I got invited to a Facebook group called East Chapel Hill High School Assassins. Turns out Walker Knight, Wesley Cochran, and Michael Darken made it as the only form of advertising for the game that would soon forge my lifestyle for the next few days: Assassins. It was started about two years ago, mainly for seniors, and introduced by Peter Siderovski, but those three were bringing it back for all grade levels. The rules on the page were simple.
1. People have to sign up online by the specified date.
2. Everyone gets a spoon with someone else’s name on it.
3. You have to touch the back of that person’s neck with the spoon to assassinate them.
4. You aren’t allowed to assassinate during class or if the target is touching another player who is still alive.
5. When you kill someone, they must hand over their spoon so that you have another target.
6. The last person standing and whoever has the most spoons are the winners.
Go to class, take some notes, hear the bell, then murder someone? I’m in.
On Tuesday, I went to the Wildcat to find Wesley. He was in charge of handing out the spoons to all 80 players in the first round. When I asked him why he and the other two leaders had started this, he said, “all in good fun.” What a simple man. I love him. Simple and dangerous. Turns out Wesley had swiped all 80 spoons from the cafeteria. I reached in and pulled out fate. I kept my head away from the spoon and went off to a corner. A dark corner. I looked at the victim’s name, let out a moan, and tilted my head back against the bricks in the wall. It was a mixture of ecstasy and yearning. I didn’t know this person, which would make it more difficult. How perfect. I don’t like it easy.
At home I logged on to Facebook, copied the name into the search box and hit enter. I was about to meet my soul-mate. There he was, handsome and unsuspecting. I felt strange knowing that I had power over him without him even knowing it. Almost like when you find a wallet and you look at the license photo. He won’t even know what’s coming.
I’m getting extremely paranoid. I was working in the library on a computer and realized that I shouldn’t be so exposed. As I rose to move to the other side of the circular table, I felt a shadow cool me, contrasting with the heat from the harsh library lights. I reached for the assailant’s arms without looking at his face, put them behind his body to dodge the sharp spoon, and smashed the audacious fool’s head into the keyboard. Freshman. Even worse, his hands were empty. Name was Mike and he was going to a study group when he got a little too close to me. Nice guy. I dusted his shoulders and sent him off with a pat on the head.
I was vigilant the next day in the halls as I stalked my prey. I hid between people like kids hide behind trees in the forest and weaved through the traffic as if the fuzz wanted to take me in. Some girl even thought I was looking up her skirt, just because I knelt to use her legs as cover. Please — I have a better date waiting for me: utensil homicide. He finally turned in that long stretch of hallway in C-quad by the computer lab that goes towards the stairwell. He’d be all alone. He was 20 feet away, facing me, standing still when I turned to follow him. No one else was around. I can’t remember how much time went by while we eyed each other tensely. I had him, he had no escape. Finally, I decided that my fingers were getting too itchy. It was high noon. Right before I took a step towards him, he smiled. At first, I figured he too realized how this would end, but I quickly changed my mind. He had the smile of the siren, who makes you think that your charm draws her to your boat, and right before she leans in to give you a kiss over the ship’s side, she puts a finger on your lips. I panicked and stood back, and stepped inside another body. I turned to find one of his friends standing there, spoon in hand. Game over.
I’m too excited for the next game. I’ll have to sign up early, though, because it’s going to be limited to 60 people. I’m thinking of buying a janitor’s disguise. So good.