Page 92 of Rat Race

But for a friend…

“Well,” I hedged, giving her a beaming smile. “I have nothing else planned.” I turned to Cam, who was looking at me with an expression I couldn’t decipher. “Are you coming?”

Truth and Dare was more personal than the Maze. A bunch of people put together to have their secrets exposed while millions watched. Cam would learn things about me, I would learn things about them. Dangerous, dark things.

Maybe they won’t like you anymore once they find out.

I pushed the thought away as Cam gave me their award-winning smile.

“You're crazier than a bedbug if you think I'm letting you go in there alone,” they said and pulled me closer, distrust in their eyes as they touched on Kohl.

I leaned into them and looked back at Vic with a smile. “Play hard.”

She offered her hand, which I took immediately to shake. “Win, win.”

Trix

Welcome, players, to Truth or Dare.

Time always moved faster when it was the least convenient. Like a days somehow had a few hours less than I anticipated.

I ran into my room, locking the door behind me. Not that it would do my much good, the cheap stock door was hollow, the lock barely strong enough to hold up to a couple kicks. It’d be mere minutes until they were inside and forcing me to the ground. Still, the little action calmed me. There was a process to these things. An order.

I need to act fast.

My heart was pounding, making it difficult to concentrate. Beads of sweat dripped down the back of my neck and dampened the collar of my shirt, cooling steadily and leaving an unpleasant slick chilly feeling behind.

I took steady breaths, reminding myself that I knew what I was doing. I didn’t have to panic. I just had todoit.

Butdoingwas the hardest part. I was a planner to my core. An over-analyzer. Better suited as the brainy computer loving side-kick than the sporty, go-getter hero.

Andthis? It was the gamble of a fucking lifetime.

I rummaged through my dresser drawer, pulling out the repurposed altoid’s tin—covered in black duct tape and marked with a white paint marker with a skull and cross bones—and shoved it into my bra.

Was it totally necessary to make it aesthetic? No. Did I do it anyway? Yeah.

I’d been working on the damn thing for months, the least I could do was make it seem at least a little cool when I finally revealed it. Truth or Dare was a game as much as the others, and, if anything, it was evenmorefocused on appearance.

My clothing was constricting, my breathing shallow as I fought to keep my cool. Turned out—much to my reluctant disapproval—that simply telling yourself to relax didn’t mean that your body would agree to.

I crossed the room to my desk, pulling out another small pack, which I put in my underwear. It was small enough that it would go unnoticed, even if they decided to strip me.

I just needed to be careful.

I got this. I’ve been over this a hundred times. No, a thousand. This shit was air tight. Foolproof.

A loud boom told me they’d already made it through the front door.

Showtime.

I pulled the top drawer open just slightly and left it there like a beacon to whomever would come search my room after I was gone. My laptop had already been wiped, but I made a show of smashing the screen anyway. Better they waste their time trying to get into it to find fuck all than actually determine what it was that I was trying to do.

And then I waited. The sound of thunderous footsteps coming up the stairs enough to drown out the blood rushing in my ears.

I counted the seconds in my head.

One.

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