The group of Initiates split up to surround us. “Get in,” a statuesque redhead ordered.
A girl at the front of the line looked dumbfounded, and Masha cracked her whip onto the white tiled floor. “Yes, Acari. In there. Now.”
Oh, God. They were taking us into the bathroom. Dread unfurled in my belly as my imagination ran with all the possible hazing that could happen in a bathroom. My brain was swamped with images of things cleaned with toothbrushes and heads submerged in toilets.
Of all my wildest imaginings, though, nothing came close to the reality.
“It’s a Hot Party, girls.” The redhead shooed us into the showers, an open space with six nozzles sprouting from antiseptic white tiles. “First one to fall loses.”
Fisting my hands at my sides, I shuffled in behind the others. My palms were sweaty. Like everyone else, I’d donned my outdoor gear, including a pair of what I guessed were ski gloves.
Just don’t slip. I found a spot at the edge and widened my feet to brace myself. I imagined myself anchored to the tiles. It’d be easy enough not to fall, right?
Wrong.
The Initiates turned on the showers. Full blast, and all the way to hot.
Masha leaned to whisper in my ear. “Happy Hot Party, Acari.”
Despite the rising temperature, we all pulled our hoods up over our fleece hats. It was that or get scalded. My brain felt like it was boiling.
Some got it worse than others. I was grateful not to have a spot directly beneath the jets. Regardless of position, everyone shifted from foot to foot, withstanding in stoic silence. The parkas protected our skin, and our boots were sturdy, but there was a small stretch of lower thigh and knee that felt roasted pink.
I could tell by the shifty looks on the other girls’ faces that everyone was waiting to see who would fall first. I’m sure I wasn’t the only one who feared what the penalty might be.
I’d thought the scalding water was the punishment, but I soon discovered I was mistaken. It was the steam.
After a few minutes, the steam became uncomfortable. After five, it was suffocating. By ten, it was unbearable. It choked me. A white haze of vapor hung all around, pressing down on my chest. Burning my lungs. Making me woozy. I longed for a gulp of cold, fresh air.
I sensed rustling. Girls shifted. They were parting to let Lilac pass. She had me in her sights.
I could see it in her eyes. She wanted a single room as badly as I did.
The girl with the heart-shaped face stood just in front of me. A swatch of her auburn hair was soaked a burnt sienna color and plastered to her cheek. She looked disoriented.
Heart Face didn’t step aside quickly enough, and Lilac shouldered past her. The girl started to tumble forward, and I instinctively caught her by the elbow to steady her. Our eyes met for a flicker of a second. She looked stunned and almost uneasy at my touch. I flinched my hand back.
Saving her had been instinctual. But, really, if I’d been thinking strategically, I could’ve let her fall. A tiny, shameful part of me wondered if maybe I should have.
“Sleepy?” Lilac’s perky voice chimed in my ear, jerking me back to myself.
It took me a moment to register her point. My skin felt parboiled, and my brain muzzy and slow. I hadn’t snagged the few hours’ sleep that the other girls had managed. Nor had I slept on the flight out here. Which meant I’d gone for God knew how many hours without rest.
But Lilac was in the same boat.
“No, not Sleepy.” I mustered a broad grin, pretending the air I breathed didn’t feel like wet fire. I pulled my shoulders back, imagining brisk mountain breezes and a big chug of ice water. I’d have one the moment I got out. It would spread cool tendrils through my belly. The glass would be cold in my hand. I’d drink so much and so fast, it’d dribble down my chin. “I’m Happy, which must make you Dopey.”
“You have no idea what you’ve started.” Lilac spun away from me, hard. Her pack smacked me across the jaw.
I stumbled—a sideways hop-hop on my right foot. The tile was slick under the rubber tread of my boots. I slipped.
My arms clawed the air like slow-motion pinwheels. I heard the dead-weight oof of my body slamming to the floor, the sick slap of my head against the tile. The weight of the kit bag walloped the air from my lungs.
A whistle blew.
I’d lost.
I lay there trying to catch my breath. I heard eager stomps rushing out. Suddenly the air seemed more open. I was vaguely aware that the stinging spray of the shower had stopped.