k n i g h t i n u p p e r h a n d

I knew I had my work cut out for me when I agreed to help Miles. But the thing was, I didn't exactly realise how much, until I put down the phone that night and realised that simply having connections wasn't enough.

The plan needed to be fool-proof. One of the most important things to do was to make sure Liam was going to keep Miles in until round seven. There was no way for Liam to keep that promise to me, since we were merely acquaintances and hardly friends. I simply knew him because of Marcel.

And it was Marcel who was the key factor in this. Only she wielded the least bit of influence over Liam and his decisions regarding the initiation rounds. So even though I knew Marcel was going to badger the crap out of me, I had to swallow my pride and ask her anyway.

Except she didn't seem surprised at all when I approached her the next day during our shift at Wavelength and asked for her help, since there was no way I could do this on my own.

I explained the whole thing to her, starting from the very moment Miles stepped into the shack that first day. Even though she turned to complete mush in front of Liam, I'd known Marcel all my life and knew she wasn't going to sell me out.

When I was done, the expression on Marcel's face was unusually calm, the corners of her lips were pulled up in a small smirk. I didn't quite like the glint in her eyes; they held a certain degree of mischief in them that made me realise she was up to no good.

"Sure," she said, lightly, "I'll help Dots get through."

My eyes narrowed at her nickname for him, and I knew she was doing that on purpose, since I'd told her earlier that was what I referred to Miles as, way before I knew his name. "You'll keep me updated about anything Liam tells you about his frat?"

She nodded.

"You'll get Liam to make things easy for Miles?"

Another nod.

"Help in whatever way you can - even if it means getting into trouble?"

She nodded again and I frowned suspiciously. Marcel never did things like these unless it benefitted her. Greg and the others - especially Callum - constantly kept a firm distance away from her, only coming to the shack whenever she wasn't around.

And while I was family and Marcel and I got along like a house on fire, she didn't generally do these sort of things. Least of all for someone like Miles, who was pretty much the kind of person she'd never associate herself with, just because it reflected badly on her social status.

So I surveyed her critically and asked, "What's the catch?"

"No catch," she returned, but then her eyes slanted into a look that was positively naughty. "I'm going to do this out of the kindness of my heart because I know you like Dots."

I sputtered. Where was the coke? I needed a drink desperately, just so I could spit it out in a dramatic manner the way I did to Greg.

Miles and I were just friends. Granted, I liked talking to him, listening to his warm voice on the other end of the line and I worried about him a lot, but that didn't mean I was feeling anything for him other than plain friendship.

So I gaped at her openly, until I collected my wits and blurted, "What?"

"Come on, Darcy, it's pretty obvious. No one goes all the way out for someone else unless they actually like the person."

"That's in your world. I just want to help Miles, what's wrong about that?"

"Nothing," she returned, but a small frown slipped between the crevices of her eyebrows. "I just thought that - if you actually liked someone, it wouldn't have been someone like him."

I bristled indignantly. "What's wrong with Miles?"

Marcel was hardly flustered by my defensive tone. Nothing much fazed her, and she simply lifted one should in a nonchalant manner before saying, "Just not your type, that's all. I figured with spending so much time at the beach you'd have hooked up with one of the boys here."

That made sense, even though I'd never in a million years admit that to her. I'd spent many summers at the beach with Greg and the others, knew the lifeguards here fairly well and almost everyone around the vicinity.

But dating just wasn't important, least of all at a time like this, and I told Marcel that. "I'm not hooking up with anyone, period. And I don't have a type."

"Sure, if you say so."

She still looked thoroughly disbelieving, and I knew there was nothing on earth that could convince her otherwise. Marcel was pretty set on her opinions once she made them.

It would've even been better if I just played along and acted like I did like Miles, because the second Marcel realised Miles and I had a purely platonic friendship, there was a chance that she could bail on us.

"So you'll help me then?" I clarified, just for good measure. I didn't want Marcel backing out of her promise, even though as far as I knew she hardly ever did that.

"Only because you like him."

"I don't like him."

"Right."

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So it began, and Marcel proved thoroughly helpful with helping Miles through the initiation rounds. By Thursday, I had received two messages from her. One was the next round of initiations, dictating the date and time it was going to take place:

Round #5 (initiation)

Sunday, 12-3pm

And her next was:

Told Liam to hold it at the beach so you can keep an eye on Dots.

The things I do for you, really.

I had to breathe a sigh of relief when I saw those messages. Initiations were tolerable and manageable. Hazings, on the other hand, were always unpredictable and dangerous.

So I could live with this for the time being. The beach was a public area, and there wasn't going to be much roughing up, I was sure of that. And I could watch the proceedings and make sure nothing went wrong.

But then Friday arrived, and Marcel sent me a message that made me doubt if we could even make it through the next round of initiations:

Might want to make sure Dots can hold his liquor.

