#bbbsbs

“Trees,” offered Norma quietly. She collapsed in on herself, mouse-like in her smallness, when Amal turned dark eyes on her.

“What?”

“Trees. You said any iteration of paper. Trees. They would beat rock.”

“Oh, so what?” Amal rolled her eyes. “Now paper is a proxy for trees? Then how do scissors beat them?”

“Scissors can be a proxy for…axes?” offered Fernanda. “Maybe chainsaws?”

Amal stared at Fernanda, very slowly and methodically readjusting her hijab as she maintained awkward eye contact. “And rock? How do they beat scissors?”

“Well, I think that one’s obvious,” snarked Chang-seok, who wisely shut up when Amal fixed him with a dark stare.

Amal whirled to her twin sister. “Abaayo, i caawi! Help a sister out!”

Amina, for her part, seemed to be more interested in her chipping nail polish than what her sister had to say. That changed when Phuc said, “Amina, reign in your sister. Come collect her.”

The Somali girl raised a carefully curved eyebrow. “Nuh-uh. Does this look like the bible? I ain’t my sister’s keeper.” She waggled a finger reprovingly, shooting down his request and watching it figuratively break and burst in flames before them before dying a miserable, extremely public and shameful death. “She’s her own woman with her own opinions. I respect them, even if they are wrong.”

“Abaayo!” Amal huffed, but Amina was too busy examining her nails again to particularly pay attention to what her sister had to say. They’d had this argument a billion times before and, at that moment, she wasn’t particularly interested in entertaining it.

“Alright, whatever!” Phuc said exasperatedly. “Paper, Scissors, Rock it is! Anyone else have any objections?”

“Why not Sansukumi-ken?” asked Minako airily. A subtle twinkle in her clever, dark eyes nearly betrayed her utter lack of disinterest in what the game was called; she just wanted to cause Phuc some annoyance. “It was incredibly popular in ancient Japan, after having been imported from China where it originated.”

Before he could retort or even address that, Fernanda caught his wrist, shaking her head when he turned to look at her. Then, realizing what she had done, Phuc hastily ripped his hand out of her grip before turning to face the crowd.

“Sansukumi-ken~,” Minako called.

Phuc shot her a deadly glare. Minako offered him a cheery smile in return.

“Wait, I’m confused,” Emery chipped in. “Are we calling it Paper Scissors Rock or Sansukumi-ken?”

Amal, Minako, and Dion all replied with “Paper, Scissors, Rock!”, Sansukumi-ken!” and “Fuck my life…” simultaneously.

Phuc groaned in exasperation.

“Let’s compromise and call it “The Threesome Game,”” suggested Lakeisha.

“Fine, fuck, okay! The Fucking Threesome Game it is!” Phuc declared, fed up. He took a moment to inhale and exhale, hand on his hip and running the other through his messy hair. “…Anyways, The Fucking Game.” He looked to Lakeisha, who was drinking heavily straight from a bottle, and Shaniqua, who was exchanging worried looks with her other friends. “Have at it, you two.”

“She can go,” they said in tandem, before looking everywhere but each other.

Phuc growled. “Fine, fuck it, dealer goes.” Ignoring Minako’s murmur of how he wasn’t a dealer and this wasn’t a card game, he grabbed the bottle and spun it. It landed on Fernanda. He swore under his breath, but everyone heard him anyways – Phuc had a loud mouth.

“Alright, Fergie, truth or dare?” he asked, resignation dripping from his voice.

“We Colombians never back down from a challenge,” she declared. “Dare!”

Phuc nodded, respecting her decision. He rubbed his chin, trying to mull over the options. “I dare you to…kiss Emery!”

“You good with that, big boy?” she asked Emery, who nodded.

“I’m game, he replied.”

“Alright then. Pucker up, kiddo, I’m gonna give you the best kiss of your damned life.”

“Is it damned?” Emery queried, shooting her a charming grin. “Seeing as I get to kiss you, I can’t help but feel blessed.”

Fernanda allowed him a small, enchanting smile as she rose from her seat, sashaying over to him, golden skirt swaying this way and that with the swing of her hips. She sat down on his lap, fingers caressing his hairless cheeks and chin. “Ooh,” she purred. “Smooth. Just the way I like it.” She leaned in and tilted his head up with her fingers by his chin, planting a slow, sensual kiss upon his likewise thick lips. They did what was known as “snogging”, and quite a show was put on for the group of children from different circles who all clapped and cheered and encouraged the amorous display.

A minute or so after blessing him with a thorough kiss, she sat up and tousled his hair, sweeping away back to her own seat where she crossed her legs and stared at a dazed and pleased Emery, a self-satisfied smirk playing about her lips.

Phuc, who seemed oddly miffed, spoke stiffly. “Your turn, Ramirez. Spin the bottle.”

Fernanda shot him a glance before complying. It landed on Niyol. “Truth or dare?”

“I’ll stick to the truth,” he answered smoothly. He gave her a polite smile.

“Alright. Would you rather have sex with –” she glanced around the room, eyes flickering on Norma and Chang-seok – “her or him?” She indicated the two she meant with a gesture.

