“Not a problem,” says a deep voice that pulls my gaze up to the tall figure with shaggy-brown hair, dark-rimmed glasses, and a mustache so thick that it almost looks fake. Who knows, maybe it is. “What are you looking for?” he asks while he brings a sixty-four-ounce Slurpee cup to his lips.

“Uh.” I glance around, then whisper, “Room 209. But I keep getting turned around because it doesn’t seem like there’s a room 209.”

A smile tugs at his lips. “Scrabble nerd?”

“What?” I ask.

He leans forward and whispers, “It’s okay. I’m part of the SSS. Room 209 is hidden for a reason.”

SSS = Secret Scrabble Society.

But the first rule about SSS is that you don’t talk about it. At least, that’s what it said in the invite I received last night. It was a letter delivered to my dorm room. A thick envelope sealed with wax with an SSS melted into the red liquid. When I saw the symbol, I quickly locked my door, turned off my lights, and switched on my desk lamp. With bated breath, I delicately opened the envelope and unfolded the sides, revealing the writing on the inside.

I had been handpicked by the SSS to join them tonight. During the grueling, three-week tryout process, I played ruthless battles against different members online. After a few losses, a few wins, and two ties, the tryouts were over, and all I had to do was wait. Well, that time has come. I have the invite in hand, and all it says is to show up to room 209 in the Pine Dormitory at 10:23 sharp, ask no questions, and say nothing. And then I’m to knock with a specific pattern and provide the secret password to get in.

But now that I’m here, lost and confused, I feel like I’m breaking the rules already.

Unfortunately, time is ticking, and I have no idea how to proceed. I don’t want to show up late, especially on the first night. But I can’t find the room, and . . . this guy with the stache and the Slurpee seems like he knows what he’s talking about.

Ugh . . . but what if this is a test? What if he was planted by the SSS, and I already failed because I mentioned room 209 and Scrabble and . . . God, I’m a failure.

Unsure of how to proceed, I rock on my feet, my hands twisting in front of me as I glance around the hordes of people. What is going on in here anyway? It’s a dorm hallway, not a cafeteria. Where are all these people going? I think I need to ditch Slurpee Boy. He knows too much already. And I will not put my position with the SSS in jeopardy. I worked way too hard for an invitation.

“You know, it was nice talking to you, but I think I’ll just go look for the room myself. Thanks.”

I turn away and head for a dark corridor, only for him to call out, “Not going to find room 209 down there.”