CHAPTER FIVE

I had assumed we would at least be allowed to rest, but Cheerleader Barbie has other plans.

“Alright,” she clapped her hands in an enthusiastic manner, which did not match the expressions on the faces of all her ‘victims’. “Drop your bags in a corner and come here. You will be picking out a color from this bag.” She pointed toward the small, cross-satchel bag resting against her hip. “We have four colors which means four teams. Each team will have four people.”

The next ten minutes are filled with shuffling sounds, sighs, and low-voiced complaints, but in the end, the groups are formed. Beth ends up in another group, but Quill is with me. Unfortunately, so is Anderson and another of his friends, Blythe.

Anderson is still wet, and his upper lip curls in the appropriate mixture of fear and anger when he realizes we are grouped together.

“The challenge is simple,” Cheerleader Barbie announces. “There are four trophies hidden in plain sight within the forest. Your goal is to retrieve them.”

“That’s it?” Quill breathes, looking visibly relieved.

“You honestly think that that’s going to be it?” I hiss, feeling a little paranoid, before raising my voice, “I thought you said that we can’t go into the forest, that it’s not safe.”

Her eyes widen. “It’s not.”

Hushed murmurs all around.

“So, what if something happens to one of us?!” I demand.

She looks surprised. “Well, make sure it doesn’t.”

I have never wanted to strangle somebody so much. Nobody can be this obtuse.

“You will each be given a map. You have to coordinate with your team members if you want to win.”

The maps are handed out to us.

I study the one given to us, and I hesitate. I’ve never read a map before.

“Um, does somebody have map reading skills?” I ask, reluctantly, and to my surprise, it’s Anderson who volunteers. I call it volunteering, but he really just snatches the map from me.

“So, what’s the prize?” he sneers at the counselor.

She eyes him, a slow smile forming on her lips that makes the hairs on the back of my neck rise.

“Staying alive.”

There are a few nervous titters, but I highly doubt she was joking.

“Oh, before I forget, there are four flags per team. If you belong to the red team and you see a red flag, take it. Each team member must get their own flag. Otherwise …”

She doesn’t finish the sentence, but I have a sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach.

What the hell kind of place is this?

***

Quill is easy enough to work with but that’s only because he wants to cooperate. Both Anderson—Andy, as he calls himself—and Blythe are lagging behind us. Unfortunately, since Andy is the only one who can read the map, we have to listen to his instructions.

“There should be a stream nearby, and we have to cross the bridge.”

A stream?

Quill inches toward me. “Aren’t we going uphill a little? Shouldn’t a stream be on ground level?”

“I failed Geography in high school,” I confess. “I barely managed to pass it on the second try. Don’t assume I know anything.”

A startled laugh slips past his lips. “Who fails Geography?”

“If you’re so good at it, smartass, why don’t you read the map?”

He gives me an affronted look but doesn’t press the issue.

Soon enough, we hear the sounds of rushing water and when we reach it, I immediately freeze. “What are those?”

Something is moving in the water.

Everybody looks alarmed.

It’s not just that. The water is almost churning.

I crouch next to the stream, and on closer inspection, I can see small things moving at rapid speeds within the water. Since the water is choppy, I can’t make them out.

I’m so focused on those small moving things that I don’t realize the presence besides me. Before I can blink, my hand is suddenly seized and forced into the water.

I let out a shocked yell which is followed by a painful scream as my hand is punctured repeatedly by something sharp.

My blood colors the water, and Andy sees it, laughing gleefully in response.

Quill is already rushing forward. As he tries to grab Andy to pull him away from me, Blythe yanks him back, laughing like a maniac. “He’s teaching that little tramp a lesson. Mind your own business.”

I can see Quill fighting him off but through the pain of my flesh being torn, I focus on my attacker and sweep my right leg against Andy’s legs, making him stumble forward. He topples headfirst into the stream with a cry. I take the opportunity to cradle my hand to my chest.

It’s all bloodied.

I can hear Andy screaming in pain and terror.

I can hear the sounds of splashing.

But my mind seems to be blocked.

All I can see is the torn chunks of flesh on my hand, and the bleeding that won’t stop.

Someone grabs my hand and when I look up, my mind blank with pain, I realize it’s Quill. His mouth is moving, but I have a little trouble following anything.

I watch him tear his shirt and then wrap it around my hand, but I stop him. The pain is dying down, and the chunks of missing flesh are suddenly smaller than before.

“You crazy moron!”

My head whips to the side, and I see Blythe supporting a bloodied Andy. He looks badly injured as well. His clothes are half torn, blood seeping from injuries.

“Piranhas,” I mumble, still staring at Andy’s condition. “Those were Piranhas.”

Quill looks shocked. “But they’re not that vicious.”

“No,” I shake my head. “They shouldn’t be. But these were different.”

“Did you hear what I said?!” Blythe screams at me.

I force back my own shock and stare at him. “You expect me to feel sorry for him? He put my hand there to get chopped up and laughed. No. He deserves that.”

“You—”

Quill immediately steps in my path, protectively. “Back off, Blythe! You’ve got some nerve.”

I don’t even care right now.

My eyes are on my hand.

There’s no mistaking it.

My wounds are healing.

Very fast.

My heartbeat thunders between my ears. What is this?

“You’re going to regret this!” Blythe snarls, before limping off with a moaning Andy.

“Are you crazy?” Quill shouts after him. “Where are you going?! We’re supposed to stick together!”

When they just walk away, Quill tries to go after them, but I stop him.

“Andy has the map!” Quill gives me a furious look.

“No, he doesn’t,” I point toward the scattered bits of wet paper on the wet mud.

