Maverick

I WATCHED THEM PULL away, my chest tightening as Kyle’s Jeep disappeared out of the campus gates. Lo was worried. I felt it in every word. Every time her eyes landed on me. Each time her fingers grazed mine. And she had every right to be. Zac Lowell was a real piece of work, and if I was being honest, I wasn’t looking forward to what the night would bring.

As I doubled back toward my building, my cell vibrated, and I slid it out of my pocket.

Lo: Be safe tonight. Promise me you won’t do anything stupid x

Me: I promise xo

Dragging a hand over my face, I pocketed my cell. Anger still lingered in my veins at what Zac had said to Lo. At the fact that until I figured out his end game, I couldn’t do shit about his freshmen games. That fucker wasn’t good enough to even breathe the same air as her and if he was anyone else, I would have made sure he knew that. 

But my hands were tied. 

As much as I hated it, for now, I was a pawn in his game. 

“Yo, Prince,” Jamie called as I neared the dorm building. He was sitting on the bench, frowning at his cell phone.

“Everything okay?” I flicked my gaze to his hands, and he shrugged.

“It will be. Lo and your stepbrother headed home already?”

“Yeah, my stepbrother’s sister, Kiera, has to get home to her mom.”

“There’s another sister? Geez, you lot are a complicated bunch.”

“You don’t know the half of it.”

“So what do you think tonight is about?” He rose from the bench and we walked inside together.

“Humiliation and suffering.” 

“Yeah, I’m thinking the same. Jonas went to medical. He doesn’t have any broken bones, thank fuck, but he’s got severe bruising and the doctor advised no physical strain for a month.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah, I told him to approach Zac for a free pass, but he wouldn’t.”

“Jesus.” I let out a low whistle. The guy had taken the worst of the paintball attack Thursday night. “I just want it over with. It can’t go on all semester. If the administration found out about it—”

“You think they don’t already know?” Jamie scoffed. 

Miss Bowman had hinted that she’d heard whispers of hazing incidents, but I couldn’t believe they would openly allow it to happen.

“Yeah, well,” I said. “Let’s hope you’re wrong.”

Because if they did know, it changed things entirely. Not only making Zac a loose cannon but making him a ticking-time bomb.

~

WE FILED INTO THE DELTA Pi house one by one. The senior players lined the reception area and my eyes immediately went to their outfits. They looked like something straight out of private school with their black blazers trimmed with red. But Zac stole the show in his schoolmaster outfit complete with cap and gown, and thick-rimmed glasses. The thwack of his cane against the wall rattled in my bones and Darnell caught my eye in a ‘what the fuck’ expression.

“Welcome to Scorpion 101. Tonight, you’ll be tested on not only your knowledge of the Steinbeck Scorpions but also your general knowledge of the game. Inside that room,”—he pointed to the door behind him—“There are twelve desks. Choose one and make yourself comfortable. The test will last approximately three hours...” he went on but all I heard was: test and three hours. Everything else drowned out. 

Test. 

Zac Lowell wanted us to sit a fucking test. 

I felt the line of guys behind me exhale a sigh of sweet relief. But not me. This was ten times worse than anything else they could have made me endure.

“Before you enter the test room, a little refreshment.” Some guy wheeled in a trolley holding twelve pint glasses of what I presumed—and hoped—was water. 

“Mac, if you will.” Zac motioned for the trolley. “Take a glass, drink it, deposit your cell phone in the box, find a desk, and await instructions.” 

Zac thrived on the power. His eyes blazed with self-importance as he raked them over each of us as we followed his orders to the letter. When it was my turn to drink the glass of liquid, Zac shifted closer. I lifted the glass and looked him dead in the eye as I chugged it down. Thankfully, it was tasteless. Done, I slammed the glass back on the trolley and made my way into the room. It was a vast space, cleared out of furniture to make way for twelve old school-style desks. Darnell and Jamie were seated upfront. I placed my cell phone in the box on the first desk and chose the row behind them. 

“This is bullshit,” Darnell whispered out of the side of his mouth as I dropped into the seat. 

The other guys filed in, one by one. Jonas was last, and the guy looked a mess. Dark circles shadowed his eyes as he shuffled to a free desk, shielding his torso with his arm. I caught his eye and tipped my head in what I hoped was a silent show of support.

When all the desks were full, Zac came in taking his position at the front of the room. He snatched a sheet of paper off the desk and held it up. “This is your test paper. They will be scored and ranked. The top two will be rewarded. The bottom two however, will be punished. The rest of you will have to live knowing you are completely and utterly average.”

Someone snickered from behind me. Zac’s head shot up and he stalked toward the back of the room. “This is a test. Follow the rules.” He jabbed the cane to the sheet of paper taped to the wall. “Rule one: No one leaves this room until I say. Rule two: No toilet breaks.”

There were a few grumbles at that. But I’d expected it. What else did they make us drink a pint of cold water for?

“And rule three: Keep your fucking mouths shut.”

A male shriek pierced the air, and I glanced back in time to catch one of the guys clutch the side of his head, pain twisting his face. “Anyone else have something to say?” The cane rested in Zac’s palm as he held the other end, tapping it tauntingly.

He was met with silence. My fingers curled around the edge of the desk. Either Zac Lowell knew about my situation or it was a case of bad luck. But one thing was certain, I wasn’t doing the fucking test and giving him any more leverage over me. I could handle whatever he threw in my direction. Even if he made me drink piss or run the length of the football field with a hotdog wedged between my ass crack, I’d do it with a smile on my face. Because karma was a cruel bitch, and I had to believe one day he’d get his.

