“What do you know about punching people?”

I hesitated for a second before I said, “I used to take self-defense lessons.”

“What? Why?”

Seth appeared next to us with Amelia in tow before I could respond. “Here you go,” he said, handing me my drink. “It’s cider.”

“Thanks,” I said, distracted by Noelle gliding off the table and disappearing into the crowd without another word.

“What was that about?” Amelia asked, curious as ever, and sat down in the spot that Noelle had occupied.

“Nothing,” I lied.

After the incident with Lance and then the conversation with Noelle, I felt strangely off-kilter. So I did the next best thing I could think of: I drank several cups of cider and then, when I felt brave enough to do so, dragged Seth onto the dance floor.

By the time midnight rolled around, I was proper sloshed, as Seth had put it; the floor was a little bit wobbly and my tongue a little bit heavy when I spoke, but that was fine. I was fine, just a little bit tired, my head resting against Seth’s shoulder when we sat down on one of the dusty old couches, the racket all around us softening into a pleasant background buzz.

I probably could’ve dozed off just like that if the music didn’t suddenly get turned off. Prompted by the sudden silence, I lifted my head and forced my eyes open just as Amelia stepped into the circle that had formed in the middle of the room.

“All right, everyone, most of you will already know what is about to happen,” she sighed. “You know I do not endorse this stupid tradition—which, might I remind you, breaks almost every rule we have in place—but as the head of the student council it is my duty to do this, so here it goes . . . It is time for Seven Hills’ favorite party game: Seven Minutes in Heaven.”

An anticipatory murmur went through the room as Amelia was handed a large jar filled with paper snippets, which she lifted so that everyone could see.

“In this jar I have the names of everyone in this room. I will be drawing two names, and those two pupils will get seven minutes in there”—she pointed at a large closet in the back of the room—“to do whatever they please. Any questions?”

When no one said anything, she reached her hand into the jar and slowly swirled her fingers around. Seth and I leaned forward, both equally curious.

“First up we have . . . Chelsea McDonald and Samar Khan.”

Whistling and cheers filled the room as the two headed towards the closet. Chelsea, a girl from my year, pulled the door shut behind her with a giggle. As soon as she did, everyone fell deadly silent to hear as much of what was going on inside as possible.

Seth let his head roll back against the couch with a chuckle.

“This is so stupid.”

I nodded in agreement and took another sip from my cup.