“Both,” Niyol replied without hesitation. Norma gave a little squeak but then folded in on herself again. Chang-seok just gave Niyol a toothy grin.

“Aww, I didn’t know you swung that way,” Chang-seok teased. “You could’ve gotten a chance with Chang had I known.”

“Well, now you do,” Niyol said bluntly. Chang-seok remained silent, instead opting to eye Niyol with a new interest. The Native American boy took the bottle and gave it a gentle spin.

“Chang-seok,” he called. “How lucky. Truth or dare?”

“Dare, baby, always dare,” replied the Korean boy.

“I dare you to kiss me.”

“Sounds goo—”

“With tongue.”

Chang-seok’s eyes widened in surprise. “Why, Niyol!” he exclaimed in dramatic tones. “I am scandalized! I had no idea you were so…freaky deaky!”

“Kiss me, you cute Korean,” Niyol commanded, and Chang-seok immediately rose to Niyol’s side, leaning up to meet the face of the Native American boy, who was taller than Chang-seok even while seated.

Lips locked and tongues teased each other, both tried to outmaneuver the other, a fierce kiss culminating in a battle for dominance waged within the small spaces. Ultimately, Chang-seok won and claimed victory by making an obscene show of licking Niyol’s lips and up the bottom ridges of his curved nose.

Niyol seemed pleasantly serene, and Chang-seok said, “You should be grateful. Not many people get to experience a chance with Chang.”

Minako snort-laughed, unable to control herself after the blatant absurdity of that statement. “Good thing you didn’t pick truth.” Chang-seok frowned and stuck out a tongue at her.

“Niyol, your turn,” Phuc reminded him. The tall boy took up the bottle, spinning it as the room watched. It landed on Norma.

“Truth or Dare, Norma?” he asked kindly, eyes warm and understanding.

The tall blonde girl struggled to decide. Ultimately, she decided to face her fears and vocalized a very simple, but surprisingly firm, “Dare.”

“I dare you to…tell us when something is bothering you in the future, so that we can help you.” Niyol studied her expression. “I can tell when people are upset, and you seem to be struggling with something. I can respect if you don’t want to speak on it now or even ever, but I just want you to know that I am here for you, and I’m sure the others are as well.”

Norma, biting on her lips to keep from crying prevent tears from falling again, nodded vigorously, grateful for making new friends. To hurry things along, she grabbed the bottle and spun it, landing on Phuc.

“T-truth or d-d-dare?” she stammered, squeaking out the question.

“Truth,” Phuc answered, not interested in being dared to kiss someone – he was growing bored with the terribly predictable pattern his evening was going down.

“Do you…l-like anyone here?” Norma asked, before turning away as though she couldn’t bear to hear his answer.

“…Yes,” Phuc answered. He left it at that. He spun the bottle. “Lakeisha,” he called, glancing at the girl who was guzzling booze down like she was a fish in the water. “Truth or dare?”

“The truth is this game is boring as hell,” she declared, taking another swig from the bottle. She seemed miserly and cheerful all at once. “I propose we play a different one.”

“Oh?” Phuc bit the bait. “Okay, I’ll ask – what game?”

“Slap or Kiss,” Lakeisha stated. “It can be combined with Truth or Dare, too. The premise is this: once the bottle lands on someone, the spinner of the bottle leaves the room and the rest of us decide whether or not they’ll get a slap or a kiss from the person the bottle landed on. Said person doesn’t get a vote, but must abide by what the majority decides. Person outside comes back in, and will be deliciously nervous because they don’t know whether or not they’ll be kissed or slapped. But everyone else will. And the pleasure of knowing while they don’t…it’s exquisite. A pleasurable pain.” She drank some more directly from the bottle before setting it down and eyeing them all. “So? Who’s game?”

Murmuring amongst themselves, they all agreed to Lakeisha’s idea. “Alright, alright,” Phuc announced. “Slap or Kiss it is. You said something about combining it with Truth or Dare?”

Lakeisha waved her hand noncommittally, eyeing another bottle, well and truly drunk, as were they all. “If you don’t like your truth or dare, you can substitute it for Slap or Kiss.”

Chang-seok had Fernanda open another bottle for him – he was too drunk to get a good and proper grip – and after taking a swig, he nodded. “I like it! Let’s do this!” Pointing at Dion, he added, “Let him go first. He hasn’t had a chance yet.”

“I was perfectly content staying in my lane, thank you,” Dion politely declined. Chang-seok eyed him up and down before insisting, “I insist. It’s no fair if everyone sits out. Even Norma’s played. No reason you can’t too.”

Conceding just to get the drunk boy to shut up, Dion spun the bottle, and it landed on Bianca, who had been too busy texting her long-distance boyfriend Alfonso to care much about the game. Looking up from her phone, the light-skinned black girl brushed back her hair and eyed Dion. “Aren’t you supposed to be out of the room?”

Dion blinked. “I’m surprised you were paying attention. I thought you were too busy with Al.”

Bianca shrugged. “I can multi-task very well. Now shoo.” She made a banishing gesture.

Once Dion complied, Bianca said, “For the record, I would not mind kissing him, if not for the fact he was my best friend’s little brother. She’d have my weave for that.”

