“Help me!”

Logan Spruce (Girl #18) darted after Meyerhold Zemeckis (Boy #21) through the daylight of the junkyard with her pudgy eyes locked on his open back.

Even though she was like an monstrous balloon waddling when she ran, she was determined, and that was all she needed; Meyerhold Zemeckis was going to kill her and she had to protect herself, because living was all Logan had left now. She savored how her heart, clogged by fat and her clogged arteries, beat like a drum because someday, whether she lived through the competition or not, Logan wouldn’t be living any more because of one problem.

Her gland disease.

Breathing hard from her weight, Logan watched as Meyerhold screeched like a monkey and dove behind a rusty car. She swung her machete at him, but somehow, the unathletic figure of Meyerhold managed to escape her grasp. He hurriedly jumped on top of the dashboard of the car, swinging his handsaw at her with his arms flailing.

“Bully!” Meyerhold kept screeching. “Bully! Bully! Bully!”

He swung his handsaw at her, cutting the brim of her nose lightly. It bled, but it was nothing deep; it was like a popped zip. Reminding herself to savor being cut later, Logan wobbled up to the dashboard with her belly, causing the entire car to lurch to one side.

“Get out of my junkyard!” Logan roared in her whale-belly voice. “Screw off, Meyerhold!”

His pimply face shook on top of the car, balancing himself on the rusty metal as he struggled to swing his handsaw at her. However, deep down, Logan could see he was just as terrified as her as he swung the saw with his trembling hand; why would her murderer be frightened of his victim?

She swung the machete again, listening to the sound slice through the air. Meyerhold’s backpack was punctured instantly, spilling his water bottles and food as his pimply face lit up in horror. Without another thought, he swung off his artfully torn backpack and tossed it aside before hurriedly jumping off the top of the car and onto the dirt of the junkyard. Breathing hard, Logan followed him, still screaming in the bellow of a whale as she chased him with her machete.

Splash…

However, the moment she attempted to scurry off the top of the car, she slipped on the spilled water, sending her toppling down like an elephant at a circus. She landed with an enormous thud as Meyerhold, nearly ten feet away, stared at her tragically, almost like he was the victim.

“Why does everyone pick on me?” he whined, tears trickling in his eyes. “Why are you all so mean? You want to know why, Logan? You’re a bully; my mom says so! You’re all bullies and I should just ignore you! But even when I do, you don’t stop! Why won’t you stop?”

And with that, Meyerhold Zemeckis dashed toward the fallen body of Logan Spruce, glared furiously, and sliced his handsaw into her beefy left arm.

She wailed in pain, turning around on her bloated stomach as the yellow fat and blood began to leak out. It was a deep wound; there was no question about it. It was so deep that it would be impossible to fix. Even if it was patched up somehow, she would never move her left arm again. Before she died, she would never be able play tennis, draw a picture, or even take a test; the fact that Logan was left-handed didn’t improve the situation.

The pain surged up her arm as she howled in agony. She gripped her arm, feeling the thick yellow fat beginning to drip out. She never expected the inside of her body to be this hot; the fat almost burned her hand. Her entire arm was on fire, and no matter what position she was in, it was burning in agony. It was the worst pain she had ever felt in her life.

Logan screamed into the ten-o-clock morning, almost like a whale blowing its blowhole. Meyerhold Zemeckis (Boy #21), standing above her, let a look of triumph light up his pimply face as he spit down on her.

“Go back to public school!”

As he scurried up the gray hill surrounding the junkyard, nearly slipping along the way and forgetting his torn backpack and food, Logan howled in agony as she began to nudge herself back toward the garbage pit. She had dropped her machete, but it didn’t matter now. She wouldn’t be able to use it with her mangled arm. Feeling the acid fat burning her arm, Logan sniffled as she realized the cold hard truth of the situation. Her worst fear had come true. No matter what, she could not win the program, now.

She was going to die.

While Logan Spruce (Girl #18) massaged her mangled arm, J.C Brooke (Girl #1) massaged her broken one as her working arm felt the rickety wall of the dark mineshaft.

After waking up, she had stayed in a fetal position, shivering at the pitch-black bottom. However, when she realized the truth that for once, nobody was going to help her, she realized that if she wanted to live, she would have to rely on her own survival skills.

Well, at least until she found a new group to take advantage of.

The more J.C thought about the more she felt like sobbing about what had become of Jesse and Skylar. Truthfully, she had never liked either of them; Skylar was a goody-goody and Jesse never listened to her orders. However, seeing that Zane had killed them was too much for her. The world of J.C Brooke had stood at a needle-tip before toppling off into darkness. Or more specifically, a mineshaft.

Zane had been her only true friend. Aside from that, he had been her boyfriend. Sure, she had been selfish, but according to J.C, boyfriends were supposed to protect their girlfriends. It was custom, and Zane couldn’t violate tradition. However, seeing how he had brutally drugged and murdered two of their group members, J.C didn’t know what to think anymore; Zane was a maniac.

