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“Did you put this in here?”
She looked at it and then me, shaking her head. “Nope. I don’t even know what that is. A Komodo dragon?”
I studied the gray plush toy, taking in his claws, teeth, tail, the scales down his spine, the angry snarl on his face…
“It’s Godzilla,” I murmured and then laughed.
Who put this in here?
And then my face fell. I watched Godzilla last night. I thought I was alone in the theater. Did someone see me?
It was coincidental, wasn’t it?
“What’s this?” Elle picked up the paper and granola bar tied to its leg. She read the note, “Sunset is at 6:38 p.m.”
I flashed my gaze to hers.
She shrugged. “It’s from someone who knows it’s Yom Kippur,” she said.
In a town like this, everyone knew who the Jewish kids were.
And the black kids. And the poor kids.
We were in the minority in Thunder Bay, so we stood out.
Anyone could’ve sent this, and I was tempted to keep the snack bar. I hadn’t checked what time sunset was to know when I could eat, and I’d forgotten to bring anything for after the game. I was hungry.
But then, I saw a black strip of cardstock tied to Godzilla’s tail and ripped it off the ribbon.
Admit One
Emory Scott
L-348
My hand shook as I read it over and over again, recognizing the black paper with the ornate silver border and the serial number identifying every ticket sold. It was an annual event.
It was—
“Are you serious?” Elle blurted out, snatching the ticket from my hand and staring at it. “An invitation from a senior?”
I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. The senior lock-in was held every October, and it was tonight. After the basketball game. Non-seniors could attend only if they secured an invitation from the graduating class, and even then, the seniors were only allowed to invite one person each.
One senior used their only pass to invite me?
It had to be a mistake.
“Take it,” I told her.
There was no way I was going. This was a trap waiting to happen.
She held it for a moment and then sighed, handing it back to me. “As tempting as that is, you need this more than me.”
I crumpled it in my fist, about to toss it onto the floor of my locker, but Elle plucked it out of my hand and stuck it inside my jacket, slipping it in between two buttons.
“Line up!” our director called.
But I was swatting Elle’s hand away. “Stop, dammit,” I gritted out. “I’m not going.”