“I’d have your weave either way,” Lakeisha laughed. “It looks so good on you, you gotta tell me who does it for you.”

Bianca waved her off. “Some secrets I’ll take to my grave. The fact that my father does my weave is one of them.” Rather exaggeratedly, she added, “Oh shit. Guess my grave just got a little roomier.”

“Alright, what do we want, people?” Fernanda asked. “I say we start off really simple, just go for a kiss. He’ll probably be expecting a slap and if we follow through on the very first round, I guarantee you everyone else will be way too worried to actually do it.”

Shaniqua nodded. “If we let it build up, let the kisses reign supreme for a while, the person who eventually does get slapped will have their ancestors feel it. Let’s start it off right, and make this a legendary one.”

Everyone agreed. Dion was ushered back in, and he eyed the room, eyes flickering between carefully-guarded, neutral expressions that betrayed nothing. He didn’t like that. Ultimately, he presented himself before Bianca who regarded him with a regal, teasingly benevolent yet paradoxically stiff smile. She was intentionally being off-putting to increase his sense of unease and anticipation.

On bended knee before her, Dion closed his eyes and after ten seconds of hushed breathlessness and silent anticipation, he was finally, mercifully rewarded with a gentle kiss.

“You all had a nigga worried,” Dion chuckled, before resuming his seat. “Who’s next?”

“Ooh, ooh, me!” Chang-seok volunteered, secure in the knowledge that they wouldn’t slap him, not this early. He spun the bottle, and it landed on Amina. She glanced at her twin Amal, before back at Chang-seok and shooing him away.

 As soon as he was out of earshot, Amina cut any bullshit and said, “So I’m slapping him right?”

“Well…now that we’ve set the expectation and planted the notion of the first dozen or so rounds not being slap-worthy just yet, it would be a perfect opportunity to cash in on the shock factor,” Minako mused. “I’m for it.”

“He definitely deserves it, smarmy little shit that he is,” Emery agreed. “Count me in.”

“I as well,” Fernanda chipped in.

“He needs a reality check, and I’d just as soon it be by my own hand,” Amal noted, “but I suppose it’ll come about by the next best thing.”

Soon everyone agreed. Chang-seok was brought back in, a shit-eating grin on his face, content in the idea he was safe. Without preamble, he stalked right up to Amina, leaned forward to receive his kiss, and closed his eyes.

Amina, who was applying generous amounts of cherry-scented lotion to her hands, gave a smile and a look that said: watch this, before raising and winding back her hand before bringing it across Chang-seok’s face in a thunderous blow, with a clap so hard it shocked the sound from the room, silence reigning supreme for a few seconds after Chang-seok went flying against the ground.

Clutching his left cheek, Chang-seok yelled, “What the hell! I thought we had a plan!”

Reapplying lotion to her hands, Amina replied nonchalantly, “We did. Plans change.”

Everyone laughed at Amina’s indifference to Chang-seok’s misfortune, but Phuc stopped and his eyes darted around the room.

“Hey…where’s Chad?” he asked slowly.

“I think he said something about going to the washroom like…half an hour ago,” Norma murmured.

“Anyone else hear him say that?” Phuc demanded.

Everyone shook their heads. Norma’s face burned red. “I…I’m not lying, I s-s-swear!”

Fernanda raised placating hands. “No one thinks you’re lying, Norma. We’re just trying to figure out what happened.”

“Hey losers,” Chad announced, returning to the group with something in his grasp. “Look what I found after doing some digging in the attic.”

“You snooped around in the attic?” Phuc hissed. “Who gave you permission?”

Chad ignored him. “I was bored so I decided to entertain myself and Scooby Doo around the place. I found this sitting on a self in the far reaches of the attic.”

“So your definition of “entertaining yourself” is to sneak off without telling anyone, going into the attic, entering its depths, and then bringing back something you found?” Emery tilted his head, eyeing Chad like he wasn’t thinking clearly. “Could you be any more white?”

“That’s racist,” Chad said simply.

Everyone exchanged looks with each other. They weren’t the most patient ones, either.

“Anyways,” Chad went on, oblivious to the disinterest of everyone, “It’s a Ouija board!”

“Uh-uh, nope, that’s it, I’m out,” said Shaniqua, rising up out of her seat and heading for the door. “Bye, y’all. Party was nice. C’mon, Lakeisha, Bianca, Amina, Amal. We out.”

“Why do you all have to go?” asked Chad, confused.

Shaniqua looked him dead in the eye. “Because they’re my ride and I’m not fucking about with no spirits. How could you even suggest such a thing? Do you not love yourself? Are you a masochist? Do you enjoy pain? Why would you open up the unknown to yourself? Haven’t you ever watched horror movies? This can only end badly. And so, before this poltergeist or spirit or whatever you’re trying to summon actually appears and decides it wants to stay true to racist horror movie clichés and kill off the black people first, I’mma pre-empt that and take my black ass on out of here and leave y’all to your witchcraft and your hoodoo and your root working while I’m asleep in a comfy bed, away from mass-murdering blood-thirsty spirits who will sequentially kill everyone one by one for having been stupid enough to tamper with the other side. This is some white people mess and I want no part of it.” She glanced at the other girls. “Are y’all coming?”

