k n i g h t i n n e v e r l a n d

Liam could see that I wasn't in a good mood the next day, if the frown etched between my eyebrows was any indication. It hadn't been there before, but the second he sauntered up to the shack, the expression on my face became as black as thunder.

"Did someone die?" he asked jokingly, leaning his tanned forearms on the counter. Marcel, who was on shift that day, immediately met him halfway, leaning forward to give him a kiss.

Thanking the customer I had just served, I tucked the wad of cash under the strap of my blouse and turned to Liam. "You tell me," I shot back, enigmatically, "Are you still breathing?"

"Whoa, whoa, what's with the attitude?"

"I'm mad. Can't you tell? You - " I reached forward to poke him in the chest. My finger was sharp, and he winced. " - were supposed to let me or Marcel know about the hazings in advance."

Liam still seemed unfazed and with a shrug, said, "you got Dots out in time, what's the big deal?"

My frown deepened. Liam had now begun to refer to Miles as Dots, just as Marcel did, and he looked like it was still some sort of a big joke to him. "The big deal is that we almost couldn't get him out. If Ean hadn't been with me, Miles would've failed that last round."

"He wouldn't."

"How would you know?"

"Because I was the one who planned that round. Meaning I knew everything that was going to happen, and Dots was going to go through no matter what."

"You planned it?" I echoed, eyes narrowing as I glared at him. "The whole dunking their heads into the toilet thing?"

Marcel made a disgusted noise at that, but Liam simply nodded proudly. "Classic middle-school hazing. Hardly original, but completely manageable."

Manageable? Where Miles was concerned, it was not manageable. At all. My chest constricted as I remembered the frightened expression on his face, the haunted look in his eyes and the way his nails dug into my skin.

It was all I could do to keep a tight hold on my temper and force myself not to yell at Liam. After all, it wasn't his fault - not totally anyway. He must've figured middle-school hazing would be easy to handle in general, and he'd gagged one of the other boys to make sure Miles would go through.

Still, when it came to Miles, I found myself overreacting more than I normally did. There was something fragile about him that I hadn't seen in anyone else. To break him wouldn't be hard to do at all, but the consequences were always disastrous.

"What's the matter, Darce?" Liam said, when I kept up a mutinous silence.

Without glancing at him, I busied myself with folding the new batch of towels. Marcel was tending to the line of customers, but I knew that she was keeping a close eye on me.

Liam too continued to survey me intently, until something eventually seemed to dawn on him, and his eyes narrowed. "Don't tell me Marcel was right and that you actually have a crush on Dots, of all people."

"What's the problem with that?" I sniped quickly, but almost right after the words left my lips, I belatedly realised that I'd pretty much dug a grave for myself.

And as Liam stared at me in disbelief for a moment, before bursting into a fit of amused chuckles, I knew I had to lie in the grave I dug.

"This is rich," Liam mused, mirth in his eyes. "Of all the guys in the world, Miles is by far and large the last person I would've expected you to like."

"I don't have a crush on Miles."

My voice was even and flat, although, if I was being entirely honest, I hadn't a clue about the way I felt either. Hell Weeks were the only thing on my mind at this moment, and I was going to see Miles through it, simple as that. Feelings, while important, needed to stay irrelevant for the time being.

Liam simply grinned. "Dots and Darcy. Even your names sound incredibly cheesy."

"Shut up."

"Oh, come on, I've never seen you having a crush before, this is new."

Even if I didn't have a crush on Miles, I was pretty sure the thought of it was eventually going to go into my head if Liam kept that up. Words had a way of putting ideas into one's heads and were more effective than anyone could've ever imagined.

"Marcel," I said to my cousin, who had a knowing smirk playing on her face, "Please tell your boyfriend to leave before I throw something at him."

"Baby, please leave before Darcy kills you," Marcel repeated, obligingly, pushing herself quickly up on the tips of her toes so she could press a quick kiss to his lips.