Quill’s face pales. “How are we supposed to get that trophy thing now?”

“I don’t think we can,” I mutter. “Two of our teammates have gone off, and we have no map.”

“Your hand—”

“It’s fine,” I hide it behind my back, having quickly wrapped it in the bit of torn t-shirt. I feel scared right now. This has never happened before.

The injured parts of my hand were tingling as they healed, and by the time I had wrapped the cloth around it, the flesh had grown back.

“Do you think we should head back?” Quill’s voice is serious. “Your injury should be looked after.”

He glances in the direction of the two boys who just took off and hisses, “Idiots. Andy needs to get looked at too.”

“I didn’t throw him in on purpose,” I meet Quill’s blue gaze, and I see it soften.

“I know.” His voice turns hard almost instantly. “We should let the counselors know about this. Let’s head back.”

As we begin the trek back, I’m unusually subdued. My mind is racing with possibilities. What just happened? It couldn’t be real, right?

This healing speed was almost supernatural!

I shudder. Everything about this place is weird.

“Have you ever heard of piranhas in streams?” I ask, slowly.

“No,” Quill’s reply is grim. “I took Marine Biology in high school. Trust me, the way these piranhas frenzied, that’s not normal.”

“What do you mean?” I shoot him a startled look.

“Well, first of all,” Quill said, darkly. “Those things were way too big to be piranhas. Second, piranhas stay away from humans. And lastly, they only go into a frenzy around dead meat. But the ones we just saw were already in a frenzy. And the way they attacked you, I’ve never heard of anything like that.”

My blood chills at his words, and I wonder what we’ve gotten ourselves into.

We continue the rest of the way in silence but end up taking a slightly different route since we don’t have the map. For some reason, Quill seems confident that we are heading in the right direction.

“What’s that?” I see something flutter near a bush. On closer inspection, it turns out to be a blue flag. I exchange a look with Quill before handing it to him.

He looks flustered. “No. You found it.”

“And I’m telling you to take it,” I insist, tightly. “This is my fault. Andy wanted to get back at me. You shouldn’t get caught in the cross hairs.”

Quill gives me a strange look and is quiet for a second before he accepts the flag. “You know,” his gaze is thoughtful as it rests on me, “I have a good sense of people. I’ve aways had it. When I first saw you, I knew you were a good person. You have a sharp tongue but a good heart. You’re a fair person.”

I stare at him. “Please tell me you did not just make a sappy, little speech because I gave you a flag.”

His lips quirk. “Fine. We can pretend I didn’t say anything.”

“Oh, thank God,” I mutter. “Or I would have to throw up.”

“You know you attract more flies with honey rather than vinegar.”

“Why would I want to attract flies?” I give him an annoyed look.

“It’s a saying.”

“Well, it’s a stupid saying.”

“I hope we end up on the same island,” Quill grinned. “You’re the most interesting person I’ve met so far.”

However, when we finally find our way back, we see a bloodied Andy and Blythe already there, with all three remaining flags.

Annabelle is listening to their story, her expression unmoving. She doesn’t even seem alarmed by the sight of Andy’s bloodied form.

When she sees us, she lifts a brow. “So, the team is back together then.”

“They attacked Taylor!” Quill bursts out. “And she defended herself. I don’t know what they’re

telling you but—”

“I already know what happened,” Annabelle smiles. “We were watching.”

Andy turns pale, and the counselor plucks the flags out of Blythe’s hand. “The task was to work together, not to sabotage your team. Both of you have failed. Here.”

They are both handed papers with the number zero on it. “Head to the medical center. You’ll find a few students there already. Once you’ve been treated, find the group bearing your number and join them.”

I watch them leave and then Annabelle turns to us. “Whose flag is this?”

“Quill’s,” I say, immediately, before he can pipe up and name me.

Annabelle raises her brow. “You helped out your teammate. Here.”

He’s handed a paper with the number one on it.

“Go.”

He glances at me before reluctantly leaving.

Finally alone, Annabelle studies me. “I saw that your hand was badly injured.”

“I thought you were designating islands based on our skills.”

She smiles. “Bravery is a skill, and you didn’t see what I saw.”

I give her a terse look but don’t say anything. My hand is itching again.

“Anyway, your injury.”

“It’s not as bad as I thought. They just nicked a finger.”

I hold out my wrapped hand, the bandage drenched in blood, and when the counselor sees a small nick, her brows furrow. “That’s it?”

She doesn’t sound convinced.

I’m not about to tell a stranger about my sudden healing speed. The last thing I need is to be locked up in some loony bin.

“Are you sure you don’t have anything to tell me?” Annabelle studies me.

I shrug. “They attacked us. I saved my hand in time.”

“And you pushed in your teammate.”

“In self-defense.”

“You injured a member of your team in retaliation,” Annabelle said, firmly. “Do you know what that tells me? It tells me that you lack patience and a cool head. It means you think quickly and violently. If you had saved yourself and then continued the mission, your team would have passed the test.”

“Are you seriously blaming me?!” I demand, incredulously.

She doesn’t answer me. She simply hands me a score.

A zero.

“I was attacked!” I hiss. “And what does this even mean?!”

“The scores are based on your skill level, and you were given a basic task. It wasn’t just the trophy or the flags that we were looking at. We were studying your ability to survive. We wanted to see how you function in a team, how level headed you can be. It was a list of things. Also, we wanted to see you display your strength, and you didn’t.”

My strength?

What does that even mean?

But the time for asking questions is over, clearly, as she shoos me away. I have no choice but to go toward where the rest of the students are.

When I get to the group, I see that there are students assigned the numbers one and two. But there are only a handful who are assigned the number zero.

And Beth is one of them.