Cringing from the pain in her broken arm, J.C’s manicured fingernails scraped the side of the wall, feeling her way down the twisting tunnels of the mineshaft. Occasionally, she would come to a wet section, instantly meaning she would have to turn back unless she wanted to wander under the ocean’s surface and have her collar explode, or even worse, drown slowly and painfully.

“Someone help me!” she whined. “Somebody help me, damn it!”

However, for the only time in J.C’s life, nobody answered. She was truly on her own. Furiously, she banged her working arm into the wall, almost thinking somebody strong like Chris Barrister or smart like Peter Juntz would materialize out of thin air and accept her into their group, and eventually, get her off the island and out of the cold collar around her neck.

“Get me out of here!” J.C screamed, almost talking deliriously to the wall. “Can anyone hear me? It’s J.C Brooke! I’m scared and cold and I want to go home! Somebody help me!”

And that was when J.C’s prayers were answered by none other than God.

In the corner of her eye, a bright light began to edge out of the mineshaft. After several hours of darkness, it pained her eyes so delusionally that she almost laughed. Well, God wasn’t Chris Barrister, but somehow, the Lord had answered her prayers and was going to accept her into the bright light. Even though she had never gone to church in her life, he must have had some level of sympathy for J.C Brooke if he was going to give her an escape route like this.

“Help me!” J.C cried, having no idea what she talking about. “God! Chris! Peter! I always liked all of you! My boyfriend’s gone insane and killed my friends! My other friend ran away and I have no clue where he is! I’m scared as shit! Get me off this island!”

She banged on the bright light, feeling her hands begin to bleed from the sharp ceiling. However, she didn’t stop. Laughing insanely, J.C continued to bang on the illuminated ceiling, feeling what seemed like cheap wood begin to crack uselessly above her.

“Thank you!” J.C laughed, completely delirious. “Thank you!”

There was muttering above her and J.C was sure the moment she got out through that light, she would be home in her bed again with her rock band posters above her bed; this was all a horrible dream! It all made so much sense!

“Mom! Dad! I’m home!”

The muttering continued until finally, the light exploded with a creaking of wood and splintery dust falling onto the mineshaft. Her fingernails, now bleeding, rested at her side with her broken arm. However, none of the pain mattered now. After all, this was all just a bizarre dream! What a stupid one, too; a killing game. That only happened to dorky Asians, just like Mae Yamamoto, who obviously, was still alive. Ha-hah.

J.C felt her normal self finally returning.

The light was in a square shape now, and it took J.C a minute to realize she was staring at a trapdoor. A face, serious and with a yellowish complexion, was staring back at her as her eyes were blinded by the light.

“It’s J.C Brooke, guys!” the face called. “C’mon, guys it’s J.C Brooke! She’s in the mineshaft! I can’t believe it! In the mineshaft!”

That was when J.C realized this wasn’t her ticket home or her parents. In fact, it wasn’t even God, Chris, or Peter. It was Leana Devora (Girl #2). She was staring at her blankly with a look caught between surprise and relief. It was almost like she had been waiting for somebody to pass for hours.

Before J.C could think anything else, she was wrenched out of the mineshaft and through the trapdoor into the burning light. There were wooden rafters above her and it took a minute for her to realize she was in a large barn. It was rusty-looking, old, and tattered, but it was a barn nonetheless. Below her was the trapdoor to the mineshaft which she had just magically appeared in, and likely terrified Leana.

“I can’t believe it!” Leana exclaimed. “You’re okay, right? I mean, we would have found you earlier but we didn’t know the trapdoor hear led down to a mineshaft! I still can’t believe it; there’s like a whole system of underground tunnels here. I wonder why there’s a trapdoor into it in the barn”.

“An escape route, maybe”, another voice said. J.C turned around, still dazed by the sunlight streaming through the barn, to see June Harrison (Girl #4). She was a slightly plump girl with blonde braids, along with a long and slender face. “Are you thirsty, J.C?”

J.C nodded, satifised these girls were on her beck and call. She hardly knew them, aside from the fact they were all on the same lacrosse team that J.C was the captain of. They seemed to look up to her, which was even better; they would be even more eager to get off the island. She called them the Petting Zoo Girls. Leana had a short and pursed face, almost like a monkey, while June had a long and lenient face like a shocked deer stopping in the headlights of a car. It was only fitting that they had hid in a barn.

“Perry Rumbaugh is in the kitchen making lunch”, Leana explained. “I’ll tell her to get you water or something. For a barn, this place is pretty nice; it smells like horses, but it has a kitchen and bathroom back in the corner. We sort of set up a clinic here for everyone. There’s enough medicine in the pantry for nearly everyone here on the island. If anyone comes by, we decided to take care of them if they’re injured”.