“Alright, alright, we’re coming,” said Bianca as she went to join Shaniqua by the door. Amal, Amina and Lakeisha joined them, with Dion knowing a bad idea when he saw one. They waved to the group and bid everyone a good night before closing the door behind them.

“Well then,” said Minako, eyeing the rest of the group. “And then there were seven. A magical number, or so I’m told.”

Chang-seok, cheek still smarting from Amina’s none-too-gentle slap, remarked, “Maybe a Ouija board can be fun. We can pretend we’re contacting the dead and do spooky, scary shit. It is Halloween, right? Let’s do some creepy shit.”

Emery gave him an odd look. “That is the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard.” Seeing how excited Chang-seok was only brought out his own as he broke into a grin. “Let’s do it.”

Fernanda gave them both weird glances. “I agree with Shaniqua. That’s white people silliness. Just like with Santería, you don’t just mess around with forces beyond your control or understanding. I don’t get why white people don’t get that.”

“Gonna have to agree with blondie over here,” Minako supplied. “I only ever see this kind of thing from white people who don’t fear anything. Fear is good. Fear is what keeps us human. It’s what keeps us in check. It’s what keeps us from doing stupid things that will get ourselves killed.” She flourished her hand as though waving away some silliness. “White people nearly conquer the world and suddenly they aren’t afraid of fucking with demons, ghosts, witches, goblins and more. I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if they tried to take a vampire or werewolf in a fight too. They’re reckless.”

“White guy sitting right here,” Chad huffed. “No need to be racist.”

“That’s not what racism is, buddy boy,” Minako said, giving him a warning glance. “You’d do best to remember that.”

Chad, seeming to have remembered their dispute earlier that night when she verbally eviscerated him, thought twice about testing Minako’s patience. “Whatever,” he scoffed. “Point is, let’s play with this thing. It’s not going to really work anyways, but it’ll be a hoot. It’s Halloween, what’re you scared of?”

“Actually, it’s said the veils between this world and the next, the Other Side or whatever, are at their weakest and thinnest on Halloween, after spending all of October waning.” Fernanda bit her lip. “This is a really bad idea, Chad.”

“Listen,” he blustered on, “I’ve listened to you guys play this game for a long time and never once did it land on me, so I just want to have some of my own fun and it’d be great if you dorks didn’t ruin it. Let’s just do it? Humour me?”

With a heavy sigh, Phuc finally said, “Fine, fuck, okay. But I swear to God, Chad, if some wicked haunted shit happens in this house because you invited a fuckboy spirit into here, I’m going to be pissed and kill you dead from beyond my grave.”

“Deal,” agreed Chad, excited to finally get to do what he’s always wanted. The supernatural and occult was a big kink for him, and now he was getting to indulge it with his friends.

As he set up the board and they all reluctantly gathered around, they placed a finger on the large planchette and waited.

“Uh…” Emery began, “…aren’t you supposed to say something? Like ask if anybody’s there or invite the ghost in? Otherwise they won’t have a question to answer? And shouldn’t we always like…say goodbye to close communications, elsewise the spirit stays? Isn’t that like a horror movie staple? It’s always the group of white kids with maybe one token Black or Asian kid for ~diversity~” – he made air quotations – “who do this stupid shit despite their better judgment. And yet here we are, nearly all People of Colour, and we still got roped into this shit. We need to turn in our Race Cards, I think.”

“Aww, I just got mine renewed this past Wednesday,” Fernanda frowned. “Boo.”

Niyol chuckled. “Okay, Chad, what’s next?”

“What Emery said,” Chad stated. “We ask if anything’s here.” Clearing his throat, he queried, “Hello ghost and or ghosts. Is anyone there?”

The planchette twitched, and everyone gasped and immediately drew their hands back as though they had touched an open flame.

“Sorry,” yawned Emery. “My hand jerked.”

“Fucking asshole,” Chang-seok cursed. He and everyone else placed their hands upon the planchette once more. “Let’s try this again: is anyone there?”

“Hello?”

Everyone screamed. The front door was being banged upon, relentless in its hammering, fierce, powerful strikes at a steady rhythm. It was as though something was trying to break in. Fearing the worst, they all gasped as the handle of the doorknob began to turn ever so slowly, creaking piteously, before the door shoved open and thunder and lightning and rain illuminated the dark and cloudy skies that served as the backdrop behind the figures at entrance of the door.

“Who the fuck slashed my tires?” spat Lakeisha, storming into the room soaking wet. She plopped herself down by the fireplace. “Who the fuck does that? Why??”

“Wait, what, why would your tires be slashed?” asked Phuc.

“Uh-uh, hold up,” said Bianca, coming to sit by the fire along with the other girls and Dion. “You mean to tell me all y’all bitches legit playing with a Ouija board? There’s no gun to your head? No one’s blackmailing you? This is legit of your own volition? Are y’all for real? The fuck? Y’all best be handing in your Race Cards right the fuck now.”

“That’s what I said,” Emery informed them. “I don’t know why, but we’re doing it. Probably because this is real life and supernatural shit like that doesn’t happen all the time.”

“The only supernatural shit I know is how white people get away with half the stuff they do,” said Shaniqua. “Especially with all these mass shootings. Bitch ain’t out here trying to be target practice. Cease and desist.”

