“Whatever,” Charlie answers, looking angry.
We’re all allowed into what looks like a little locker room full of equipment. Everyone begins swiftly suiting up. I lift the red gear from one hook, and mimic them by lowering it over my head. It looks like a football player’s safety pads, only it has a rifle attached by a wire. Beside me, a man kneels in front of a smiling boy and helps him put on the gear.
A flame-haired worker shouts, “Attention!” Everyone gets quiet while he goes over the rules. “No physical contact allowed! No sitting or lying in the arena! You earn ten points every time you shoot your opponent in the kill zones…” He taps his head and chest. “…and one hundred points by shooting the signal over their home base! If your gun starts flashing, you’re out of ammo! Go back to your home base to reload! If you’re shot, you must return to your home base to recharge! Is everyone ready?”
The players all cheer, shaking their rifles in the air.
“You get all that?” Adam asks me, and Charlie mutters something about babysitting.
“I think so,” I say, but it’s a lot to remember and I’ve never done this before, so I probably won’t be good at it.
The staff lets the Blue team in first, then the ten of us on the Red team gather in a tight passageway where the walls and floors are completely black except for glow-in-the-dark swirls. Adam’s fingernails and teeth are glowing. I stretch out my hand. My fingernails are glowing too.
An alarm sounds. A speaker overhead announces robotically, “The game will commence in three…two…one!”
On lightning legs, Adam immediately darts out of base.
Much more cautiously, everyone else cascades from the room until I’m left standing alone. I don’t want to leave, but it’s kind of scary waiting here by myself. Suddenly Adam leaps back into the little room, startling me.
“Come on,” he orders. I follow him down a dark hall. He’s swift and confident. He must know the maze well. “Duck!” Someone is shooting at us.
We dive into another passageway, pressing our backs against a black wall. My heart is pounding fast.
“We’ve gotta get to their base.” Adam says it so seriously that I start to laugh. All of a sudden this feels fun-scary, like when my dad and I used to play hide-and-seek in the dark.
Adam grins at me with glowing teeth. “You ready?”
I nod.
The second he jumps out, a little girl in blue fires at him. His chest plate beeps. “Damn it! Gotta recharge.” He disappears.
I stand here alone for a moment, then duck into a narrow passageway. I don’t see anyone, but they must be nearby. My heart starts beating faster now that I’m alone.
Where’s Adam?
I creep down hall after hall until somehow I’m standing right in front of the flashing blue base signal. For a few seconds I just look at it. Then I take aim and shoot. I feel a jolt of surprise when I hit it.
Behind me there’s an electric gunshot noise. I duck and sneak down a hallway. I’m trying to find my home base, but every path looks the same. The hall begins to fill with white vapor so thick I can barely see. I start to feel the vague dread that comes when you’re blind and you know someone’s right beside you and you could get away if only you could see.
I freeze, waiting for the fog to clear.
When it does, there’s a figure in front of me. Charlie. Huge in the ice-blue helmet and gear. For a moment neither one of us moves. Then slowly he raises his rifle and shoots me in the head.
MOM’S SHOUTING ANSWERS at the TV when I get home—she likes to feel superior to all the contestants on Family Feud. When she sees me, she smiles and grabs Connect Four while patting the couch next to her.
“You’ve been busy these days,” she says after I take a seat. I’m pretty sure this is her way of fishing for information about Emerald, so I give a noncommittal “yeah.” She seems to get that the subject is off-limits, so she asks how Julian’s doing instead.
“Good. He totally kicked ass at laser tag last Saturday.” This makes her smile. “But he was really sick a few weeks ago. I mean, he’s sick a lot, but I guess I’ve never seen him sick in person like that.”
“You never told me that! What’s wrong with him?”
“Don’t freak out,” I say, but it’s too late for that. “He just gets the flu a lot.”
She hops up, forgoing the final round, which is saying something, and starts riffling through the cabinet full of homeopathic remedies. “Take these to him.”
“Okay, I’ll give them to him at school on Monday.”
“You know you can’t bring these to the school.”
She’s right. Teachers tend to get suspicious when you carry around little brown glass bottles full of liquid. “All right. I’m about to pick up Emerald, but we can drop these by his house first.”