“Like your arm”, June added, cringing as she glanced at J.C’s mangled wrist. “What the hell happened?’

“Meyerhold Zemeckis chased me down the mineshaft”, J.C explained. “But that’s nothing. Can you get me water and something for my arm?”

Almost honored that they were getting J.C Brooke, the tough girl who was the captain of their lacrosse team a glass of water, they all hurried off to the kitchen, giggling and bustling into eachother like kindergartners. When Leana was almost in the deer, she spun around, turning to J.C with her shocked-deer face.

“There’s a cot where the stables are”, Leana explained. “You can rest there”.

Smiling as Leana hurried into the kitchen, J.C decided that she was going to win the competition. Not even a would-have-been fatal fall down a mineshaft and nearly going insane had slowed her down. After all she was J.C Brooke (Girl #1); she was invincible.

Adrienne Spring (Girl #17) lay back against the small hut Erin Thompson (Girl #19) and Victoria Jenkins (Girl #5) had built out of loose sticks and leaves, chewing her cherry bubble gum as she watched the waves settle against the sand dunes along the shore. To a ship passing by, only her collar would give away she was participating in the program instead of a day at the beach.

“I think Amber’s going to do something!’ Victoria shrieked, pointing across the beach. “Shyla and her keep talking! I see them Adrienne!”

Pleased with how she had paranoid Victoria’s once peaceful mind and nearly lobotomized Erin’s, Adrienne merely rolled her eyes as she chewed on her bubble gum, letting her toes wiggle in the briny sand. It was amusing how everybody had always thought she and Victoria were best friends, when deep down, she could hardly stand the immature Girl Scout. On the other hand, she had no feelings whatsoever for Erin, who had always brought down the group with her negative attitude. It was good to see both of these girls were now under control.

“Let them talk, Victoria”, Adrienne said, “I’ll protect all of you. Don’t worry, if anything happens, you’re all safe with me. How are you doing over there, Erin?’

Erin, who hadn’t talked for ages, sat silently as she watched the waves crash against the shore. After recovering from the brick wound to her head, Adrienne had wondered if she had suffered brain damage. However, when she had discovered Erin had merely become quiet and secluded due to Adrienne’s work instead of the brick’s, she was more than overjoyed; it just showed what she was capable of.

“So Victoria”, Adrienne said, sarcastically raising her eyebrow. “Listen to any good bands lately?”

Victoria’s eyes enlarged in terror. “I think Amber’s coming! I just saw her move! Oh my god, she just looked this way Adrienne! She looked right at me!”

Adrienne laughed, pleased what she had done to Victoria’s mind. “That’s a weird name for a band. I’ve never heard of their work. What kind of genre is their music? Rock? Pop?”

When Victoria didn’t answer, Adrienne rolled her eyes and continued to chew her cherry bubble gum with her big and rosy mouth; the gum had lost its flavor nearly a day ago. The gum wasn’t that different than her, who had also lost her love for anything long ago. When she hadn’t been able to make friends, she had decided it would be much easier to work her way around those who had them and steal them. After all, Adrienne enjoyed toying around with people, because she knew she was truly the only true person. She wasn’t sure exactly what she meant, but somehow, she knew it made sense.

The only con was that she had never gotten to know what a true friend was.

“Victoria”, Adrienne ordered. “Go catch fish. You’re boring to talk to and your taste in music sucks”.

As Victoria hurried away, Adrienne stared at the ocean as she contemplated her plan. It was easy. Judging by the way things were going Victoria would die first, likely through mistrust or an accident because of how terrified she was, followed by Shyla Ryals. Erin, who was now an empty shell of a person, would go criminally insane after Victoria’s death, and would be the one who would kill Shyla, eventually dieing as well as the entire group tore itself apart. Eventually, it would just be Amber and her, and when that happened, all of the other students would likely be dead on the entire island; she would kill Amber and win the competition.

“It’s Adrienne Spring! Look, honey, it’s the Adrienne girl”

“Hey Amber, sweetie! Nice tits!”

“Spring! Spring! Spring!”

“Kill em’, Jenkins!”

Adrienne glanced up to see a cruise ship passing the shore full of occupants out on the deck. Adrienne already knew what it was. Every year, billionaires would bet on the Raising Hand Program Cruise Line that circled the entire island for three days. They would watch the competition merely yards away, betting on them the entire time. To Adrienne it just showed where society was going.

Deciding to please her fans, Adrienne rushed to the shoreline, out of the hut, and jumped excitedly onto the wet sand in and almost a war-like dance, excitedly jumping up and down. There was a war of applause on the ship, followed by the sound of somebody calling out excited bids. Even though Adrienne hardly cared, she wondered; how much money was on her?

Whistling as she walked back to the hut, Adrienne thought about how lucky she was to be so capable…

She was capable of anything.

