I wake up to someone banging on our door like the building's on fire.
"WHAT," Ollie screams from his side of the room, which sounds like he's dying.
"FLOOR MEETING IN TEN. MARCUS SAID IT'S MANDATORY," someone yells back.
I check my phone. It's 8 AM. I've been at college for less than twenty-four hours and I already want to transfer.
"Fuck this," Ollie mutters, but he rolls out of bed anyway, landing on the floor with a thud.
Sam's already up, somehow looking completely put together while Ollie and I look like we got hit by a truck. She's watering her plants like this is a normal Wednesday morning and not some fresh hell.
"Did you guys hear the screaming last night?" she asks casually?
"Which screaming?" I ask, because there was a lot of it.
"Around 2 AM. Sounded like someone running through the halls yelling about Assassin."
Oh. Right. The death game I'm apparently playing now.
I grab my phone and look at the paper from last night. Maya Green. I have to tag Maya Green, who's probably already plotting seventeen different ways to psychologically destroy me.
"You good?" Sam asks, noticing my expression
"I'm hunting Maya."
"Oh, you're fucked."
"SUPER fucked," Ollie agrees, somehow pulling on pants while still lying on the floor.
The floor meeting is in the common room, which is just a depressing space with a couch that's seen some shit and a TV that doesn't work. Everyone looks like death. Marcus looks worse.
"Alright, listen up," he says, holding a coffee that I'm pretty sure is Irish. "Three things. One, someone set off the fire alarm at 3 AM. Don't do that. Two, the vending machine on the second floor ate someone's money. I can't help you, call the number on the machine. Three—" He pauses. "Who the fuck brought a mini fridge into the bathroom?"
Silence.
"That's a fire hazard and also deeply concerning. Get it out." Marcus takes a long sip of his coffee. "Also, Assassin officially started at midnight so you're all targets now. Don't kill each other for real. Any questions?"
A girl raises her hand. "Can we—"
"No. Meeting over."
Everyone shuffles out and I'm immediately paranoid. Anyone could be hunting me. That guy in the Batman pajamas? Could be my assassin. The girl with the suspiciously large purse? Definitely hiding stickers.
"You look stressed," Jax says, appearing out of nowhere and scaring the shit out of me.
"Jesus fuck—"
"Relax, I'm not playing." He grins. "I got eliminated at like 1 AM. Didn't even make it six hours."
"How?"
"Bathroom ambush. Respect, honestly." He shrugs. "Anyway, you coming to breakfast? Dining hall's got Wednesday waffles."
"Is that a thing?"
"No idea, but I'm manifesting it."
The dining hall is massive and overwhelming. There are approximately eight hundred food stations, none of which are clearly labeled, and everyone seems to know where they're going except me.
"Yo, over here!" Jax waves from a table where Maya, Lena, Sam, and Ollie are already sitting.
I grab some food that might be eggs and head over, hyper-aware that Maya is my target and could probably read my mind.
"Morning Evan," Maya says sweetly, which immediately puts me on edge.
"Morning," I reply, sitting as far from her as possible.
"You sleep okay?"
"Why are you being nice?"
"Can't I just be friendly?"
"No," Lena says flatly. "You can't."
Maya laughs and goes back to her food. I'm definitely fucked.
"So," Jax says through a mouthful of waffle (he manifested it), "you guys going to the hockey thing tonight?"
"Hockey thing?" I ask.
"Dude, Northwood hockey is huge," Ollie says. "Like, we're actually good. First game's tonight."
"It's basically mandatory freshman attendance," Lena adds. "They guilt-trip you with 'school spirit' or whatever."
"Plus the team's fucking stacked this year," Jax continues. "We got this exchange student from Finland who's apparently insane. Played in the Liiga or something."
"What's Liiga?" I ask.
Everyone stares at me.
"It's the Finnish pro league," Maya explains. "Like, this guy was playing professional hockey and decided to come here for college."
"Free education, American college experience, whatever." Jax shrugs. "Point is, dude's cracked. His name's like... Mikko? Mika? Something Finnish."
"Matias," Lena corrects. "Matias Virtanen. I have art class with him."
"What's he like?" Sam asks.
"Quiet. Tall. Looks like he could snap you in half but also might cry if you yelled at him."
"So a hockey player," Maya says.