Liam kissed her back briefly before pulling away. "I'm going. But on a more serious note," he began, leaning across the counter with a grave expression on his face. The glint in his eye told me that he wasn't joking. "Get your priorities right, Darcy."

"My priorities are fine, thanks."

"You know what I mean," he returned, cryptically, before turning to leave. At the last second, however, he hesitated and glanced at me, fingers tapping thoughtfully against the counter top. "One last thing."

"What is it?

"You might want to recruit as many friends as you can for the round seven."

My interest was immediately piqued, and I set the towel down. "What's happening in round seven?"

"That's for me to know, and for you to find out."

Rolling my eyes at his vague answer, I returned to folding the towels and stacking them on the shelf. Of course he wasn't going to tell me. The boys in the frat were usually terribly secretive about these sorts of things.

"But, for simplicity's sake," Liam continued, after a moment's pause. "Let's just call it Seven Minutes in Hell."

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The seventh round arrived in the blink of an eye. And, with Miles having almost failed the sixth round, I wasn't taking any more chances. With much begging and pleading on my part, I'd gotten as many people as I could get down to the beach that Saturday.

"You owe me a hell lot," were Greg's first words when he sauntered up to the shack that morning.

My jaw fell open in surprise when I saw the number of people he had behind him. Clearly, the four boys were far more influential than I had imagined them to be. Apart from the usual bunch - Keith, Vince and Callum, all of whom I had to beg to help Miles - there were about fifteen others, presumably their friends from Denver High.

While some were complete strangers to me, there were others whom I actually recognised, since they had come over to patronise Wavelength before. My eyes glossed quickly through the crowd, pausing when I noticed something that made me curious.

Callum was standing next to a brown-haired girl who looked my age. Her lips were upturned in a pleasant smile as she talked to some other people, but what was surprising was that for all the years I'd known Callum, I'd never seen him with a girl before. He looked at her like she hung the moon or something.

Pushing that thought aside for the time being, I smiled brightly at Greg who had pushed his way through and was now leaning against the counter.

I met him halfway and planted a big smacking kiss on his cheek. "I'll save you a portion of my Dad's ravioli every time he makes it, I promise."

"All that effort just for a portion of ravioli?"

"Take it or leave it, hot shot."

"He'll take it," this came from Callum, who had weaved his way through the crowd and was now nudging Greg aside so he too could lean against the counter. "Throw in a free Dr Pepper every time I drop by the shack and we're good to go."

My mother, who was serving the line beside me, overheard our conversation and laughed. I liked her laugh. It was light and hearty, and when I was a kid it seemed like music to my ears. "Sweetheart, we're going to go bust at this rate."

But her tone was teasing and there was a twinkle in her eye. At that moment, I knew she was more than grateful for the business Greg had indirectly brought to the shack.

Even though these kids were there for Miles's pledging, some of them were already joining the queue. In this hot weather, getting a slushee or an iced coffee was just about the best thing.

"Oops, sorry, Mom," I apologised half-heartedly, before turning back to Callum, lifting a hand for him to shake. "For a week. Deal?"

"Deal."

We shook, and I had to smile. Even though Callum seemed like lots of trouble to begin with, he was hardly unmanageable once you found his weakness. And speaking of weaknesses -

"Hey, Callum, who's that girl you had with you earlier?"

Greg's lips immediately curled up in a knowing smirk, but Callum's face was expressionless. "What girl?"

"The pretty brunette. There," I added, pointing to the girl in the distance. She now stood a little way off, looking rather lost without Callum.

"That's Scout."

"Cute name. Did her parents name her that because of the book?" Greg and Callum stared at me blankly, their expressions confused, and I hastened to explain, "You know, To Kill a Mockingbird."

After Miles had mentioned that book the other day, I'd taken it upon myself to Wikipedia it. Not read the whole book, of course, I couldn't sit down long enough for that, but it did have an interesting plot, and its protagonist was a girl called Scout.

"Oh, that," Callum shrugged. "I don't know, I've never asked."

