The Book of Firsts

One

The first day of the last year of high school brought me a fresh consignment of strangers. The idea that I might know some of this batch for more than a few months had preoccupied me ever since I’d arrived in Helios. With parents who changed countries on average twice a year, there’d been precious little continuity in my life, but the approach of final exams had won me an apartment of my own, and an uninterrupted year at Corascur High, a gateway school to one of the top universities in the world. If I didn’t sabotage myself, I’d be in this city for at least the next six years.

Corascur made this change of pace doubly odd. Both selective and expensive, it was the kind of place politicians and CEOs sent their children. Behind a double-high fence, buildings formed islands among a sea of trees. I spent the morning on the fringe of the junior orientation tour, half-listening to an excess of tradition and rules, and then tucked up the back of an enormous theatre, ignoring the speeches.

Some of it filtered through. Clubs. School trip. A festival. Sports day. A dance. Talk of school spirit, and growing together. These were things that didn’t resonate with me in any meaningful way. I had always been the new girl, the girl leaving at the end of the term, the one who arrived after the festival, or left just before. Even a single year in the same place, with the same people, would be a very new experience. If it wasn’t finals year, perhaps I could appreciate it, but the course I wanted had an annual intake of only fifty, leaving me less confident than usual in my academic abilities. I couldn’t waste energy playing around: this year I would be the boring girl who did nothing but study.

After the speeches, we were released early for lunch and directed to an enormous multi-floor servery capable of dealing with the hundreds of students descending upon it. The main dining hall was vast, with grand arched windows overlooking a slope, and then several tiers of sporting fields. There were currently plenty of free seats, but the place was loud, all clatter, chatter, and scrape of chairs, so I bought a simple cheese sandwich and took a side door.

Past a handful of patio tables there were gardens, and a tangle of hedges. The clipped bushes bordered a number of paths, but I slipped through a gap in the hedge instead, and wandered into a cluster of trees between high walls. This turned into a T-junction dead end which, beneath dense canopy and crowded trunks, felt dank and damp even on a late summer day. I solved that by climbing. Above the heavy lower branches, I found the mix of temperature and peace I wanted out of a lunch place. Then, over the high stone fence, I spotted an even better location: an enclosed rectangle of greenery next to the main administration building, dominated by an octagonal summer house decked out with pink climbing roses. There was even a wooden picnic table in a sunny spot to its right. Just waiting for me.

I immediately jumped down, narrowly avoiding an outdoor café table and two chairs set immediately below, and crossed to the summer house.

Set against the wall of the administration building, it was roomy enough to comfortably fit at least a half-dozen for lunch. The rose trained over it was a pale pink, plump and heavily scented. Wandering around to where the blooms were thickest, I took a couple of photos, and incidentally discovered a faucet beside a wall-mounted coil of hose, and an open window into the summer house. The door was open as well, and, unable to resist, I circled around and stepped into the spacious interior.

To my right a custom couch filled three segments of the octagon. To the left was a shelving unit and desk, along with a wooden chair. The only other furniture was a heavy square coffee table, closer to the window. All very nicely appointed. Perhaps the principal had lunch here?

An array of cups and glasses filled the open sections of the shelving unit, and a kettle sat on the desk next to a leather-bound book. This had a locked clasp, key currently inserted, and I couldn’t resist turning it, and taking a look. Someone had practiced their calligraphy on the title page:

The beautifully flowing script continued in smaller letters below: "Let the Best Player Win".

Curious, I turned the page, and found a numbered list, the content completely outside of my expectations.

1. Kiss—no other touch. One minute max.

2. Seated massage (fifteen minutes). Clothes remain on.

3. Twenty minutes, above the waist only. Clothes remain on.

4. Strip each other, and exchange three hickeys and one kiss.

5. Missionary.

6. Oral.

7. Doggy.

8. Her on top

9. Face down.

10. On a table.

11. Butterfly.

12. On a chair.

13. Simon Says.

14. Standing up.

15. Sleeping bag.

16. Rough.

17. Fantasy Costume.

18. Bondage and blindfolds.

Bonus. Everything she likes best.