After all, for a long time, she had been one of the bottom girls of Amber’s clique. These kind of emotions hadn’t settled long, especially for somebody like Adrienne. Even though her parents said she suffered from schizophrenia, split personality disorder, Adrienne knew it wasn’t true; she was the only sane one in the entire group, and she was going to prove it to Amber.

In fact, she hadn’t taken her pills for her schizophrenia in a very long time.

“I’m sorry for what happened”, Mitch Kelley (Boy #10) said bitterly.

Terry nodded as she softly brushed the loose hair of Luke Graystone’s (Boy #5) ponytail as he lay unconscious on the cot in the corner. She had spent more time fingering with the ponytail than staring Mitch in the eye; she almost seemed to shocked to talk.

“I forgive you, Mitch”, Terry Klingerman (Girl #6) sighed. “I’m just too confused to talk right now…”

She spoke the word, “Mitch”, with disgust, which clearly showed that she was still angry at him. Even though Mitch regret nearly strangling Luke Graystone and caving in his stomach, he didn’t regret not trusting him; Terry’s idea to trust everyone would only lead to both of their deaths. He could picture Burke announcing their deaths on the speaker, “For the boys, we have (Boy #10) Mitch Kelley, and for the girls, (Girl #6) Terry Klingerman…But they’re just numbers… Nobody important…And now, our cameras zoom in on the traumatized face of Adam Spencers for a close-up shot…

Shuddering at the thought, Mitch forced himself to smile as he glanced down at Luke’s sleeping body. “The bastard almost looks innocent when he’s asleep, huh?”

Terry shrugged. “Everyone’s innocent”.

Deciding not to argue with her stupid philosophies again, Mitch gritted his teeth as he checked his cheap wristwatch. “It’s 10:45. We’re safe from our collars, right?’

Terry nodded. “E6, A6, B9, and J7. I’m pretty sure we’re somewhere between F5 and F4”. For the first time since he had nearly throttled Luke, she turned to him, staring at him with her seussical frizzy, blonde-gray hair and a face that looked old and withered for a teenager.

“I think it’s time we talked”, Terry began. “I want to figure you out”.

“There’s nothing to figure out. I’m Mitch Kelley. I’m a freshman at Spanish Rivers High School and-

Terry shook her head. “That’s not what I want to mean and you know it. There has to be a reason why you don’t trust anyone and think you have to take care of everyone else. Look what you being scared of trusting leads to! Luke could have died! Something had to have happened to you, and if you won’t tell me, I’ll go first to make you feel better”.

Clearing her throat like she was about to make an announcement, Terry began her story as Mitch opened his tired eyes with mild interest.

“It happened at my friend Cassie’s birthday party when I was in fourth grade. I always felt like my parents didn’t pay enough attention to me. At Cassie’s house, whenever I went over, her parents all sat down with eachother at dinner and when she got home, they said hello”.

Mitch nodded, thinking of his family and Adam’s family; they were like two different sitcoms. Adam’s was one of the happy go-lucky perfect family ones while Mitch’s was one of them when you laughed at how dysfunctional they were.

“Anyway, Cassie’s birthday was at the park, and when it was over, everyone was getting picked up by their parents. I waited at the curb next to the jungle gym with a pink balloon in my hand. I hate the color pink, but it was the only balloon they had. Maybe this whole story is why I hate the color even more now. I waited there for hours, and when I was the only one left, I told Cassie’s mother that mine was waiting just down the street at my grandmother’s house and wanted me to walk there. I just said that because I knew I wouldn’t get picked up and didn’t want them to know the truth …It was one of the first times my parents just forgot about me. All I ever wanted was attention. When I got home, my mom was asleep on the couch…”

Luke snored, ruining a tense moment of the story and interrupting Mitch’s thoughts. He thought of the reporter incident and how he had been ridiculed after; maybe that was how Terry felt being left behind at a playground because her parents forgot about her.

I started cutting myself a year later”, Terry explained.

Mitch’s eyes opened wide. “In fifth grade?’

“Yep, in fifth grade. I used to take a rubber band and slap myself on the wrist with it and show it to everyone for attention. Eventually, they just didn’t care anymore. I started to use a knife after and sometimes cleaning alcohol and a lighter. After that, I just stopped talking and started cutting more. I forgot how to talk to people, and all I wanted was for people to notice those scars. People did, and I got help, but it only made me more depressed. J.C Brooke was right what she said before we got on the bus. I cut myself for attention. I didn’t lose my faith in people, though. Everybody’s innocent, Mitch. All that’s wrong is that they lose track of who they are. All I want is for somebody innocent enough to pick me up from a playground…”

Mitch stared blankly. “Didn’t you ever think that it was endangering your health?”

