We quiet and stare at the table. Checkers? Haunting visions, mysterious torture chambers, galvanizing relationship with the campus pariah—and checkers.
“Black or red?” she asks.
“Black.”
Sara’s mouth lifts in a mischievous grin as we set up the board. “So, obviously Ben hasn’t caught your eye. Who has?”
I concentrate extra hard on lining up the black disks in perfect rows. “No one, really,” I lie.
“Come on. I remember my first week here. Eighty other students my age, just like me? I had the whole place scoped out in hours. If we can’t find a guy here, what hope do we have?”
I force a laugh. “Is that why you enrolled? It’s your turn.”
She grunts and moves a piece. “Okay, fine. You don’t have to tell me his name, but what does he look like?”
I glance at her in amusement before focusing on my next play. “Nice try.”
“Ha. I knew it! So there is someone.”
“I didn’t say that.”
She gasps and leans forward. “It’s Thomas, isn’t it?”
I don’t want to encourage her, but come on. “The guy who sits at my dining table?”
Sara crinkles her nose. “Okay, no. That would be a terrible match.” She thinks for a moment, and I have to remind her againto take her turn. “Oh, wait! What about Daniel Mueller? What’s he like—for real? He’s in Birchwood too, isn’t he?”
I work to steady my pulse. “His room is. He’s not around much.” Casual. Good work. Focus on the game.
“But you’ve met him, right? I mean, outside of class. I think it’s great how you stood up for him. He can’t be as bad as everyone says.”
“Who really is?” Take the piece now or set up a double score next time?
“You’d think people here would be more accepting of each other, but it seems like we’re worse.”
“That was the point I was trying to make in group.”
Sara grunts and eyes her piles of lost pieces. “I stink at this game.”
“Maybe you should pay more attention to your strategy and less to my non-existent dating life.”
The triathlon proceeds about as expected and turns out to be less of a tournament and more like a group of people playing games for two hours. Sara helps mitigate some of the boredom, and we even enjoy the final event that pairs us with charming roommates, Matthew and Connor. The morning ends with the four of us planning a reunion after dinner that night.
I wave to Sara, and set out toward my table in the dining hall.
“Hey, Rebecca. How’d you do in the big triathlon?” Christopher asks as I take my seat.
“Fantastic.”
“What’s wrong? Not a fan of the Madison Academy Olympics?”
“Which countries medaled in checkers last year?” I ask.
My humor fades abruptly at the dark figure strolling toward us, hood drawn. Without a word, he drops to the empty seat beside me, and my heart stutters before launching into a wild rhythm. The entire day of denying his existence evaporates when his leg brushes mine. Disguise my trigger? Impossible if he touches me.
“Wow,” Ben says, honing in on the late arrival. “I guess this is our monthly family meal. What’s the occasion, big guy?”
Daniel doesn’t acknowledge him, slouching in his chair and looking bored.