"Exactly."
I'm barely following this conversation because I'm too busy trying to figure out how to eliminate Maya without her noticing. Do I just walk up and slap a sticker on her? Is there strategy involved? Why did I agree to this?
"Earth to Evan," Maya says, snapping her fingers in front of my face.
"What?"
"You're plotting something."
"No I'm not."
"You definitely are. I can see it." She leans back. "You're not subtle."
Lena snorts. "She's right. You look like a cartoon villain right now."
"I hate all of you," I mutter.
"Love you too, buddy," Jax says, completely missing the point.
My first class is Introduction to Economics at 10 AM, which sounds boring as hell but it's a requirement. The classroom is one of those massive lecture halls that makes you feel like an insignificant speck, and I immediately regret sitting in the middle because now I'm trapped.
The professor walks in and he looks like he's been teaching this class for forty years and hates every second of it. He's got grey hair, a coffee-stained shirt, and the energy of a man who's given up.
"Welcome to Econ 101," he says, not sounding welcoming at all. "I'm Professor Harland. This class is required, which means none of you want to be here and neither do I. Let's make the best of it."
Someone in the back laughs.
"That wasn't a joke," Harland continues. "This class will teach you about supply and demand, market structures, and why capitalism is both beautiful and deeply depressing." He pulls out what looks like a flask. "The syllabus is online. Read it or don't, I get paid either way."
I'm starting to like this guy.
He goes through the basics—attendance is "optional but so is passing," homework is due Fridays, exams are "survivable if you study," and office hours are "Tuesdays if I feel like it."
"Any questions?" he asks.
Silence.
"Good. Get out."
"We still have forty-five minutes left."
"He's joking, right?" the girl next to me whispers.
"I don't think he is," I whisper back.
Nobody moves. Harland stares at us. "I'm serious. Leave. I have a dentist appointment."
Everyone scrambles out and I'm immediately lost because I have two hours until my next class and no idea what to do with myself.
I wander campus for a bit, trying to get my bearings. There's the library, which looks like a castle and is definitely haunted. The student center, which is packed with people doing what I assume is "socializing." And then
I wander campus for a bit, trying to get my bearings. There's the library, which looks like a castle and is definitely haunted. The student center, which is packed with people doing what I assume is "socializing." And then there's the athletic complex, which is massive and intimidating.
I'm walking past when I hear someone yelling in a language I don't recognize.
Curiosity wins, so I follow the sound to the hockey rink. Through the windows I can see guys skating, and they're moving fast. Like, scary fast.
One guy in particular is weaving through everyone else like they're standing still. He's tall, blonde, and skating with this effortless control that makes it look easy even though I know it's not.
"That's Virtanen."
I jump. There's a guy standing next to me, watching through the window. He's wearing a Northwood Hockey hoodie and eating a protein bar.
"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you," he says. "I'm Derek. Team manager."
"Evan. Freshman."
"Nice. You play?"
"Hockey? God no. I can barely ice skate."
Derek laughs. "Fair. But yeah, that's Matias Virtanen." He points at the blonde guy. "He's the exchange student from Finland. Played three years in Liiga before coming here."
"Why'd he leave?"
"Wanted to get a degree, I guess. Plus NCAA hockey's no joke. Good exposure if you want to go pro in North America." Derek watches as Matias scores a goal that looks casual but probably wasn't. "Dude's got NHL scouts looking at him already."
"Damn."
"Yeah. He's chill though. Quiet, keeps to himself. His English is pretty good but he doesn't really talk much anyway."
As if on cue, practice ends and the team starts filing out. Matias is one of the last ones, and up close he's even more intimidating. He's probably 6'2", built like someone who's been training since birth, and has this serious expression that makes him look way older than he probably is.
"Matias!" Derek calls out. "Come here, I want you to meet someone."
Oh no.
Matias skates over and steps off the ice, and I realize I'm staring like an idiot.
"This is Evan, he's a freshman," Derek says. "Evan, this is Matias."
"Hey," I say, because my brain has stopped working.
"Hello," Matias says, and his accent is thick but not hard to understand. He looks at me with these very blue eyes and I feel like I'm being analyzed. "You play hockey?"
"No, I just... walked by."
"Ah." He nods, like this makes perfect sense. "You come to game tonight?"