“Sure, but I never really cared. I wanted people to notice me more than I wanted to live. Anyway, when the competition started, I wandered into the post office and found a gun behind the counter. Shooting myself seemed like the only thing right to do”. Suddenly, Terry’s eyes lit up in regret. “Oh, we should have went inside and picked up the gun!”

“It doesn’t really matter now. Darren chased us away the moment you woke up”.

For a second, it looked like Terry was going to remain quiet. However, to Mitch’s disappointment, she continued speaking, this time slightly triumphant.

“Okay”, she said. “That was my story. Now, let’s hear yours”.

It was true. Terry had offered to share her experience first and now it was time for Mitch to share his. Letting the piercing on his tongue rub softly against the roof of his mouth, Mitch suddenly realized the reporter incident wasn’t what had caused his misery. It had added to it, but something had happened before it.

Mitch sighed. “My dad died of skin cancer”.

Terry raised her eyebrow. “Good. Now we’re getting somewhere”.

“Before he died, he would work really long hours and my mom would stay home. I would hardly see him; only on the weekends. He would try to make up for it by buying me things, but nothing really helped. He was more like a stranger that lived with my sister, my mom, and me only on the weekends. We didn’t have a lot of money, so he had to earn a lot to support all of us. He loved us, but I felt guilty because I never knew if I loved him back. Do you know what I mean, Terry?”

When Terry didn’t answer, he sighed and continued talking. Once again, Luke cut abruptly into their conversation with a loud and raspy snore that sounded like his lungs were cracking apart.

“He died of skin cancer. We went to the shore one long week to visit my cousins in the summer. There was definitely something wrong with him, and when we went to the doctor, it was definite; he was going to die. After that, my mom, of all people, became just like him. She juggled three jobs and never came home…”

Even though he had avoided it for a long time, that was the answer to Terry’s question. His reason for not trusting people was because they almost always walked out on him when he actually tried to trust them. He felt like it was his need to protect his friends, because his dad had provided so hard for his family. They were the cold, black-and-white facts of Mitch Kelley’s life; there weren’t any brighter colors to it at all.

Struggling to hold back his tears, Mitch glanced sadly at Terry. “I wonder if they’re still alive. Remember how Burke said Risa Ridgeway’s parents were killed when they protested her going here? What if my mom and my sister are dead? What if Adam is dead?”

Terry seemed to be thinking thoughtfully for a second before she answered.

“I have five half brothers who live with me and two sisters. I don’t worry because there’s more strength in numbers than two people. Just hope your mother and sister were smart enough not to do anything stupid. As for Adam, I don’t know, but if he stays out of everyone’s way on the island, he’ll last awhi-

Crack!

Twinkle…twinkle…

Suddenly, the sound of shattering glass, followed by the sound of it softly trickling down like Christmas ornaments echoed through Mitch’s ears. Almost instantly, Luke, who had been unconscious for nearly two hours, stood up almost robotically in his bed. For a second, Mitch had the horrible urge to punch the person that had caused all of their suffering in the face, knocking him unconscious again, but the moment passed; there were more important matters now.

“It came from the closet”, Terry said worriedly. “Luke, you’ve been here longer than us. Is there a window in the closet?”

Luke, too dazed and tired comprehend anything that was happening, nodded slowly as he struggled to shake off the dizziness. “Y-Y-Yeah. There’s a window above the shelves. How long have I been asleep?”

Ignoring Luke, Mitch glanced at the closet door. It was still, even stiller than the air itself, and seemed to be tempting him with the devil’s finger toward it. It was almost like a door to exit the program. Whether it would be a painless exit or not, Mitch didn’t know.

“Let’s get the hell out of here, guys”, Terry said, quickly shuffling her bag onto her shoulders. Mitch did the same, but before he could do anything, the wooden door gently swung open like the wind had blown it.

The light was flickering, the token atmosphere of a horror movie, and Mitch could hear the audience yelling behind him not to, “do anything stupid”. However, that was when he realized real life was much different than a movie. The real idea of danger and death was so much more powerful than anything Hollywood could produce. Indeed, the window was shattered and glass was scattered out across the wooden floor.

Nobody appeared to be inside.

“What happened?” Luke asked, staring blankly. “Did somebody throw a rock?”

Cautiously, Mitch picked up the taser from the coffee table beside the cot and quietly began to creep toward the closet door. He may have been asking for a death sentence, but he didn’t care; he wanted to die knowing which one of his classmates had gone insane. In fact, if he died, maybe his body would leave behind evidence for somebody else that hiding in the same spot was definitely not a good idea. Beside him, Terry was now creeping, backing him up with Luke who was slightly far behind and trembling in fear like a coward.

The moment he reached the doorway of the closet, his hands began to tremble as sweat began to beat down his neck. Clicking the piercing on his tongue, trying to bite back his fear, he stepped directly into the face of the wooden doorway to the closet with the broken window; a boy with a taser standing like good and evil. However, he wasn’t even quite sure which side he was on yet.