I laughed. It seemed the kind of thing scrubby twelve-year-old boys would write, and yet…not. Wishing I had some idea of the context, I flipped through blank pages all the way to the end, and finally found what looked like a scoring system. But before I settled down to read it, I rested a hand on the desk and felt radiant heat. The kettle. It had been recently boiled.

Hastily, I relocked the book, left the summer house, and managed to get myself to the top of the wall before a murmur of approaching voices told me how close I was to discovery. I hopped as lightly as I could manage to the nearest branch, pressed against the trunk of the tree and, partially concealed by sprays of dark leaves, held myself as still as possible as three boys came through the gate.

"Already more than the expected amount of running off to answer summonses," the first boy was saying. The tallest—at least six foot three—he wore his light brown hair twisted up into a loose half-knot that somehow managed elegance instead of disorder. His voice was gentle, with a soft French accent.

"Much trouble?" the second boy asked. Above average in height, but still at least a couple of inches shorter than the first boy, he wore his sleek black hair stylishly cut, and had, at a guess, Korean or Japanese heritage.

"A minor test of patience," the first replied. "We should postpone trying the Jade Dragon—I don’t want to waste it by hurrying."

The last boy didn’t say anything, drinking from a carton of flavoured milk before arranging his blazer on the picnic table and lying down. This position left him with a dangerously direct view of my tree branch, but all I could do was put my hopes on the shielding foliage, and the fact that his pale blond hair hung over his eyes. Fortunately, I’d kept my own blazer on, since the white uniform shirt would have stood out like a beacon.

Entirely fascinated, I watched the tallest emerge from the summer house with two steaming cups balanced on the leather book. Thankfully he was looking down at the cups, and not up. He passed one cup to the sleekly finished boy, and they dropped out of sight—probably sitting at the café table directly below me.

"Any other issues?" the tall boy asked. "Beyond the obvious."

"The obvious is a rather large point," the second boy said. He had a fabulous voice, deep to the point of mesmerising, despite a dust-dry tone. "But add that the scores should be kept secret until after completion. Knowing how we’ve been rated might change our behaviour. Not that I see any way to stop the girl from marking the one of us she likes most the highest, no matter who has the better technique."

"Will you claim bias if you’re rated last?" the tall boy asked. "Any additions to the challenges?"

"Too many and we’ll end up distracted in the exam period. We need to factor in delays, weeks when we’re busy. And we have more than enough to keep us occupied the last half-term."

"Tuesday and Friday have free study or club activity directly after lunch, so those will be the challenge days. Are you fine with Thursday morning being the second-place decider?"

"What do you want to do for days we can’t row?"

"Rock Paper Scissors?" The tall boy laughed, a soft, throaty sound. "It needs to be something where we’re relatively evenly matched."

"That will do for now. We can alter it later if necessary. The first-place decider we’ll map out week to week—so long as we keep away from our particular areas of strength, there should always be something coming up."

"Which brings us back to the obvious question. If you’re still confident someone suitable will agree."

The boy with the beautiful voice let out a derisive snort. "Rin. It’s us. Every second girl in the school would say yes, so long as we treat her with common courtesy, and it’s kept secret."

"I’m not arguing that point," the tall boy—Rin—replied. "Just whether we can find an every second girl who isn’t chatty."

"True. I can’t think of many who wouldn’t hint heavily to at least one friend. Not to mention one who lacks a boyfriend and a strong opinion about our relative merits. Every second girl is rapidly becoming one in a thousand."

"No opinion of us could only be found among the freshmen," Rin replied. "Where we will not tangle. Among Seniors, there are only a handful who are reasonably likely to judge us equally, yet aren’t a sure recipe for drama and recrimination."

"Hanni, Anika or Shan," the second boy said. "All of them have a detachment that I suspect is necessary."

"Not Anika," Rin said, firmly.

"Hanni’s in love with you, Kyou," added the third boy. "Has been since first year." His voice was terrible, a smoker’s croak out of place with the beauty of his features, but he spoke with utter certainty.