“Well come on over here and play with the Ouija board,” Chad said. Amal and Amina shot him matching withering looks.

“We don’t fucks with that ish,” they said in tandem.

“I’ll give you $100 gift cards each for a store of your choosing.”

Chad suddenly found himself sandwiched between the sisters, fingers placed firmly upon the planchette.

Shaniqua gave them withering looks of her own. They shrugged. “Do you know how expensive cute hijabs are? Girls gotta get them somehow.”

Lakeisha and Shaniqua shared a look, before sighing and placing their fingers on the planchette as well. Dion and Bianca were the last to do so.

“Okay, spirit and/or spirits. Is anyone here?” Chad called.

The planchette twitched again.

“Quit it, Emery,” Minako hissed.

“…I swear it wasn’t me this time,” Emery insisted, voice actually fearful. “Seriously. I thought it was Fernanda.

“It wasn’t me – I thought it was Phuc.”

“Nor me,” disagreed the host. “I thought it was –”

“Okay, we get it, nobody did it.” Amal said. “But then who did?”

The planchette lurched forward, dragging all of their fingers with it, sliding across the Ouija board. Terror erupted in their hearts, bubbling up their throats and emerging from their mouths as screams.

“I TOLD Y’ALL THIS WAS SOME WHITE FOOLISHNESS NOW THE DEVIL HIMSELF HAS US ON SPEAKERPHONE!” screeched a hysterical Shaniqua. Everyone else was too scared and focused on what the spirit was spelling out, unable to remove their hands from the planchette.

“B,” read Chang-seok, “U-E-N-O-S-D-I-A-S. B-I-T-C—“

“…”Buenos dias, bitches”?” Fernanda said.  “Is this spirit for real?”

Yes, the planchette confirmed.

“Holy fuck,” whispered Chad. “It worked.”

“Thanks a lot, asshole,” hissed Bianca, while Norma whimpered to herself in fear. “Now we’re probably going to die Final Destination style. Well, fuck you, Death. I’m too young and pretty to die. You can have my ass when it’s wrinkly and worn.”

“What do we say to the God of Death?” asked Dion.

“Eat my entire ass, nigga. Bitch, you thought,” laughed Lakeisha.

The planchette moved. R-U-D-E.

“How old are you?” O-L-D.

“How long have you been dead?” Longer than Madonna’s career.

“Oh shit,” laughed Emery. “Some spirit hates Madonna.”

“When were you alive?” Back when Madonna still was relevant. Back in Biblical times. I’m talking Jesus in the third grade.

“That’s savage,” Amina said. “Nigga really hates Madonna.”

“What did Madonna do to make you hate her?” Release her last ten albums. Though Confessions on the Dancefloor had some pretty good songs, no word of a lie.

“What are you doing tonight?” Stalling.

“For what?” You’ll find out.

“…Okay…” said Emery. “That’s not fucking ominous at all.”

Goodbye. Tell Him I said HELLo.

“Um…” began Fernanda. “Does anyone want to tell me why the spirit randomly left and used the capital H-E-L-L letters?”

“Let’s just…let’s just forget this entire thing happened,” said Bianca.

“Um, let’s the fuck not,” countered Shaniqua. “Let’s remember that if fucked up shit happens, it’s on Chase’s head.”

“Chad.”

“Chartreuse, whatever.”

Everyone took a minute to collect themselves and steel any nerves before trying to enjoy themselves after seeing such an odd thing.

“This party is getting boring.” Niyol interjected. “Let’s go back to truth or dare?”

“Okay,” agreed Phuc. “I don’t remember whose turn it was.”

“It’s mine now,” said Lakeisha, who was sipping from another bottle she and Chang-seok was sharing. “Go ahead, I’ll tell the truth.”

“Hmm, okay.” Thinking back on how she had pointedly avoided Shaniqua’s gaze earlier, Phuc asked, “Do you have feelings for one of your friends?”

“Give me a dare right the fuck now,” she chose instead.

“You can’t cha—”

“Give me a dare right the fuck now,” she demanded.

These people included attendees of the party, such as the benevolent and helpful Fernanda, who was here to have a chase a fun time as usual; the meek, withdrawn and kind Norma, struggling to remember why she attended the party; the promiscuous Chang-seok, seeking out his next sexual conquest; the very drunk and very competitive Minako, shouting down Chad and managing to look down on him despite being a full foot shorter than him; Chad, who seemed to be getting very red in the face but also shouting right back as he somehow managed to simultaneously tower over and cower before Minako; Lakeisha, who was with her girls Bianca, identical twin sisters Amal and Amina, and Shaniqua on the dance floor, all eyes on them in admiration of their skills; Dion, standing benevolently in the corner with a drink and a small smile; and Niyol, who was standing by the punch bowl, making polite conversation with Norma, who seemed grateful for his presence.

Most everyone was having a good time. Even Minako seemed to be getting pleasure out of making Chad quiver in his boots. After she had finished gesticulating and threatening him with every explicative Chad had ever heard and then some, she dismissed him and watched in satisfaction as the hulking senior stalked off swearing angrily under his breath. Chang-seok, good friends with Minako, slunk his way over to her side, watching Chad storm off with an amused expression on his face.