“Hello?”

Almost instantly, he realized why the light was flickering; somebody had shot it and punctured the electricity on top of the bulb. In fact, the person that had shot it was standing directly in front of him in the closet.

“Holy shit!” Luke shrieked.

Risa Ridgeway (Girl #14) stood in the flickering light of the closet. Like always, her typical, “nice girl”, smile was plastered on her face. Her brown hair, neatly parted into gentle curls, flowed down her back like a spiraling staircase. Besides being their class president, Risa was also an active member of the community. From singing Christmas carols to the elderly to picking up cans on the road, Risa was the most caring and responsible girl in their grade. Everybody loved her.

However, Mitch instantly noticed two things that were horribly wrong with her. The first were her eyes. Normally, Risa’s hazel eyes were plain; the effect of being completely nice and losing any sense of mystery to her personality along the way; Risa was a boring person. However, her eyes were different now. They seemed like rolling billiard balls in her head without any sense of direction, whether physically or mentally.

The second thing he noticed was that she was holding a pistol at Mitch’s chest.

“Game over, Mitch”, she muttered, staring down at the ground.

Before he could do anything, Risa fired, revealing she hadn’t cocked the gun properly. However, Mitch still couldn’t move; he remained frozen in time. Almost deliriously, he fell back onto the ground.

“Mitch! Get out of the way!”

Mitch was so lost in his thoughts that Terry and Luke managed to pull him out of the way in the knick of time. Risa’s pistol fired, this time correctly, chipping away plaster from the side of the closet door with an ear-splitting bang. However, even when he had escaped her grasp, Mitch still couldn’t believe it…

Risa Ridgeway was the nicest girl in their entire grade. She had even stood up for crippled Kevin Hashburg in the classroom. Burke had announced her parents had died, right? Had they had anything to do with this? Why would she do something so horrible?

Terry stared like Mitch was an unknown species. “Mitch! Stop playing around! We have to get out of here!”

Mitch looked back at her desperately. “But it’s Risa, Terry! Risa! Out of all people-

Luke sighed. “I know it’s Risa, Mitch! I know it’s horrible someone like her would do this, but you can’t stop to think! You have to-

Risa stepped out of the closet into the light, revealing her face looked darker than an underground tunnel. What the hell had this game done to her? This was Risa Ridgeway; their kind and caring class president who loved everyone. What could have driven her to play the game?

“Risa!” Mitch screamed. “Stop!”

She didn’t listen. Instead, she fired again, barely missing the sole of Mitch’s shoe. He felt the bullet rebound off the hill and stopping with a soft clatter and mist of smoke on the ground. Somehow, he managed to force himself up, with Terry and Luke’s help, and regain his balance. Risa’s pistol was shimmering evil light because of the sunlight shining through the kitchen window, almost making it look like their ticket to heaven.

“I’m the class president”, Risa shrieked at them, completely deranged. “Did you know that?’

She fired again, this time puncturing a hole into Mitch’s backpack and causing a water bottle he had left inside to puncture and began to leak out. Thanking himself for Risa’s poor aim, Mitch and the two others dashed for the door, but somehow, Risa was quicker; she blocked it and cocked the gun again, ready to send any three of them on the train to the afterlife.

“I don’t want to die!” Luke whined, backing into the door. “Oh Jesus, I don’t want to die!”

Terry rolled her eyes, obviously trying to stay calm. “No one’s dieing, Luke”.

It was the biggest lie Mitch had ever heard; forty-one of them were dieing.

Knowing Risa would fire the pistol at any minute, Mitch needed a last resort; anything would do. That was when he noticed he was still holding his useless taser that couldn’t hurt anyone. It was the only thing that could help….but…

“I can’t kill her!” Mitch screamed.

“Then don’t kill her!” Luke snapped. “I just want to live, man! Taser her!”

The bullet fired, this time nailing into Mitch’s shoe. The cut was shallow because of the thickness of the shoe that had slowed the pressure down, but it didn’t stop the pain of a bullet, even if it wasn’t a bad one. He yelped in pain, and almost as a strange reflex, lunged forward as Risa cocked the gun again. He swung for her arm, giving off the blue electricity of the taser as it danced around Risa’s wrist. She yelped in pain, instantly dropping the gun.

“Let’s go!”

Quickly picking up Risa’s pistol, a new weapon to protect them, Mitch happened to forget that Risa had cocked the gun. As he reached for it, picking it up, his fingers came down on something that flexed down softly, followed by a banging sound that rattled his arm.

Mitch Kelley (Boy #10) had accidentally fired the pistol at the face of Risa Ridgeway (Girl #14).

It was Friday the 18th: the day of the big football game against Pequeno Rivers and Spanish Rivers.

