivy falls to the ground next to me. “That was intense.”
“That was insane,” I grumble. “I mean, it’s just paintball, but still.”
She holds her hand up for a high five. “You did it!”
“Yeah, well, I have a super good partner.” I nudge her.
She laughs.
And I realize I’m probably in more trouble right now than I was last night.
Shit.
Chapter Five
Max
“You see, Dustin, the thing about loyal employees… they’re willing to do just about anything for money or a stable job. The economy’s rough, as you well know, considering the shoes you choose to wear.” Max beams at the row of board members around him. “Thank you all for coming!”
Dustin grumbles something under his breath.
“What was that, little D?” Max asks, cupping his ear.
“Little D?” Roger, one of the younger board members with perfectly slicked back black hair, an impeccable gray suit, and shiny black shoes, asks.
“I’m glad you said something, Roger; thank you. Your voice soothes the soul.” Max puts his hands together in front of him. “It was a nickname from childhood after a girl told him he had a small—”
“We should probably get started!” Dustin all but yells, then coughs wildly into his hands.
Max sighs. “Fun ruiner.”
Dustin shoots him a glare. “If you’ll just bring your attention to the player board and place your bets, we’ll be sure to get them into the system before the next event.”
Roger pipes up again, “Can we bet on them all?”
“No.” Max wags his finger at Roger. “You know you have to pick only one. That’s why it’s important to study the player profiles thoroughly. You pick one team, and if they win, then you win the entire pot of cash plus bragging rights. Everyone else, however…” Max grins. “Will have their names added to the trophy of shame and donate a pre-determined amount to the charity of their choice.” He rolls his eyes. “And people think this is cruel. You know we single-handedly saved the Penguin Palace at the zoo last year because of the Emory Games?”
Max puffs out his chest. “Now, grab your avatar, and place your bets. I naturally won’t be betting since I have insider information. There are currently eight active board members, and each of you has picked something that represents you in some way. Roger, you chose an owl. Dane, I noticed you grabbed a lizard, which makes sense, all things considered.”
Dane, is, in fact, wearing head-to-toe green but shrugs as if he isn’t aware that he looks, in fact, exactly like a lizard.
“Now.” Max rubs his hands together. “There are only a few left to pick from.” He steps away and points at the smart board.
Each team is labeled team one, two, three, four, and so on; each of them have different colors matching their team, and the setup looks like a virtual horse race.
“Currently, the team favored to win is Ivy and Jack, team number two, but I wouldn’t discount some of the others. It’s easy to come out fists flying; it’s hard to finish first when you start first. Just ask Dustin.”
“I was in high school, and I tripped on a shoelace.” Dustin glares from behind his black-rimmed glasses.
“There, there.” Max pats him on the shoulder. “We all, at some point in life, trip on the finish line and choke during the state finals.” He slaps Dustin hard on the back again. “All right, now, time to announce the next game!”