"Well, can I?" I began, but was quickly cut off when Callum shot back with a sharp, monosyllabic answer.

"No."

"Why not? After I ask her that, I'm going to ask her what she even sees in you," I added, teasingly, but instead of laughing like I expected him too, Callum simply rolled his eyes and walked off.

Greg chuckled. "Lay off him. He really likes her."

"See, here's the problem. I don't understand why you guys can keep teasing me about Miles when I can't tease you guys about your love interests. That's not fair."

"Life isn't fair." Greg replied with a smirk, and sauntered off.

Shaking my head at Greg's generic reply, I hoisted myself over the counter and climbed over, ignoring my Mom's calls to 'go round the counter, Darcy'. I didn't have to look back to know that she was glaring at me disapprovingly. She said that to Ean and me about ten times a day, but going through the side gate just seemed so boring.

After telling my Mom that I was going to go on my break, I grabbed Ean and hauled him along with me. Ean came willingly. He didn't have to ask to know that there was yet another round of initiation but unlike a lot of the other people, he was less than enthusiastic.

Ever since that day we found Miles in the bathroom, Ean had been outwardly voiced his disapproval of this whole thing.

"It's stupid," he said, when I told him about the Hell Weeks and my plan to help Miles get into Corvus.

"Which part of it is?"

"This whole damn thing," he returned, unfazed when I raised my eyebrow at his selection of words. "To go to this extent just for a stupid pledging. Those guys at Corvus place way too much importance on the initiation. And Miles is trying way too hard to get in."

Ean was never one to mince his words. And even though I didn't say anything, I couldn't help but agree wholeheartedly with him. Was Ean the only one with enough common sense to see how futile this whole thing was?

Even I had gotten swept away in my efforts to help Miles - his goal and become mine, and I was utterly fixated on helping him achieve it.

So when Ean and I joined the crowd of avid watchers near the lifeguard post, where the initiation was beginning, and we heard the boisterous cheers of people all round, I wasn't surprised when Ean shot me a look that simply spelt 'I told you so'.

Yes, he had told me so, and he was right - the Hell Weeks had a way of rallying people together in the worst ways possible.

I stared at the set up. There was a long table, on which rows and rows of tequila were stacked. While drinking games weren't that much of a surprise to me, I was rather appalled to see the number of bottles that had been prepared.

Pulling Ean down to my level, I whispered in his ear, "Help me find Miles."

He nodded and began to scan the crowd. Ean had far sharper eyes than I had, so it didn't take him long. Within seconds, he was pulling me through the crowd so I could get a better glimpse of Miles.

Miles was standing with the other initiators. He had a thin grey pullover on, sleeves pushed up at his elbows, as well as the classic pair of yellow polka-dotted shorts. And when he spotted me, a huge smile spread across his face, one that I couldn't help but respond to.

Ean snorted out a laugh from beside me and I shoved him, knowing exactly what he was thinking. "Shut up."

"I didn't say anything."

"You were going to."

Ean opened his mouth to retort, a teasing glint in his eye, but he was cut off when Hank, the head of Corvus, began to speak to Miles and the other boys. His voice rang loud and clear, heard distinctly amidst the chatter of curious passers-by.

"Seventh round of initiation is what we like to call Seven Minutes in Hell," Hank drawled, a lazy smile playing on his face. "Basically you drink all the alcohol you can within seven minutes. The second you throw up or can't stand on your feet, you're out."

The shell-shocked expression on the boys' faces all mirrored each other's. My own heart was racing. This wasn't Svedka or Budweiser, which Miles could handle, this was tequila and we were now treading uncharted waters.

My fingers immediately found Ean's arm, and I gripped him tightly. I felt Ean flinch as my fingernails dug into his skin, but he kept silent. At times like these, I found my brother a brilliant pillar of emotional support.

After pausing briefly for the information to sink in, Hank continued, "But there's a catch. You see, we've got a free flow of alcohol here and only five of you. The initiation will start in ten minutes, and within these ten minutes, you'll have to find people who will be willing to help you drink. Of course, the more the better."