Leon Mandler, a senior member of the team who was in remedial classes due to a weight room accident that scrambled his brain, had scored a touchdown during the final seconds. This had tied up the score and caused every student in the bleachers in Spanish Rivers High School to rise up and cheer like an enormous wave.

Mitch Kelley clapped energetically in the top row of the bleachers, his mouth wet and sticky from Coca-Cola. At one side, Adam Spencers nudged against him softly, clapping as he yelled something to the Pequeno Rivers students at the other side of the field. Behind them both, Peter Juntz and the Igolovosky twins were both sitting against the splintery green upper box where Risa Ridgeway, their class president, was cheerfully announcing the results of the game to everyone through the microphone inside.

“And that brings Spanish Rivers High to the lead!” Risa’s enunciated voice shrieked over the microphone. “Congratulations, everyone! You too, Pequeno Rivers!”

As the sound of Risa stepping out of the box and down the rusty bleachers echoed beside him, Mitch watched Amber Prescott and her friends, the cheerleaders, all giggle as they rushed out onto the field in celebration. Beside them, he made out the figure of Prudence Mercedes, the only girl who had managed to get on the football team and keep up with the boys, swishing her helmet hair out as she walked away, causing her frightened teammates to make way for her. Everyone was there; everyone except Jude Mercedes, who had announced very vocally to everyone in the hallway that no matter whom won the game, “everybody lost anyway”. Slightly disturbed by his comment, it was nearly an hour later at school that day before anyone spoke to eachother again.

“Hey Adam”, Mitch urged in a friendly and sarcastic way. “Go out onto the field and give Amber Prescott a lame pick-up line to entertain everyone”.

Adam laughed. “Sure, I’d love for all of her friends to kick my ass!”

Laughing at Adam’s comment, Mitch turned around to his side. In the corner of his eye, Peter Juntz was paying Tristan Igolovsky money that he had apparently bet on the game. Sadie Mercedes was sitting next to him and looking jealously down at the field at Amber Prescott, massaging her skinny cheeks and pressing on them almost like they were too fat. Lea Passington was ignoring everyone completely, staring down at what Mitch was relatively sure was a Bible. Sitting above her, Logan Spruce’s enormous body sat on the top bleacher, almost like the entire metal structure was about to come crashing down.

However, what caught Mitch’s eye was Risa Ridgeway.

“Adam!” Mitch called, turning around.

Adam was talking to Travis Igolovosky, and apparently arguing if Erin Thompson would beat Victoria Jenkins in a catfight. Turning around, his slightly freckly face stared back at Mitch.

“Yeah?”

“Look over there, dude!”

Risa Ridgeway, their class president, was screaming out over the railing of the bleachers angrily, almost like she was screaming at the air. However, when Mitch craned his neck around Sadie Mercedes’s sulking head, he realized exactly what was going on.

Darren Warner, fidgeting with his fingers, was sobbing softly alone on the sidewalk. Around him, nearly seven figures were shoving him around, and from what Mitch could tell, no teachers were around to do anything; Darren was at their mercy. When one of them caught Darren and pushed him again into another one, Mitch noticed every single one of them had a number stitched onto their back; they were all football players.

“Stop!” Risa shrieked. “This isn’t right!”

Peter Juntz, caught in mid-sentence with Tristan and Travis Igolovosky, turn around and stared blankly at the insuring chaos. His face, covered in make-up, lit up in shock.

“What the hell are you guys waiting for?” Peter said, turning in disgust to Mitch and Adam. “C’mon. They could probally kill him if we give them the time”.

Slightly embarrassed he had a drag queen protecting him, Mitch accepted the facts he and his best friend were cowards and hurried out of his seat with Peter and Adam. Hurrying over to Risa, still shrieking angrily over the bleacher railing, he watched Peter tap her on the back.

“What’s going on?”

Risa rolled her plain and annoyed eyes. “It’s Chris and his friends again, Peter. They won’t leave Darren alone. It’s so sad; Darren thinks differently than them so they attack him for it”.

Risa was right. In the moonlight, Mitch saw Chris Barrister give Darren, sobbing, a hard shove over to Eddie Dunnerman, who shoved him over to the semi-retarded senior Leon Mandler. They were all laughing like hyenas, all part of the sick joke.

“You’re dieing me!” Darren kept screaming, terrified. “You’re dieing me!”

“Stop!” Peter snapped.

Chris snorted, spinning around, missing catching Darren and letting him fall to the muddy ground. “Oh, it’s just that cross-dressing faggot Peter Juntz, that emo kid Mitch, his whiny friend Adam, and our dike class president Risa Ridgeway. My best friends!’

The rest of the football team all laughed like Chris had told the funniest joke. Mitch clenched his fist but couldn’t do anything; Chris was much stronger than Risa, Adam, Peter, and him combined.

