Jillian Dodd - Hate Me

“Special room?”

“Cam sent me an old map, a key, and a list of rules.”

“What kind of rules?”

“About taking care of the place. Passing on the key to someone worthy.”

“Why didn’t he give it to Dawson?”

“Dawson may have had a wild summer, but he’s a good boy compared to the rest of us.”

“So, by worthy you mean someone not afraid to take risks?”

Dallas says, “It’s colder than a witches’ tit. Can we discuss this later?”

“Wanna run?” Riley asks, both of them taking off before I can reply.

At the chapel, we go in the front door, up the side aisle, through a skinny door, down a set of stairs, and through a dark hallway. Once we leave the stairs, Riley starts counting.

“Twenty-seven. Stop. This should be it.”

Dallas shines a flashlight in front of us. There’s nothing but a dead end. He points it toward the wall on our left. On this wall is what appears to be a memorial stone for a Mary Jane Stockton, who died on April 20, 1920. Dallas points the light toward the other side. Nothing but a blank wall.

“There’s a door back there,” I say, pointing back. “Maybe you counted wrong.”

“Hang on,” Riley says, pulling the note out of his back pocket. Dallas shines the flashlight on the note. “See this? I didn’t know what this was, but maybe it’s a clue.”

I move the paper closer to the light. “That’s a pencil engraving.” I look up at the circular carving above Mary Jane’s name and laugh. It’s a flower with leaves that look suspiciously like a marijuana plant. “Her name is Mary Jane and she died on four-twenty? This has to be the place.”

“So where does the key go?”

I push the flower to the left and find a keyhole. “Here it is!”

Riley puts the key in the lock. We push the big stone door inward, shut it, and then look for a light.

When Dallas finds one and flips it on, I can barely believe my eyes.

We’re standing in a huge stone room. The walls are painted in bright colors and there are names and dates written all over them in black marker. There are furry and vinyl beanbags of various shapes and colors littering the floor. Psychedelic posters cover the ceiling. There’s a bar running the length of one wall with shelves just waiting to be filled. In front of it is a bar top with stools lined up underneath.

“This place is giving me a hard-on,” Dallas says.

“Me too,” I reply in awe.

I go behind the bar and find four built-in mini fridges, each bearing their year of donation, and a place to chill and tap a keg.

“I think I’m in love with the class of 2004,” Riley laughs. “Holy shit, this place is sweet.”

“And warm.”

“Look over here,” Dallas says, pointing at a foosball table from the class of 1999.

I start reading the walls. “1974 is the oldest I can find. What about you guys?”

“I’ve got a 1972!” Riley yells. “In fact, I think these are the people who started it.”

Dallas and I run over and read the inscription.

All who pass through Stockton’s door,

Take an oath of silence swore.

In this place of legend and lore,

Party on, friends, evermore.

Samuel Torpe

Oscar Cullen

Karolyn Thorton

Olivia Newell

Class of 1972

Dallas holds up a joint. “I think we need to toast our forefathers.”

We each plop down on a beanbag.

“How is this place so clean?” I wonder aloud. “Shouldn’t it be dusty if no one has used it this year?”

“There’s probably some secret alumni fund that keeps it clean.”

“Yeah, maybe,” I agree, taking a hit.

“We need to get the keg down here and fill those bar shelves,” Riley says.

“How are we supposed to do that?” I ask.

“We’ll figure out a way. More importantly, who will we invite?”

“It’d have to be people we trust not to tell, right?” Dallas asks.

He passes me the joint again and I say, “Could we bring people here without letting them know where it is?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. Blindfold them? That would keep the location safe. And without the key, no one else can get in anyway.”

Riley ponders that for a second but then gets distracted by a poster of a hot girl above his head. “This place is sweet.”

Sex for your ex.

English

As I’m walking to my seat in English, I get a text from B.

B: I set up a call with the takeover guy for tonight. 12:30 am EST.

Me: Thank you :)

I stand here for a few seconds, waiting for him to reply, but he doesn’t.

Dallas tickles my side as he walks by so I decide to take my seat.

But before I do, I can’t help but rub his adorable buzz cut. “Your hair is just too cute like this.”

“What is with girls? They all want to rub it. I’ve starting saying, If you rub it three times my genie will pop out .”

“Dallas!” I crack up laughing. “Has anyone taken you up on that? Speaking of which, what ever happened to Panties for the Poor?”

“Still taking donations. Just got a little sidetracked by you-know-who.”

“Ha! She’s like Voldemort. She’s so bad, we can’t even say her name.”

Dallas laughs. “And right now I’m busy with the Sex for your Ex Club.”

“Do I even want to know what that is?”

“I’m offering my services to help newly single cheerleaders get back at their ex-boyfriends.”

“You really are an extraordinary philanthropist.”

“I know,” he says, loosening his tie.

Katie plops down by us. “So, what do you think about Annie and Jake? Ace was pissed last night.”

“Good,” Dallas and I say at the same time.

We all look at each other and laugh.

“Ladies!” our teacher says. “Can we focus on class, please? And Mr. McMahon, kindly tighten your tie so I’m not forced to give you another demerit.”

After she turns toward the blackboard and continues to bore us with Shakespearean vocabulary, Katie makes a funny face and I start giggling.

Dallas whispers, “Did you get into Jake’s brownies again?”

Which makes me giggle some more.

Or maybe I’m still high from Aiden kissing the hell out of me before class.

“Miss Monroe! Why don’t you come up here and pass out the quizzes, since you seem to have so much energy.”

As soon as I stand up, Dallas flips the back of my skirt, causing the whole thing to fly up in the air, probably exposing my thong.

“Dallas!” I yell, laughing and pushing it down.

“All right. That’s it. You two. Outside.”

I freeze and wipe all emotion from my face.

Our teacher motions for us to go and follows us out in the hall, where she chews us out and tells us we’re both getting zeros on our quizzes.

Dallas and I slide down the wall, sit on ground, look at each other, and then both start giggling.

“Last night was awesome. Can you believe that place?” I ask.

“It still sorta seems like we dreamed it.”

“Could we have all had the same dream?”

“We need to find out more. Wanna go back tonight?”

I think about the text I just got from B. “Probably not. It’s only second period, and I’m already tired.”

“Come on, we need to go make sure it’s real. We’ll invite Aiden.”

“Maybe.”

An adorable wink.

Lunch

Cooper comes by our lunch table and hands me a piece of paper.

“Here’s a pass to get out of your seventh period class so we can do some physical therapy on that hamstring.”

“Um, thanks.”

“I’ll help you stretch,” Aiden says. “You should really do it every day.”