“I guess he won’t want to chill with Chang,” Chang-seok said, before casting a glance at his partner in crime and closest friend. Raising an inquisitive eyebrow, he asked, “Do I even want to know?”

“You know how I hate fuckboys?” Minako asked, turning to face Chang-seok with an unsettling smile that he was immune to, having been on the receiving end of them far too many times.

“Yes?”

“Well. Chad is a fuckboy. And not the kind of fuckboy you want to fuck, boy.”

Chang-seok pouted. “Oh, but he’s so cute. But I trust your judgment. Anyways, now that you’ve scared off the only white boy for miles, how about you come boy hunting with me? Help me catch my next meal?”

Minako eyed Chang-seok up and down, pursing her lips in thought. “In that shirt?”

“…What’s wrong with my shirt?”

“Nothing, O honourable grandfather. Loosen a few buttons and come into this century, why don’t you? Even a face as devilishly handsome as yours can’t counteract this stiff and drab wardrobe of yours.”

Rolling his eyes, Chang-seok complied, undoing the top two buttons. Minako took the lapels of the shirt and bent it so that more skin was revealed. “You’re eye candy, Chang. Give them something to look at before they taste it.”

Chang-seok grinned, before bumping hips with her affectionately. “Aww, you always were my favourite fag hag.”

“I’m your only fag hag,” Minako replied, returning his grin. “Now let’s get you some meat and me…” She paused, tapping her chin with her finger for dramatic effect. “I’m watching my figure, so I think I’m in the mood for some salad. Tossed. Or maybe even honey, straight from the pot. Maybe a pan?” She chuckled. “Well, I’ll be damned. I want something straight for once.”

Chang-seok’s laugh trailed behind him as he led Minako to the dance floor, passing by Fernanda who was chatting up Phuc.

It was no secret they were interested in each other, but someone had forgotten to given them the memo. Phuc, usually so confident and aloof, became bumbling and nervous around Fernanda, while Fernanda didn’t seem to have a filter and was always rambling about some obscure thing. Not that Phuc minded – he enjoyed just being near her, listening to her get so passionate and detailed about whatever she happened to be discussing at that time.

Because Fernanda was beautiful, with golden tresses falling in curled ringlets and dark amber eyes that went so well with her nigh-omnipresent mischievous and playful smile, many believed her to be vapid and a slut simply because she enjoyed the company of men. Phuc himself was quite the promiscuous person, but he was met with congratulations and admiring remarks. Fernanda was not so lucky.

She didn’t care about what people had to say, though. She knew those with no lives of their own gabbed on about others’. Fernanda left the hens to the clucking and did what she enjoyed. Which, as it happened to be at that moment, was chatting to Phuc.

“—And that’s how the first party became a thing!” she gushed, caught up in delineating the entire history of social gatherings.

“That’s so…fascinating,” Phuc murmured dreamily, obsidian eyes latching onto hers, before she looked away, a blush dusting her golden, bronzed skin. “I’d love to learn more about what you got in that big smart brain of yours.” He held out a hand. “But we’re at a party, so…”

And as Fernanda turned to lock eyes with him again, he saw the way the lights draped themselves across her features and found a home in her hazel eyes, and suddenly he found himself bailing on his plan to ask her to dance.

Hurriedly, he substituted, “…would you excuse me, I’ve got to check on other guests.” He extricated himself from the situation with the sort of haste born of embarrassment, not noticing how Fernanda’s gaze dropped and her features knit themselves into something resembling a crestfallen expression. She had really thought he would ask her this time. With a sigh, she went to go speak to Dion, keeping the gentle giant company and keeping her mind off Phuc.

Norma and Niyol simply sat in comfortable silence, watching the more extroverted people enjoy themselves. Norma was a quiet girl, not too many people knew her, but Phuc had seen her eyeing posters around the school he had posted advertising this house party his out-of-town family hadn’t realized he was throwing, and he personally waltzed over to her and extended an invite. Norma had been flustered and embarrassed at him seeming to know what she wanted but was too timid to get, but Phuc had assured her that she was welcome and he would love to have her over if she were up for it, no pressure, no commitments.

Norma had thought it a good way to maybe at least make one friend aside from Niyol whom she semi-sort of knew from being his lab partner in Science class, and yet here she was, sitting out the night with Niyol. Sure, Niyol wasn’t bad company, she enjoyed his quiet company the way she suspected he enjoyed hers, and she found it reassuring and familiar, but she hadn’t come here to sit out the night with a semi-friend. She came to make a new one.

That’s when she spotted Shaniqua going to get some fruit punch from the bowl. Norma studied Shaniqua’s form. She was thick, curvaceous, bountiful in body and plentiful in personality. She was loud and vivacious, full of life and love of it, confident in who she was, and Norma had always admired her for it. Shaniqua was kind and had always made sure to smile at Norma as she passed her in the hallway, as she entered a class, as she exited the cafeteria. She was just a gentle soul with a quick smile for anyone who needed it. She had cheered up Norma tons of times without realizing it, and now she was going to walk by without realizing Norma was there.

