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 ^{(it's beta!)}

It seemed like a good idea at the time.

After all, what could possibly go wrong when four teenagers spend a Friday night together?

Of course, I'm not too naive; I know that anything can go wrong if you're in the wrong place at the wrong time. I may not have the world's best timing, but I can do anything if I'm in the right place -- that's why I make the best use of wherever I am.

The church wasn't terribly large, but it offered a lot of fascinating space for fun activity. When we were bored, that was were we went -- the church. We played music in the sanctuary, or watched movies in the youth room, or ate candy from the pastor's office while sharing funny videos on the computer. That building felt like a second home to us all, though some of us had been there more often than others. That night, Dan, Rich, Greg, and I were the only people hanging out; they were my close friends, but as the only girl, I still felt like I had something to prove.

Being the open-minded young adults we were, nobody objected to a friendly game of hide-and-seek -- in fact, we all felt pretty excited at the prospect. Oddly enough, though, we seemed more excited than the game really merited; the moment it was suggested (none of us remember who had the idea first), a sense of great potential seemed to fill the air.

We were getting into something that would turn out bigger, much bigger, than any of us expected.

MacGyver. That's what they called me at headquarters. I was the creative one -- the one who had my mind on what was real and immediate, not what should be. A girl's got to have a lot of guts, and a good brain, to make it in this business.

I briefly surveyed my surroundings, noting some items as useful and dismissing others from my thoughts immediately. While I'd hardly have been impaired by unfamiliarity with my surroundings, I was fortunate enough to have the home-court advantage; only one of the others knew the building half so well as I did.

"Okay, so we count to a hundred?"

"Two hundred."

"One twenty."

"One eighty."

"You guys?" Greg piped up to resolve our dilemma. "Since I'm it first, I tell ya what. I'm going to go into this bathroom to count, then I'm going to poop, then when I'm done, I'll come look for you."

"That works."

As us three non-poopers scurried off to hide, we all glanced at each other; I expected to suppress a fit of giggles, but somehow every expression was serious. We knew that this was no ordinary game.

I looked closely at my so-called friends, knowing that treachery often lurked behind familiar faces. Even the walls might have ears in a situation like this. I let my hand drift absently to the gun at my side, my kevlar rustling slightly as I did so; I wasn't sure what lay ahead, but I knew from experience that my resourcefulness and cunning could get me through any situation.

Quick as a cat, quick as a cat!

I love this game.

We were running around in the church, scurrying to find places to hide. It was all I could do not to laugh! Such a whirlwind of motion, such serious focus, all for a game.

Silly grownups.

I found a nice hiding space in the basement -- a nice, dark closet in the corner of the choir room. I curled up in the corner, convincing myself that I was tiny enough not to be seen.

[blaaaaaaaaaah, I started and now I can't think enough to finish. At least I'm back in the swing of things. Ignore this piece for now.]