Across the crowd, Miles's eyes immediately met mine and I couldn't stop the smile from spreading across my face. Liam had done it again. Told me to get as many people as I could down to the beach. Pulled out all the stops just so Miles could get through.

Even if I hated the fact that Liam could be a douche, Miles wouldn't have come this far without his help, and I owed it all to him.

Miles's eyebrows furrowed as he saw the smile on my face but came over all the same. The other boys had already scattered themselves round the beach, beginning to rope as many people into their team as possible.

"Come on," I said, latching my fingers around Miles's wrist as soon as he came up. "We've got lots of people on our side."

The words had just slipped out of my lips when I realised the implications of my statement. And as Ean and I led Miles over to where Greg and the others were, I mulled over my words and couldn't stop the wave of anxiety rising up inside me.

We've got lots of people on our side.

Our side.

Our.

This had stopped being an individual battle the second I offered to help Miles. But the more I involved myself in the Hell Weeks and his initiation, the more I seemed to lose myself in the process.

And I didn't want that. That person who abandoned the boy in the bathroom a few days ago, even though she saw him gagged and bound, even though she saw the devastation in his eyes. That was me a few days ago and I didn't want to be her.

So caught up was I in my thoughts that I failed to hear Ean calling me. It wasn't until Miles pulled me to a complete halt when I realised that Ean had something to say.

Gazing up at the two of them, I forced a bright smile on my face. "What's up?"

"I was saying," Ean repeated, impatiently, "do you think Greg's brought enough people?"

"I sure as hell hope so. But we might need backup. Just in case."

Ean seemed to share my sentiments for he nodded quickly. "I'll get Jake and the others from the jet ski place, I think they might be willing to help."

I grinned and gave him a huge hug, to which he hastily shrugged off in embarrassment. "Thanks. Anyway, it's free flow of alcohol, what's not to like?"

Ean jogged off, leaving Miles and me behind. I was just about to lead Miles back to the shack, knowing that Greg and my other friends were probably still there, stuffing their faces with my Mom's homemade tacos. But Miles pulled me back, before glancing down at me worriedly.

"You alright?"

"I'm alright, why wouldn't I be?" I replied, a little too quickly.

His gaze sharpened, like he'd detected something rather off-ish in my tone, but didn't probe more. Instead, he smiled softly and said, "Ean told me you brought all these people down to the beach specially for this round. So thank you."

"Don't thank me. Thank Greg and the others when you see them."

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I should've figured that Ean had some ulterior motive for being so nice. After all, while he was generally a nice person, he offered his help far too readily that day. So much so that by the time the ten minutes was up, Ean returned with about twenty other people in tow.

Majority of them were familiar faces, people both Ean and I knew for years now. There was Jake and his workers from the jet ski place. Martha, who ran the diner some distance away, and two of her waitresses plus a couple of her customers. Some lifeguards and regular beach-goers.

I was just about to fling my arms around Ean and kiss the very ground he walked on, when he opened his big mouth and said;

"These people will help Miles only if I get to drink."

Greg, Keith and Miles, all of whom were standing close enough to hear, began to laugh in amusement. I, on the other hand, was far less amused.

"No freaking way," I returned flatly. "You're only fifteen. It's illegal."

Ean's reply came swift and quick. "You're nineteen. You can't drink either."

He had a point. And either way, no matter what anyone said, I was helping Miles and I was going to drink. Eventually, after a moment of internal debate, I gave up.

"Only one sip. The second you take a second taste I'm going to tell Dad."

"Okay, mom."

Scowling at him, I turned back to Miles, who was standing next to the table. He seemed rather overwhelmed by the number of tequila bottles stacked in rows on the table.

I gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. "Don't worry. We've got your back."

He smiled, looking rather relieved. I knew he was still nervous, however. His hands were braced on the edge of the table, eyes alert as he watched Hank pace around. The next round was starting in less than a minute, all Hank needed to do was to blow the whistle.