The Unconditional Pledge

3 Nick

A lot of girls assume that it's a turn-off when they're independent, but that's where they're wrong. It's pretty hot, to be honest, to see a girl not care about what people think. And Hannah Greene is exactly that.

If luck's with me tonight, my pledge will have something to do with her.

"Everybody join hands." Jay's voice is low and serious from across the circle. We do as we're told obediently. That's how serious we are about the games here at the Heights. It's your reputation, make or break it. And as the record holders, Jay and I have it the hardest.

I glance at Hannah out of the corner of my eye for about the thirteenth time tonight. I've liked her since I can remember. No, probably since fifth grade when she kicked me in the balls because I beat her at the monkey bars. She's unlike any other girl in our school. That, and how cute she looks when she's chewing the inside of her mouth nervously, like she's doing now.

Jay says, "The games here have roots so fucking deep some of us were probably conceived because of it," to some nervous laughs, "but today we're here to play the worst of all." He takes a deep breath, the silver necklace on his pale neck quivering, and exhales. "There are, as most of you know, only three real rules in this game." He clears his throat dramatically. "Rule number one: everybody in this room participates. Rule number two: the group decides what that person must do. Rule number three: no conditions, no cheating, and no backsies."

The last two words echo in my mind, again and again. No backsies.

Hannah's hand is growing increasingly sweaty and her cheeks are flushed. I make a run of the room with my eyes. Courtney Palmer, who of course, is applying another coat of lip gloss; Eric Lanthe, student council president, raises a red cup to his lips carefully; Dana Cruz, Josh's most recent ex, picks at her cuticle. The dim lights of the room hides everybody's features except their eyes, and it's creepy. The fireplace crackles and throws up more flames.

"You know the procedure. Nick, I think you should start."

I stand up, barely able to resist the grin that rises to my face. Everybody's staring at me, except Hannah, who, of course, is the only one not looking at me. I close my eyes and begin spinning slowly, my arm outstretched, and come to an abrupt stop. I open my eyes to see Courtney's face drain of color.

"Congrats, Court," Jay says, grinning.

Courtney sits there for a while, silent, before finally getting up and slipping out the door. As soon as it clicks shut behind her, Jay claps his hands together and the tension in the room immediately dissolves. "Okay, okay, you guys know what's next."

Like clockwork, everybody explodes. "Nicole, let Nicole do it!" Juliby says, just as Derek's saying, "Jules, I never got a freaking try —"

"Nuh-uh, you make the fucking worst —" Kyle says, at the same time Nicole's protesting. Finally, it's decided that Jay should do it, since everybody knows that he'd dated Courtney during junior year before he'd come out and Courtney still hates him for it. As Jay smiles, I feel a bit sorry for Courtney. He stands up, scribbling something onto the designated scrap of paper, and shoves it under the door.

He scurries back to the circle just in time as the door opens. Courtney shuffles back in, her hand clutched around the paper so tightly her knuckles are white. People whoop and cheer and clap her on the back and I take a sip of my beer, observing her thinly-veiled horrified expression. That could never be me, I think. I'm too good at this game.

Silence that's laced with excitement and fear falls. You could hear a pin drop in the room. Everyone's watching Courtney, who only plucks out a tube of lip gloss from her purse and traces it across her lips. She says finally, "Jay," and it's obvious she knows who picked her pledge.

"Ah." Jay rubs his hands together, his face spreading in a fearless grin, and ambles outside.

After the repeated pandemonium, it's decided it'll be Nicole. She's always been one to pick the best pledges. I remember last year when she made a freshman streak naked through the school yelling the lyrics to Beyonce's "Halo." She thinks for a moment before smiling so wickedly I feel bad for Jay this time, and writes something down on a piece of paper. She hops back into the circle, her lips pressed together to keep back a smile. Her dress is so short we all catch a glimpse of her pink underwear. I look away only to see Hannah watching me with amused eyes.

Jay opens the door again, slowly approaching the circle with an odd look on his face. I try to catch his eye to ask him what he's got, which is technically against the rules, but he's avoiding all eye contact. I wonder what Nicole wrote for him, but too late, Jay's searching the circle with hungry eyes. Finally they land on me. "Nick."

I get up, nearly tripping over my shoelace — I hear Hannah snicker — and walk out the door, as coolly as I can. As soon as it shuts, I hear the chaos break out inside: someone shrieking with laughter, someone else saying, "No, not her!" I hear Josh guffaw, and glass shattering. My foot's going crazy, tapping the cement. A cigarette butt litters the porch. I didn't know Josh smoked. My thoughts race as I wait, crashing into each other incoherently. Finally, someone's lanky shadow approaches the door. I stop breathing. A piece of paper, upside-down, is crammed through the space under the door.

I hesitate before swooping down and grabbing it. I have to do this quick, like ripping off a band-aid, fast, so I don't overthink. I flip it over. In someone's messy handwriting, it reads,

Get to third base with your best (bisexual) friend.

My entire body goes numb. I definitely read it wrong. I read it again, and again, and it feels like the blood's drained out of my body. The only thought in my mind that I can make out is a name: Josh Mathers.

No, I think numbly. This is a mistake. I'm straight. A strange feeling sinks in my chest. I stare again at the words, and then at the mansion, to the right of me, hidden in the dark. I consider running back to my car and ditching the party, driving until I get home, jumping into my bed, and sleeping until noon, the pledge long forgotten. But that would mean my entire reputation ruined. Years of pledges, gone; years of games that I had won, gone.

I clutch the paper in my hand and turn back to the door, bracing myself. Every ounce of my being is screaming at me to not turn the handle, to just leave, to forget anything happened, to find out who the hell wrote it —

The voices lower in the room, and suddenly Josh's voice comes from behind the door. "Nick? You okay?" He opens it, and I stare at him, at his messed-up hair, his slightly furrowed eyebrows. No, he couldn't have written it.

I push past him gruffly. "Yup." I sit down at the circle, and close my eyes, count to ten, exhale. When I open them, I scan the circle, brushing past faces I've known since forever. No one's looking at me, except Sasha Pine — who's a junior and pretty much sleeps with a different guy every week — but then I look at Hannah, who's watching me with even eyes. She's smiling in a smug kind of way, and my stomach plummets because I automatically wonder if she wrote it.

I could still leave. I can still ditch. But I know I won't. I'm Nick Sawyer. I'm the one who helped the game become as legendary as it is today. I'm a legend at this game.

I turn back to Hannah and put on the best poker face I can muster. "Bring it on," I mouth.