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“Come on,” Alex says. “We in or what?”
The head girl glances up. “Oh, that’s not up to us.”
My shoulders sink. “Then who is it up to?” I ask.
“Your brothers will decide.” She folds the list away. “You better hurry. Door locks at midnight.”
“Midnight?!” I ask, standing up, my breath fully caught now.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Ben says. “I thought this was it. Wasn’t this it?”
She smiles. “Also, the last team through the door gets eliminated. Probably should have mentioned that first, but… oh, well.”
I look down the forty yard line, making instant eye contact with Emerson Floyd.
“Four minutes, twenty-three seconds,” Ben says.
Run.
I sprint toward the ramp. Emerson does too, keeping stride with me as our feet pound from turf to cement. He blurs away in the dark, his figure vanishing between the rows of lockers. We lose each other for the handful of seconds it takes to reach the doors.
I blast through them first, racing down the hall on what I hope is the fastest route outside. The others follow me, but I can’t tell if it’s Emerson or Pete or the twins. In my mind, it doesn’t matter. I throw my focus into my body instead, tapping into whatever it takes to push me forward.
I’m not losing.
I won’t lose to Emerson Floyd.
Night air smacks me in the face outside. I take a breath of it, converting it to fuel as I bound down the sidewalk. It takes a moment for me to get my bearings before I adjust my route toward Greek Row. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Emerson veering off the path and cutting across the quad. It’s crowded, even for this late hour, so he makes several zigzags to get around them, reducing his speed.
I turn another way, angling myself southwest across campus. I know it means I’ll lose sight of him, but this is the quickest route toward Delta Xi.
I won’t lose.
Feet pound behind me, the familiar Kirby gait. I don’t bother looking back or slowing down, knowing they’ll keep up as we cut through Chicago North with razor-sharp precision. I wonder how much time has passed — and how much more my body can take of this. My muscles ache, weak and begging to collapse on the grass and?—
Dana touched my hand, leaving a warm and tingling sensation through my fingers. I’m not sure if she realized she was doing it, but when her breathing slowed back to normal and she opened her eyes, she looked at me and smiled.
I sighed with relief. She was okay.
She raced a damn football field, but she was okay.
I smile at the memory. If she can do that, then I can do this.
I gather a second wind as we reach Greek Row. We cut across the street, ignoring the cheers and shouts echoing from the lawns. Down the road, Emerson and his team enter the street, his sprint laser-focused on Delta Xi.
NO.
It hurts — fuck, it hurts! — but I push myself harder.
Emerson and I reach the porch at the same time. We skip the stairs with a well-balanced leap, the two of us jumping to touch the closed door first.
I grip the knob and — NO!
It doesn’t turn.
Locked.
Are we too late?