Alright. Enough. Norma was going to go to speak to Shaniqua properly and let her know just how much of a positive influence she was to her. She looked to Niyol, who gave her a look before giving her a graceful, understanding smile. “Yes, I’ll come with you,” he said softly, before rising to his full, impressive height. He was only a few inches taller than Norma, but for some reason he made her feel safe and understood, so his support in this matter was greatly appreciated.

Together, the two made their way over the table of refreshments, where Norma, with one last glance back to Niyol for emotional support, she tapped Shaniqua on the shoulder. Shaniqua nearly spilled her five cups of punch, she jumped so bad. Turning to look up at Norma, she sighed in relief, setting down the drinks.

“Ooh, girl, you trying to kill me? You know I have a weak heart! Don’t go sneaking up on me, I hate when people do that!’ Shaniqua raised a chubby hand to her ample bosom, resting it over her heart. “Phew, I could’ve died! Just warn me next time, yeah?” Once she caught her wits about her and evened out her breath, she gave an embarrassed Norma a brilliant smile. “Oh hey, come now, baby girl! What’re you frownin’ for? Don’t you know that you’ve got a beautiful smile? Show it off more often, the world could use some beauty right now!”

Norma found herself smiling with some measure of genuineness to it. “I…I came to thank you,” she mumbled.

Shaniqua raised an eyebrow, looking up at the tall white girl. “Thank me for what? Telling the truth? Ain’t no thang, sugar. My mama raised me right and I shouldn’t get accolades for being a decent human being.”

“You’re more than decent!” blurted out Norma, before clasping hands to her mouth and promptly turning red. “I…I mean…you’re just so…kind…and…and…” She shot a panicked look to Niyol, silently beseeching him for help.

Niyol smoothly stepped in. “What Norma is trying to say,” he supplied, “is that you are one of the warmest and kindest people she knows. You have always been benevolent and open with her, always encouraging and enthusiastic, and she thoroughly appreciates your gestures. She simply wished to let you know how much you mean to her.”

Shaniqua raised a hand to her throat, taken aback by such kind-hearted praises. “Norma…is this true?”

Norma nodded vigorously, her voice having left her, thanking Niyol with a look of pure gratitude. She seemed to be tearing up, unable to stand how she was feeling and oddly emotional at the same time. Shaniqua took her in a hug then, comforting her with a tight embrace as she patted Norma’s back and then released her, lifting her chin and wiping away her tears.

“Save your tears for moments of joy, baby girl,” Shaniqua advised her. “They’re too precious to be shed elsewise. Don’t you know we just got out of dry season?” she teased.

Norma nodded, and stopped sniffling, wiping her tears away once more with the backs of her hands. “Thank…you…” she murmured.

Shaniqua placed a palm on Norma’s shoulders, gazing up to the girl whose head hung awkwardly, meeting the girl’s own watery smile with a firm one of her own. “Thank you, sugar. You need anything, need anyone to talk to, need anyone to listen, you call me.” She scribbled down her number and placed it in Norma’s hand, balling the girl’s palm up into a fist. “We’re friends now. You got that? I’m here for you, Norma.” Her eyes widened. “Shoot. Speaking of friends, I’ve got to get these drinks back to mine. I’ll see you around. You too, Niyol! Take care, you hear?”

And with that, Shaniqua scooped up her drinks and sashayed back to the dance floor, expertly maneuvering through gyrating bodies and not spilling a single drop, Norma watching her all the way.

Shaniqua had just returned with the drinks when Lakeisha snagged one, draining it in one go and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Girl, what took you so long, ‘Niqua?” she queried, arching a thick, sharply curved eyebrow. “Someone caught your interest?”

“You could say that,” agreed Shaniqua. “Y’all been dancing up a storm, huh? Saved any dances for me?”

“For my main bitch, of course!” Lakeisha laughed, pulling Shaniqua into a close embrace, flicking her head back to set her long ebony hair cascading back, strobe lights casting beautiful colours off the sheen of her hair. She and Shaniqua swayed in sync, playing off each other’s moves and synergy, building their bodies’ tempo forward to a frenzied rhythm of energy and passion.

Songs changed, genres shifted, and still Lakeisha and Shaniqua went at it, hips twirling, hair flying, feet flying to the beat. The party was winding down, and most of the party-goers had left back to their homes or dorms. Amal and Bianca and Amina danced in a threeway group. It finally came to a slow song and both black girls held each other tenderly in their arms, sweaty foreheads leaning against each other, gazing deeply into the other’s eyes as soft pants and lazy smiles found their mirror on the other’s lips.

“You mean so much to me, you know that, right, ‘Keisha?” Shaniqua asked, nodding slowly to let her best friend know just how much she meant to her.

“I…I do,” Lakeisha agreed, her voice catching. Her eyes flicked to the side, avoiding Shaniqua’s. “You too. ‘Niqua.”

Shaniqua saw her eyes flick away, breaking their gaze, and her brow furrowed. “Hey, baby girl,” she said, using her index finger to raise Lakeisha’s chin to face her. “Look at me. Please, ‘Niqua.” Shaniqua reluctantly complied. “You know I love you, right? You’re my girl. You my #1 bitch. Ride or die. I would do anything for you.”