"Uh, yeah, probably."
"Good. We win." He says it like it's a fact, not a prediction.
"Confident," I say.
"Not confident. Just true." He almost smiles—almost—and then heads toward the locker room.
Derek claps me on the shoulder. "Don't worry, he's like that with everyone. Takes a while to warm up."
"He seems... intense."
"He's Finnish." Derek shrugs, like that explains everything. "Come to the game tonight. Should be good. We're playing Riverside and they're talking shit."
"Why?"
"Because that's what rivals do, man. It's a whole thing."
I kill time in the library, pretending to study but actually scrolling through social media and panicking about Assassin. I still haven't figured out how to tag Maya, and I'm pretty sure someone's hunting me.
Around 5 PM, Jax texts the group chat.
Jax: hockey game starts at 7, meet at the rink at 6:30
Maya: i'll be there 👀
Lena: fine
Ollie: do they have food
Jax: ollie it's a HOCKEY GAME
Ollie: that's not an answer
Sam: i'll bring snacks
Ollie: marry me
I throw on a Northwood hoodie I panic-bought at the bookstore and head out. The rink is already packed with students, and the energy is insane. People are chanting, someone's got a drum, and there's a group in the front row with their faces painted blue and gold.
"EVAN!" Jax waves from the stands. He's shirtless with "NORTHWOOD" painted across his chest.
"Why are you shirtless? It's cold."
"SCHOOL SPIRIT," he screams, and I immediately regret asking.
I climb up and sit with the group. Maya's wearing a jersey that definitely doesn't fit her, Lena looks like she'd rather be anywhere else, Sam's got a bag of trail mix, and Ollie's holding nachos that smell concerning.
"Okay, so what do I need to know?" I ask.
"Northwood blue and gold, Riverside red and white," Jax explains. "We hate them, they hate us. Last year they beat us in overtime and our captain cried."
"That's dramatic."
"Hockey's dramatic, bro."
The teams skate out and the crowd loses their minds. Matias is easy to spot—number 19, focused, ignoring the noise. The Riverside players are talking shit across the ice, and one of them checks Matias hard during warm-ups.
"Oh that's a mistake," Derek says from behind us. Apparently he's sitting nearby. "You don't piss off the Finn."
"Why?"
"You'll see."
The game starts and it's immediately chaos. It's fast, violent, and way more intense than I expected. Matias is everywhere—stealing the puck, setting up plays, skating circles around people.
Then, about ten minutes in, the guy who checked him tries to do it again. Matias sees it coming, sidesteps, and the guy eats shit into the boards.
The crowd goes fucking insane.
"THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!" Jax screams, spilling beer (where did he get beer?) on the people below us.
Matias doesn't celebrate. He just skates back to position like nothing happened.
By the second period, Northwood's up 3-1 and Matias has two goals and an assist. He makes it look easy, which I'm realizing is just his thing.
"He's really good," I say, stating the obvious.
"He's fucking ridiculous," Lena corrects. "I watched some of his Liiga highlights. He was playing against grown men when he was eighteen."
"That's terrifying."
"That's hockey."
Third period, Riverside scores twice and ties it up. The energy shifts—everyone's nervous now. Two minutes left and it's 3-3.
Then Matias gets the puck at center ice. He accelerates, and I swear to god it's like everyone else is in slow motion. He dekes past two defenders, cuts in on goal, and roofs it top shelf.
The buzzer sounds. Game over. Northwood wins 4-3.
The place erupts. Students are screaming, throwing shit, hugging strangers. Jax is crying. Actual tears.
"WHY ARE YOU CRYING?" I yell over the noise.
"I LOVE HOCKEY," he sobs.
On the ice, Matias's teammates are mobbing him, but he just looks tired. Satisfied, but tired. He glances up at the crowd, and for half a second I swear he makes eye contact with me.
Then it's gone, and he's skating off.
"Alright," Maya says, standing up. "Now we party."
"Where?"
"The Riot Dorms, obviously." She grins. "Post-game parties are a tradition."
"Is everything a tradition here?"
"Yes," everyone says in unison.
As we file out, I realize I still haven't tagged Maya, someone's definitely hunting me, and I'm about to go to my first college party.
This is either going to be amazing or a complete disaster.
Probably both.