She was being cryptic about it, but it was decipherable enough. I knew exactly what it meant the moment I saw it.

Round five was yet another drinking game. Most frats did this a lot, drinking games were basically a must-have for most initiations, so it was no surprise that Corvus was going to have a few as well.

But the odds were probably not in our favour this time. Miles didn't look like the type who could drink, much less actually hold his liquor well. And if he couldn't, chances were he was going to be out of the game in a jiffy.

My heart was racing, mind running with endless possibilities about Marcel's piece of news, and I was punching Miles's number into my cell the very next second.

He answered on the third ring, his voice that same lovely, warm tone. "Hey, Darcy, how've you been?"

And although I wanted to stop for the mindless chitchat that we'd gotten so used to over the past few days, I knew I couldn't. I had to cut straight to the chase. "Miles," I said flatly, my tone clipped and short, hoping I didn't sound as panicky as I felt. "Can you drink?"

"What?"

"Alcohol. Can you drink alcohol? How much can you drink before you're completely wiped out?"

He seemed alarmed by my question, and there was a definitive note of apprehension in his voice as he asked, "What's the matter, Darcy?"

"It's for round five of the Hell Weeks. There'll probably be a drinking game. Even though the previous round already had one, we can expect them to up the level. Ever played drinking games?"

"Like beer pong?"

His inexperience was thoroughly worrisome. Take away the context of Hell Weeks and I would've found it refreshing and entirely honest, but this was fraternity initiations and this wasn't anything to take lightly.

"I think beer pong is child's play. Edward forty hands or ring of fire - ever played any of those?"

"No."

I groaned, leaning my head back against the headboard of my bed. "Well, we're screwed."

I was thoroughly disappointed, because with Marcel and Liam on our side, it honestly seemed like we were having such a good chance. And now Miles was at the risk of failing all because of a stupid drinking game.

Miles was silent, and when he spoke, his voice was contrite. "I'm sorry, Darcy."

Something in me pulled at his words, and I sat up, pulling my knees to my chest. "Don't apologise. It's okay. I'll get you through this. Just let me think this through."

Chewing on my lip, I considered our options for awhile. Of course, the best thing to do was to get Miles the hell away from Corvus - but clearly, that wasn't an option. That was never going to be an option ever since the day I knew of Miles's fear of disappointing his father.

Hopping off my bed, I began to pace my room slowly, my thoughts in a whirl. I could hear a faint shuffling on the other end of the line, and wondered if Miles was as worried as I was. Probably more so, since most of the burden of getting into the fraternity rested on his shoulders.

"Darcy?" he asked, hesitantly, at last.

"Yeah?"

"I know I've said this a million times, but thank you for doing this."

I dismissed his gratitude quickly. "Don't thank me until I get you through the next round, although chances are, this isn't going to happen."

He paused for a moment or two before saying, "I have drunk Budweiser and Svedka though, if that helps. It probably doesn't but - "

"Was that a one-time thing or did you drink that regularly in the past?"

"I-I used to drink with my brother. We'd sit on the roof and share a bottle between us sometimes, but that was some years ago."

"What about now? Do you still drink with your brother now?"

Miles was silent for so long I almost thought he'd fallen asleep on me. And just as I was about to utter his name, he spoke. And I had never heard anyone sound so broken or hurt before.

"He's dead. My brother died two years ago."

My breath clotted in my throat at his words, and I automatically reached out for the nearest chair and sank down onto it. Because never in a million years had I expected something like this. Miles's forthcoming honesty was entirely unexpected, it bowled me over like nothing ever had before - that was one.

The second was that the pieces eventually fell into place. Why Miles spoke of his brother in the past tense. Because there was no present, there was no future, there were only memories of the past that, like a tidal wave, swept across Miles's live every so often.

I now understood why Miles was so desperate to land a place in Corvus, even if it meant being pushed around and getting treated like shit for the rest of his years at college. He had big shoes to fill, even bigger now that his brother was dead and his father was probably pinning all his own hopes and expectations for both his sons on Miles.

And now a surge of determination rushed through me, fiercer than before. I'd seen far too many sad things and faced too many disappointments and I didn't want to have someone go through what I had to face in the past.

And I was going to get Miles into Corvus, no matter what it took, even if it meant breaking the rules or enlisting everyone's help or cheating to -

Cheating.

My eyes widened at the sudden thought of it. So there was a glimmer of hope in this dire situation. And even though it was unscrupulous and broke the rules on every level, it didn't matter.

Because I wasn't from Corvus.

Pressing the phone tight against my ear, I took a deep breath. "Miles, you there?"

"Yeah."

"Listen to me. Go out and get a beer or two today. And then a couple more tomorrow - but don't get yourself drunk. There's not enough time to build up your tolerance for it but we might as well try."

"Alright."

"On Sunday, before the initiation, remember to get a full meal. Bread or meat should do the trick, those are fairly hard to digest and will slow down the alcohol absorption rate."