“I wish you were smart enough to know that only two percent of high schoolers get scholarships”, Peter snapped, shaking his head. “And that’s not just counting football you idiot. Keep failing high school and see what happens, Chris. Let Darren go”.

Chris merely snorted, wretched up Darren’s sobbing body from the ground, and thrusted him over to another linebacker, who was a junior, named Garrett Pear. “Try me and watch what happens, Juntz. You’ll be joining Darren over here with out fun little game, and that goes for Mitch, Adam, and Risa, too. Oh, and if any of you tell anyone, don’t count on anything. Coach Barrister-“

“You mean your dad”, Peter abruptly cut in.

“Was telling me”, Chris continued. “That this is going to be the best night of my life and he’s not letting anyone ruin it. Hell, next week when we play Graverson High, I’ll have an even better night after we win”.

Suddenly, before Peter could say anything else, something amazing happened.

With a sigh, Risa climbed over the railing of the bleachers quickly, falling several feet to the mud where her shoes stuck. With that, she turned to Chris, sucked in all of her breath, and gave him a soft shove.

Mitch gasped. It was hardly enough to injure him, but it was a ticket for Risa to have a beating.

“You’re going to get died”, Darren warned Risa, speaking in his raspy voice punctured with a sob.

It happened in a matter of seconds. Risa lost six of her teeth, along with a gained nosebleed that ruined her naturally pretty face. Even though Mitch could see Peter was about to do something, it was too late. Risa fell to the ground, bloody and beaten, as the football team furiously swarmed away like a swarm of agitated bees; their work had been done.

“Risa!” Mitch called.

He knew it was cowardly, but now that the football team was gone, he could finally help Risa. He knew that selfishlessly, he had cared about his own safety more than hers; he felt horrible. Scrambling over the bleachers, and falling into the mud, he ran over to Risa’s beaten body as Adam and Peter both knelt down beside him.

“Are you okay?” he gasped. “I’m so sorry. Peter was doing everything. I should have said something. I-

Risa didn’t answer. Instead, smiling softly, she bent herself up and walked over to Darren’s body. Then, still not breaking her smile, she hugged him deeply as he sat fidgeting with his fingers.

‘That b-b-b-beating was for you, D-D-Darren”, she choked out through her nosebleed.

Mitch gasped. Then, he smiled, followed by oncoming tears that mixed in with the sound of Risa’s.

Risa Ridgeway was someone that cared about people. Even if she never knew them, she would stand up for them, because Darren Warner was the kind of person who didn’t even know what standing up for yourself was. That was why Risa was here; somebody who would take a beating for what she believed in.

She was an angel.

Almost in a reenactment of Kevin Hashburg’s demise, the bullet screeched violently into the air, taking the left half of Risa’s face off with it like a peeling and bloody onion. Her teeth jittered softly, clearly exposed with her mangled and bleeding gums as the gunsmoke vanished.

“Oh, Christ”, Luke moaned. “Oh god, that’s horrible…”

With the wretching sound of Luke vomiting echoing in Mitch’s ears with the sound of the gunshot. Half of Risa’s face had been completely blown away by the gun, almost making her appear like half a human. Her eyes bulged like saucers, swelling red as blood capillaries broke behind them.

“Mit…”

Risa limped forward deliriously before falling to the ground with a sickening thud on the wooden floor. Her body continued to twitch softly, but after that, she didn’t move. In fact, she would never move again. Beside Mitch, Terry leaned close to him, whimpering like a puppy.

Risa Ridgeway, the only one in the class that risked her safety and life to stand up for Kevin Hashburg, in the classroom, and Darren Warner, at that terrible football game, was now dead.

And he had killed her.

Shivering as he stared down at Risa’s mangled corpse, Mitch realized something horrible. He was never going to know what happened to Risa. She was just another untold story and he would never know what had caused her to play the game.

How many other untold stories were there?

Eliminated

(Girl #14) Ridgeway, Risa

35 Students Remaining

The whole idea of Risa’s death wasn’t that you knew exactly what happened to her. It was based on the idea that your mind had to decide what destroyed her mind; I don’t even know exactly what the competition did to her. I’m just saying this because I don’t want angry messages saying Risa was an undeveloped character, because she wasn’t supposed to be. She was supposed to represent what the game does to people.

I feel bad killing Risa, because she was probally the nicest of all of the kids there. It’s sad what the game did to her mind. I wonder if she would regret sticking up for Darren if she knew that he was killing everyone.

An alternate character was meant to die in this chapter, but Risa took their place. In really early drafts of this story, Roxy Patterson and Risa Ridgeway were completely different characters. Risa was Terry's only friend who basically had the same personality she does now. Roxy was a lot of more cynical and sarcastic, and the drama club aspect was completely omitted. In the very first draft of the story, I planned Roxy to die, but seeing how I completely changed their characters, I decided to kill off Risa.