“Mac is handing out your tests now.” He waited for his right-hand guy to distribute the papers and then walked to the desk at the front of the room. “Your three hours starts now.” Zac hit the stopwatch and left the room. Mac took point at the door, standing tall, arms folded over his chest.

The rustle of paper filled the air, and I risked a sideways glance at the guy on my right. He jumped straight in, his pencil flying across the paper. I could just make out Darnell and Jamie answering the first set of questions.

“Problem, Prince?” Mac called across the room, his brow arching. I shook my head, slowly turning over the test.

The words danced on the page. Even though I’d had no time to worry about this fake-ass test, it didn’t matter. It was the words and all that went with it. Like a switch in my brain I had no control over. I clamped my eyes shut and counted down in my head, forcing myself to calm down. When I opened them again, the letters were more organized, and I could make out most of the words.

But it didn’t matter.

I wasn’t going to answer a single question.

For Mac’s benefit, though, I pretended to read the questions and mark an answer. The second his eyes looked in another direction, I sat back and waited. The stop clock taunted us. Seconds blurring into minutes, and minutes into an hour. But everyone seemed comfortable enough. Until, somewhere around the seventy-minute mark, noise filtered into the room through a hidden speaker. And not any noise but that of running water. Rainfall maybe, or a waterfall. Either way, its intention was obvious and a couple guys shifted uncomfortably on their chairs. Zac Lowell was a sick son of a bitch. But wanting your new teammates to piss themselves seemed low by anyone’s standards.

Ninety-minutes in, and Zac graced us with his presence; sauntering into the room swigging a beer, the cap gone and his tie hanging loose around his neck. “How are my students holding up, Mac?”

“Good, sir,” he answered.

Sir? Was that fuckwit for real?

“Any accidents yet?”

Mac stifled a laugh and shook his head. “But Jonas’ looking a little uncomfortable.”

“Is that right, Mr. Cleaver?” Zac moved to Jonas’ desk, leering down at him. “Something you’d like to ask me?”

Jonas didn’t meet his eyes, keeping focused straight ahead. Zac’s nostrils flared, and he slid the cane under Jonas’s chin forcing him to look up. “It’s rude to ignore your professor.”

My fists balled underneath the table and I imagined myself shooting from the chair and lunging for him. Zac Lowell was a bully. Plain and simple. And I’d bet my Audi no one ever stood up to him.

He jabbed the end of the cane into Jonas’s cheek and spat, “Get on with it. You’d better pray you don’t flunk out, Cleaver. Because something tells me, you won’t survive what I have planned.”

Someone’s hand flew up, drawing Zac’s attention. “What?”

“I really need to take a piss, man.” The guy was practically dancing in his seat.

“Can’t you read, Ka- Kawinski is it?”

“Y-yeah but I really need—”

“You can take a piss.” Zac smirked. “In eighty-four minutes.”

“But—”

The whoosh of the cane cutting through the air made the hairs along my neck stand on edge. But it was nothing compared to the high-pitched shriek Kawinski made when the wood connected with his hand.

“Do I need to remind you all of the rules?” Zac glared around the room. I kept my eyes low. The last thing I needed was for him to come closer and realize I hadn’t written a damn word.

“Mac, I need to take a piss.” Zac downed the rest of his beer and slammed it down on the front desk. It rattled in protest. “I’ll be back before it’s time up.”

Mac nodded and resumed his position. Kawinski moaned as he rubbed his hand, and I could just make out a thick red welt. Everyone else kept their eyes down, hurrying to answer the rest of the questions. I kept my pencil poised on the paper, but my mind was elsewhere. Specifically plotting all the ways I could get Zac Lowell back for this. It was a pipe dream now, but maybe it wouldn’t be forever.

~

KAWINSKI PISSED HIMSELF.

There were eleven minutes left on the clock and it looked like he was going to make it. The poor guy had panted and puffed, shifting around on his seat as if he had fire ants chowing on his balls. But then he let out an almighty groan, dropped his head on his forearm and let go. Mac burst out laughing and then reminded Kawinski of rule number one.

When Zac finally showed up, he sniffed the air with smug satisfaction and whispered something to Mac. He disappeared, returning seconds later with a mop and bucket and as if the humiliation of pissing himself in front of his new teammates wasn’t enough, Zac made him mop it up, and then sit back down. Wet shorts and all.

When the countdown buzzed, Zac took his position at the front of the room and said, “Time’s up. Hand your papers in to me and get the fuck out of here. Results will be texted out tomorrow.” He sounded pissed, but what I couldn’t figure out was if he was disappointed one of his new teammates had been unable to hold his bladder for three hours, or that it didn’t happen to more of us.

I followed the rest of the guys up to the front of the room, stretching my muscles as I waited in the line. When I reached Zac, he snatched my paper from my hands and narrowed his eyes. He reeked of liquor, and I arched my brow at him.

“Get out of here, Prince.” I noticed the slight slur in his words. “Before I make you do Kawinski’s laundry.”

Darnell and Jamie were waiting for me out in the hallway. None of us spoke as we left the house. Kawinski was long gone, not that I blamed him. But Jonas lingered behind, and the four of us made our way to the dormitories in thick silence.

Everyone heard the stories of college hazing. But imagining them and doing them were two different things. With the crazed look in Zac’s eyes as we filed out of the room, I was certain it was going to get worse before it got any better.