Game Over

As I sat on the cold toilet seat staring at my light green phone, I wondered if Lucas would respond to my text during his study hall. A flashy banner popped up: MEMORIES FROM 6 MONTHS AGO.

My ear lifted to a whispered exchange near the bathroom sink. I could just barely hear their voices: “You do know what WCHM stands for, right?”, said one of the voices.

I almost responded to their conversation. Maddie! I reminded myself. Be quiet and don't let them know you're skipping! I ducked lower and looked back at my phone screen held tight in my hands and clicked the memories banner open. My body involuntarily let out a low sigh as the phone played sentimental string music while the screen scrolled through selfies with two faces I haven’t spoken to since our summer trip to Clearwater beach: Brittney and Chloe. When were they going to stop ghosting me?

Taking a deep breath, I stood up and almost immediately froze, my hand stopping a mere inch from opening the silver metal latch.

The girl near the sink started whispering again. She began again: “The ignorant faculty believe WCHM is a harmless little writing club that quote, ‘Is just an entertainment for these immature children . . .” As her voice got louder, I recognized her. It was Chloe! My heart stopped, and she began again: “But its real acronym is We Hunt the Hated Maddie.”

What!? I put a hand over my mouth to stop from screaming. My heart slowed. I took a moment. The reflection of the rusted latch held my face, drained of color, and carrying a wild, hunted expression.

Two cruel and satisfied snickers came from across the room. No they're wrong, I thought. They presumed that I was their naive, gullible, and oblivious prey. Not anymore. With a new knowing smirk plastered on my face, I leaned into the gap through the stall door and whispered a ghostly murmur that struck the room with an eerie, suffocating silence.

“Happy Hunting.”

B-R-R-R-I-N-G-G-G-G-G!

The harsh screech of the fifth-period bell sliced through the silence of the bathroom, instantly followed by frantic, scrambling footsteps. The push of the heavy bathroom door, and the sound of flurried movement outside, quickly drowning in the sea of conversations.

My mind began to whirl with plans. I unlatched the bathroom door and walked to the front of the mirror to confront my own smirk.

Who’s the prey now? I mused. Game on. The school's golden girl was the mastermind behind the hunt.

I took a deep breath, adjusted my hair, and gave the heavy bathroom door a shove. Now, it was time to give the golden girl a surprise.

This was my free period, so I decided to give her locker a visit. Only a few feet from the bathroom anyways.

I inserted Chloe’s locker combination. I still knew it by heart..

Inside looked almost the exact same two years ago, dozens of lip glosses, mascara, a mirror, except for one tiny detail. A black notebook. The notebook stood boldly against the sickening shades of pink.

Cloppity, clop, clop, cloppity, clop, came the sound of the principal's shoes.

A rush of adrenaline came over me and forced me to snatch the black notebook, slam the locker shut, and disappear into the other hallway across from her locker. I ran to the library, and chose a desk in the corner, where nobody could sneak a glance around my shoulder.

My chest still heaving from the sprint, I pulled out a light matcha green colored chair, opening the notebook to the very first page. There the following contents held:

Our Members September 2nd, 2024

of the

WCHM Group Consists of :

FOUNDER: CHLOE

MY MINIONS: JESSICA AND TIFFANY

THE BAIT: LUCAS

INFLUENCER: BRITTNEY

AND MANY MORE WHO HAVE JOINED ME

SIGNED,

CHLOE

My heart almost stopped. Lucas? Brittney? More of the school? I had never felt more betrayed, but looking at this list forced me to see the truth.

Everything clicked, how last semester my best-friend Brittney had mysteriously drifted away. How my crush Lucas had suddenly become more interactive with me.

All of this was a devised plan of Chloe's, which she had been putting into action for almost a whole year now. How have I not noticed?

I flipped to the next page but a sudden buzz came from my pocket forcing me to close the notebook, stuff it into my backpack, and open my phone. A text from Lucas. But now all I could see in replacement of Lucas was a flashing, “The Bait.”

Lucas: Hey Maddie! Free on Saturday? Let's grab a matcha at noon.

I stared at the word matcha, and down to the light green chair. Now his texts tasted like poison instead of a sweet, foamy latte. He was good at pretending, I’ll give him that, he knew exactly what to say to keep me in the dark.

Too bad for him, I thought. I wasn’t in the dark anymore. I was hiding in the light.

Then, quickly realizing that he could see that I’ve read his text and stalled, I quickly texted him:

Me: Sure. Sorry about the stall, I’ve been zoning out today.

That night was a sleepless night. I kept tossing and turning, slowly putting the puzzle together. I stayed up past midnight, reading through every text from Lucas , with a renewed understanding.

I scrolled through months of our conversation history, seeing his old messages under a sickening new lens. The text, “Hey Maddie, are you free to study after chemistry?” wasn't anything like a sweet gesture; it was a way to track my location for Chloe after school.

Another more recent text, “Hi! Just confirming, meet up at Sweet Green Cafe at 3:30?” wasn't an innocent way to confirm a date; it was a way to confirm an interrogation for Chloe's black notebook. He had spent an entire year mapping out my schedule, finding out my vulnerabilities, feeding them directly to WCHM. The group may in all likelihood already started out of school group meetings!

When I woke up startled from my alarm clock, it took a moment for everything to settle in, betrayal, understanding, bait . . . Revenge. And with that, I flung off the covers and washed my face. Let’s get this started . . .

At exactly 12:00 the Sweet Green Cafe door bell chimed as I walked in. I immediately spotted Lucas from his golden curls, and fake sweet smile. Two iced matcha lattes sat on the table.

"Hey, Maddie," he smiled smoothly, gesturing to the light green drinks. "Ordered ahead. You look a bit . . . different today. Is everything okay at home?

He remembered, I had drama going on at home, something that I usually never shared unless it was to someone who I trusted. However, Lucas was now someone who I resented. Let’s get this business done then.

I slid into the booth opposite to him, my chestnut brown eyes focusing onto him with an intense stare. Keeping my eyes on him, I reached into my dark red book bag, and pulled out the heavy black notebook that had been weighing me down on the walk here. I slid the notebook right between our tea flavored drinks.

“Everything’s just perfect Lucas.” I murmured, my tone matching the exact bone-chilling voice I had used just the day before in the girls bathroom stall. “I just found an interesting writing club, and I’m thinking of joining it! Would you mind helping me?”

Lucas’s eyes darted from the book to my eyes and up-turned expression around my mouth. The smile suddenly disappeared from his usual happy face. Color drained from his rosy cheeks.

Game over.