SNAPPED (The Slate Brothers 1)

“You look excellent, as expected,” Sebastian says when he sees me, face bright. He’s wearing a Berkfield Seniors t-shirt— all the players seem to be wearing class shirts. I see a few of the new recruits ruffling around here and there, kids with wide eyes and overeager expressions. I know they’re not actually that much younger than I am, but they look like they’re from a different decade.

“I’m Sarah— you must be Sebastian,” Sarah says in a slightly bouncier voice than normal. I suppose it’s her Spying On Football Players voice— it sounds flirty and coy.

“I am— nice to meet you,” Sebastian says. “Head on in, if you’d like. Drinks are in the kitchen.”

Sarah gives me a “here we go!” sort of look, then skirts away into the house, expertly maneuvering herself through the pack at the door.

“So, here to case the joint?” Sebastian teases me, putting his arm around me.

“I might be taking some mental notes,” I say as we meander down the sidewalk, toward a bench tucked away in the corner of the yard. It’s already occupied, but I’m with Sebastian Slate— so the people there stand up and scatter when it’s clear where we’re headed. We sit down together and sit in easy silence for a while, arms linked, thighs pressed together, watching the ever-growing crowd. The recruits themselves are all wearing Berkfield t-shirts of one type or another, and every one of them is trying far too hard to look older than he actually is. There are girls sipping on drinks, keeping their hands balanced neatly over the cups, sticking tightly to one another until a guy they deem worthy of individual attention finally urges them away.

“Hope you locked your bedroom door?” I say as another couple disappears into the darkness.

“Believe me, I did,” Sebastian answers.

“Were you like this during New Recruits Week?” I ask offhandedly.

“Are you recording me?” he jokes, then nods. “We all were. Maybe worse. You’re getting the PG show out here— inside the house, things are usually crazy.”

“Why’d you have to tell me that?” I complain, then nudge him. “Now I need to go into the house to get the real story.”

Sebastian winces, but nods. “Fine, fine.” We rise and make our way to the door; with each step, I question if this is a good decision. It’s like we’re traveling into deeper and deeper circles of inebriation— at the perimeter of the yard, it was mostly buzzed people. A few straight up drunk on the sidewalk. But inside…it reeks of alcohol and sweat, and from the volume and comedy-show displays of poor balance I’d wager everyone is a few hours away from being a cautionary tale. My eyes widen at the sight.

“It’s only this bad the first night. Half of them are out of their parents’ house for the first time,” Sebastian says, looking embarrassed.

“Half of them are current players,” I point out.

“They’re just showing off,” Sebastian says, sounding hopeful. “Honestly, I’ve never noticed it’s this bad before. Usually I’m right there with them. From the outside…I can see why your advocacy group guy is anti-New Recruits Week. But you’ve got to remember— parties like this happen all over campus. More people are looking at ours just because we’re the football team.”

“Sure, but because you’re the football team, and everyone looks up to you, isn’t the standard of behavior higher?” I say pointedly.

“I thought everyone looking up to us was part of the problem. What’d you say? Football god culture?” Sebastian answers, prodding me, and I make a face at him. He’s got a point. And, while everyone is super drunk, I’m not sure I see anything actually wrong happening. Granted, plenty of the drinking is underage, but that’s a problem far bigger than New Recruits Week.

“Is that your friend?” Sebastian says, pointing. I frown and crane my head around him to see; my eyes widen. Sarah is making out with Conor furiously in the corner, her arms wrapped around his neck.

“Whoa. Yes…I think I should go check on her…” I say. Sebastian shrugs and follows me through the crowd.

“Sarah?” I call out. She doesn’t hear me— not even when I repeat her name a few times. Finally, Sebastian tries.

“Conor! Heads up,” he calls out in his booming voice. Conor’s head snaps toward him; he grins at his teammate, though I see the expression falter a little when he sees I’m here too.

“Is everything okay?” I ask Sarah, wishing I knew her a little better, so I could tell what her too-drunk signs are.

She blushes, hard, and I see her eyes are clear and motions precise. She’s sober. She’s just…making out with Conor? I smile at Conor blankly, then take Sarah’s arm and turn her away from him. “Sarah, you don’t have to make out with someone just to get New Recruits Week dirt.”