Lakeisha closed her eyes, eyebrows knit together as she tried to prevent tears from falling. She shouldn’t have had so much to drink. She knew she got ridiculously emotional whenever she got drunk. She thought she had her feelings under control, had them under lock and key, but apparently she hadn’t locked them away within her as tightly as she had once thought.

“Hey.” Lakeisha opened up her tear-stained eyes once more, large and vulnerable, gazing at Shaniqua’s stormy, compassionate ones. “Lakeisha, please. You’re my angel-faced baby girl. I know it’s hard, I can only imagine how hard, but please, I can’t lose yo—”

She was cut off as Lakeisha took her lips in hers, pressing the soft and supple thick lips against Shaniqua’s. A gasp of surprise from the thicker girl was swallowed by Lakeisha, who raised her hands to her best friend’s face as she kissed her deeply. Then, eyes flying opening as she realized what she did, she pulled back, hand flying to her lips as she gazed at a shocked Shaniqua.

Amal, Amina and Bianca noticed the kiss, but said nothing. They knew of Lakeisha’s feelings for Shaniqua, everyone knew, but they simply watched on sadly, imagining how hurt Lakeisha was and how Shaniqua was feeling.

Recovering her wits first, Shaniqua started, “Lakeisha…you know I love you, and I know you love me…but I don’t know if I feel about you the way you feel about me. You’re my best friend, my sister, my soul and heart. I love you to death, you’re my life, but I don’t know if I feel the same way. I’m sorry.”

Lakeisha turned from her, willing herself not to cry, saying nothing until she mumbled an, “I’m sorry,” and fled from the scene.

“Wait!” Shaniqua called. “Where are you going?”

“It’s a party!” Lakeisha yelled back. “I’m going to get wasted!” And with that, she hurried off into the dwindling crowd, her worried friends watching her go.

Phuc emerged from the bedroom, noticing the dearth of party-goers. Glancing at his phone, he noticed it was 3:45 AM. “Shit, is it really that late?” he murmured, caught by surprise. He hadn’t expected the night to be over so soon. “Alright,” he said to himself. “Time to liven this party up and get a little bit more intimate.”

Strolling into the room, he announced, “Listen up, dorks!” As he caught everyone’s attention centered on him, he continued, “Now that there’s not too many people, we’re going to play a game.”

Picking up a random empty bottle off the table, he said, “We’re playing Spin the Bottle: Truth or Dare edition!”

Murmuring in assent, the last few people to stay at the party began to converge in the living room conversation pit, located conveniently by the fireplace where flames crackled merrily, setting the friendly and inviting ambience of the room. Seated in the square pit full of low couches and cushions were Norma, Minako, Amal, Amina, Lakeisha, Chad, Dion, Shaniqua, Niyol, Fernanda, and Phuc himself. Doing a headcount, Phuc asked, “Hey, where’s Chang-seok? He didn’t leave, did he? He was supposed to stay the night, right, Minako?”

Rising, Minako answered, “I’ve got a pretty good idea.” Walking over to a door, she pulled it open without knocking, revealing Chang-seok making out with a boy named Emery. They were both shirtless. Despite the door being open, they put on a show for the others for another half a minute before breaking apart, turning to glare at Minako and the others.

“Do you mind?” Chang-seok huffed. “I was about to get laid.”

“No reason you still can’t,” Emery replied, clever eyes twinkling. “I don’t mind an audience – do you?”

“Oooh, kinky,” Chang-seok remarked, appraising Emery with a new found appreciation. “Careful, we might yet become monogamous.”

“Oh, not a chance,” Emery replied. “We both know we’d cheat on each other. And then with each other.”

Chang-seok conceded that point, but before he could reply, Minako interrupted, “Both of you, out of the closet, now.”

“Jeez,” Chang-seok murmured, buttoning up his shirt – and leaving the top few undone – before exiting and leading Emery by the hand after he had done the same. “We already are. Everyone already knows we’re gay.”

“Bi, specifically,” Emery corrected. “But yes, all the gay.”

Minako rolled her eyes and sauntered back to her place in the conversation pit, patting the open seat beside her for Chang-seok. Chang joined her after a slight hesitation, noting there wasn’t any open space beside him for Emery, but he seemed content when Emery took a place directly across from him with a playful smile.

“Alright,” Phuc declared, “we all know the rules. You spin the bottle. Whoever it lands on, you ask them truth or dare. They have to done one or the other, no exceptions. Not unless they propose an alternative that is deemed acceptable, and put to a vote. If it’s accepted by the majority, they can then select that option.” His eyes roved over those before him, hovering on Fernanda’s form for a few seconds too long, before flicking past to others. “Once they have done so, they will then spin the bottom and the cycle repeats.”

“Bottle,” said Niyol.

“Hmm?”

“Bottle. You said bottom. You meant bottle.”

“That’s what I said,” Phuc deadpanned, before quickly moving on. “Alright, who’s first?”

“Me!” came the simultaneous exclamations of Lakeisha and Shaniqua, before both girls locked gazes and glanced elsewhere. Amal and Amina exchanged glances. Bianca covered her face.

“What’s going on between them?” Fernanda murmured to Minako.