"Well, that leaves Shan. Shall we decide on our approach?"

"I vote for the kitten up the tree," said the third boy. "Nice legs."

Silence, then the others sprang into sight, backing so they could follow the third’s gaze. I didn’t move, except to say: "I’m more Cheshire than kitten," and bit the inside of my cheek to add to my nerve.

The one called Kyou eyed me coldly, while the third boy remained sprawled on his bench. It was left to the tallest, Rin, to laugh gently and say: "Please, give me a moment to be at a loss for words while I think back on all the Completely Innocuous Things we were talking about."

"Would it help to mention that I flipped through that book you’re holding while I was trying to figure out what this place was? What is this place, by the way?"

"The Student Council President’s private garden," Kyou said, voice travelling briefly to Siberia, but then returning to a more pragmatic zone. "And you have the advantage of us. Shall we make polite introductions, then discuss terms?"

"Terms?" I moved from the branch to sit on top of the wall. "Are you thinking of surrendering something?"

"Smallish breasts though," offered sleeping beauty, seemingly unconcerned by any prospect of scandalous gossip.

I helpfully arranged my legs to show them to their best advantage and said: "Before we head down the path of cross-purposes, I’ll mention that I came to this school to cram for my preferred course at Helios U. I’ve no interest in starting my year embroiled in a pointless furore about a…sporting challenge."

Rin’s smile relaxed a little, but Kyou remained on guard. Then he paused, and the edged expression he produced made me shiver.

"But are you interested in challenges?" he asked.

"Really, Kyou?" Rin asked, but he looked up at me in a different way.

"You have to admit a certain serendipity. And Bran’s right about her legs." Kyou smiled up at me. "You’re a transfer into the senior year, yes? Someone who doesn’t know us, with no pre-existing ideas. It’s the best chance we’ll have at anything resembling objectivity, especially if we have nothing to do with each other outside this garden. It would be ideal if we could stay almost strangers, and focus all interaction on the challenges. If you’ve read the book, you know the concept—every Tuesday and Friday over and after lunch until you can make all the ratings. What do you say?"

The twist of his lips and direct gaze were an outright dare, one I refused to blink before, though I had to take a slow breath. My answer should be an automatic no. This was a year where I would have little time to spare, and that conversation had been arrogant to the brink of insufferability. And yet, if I were to look at this pragmatically, this might even be a solution to one of my biggest problems.

"You’d need to give me the results of some amazingly thorough STD screenings before I could even begin to answer that," I said briskly. "I’ll get one too," I added, before they could respond. "After all, you don’t know where I’ve been."

Kyou laughed, somewhere between surprise and appreciation, and said: "Reasonable," but then paused in response to the nearly-inaudible summons of his phone. He looked at the screen, then said: "Winston’s hunting for those uniforms, Bran. Rin, make arrangements for where to put the test results."

Kyou nodded to me as if matters were entirely settled, and headed for the gate. The third boy, with the face of an angel and the voice of a crow, said: "Goodbye, Cheshire," and followed him, leaving me to the one called Rin, who was shaking his head.

Sliding forward off the wall, I landed neatly on the grass, a little closer to him than I expected. I wasn’t used to feeling towered over. His body, all long limbs, could look gangling, but he turned it into articulated grace.

"I only read the list part of the book," I said. "What are the rules?"

Rin looked down at me. "Are you truly thinking of doing this?"

"Thinking being the operative term. A lot will depend on what I hear about you three over the next few days—and the results of the tests. I take it you’re the student council?"

"Part of it. I’m your President, Rin Laurent. The Vice-President decorated the table: Bran Ashten. Kyou is our Treasurer. Kyou Westhaven."

"I’m Mika Niles. This is my first day. I find your school unexpectedly entertaining."

"I, too, am entertained," he said. But then added very steadily: "It will be something to remember, if we go through with it, but absolutely nothing any of us can repeat. I say that as both assurance and threat."

"Give me credit for some measure of intelligence. So, the rules?"