Miles seemed surprised to hear my orders, but he didn't question them. And after promising he'd do just as I asked, we said our goodbyes and ended the call.

I could still hear the pain in Miles's voice as he told me about his brother's fate. It repeated over and over again in my head, and it was sufficient to make me reach for my cell once again and type a new text to Marcel:

Budweiser or Svedka. Can you make either of that happen?

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Sunday dawned quick and fast, like a hurricane that was about to sweep us all off our feet. And I had no idea what to expect. All I could do was to keep my fingers crossed, as Marcel had told me to.

My whole family was down at Wavelength, as was the weekend norm. The shack had two long lines of people that extended for some way along the beach, and all of us were up to our necks with work. I half feared I wasn't going to be able to catch a glimpse of the initiation.

Except I was given the opportunity to.

Because at eleven-thirty, there was a crowd that began to form a good distance away from the shack. The hustle and bustle attracted the attention of many people in the queue, and the lines began to dwindle, much to my parents' surprise.

I, on the other hand, couldn't help but feel grateful for it, because if the shack had been busy then there was no way my parents were going to let me leave. But now that the shack was beginning to see a lull, they made no objections when I asked if I could see what the commotion was about.

"Can I come?" Ean asked, when I posed the question to my parents and they agreed.

"Yeah, sure," I returned mildly, pulling him along with me. I waited until we were out of earshot when I tugged at his shirt and pulled him down to my level. "You know those hazings and initiations we hear about all the time? And all the poor kids who're made to run circles because of that?"

"Uh-huh."

"Well, in a couple of years, that's going to happen to you," I replied, gesturing to the crowd we were approaching. "Study hard and don't apply to Riverton, no matter what. And don't join a fraternity."

He snorted a sardonic laugh. "You know I can't be bothered with these sort of things."

I rolled my eyes at his dismissive attitude. But he was telling the truth. Ean, as far as I knew, never worried himself about things like these. Fraternities or cliques or petty high school drama - he simply couldn't bring himself to care about that.

Greg and Callum were there when Ean and I reached the crowd. After spotting them somewhere near the front, I squeezed my way through towards them, while Ean quickly ditched me after spotting a couple of his friends standing elsewhere in the crowd.

I didn't blame him - no younger sibling really wanted to be seen with their older sibling anyway.

The crowd had formed a large ring around, and there were around fifteen boys wearing dark blue caps. Some were pushing the crowd back to give more space; the other boys were talking to each other in hushed whispers, their faces serious.

My eyes drank in this sight briefly, but no matter where I turned, I couldn't see Miles anywhere. So I tapped Greg and Callum on the shoulder, both of whom were watching the proceedings before them with flat expressions.

They turned, and Callum raised an eyebrow when he saw me.

"Darcy," Greg greeted, a smirk curving his tanned face, "What're you doing here?"

"This is my beach," I returned mildly. Even though it was a public beach and I had no monopoly over it, my family's shack did kind of wield some sort of influence over this place - or at least I liked to think so. I'd grown up here, spent ever summer here, and it was pretty much a second home to me. "It's a free-country, isn't it?"

"Hey, I'm not judging. It's just a surprise - you don't usually like crowds."

"I don't," I admitted, before shrugging. "What're you guys doing here? Especially you?"

My question was directed at Callum, who generally opted for a more detached approach when it came to these sort of things. Even if he had masterminded pranks or hazings of any kind - which he often used to doat Denver - he seldom, if not never, actually participated in them.

Callum simply jerked his head in Greg's direction. "Blame him."

So I was right. Callum wouldn't be here watching this if he had a choice. Greg, on the other hand, thrived on things like these. I could just picture him as the head of Corvus. It wasn't a difficult thing to imagine - not difficult at all.

"This is good research," Greg explained, defensively, "Who knows? I might have to go through these sort of things when I go to Riverton."

I didn't know who he was trying to kid. He was being thoroughly flippant about this. Neither Greg nor Callum nor any of their friends were ever going to be part of Hell Weeks at Riverton, simply because they were going to get recruited before orientation week even began for them.

The system was thoroughly unfair that way.

Then again, there were many unfair systems throughout the world, and people had to live with that everyday.

With a frown, I turned back to face the centre ring. By then, the boys from Corvus had already begun to set up - a circular table in the middle, chairs around the table, except each chair had its back leaning against the table. There were once again bell counters on each seat - seven in total.

One person was going to be out this round. And it couldn't be Miles. It just couldn't.

It wasn't until Liam headed to the table when I realised that Marcel had performed her task, and performed it beyond expectations. Because, after locating me in the crowd, Liam's eyes narrowed and he gave me an almost subtle nod.

"Bring it in," he called, and the other boys in his frat trooped in, armed with bottles of vodka.

And not just any kind of vodka. There was only one kind of vodka available.

Svedka.