Dangerous Game

I tapped my pencil against the desk, glancing from my watch to the blackboard and then to the door. This class went on forever no matter what I did. Someone tapped my shoulder, and I turned around to face the girl behind me. Turning around I was met with the cat-like eyes of Izzy Sanchez, one of the only people on campus I could bring myself to tolerate.

“What?” I asked in a low voice. Her red lips curled into a feline smile as her hand pushed her phone to the edge of her desk.

“Did you hear about the Game?” she asked, pushing the phone even further so it hung off the desk, her eyes flickering between the phone and myself.

“The Game?” I asked in hushed tones, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, the Game. Where have you been?” Izzy hissed, with a roll of her eyes as her phone not tettered dangerously on the edge.

“In my room,” I muttered staring at the balancing act Izzy's phone was committing to.

“Why am I not surprised you haven't heard of it?" she scoffed. "It's this new streaming app but it comes with a twist. People watch other people get killed. Premium members get to choose or some shit like that, but everyone is obsessed."

“Why is this popular?!" I hissed, my eyes snapped up to meet hers. As Izzy gave a non-commital shrug her elbow gave the phone the final push to send it clattering to the floor earning the pair of us a disapproving glare from the professor who scribbled something down in her notes before continuing with the lecture. I snuck low into my chair, going back to my routine of tapping my pencil and watching the time slowly tick by.

Half an hour later and Izzy and I were in our corner of the cafe. I was typing away on my laptop while Izzy leaned back into the couch cushions reading the sun illuminating the side of her face with a warm glow. Suddenly and without warning, someone plopped themselves next to Izzy without invitation. I looked up to glare at them and met the icy blue eyes of Franklin.

“Hello Morana,” Frankie said with that prideful smile he seemed always have.

“Franklin,” I muttered dropping my eyes back to my laptop.

“Frankie, please,” he said somewhat sharply but I ignored him.

“Play nice,” Izzy said, a smile tugging at her lips glancing at me over the top of her book.

“What do you want, Frankie?” I said, plastering a smile onto my face.

“I just wanted to know how you were, Morana,” he said leaning forward, amusement twinkling in his eyes as he returned an equally fake smile. Izzy attempted to hide a chuckle behind a cough, earning a glare from me.

“I’m going to a party tonight, wanna come?” Frankie said, winking at me. I recoiled, but before I could utter a word Izzy interjected.

“We will be there.”

I sighed, I wasn’t going to go, no matter what.

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I can’t believe I’m here… I thought bitterly, looking down at the shorts Izzy had forced me to wear. They could barely be considered shorts though making me feel cold and exposed in the small pieces of fabric.

“Let’s go!” Izzy said dragging my hand, pulling me out of the car and up to the house.

Multi-colored light bled out onto the lawn, the ponding music could be heard coming out of the open windows and door. People milled around the lawn, streaming in and out of the house, exchanging red solo cups for kisses, and the cool autumn night for the stuffy inside of the frat house.

“Why am I here?” I asked, digging my heels into the ground.

“Think of it as an opportunity to observe college students in their natural state,” Izzy smiled, still holding my hand as she dragged me up towards the house. The smell of pot and alcohol wafted over us as we approached the wide-flung open door.

“Morana! Izzy! So glad you could come!” Frankie said swaying as he pushed his way through the throng of people towards us. His blue eyes looked us over, his gaze lingering on my exposed legs and Izzy’s plunging neckline.

“Frankie!” Izzy replied with a smile, letting go of my hand to pluck the cup from his hand and to give him a half hug.

“Morana, you want one?” he asked with a grin, motioning the cup that Izzy was already downing.

“I’ll pass,” I sniffed, looking around the drunken, sweaty, bodies of other college students as they swayed in time to the deafening music. Izzy was already gone, melting into the crowd. Feeling suffocated, I edged my way around the crowd to the back door and eventually outside. I took a few deep breathes of cool night air before noticing a few people in the shadow of the house who were sucking the souls out the cigarettes pinched between their fingers.

“Hey,” I said approaching them and they glared at me. “Can I get one, please?”

One of them handed me one and lit it for me with a grunt before turning back to his friends. I mumbled a thank you and walked further down the back lawn away from the party.

“Don’t like parties?” someone asked behind me, their sneakers squeaking against the damp grass.

“Not really,” I shrugged, turning to face the stranger. The glow of the house acted as a backlight. If I squinted I could just make out that the stranger was wearing a leather jacket, and had dark hair. However, I could feel his eyes looking me over like a piece of meat and I scowled.

“Do you have any more of those?” he asked pointing to the cigarette.

“Nope got it from them hiding in the shadows back there,” I said waving my hand at the house.

“Cal,” the man stepped closer, and I could see his features more clearly. High cheekbones, startling green eyes, and toffee-colored skin, and lips that were curled into a Cheshire cat smile.

“Mora-“

“I know who are you, Morana Jones, psychology major, junior," he said, his smile widening, but it didn't reach his eyes.

“How the fuck-“ I began, stomping out the cigarette. Cal chuckled, pulling out a cigarette from the pocket of his jacket. I watched him as his lit and brought it to his lips, momentarily lighting up his face. The smoke curled from the corners of his mouth, and coiled around his head in a smokey crown, before melting into the night sky.

“I know everything about everyone on campus,” he answered finally. “Nice legs, you should show them off more often.”

I opened my mouth to say something but our conversation was interrupted by a shrill screech. He didn’t move, a smile flitting across his face as I ran back up to the house, past the torrents of people who were crying, yelling hysterically, shouting into the night. I found Izzy and grabbed her roughly by the shoulders.

“What’s going on? Are you okay?” I asked, quickly scanning her body as my grip on her shoulders tightened.

“Wen Garner is dead,” Izzy said shaking slightly her hands holding onto my shirt.

“What? Wen Garner? Like the Wen Garner?” I said and she nodded.

“T-they filmed it too, and then someone found the body upstairs,” she stammered through shortened breathes, and tears streamed down her face.

“Filmed?” I echoed.

“Yea… that app... on the Game…”