His eyes were tilted, long-lashed, the irises a very pale gold. They were like Champagne-coloured glass when his face was solemn. He surveyed me a moment longer, then nodded.

"Simple enough. Comparative merits for each challenge, with a side-contest of whoever completes all the challenges first winning an individual bonus game worth a single point. Each week we’ll compete among ourselves, and the two who win will present themselves up here on Tuesday and Friday, and try to impress."

"Those days are when you’re not likely to be interrupted?" I said, and he nodded.

"Club activities are usually outside lesson hours, but there’s two periods—Tuesday after lunch, or the last two periods on Friday, which can be used for anything from self-study to Club—you just can’t leave the school grounds. Pick a club that’s flexible about attendance. The nature appreciation club, or the library club, or most of the art ones. Once all of us have completed a challenge, you would score us on which was better. Put aside whichever of us you like more and focus just on the experience. Each first is worth ten points, second is six and third is four. After all the challenges are complete, we’ll total it up, and acknowledge the winner. Then ritually burn the book, and never speak of it again."

"Some of those steps didn’t exactly sound like they’re focused on my experience. Fantasy Costume?"

"I think the idea with that was picking something that made you feel…excited."

He smiled down at me, reminding me that we were standing quite close, and were very much alone. And yet, I didn’t have any real sense that he was likely to try something. If anything, this Rin Laurent seemed only vaguely amused by the situation.

"You don’t seem the type to get involved with a competition like this."

"Ah, well, this started because we overheard a girl talking about us—someone Kyou had gone out with, and I’d pursued briefly the year after. Last year she won a kiss from Bran in a fundraising auction at the school festival, and she was telling her friend that Bran was by far the best kisser. We spent a few days joking about that, but then Kyou said that we should get a definitive answer by blindfolding a volunteer." He shrugged. "We’re very competitive, and none of us would admit we would lose, and matters escalated. Besides…"

"Besides?"

He hesitated, then said: "A year ago Bran had a long-term relationship end. And he…stopped. Didn’t go to class. Didn’t play. Barely ate. For months. We’ve managed to get him showing up for class, and he’s eating, but he still hands in blank exam papers as often as not. Something about Kyou and I making an idiotic list of items for comparison sparked his imagination, and so we’re running with it."

"Sounds like you three have a lot of history."

"We share a great-grandfather," Rin said. "We grew up in the same neighbourhood. Same kindergarten, same schools, same excruciating family events. Same classes, same sports. Same absolute determination to be the one to win, every time, and if we lose, to win the next one." He frowned, glancing at the now empty picnic table. "The important thing is that Bran is finally interested in a new game."

"It’s definitely an original way to make sure someone passes their finals," I said, and was reminded of my own worries on that count.

"Well, I also want to prove my superiority," he said, and for a moment did make me feel a little dangerous.

"Will this place only be used by you three?" I asked, refusing to be flustered.

"No, we’ll occasionally invite other members of the council for meetings. And the gardeners and faculty both have a spare key. The faculty isn’t supposed to come in unannounced, though, and the gardeners usually do their mowing and trimming in the mornings. The access path runs straight past the main teachers' office windows, though, so they have a good idea who comes in and out—by the gate, at least."

"If we’re not going to have anything to do with each other outside this garden, what happens if plans change? Email?"

"Hm. Better not. I have sisters who snatch my phone. Look for something cat-related on the school forums for the moment. And I’ll also show you a secret of the garden."

He turned and headed into the summer house, pressing two places on the shelving above the desk. A small door opened to reveal an empty space.

"Only the senior council members know this is here. It’s where we’ll keep the book, especially after this early lesson in never leaving it about, even when we only think we’re leaving for a moment. We don’t have anything else of value in there." He closed the door, and had me try triggering the hidden latch. "We’ll put our screening results in here next Monday—presuming we can get results that quickly. And then—" He met my eyes. "Then it will be Tuesday and I will kiss you."

"You’re that confident of winning? Not to mention me agreeing?"

"Well, I find that I hope that you will. And I am at least confident of the first battle we three had agreed on."

"Well then," I said, deciding I did want to kiss him. "Good luck."