Laser Tag

By Robin Troup

It was Mei’s birthday. Esperanza could put up with one round of laser tag for Mei’s birthday.

Not that Mei had even noticed that she’d showed up. Esperanza and Mei had been friends since the first day of kindergarten, when the teacher had sat them next to each other. They’d started to drift apart in middle school, and now, at fourteen, finally in high school, Esperanza worried that she was on the verge of losing her best friend forever.

It had started with less texts. Playdates were replaced with hangouts, which got fewer and farther between. Esperanza knew it was just as much her fault as it was Mei’s -- she’d started to go entire days without even thinking about Mei, something unthinkable just two years before. Esperanza didn’t want to lose their friendship without so much as a whimper. So even though she was skipping dance practice, even though she hated laser tag, when Mei invited Esperanza to her birthday party, she had to show up.

“Esperanza!” Mei exclaimed, finally noticing Esperanza standing awkwardly in the doorway holding a purple gift bag with sparkly tissue paper. Esperanza had almost started crying right in the middle of Target when she realized that she barely knew what to get Mei anymore. She didn’t know if Mei’s favorite color was still purple. She didn’t know if Mei had finally gotten over her fear of showing her artwork to anyone.

So she’d ended up with a generic gift, mostly full of bits and pieces. She’d gotten Mei a set of nice paints, because she figured that even if Mei already had some, she’d run out eventually. She’d added a package of tracing paper, because why not, and then tossed in a honeybee bracelet, a pair of bee socks, and an entire package of Reece’s Pieces.

She held the gift bag out as Mei made her way over.

“You can put it there,” Mei instructed, pointing to a table laden with gifts in the corner. Esperanza headed over, and Mei followed. “Do you know anyone else here?”

Esperanza scanned the room. “Umm, Robbie’s in my Algebra II class,” she offered, nodding towards a chubby red-headed boy talking animatedly to a small group of other people.

“Is that it?” Mei sounded surprised.

Esperanza wasn’t surprised. Their school was big enough, and Mei and Esperanza were different enough, that they rarely had any classes together.

“That’s it,” she confirmed, biting her lip to try to keep the bitterness from seeping in.

“I want to introduce you to my art friends!” Mei said excitedly. “I wish you could have met them sooner, it really sucks that we don’t have the same lunch period! Maybe next year!”

Esperanza smiled, feeling hopeful again. She had people to sit with and hang out with at lunch -- her poetry class was tight-knit and kind, and some of her dance friends were in her lunch period, so she alternated which group she sat with, but no one could compare to Mei.

“I hope so too,” she said.

Mei dragged her over to the group she’d been talking to earlier. “Esperanza! This is Alexis,”

The tall white girl with French braids waved awkwardly.

“Damien,”

The muscular black boy offered Esperanza a high-five, which she hesitantly reciprocated.

“Zoe,”

The short red-headed girl grinned at Esperanza.

“And Ash.”

Ash flipped their braids over their shoulder and nodded at Esperanza.

“Hey,’ Esperanza offered.

“We’ve heard so much about you,” Zoe said.

“Sorry if that’s weird,” Damien added. “But we feel like we already know you.”

Mei had always been talkative. Nevertheless, it warmed Esperanza’s heart to know that Mei had been thinking about her all this time.

“Is everyone ready?” A red-shirted attendant asked from the doorway Mei had just rescued Esperanza from, interrupting their conversation.

The noise in the room died down.

Mei turned away from their little group and muttered under her breath as she took stock of the room. Finally she nodded. “Everyone’s here, we can get started.”

“You have to be on our team, Esperanza!” Zoe exclaimed. Esperanza felt a little better, at least she wouldn’t have to worry too much about whether or not she got on the same team as Mei.

Mei glanced around the rest of the room and frowned. “I should probably be on the other team, then,” she said. “I’ve got to spread my time around.”

“No one cares,” Ash assured her.

Mei shifted from foot to foot. “Okay,” she finally said. “As long as teams are equal.”

“Follow me,” the employee, whose name tag said Katie, she/her.

Mei started following Katie, and the rest of the room, about 20 total people total, drained out of the room behind her.

Mei, Zoe, Alexis, Damien, Ash, and Esperanza were the first people in, so they all grabbed red vests.

Esperanza picked up her laser gun so that it rested in her hands instead of dangling off the cord that connected it to her vest.

“Your goal is to shoot your laser at the other team,” Katie instructed once everyone had managed to cram themselves into the musty harnesses. “There are four spots to shoot -- one on each shoulder, one on their chest, one on their back. You can also shoot the blinking lights of their home base. If your laser beeps at you that it’s run out of charge, you have to go back to your base to recharge. Got it?”

“Yes,” Mei said, and a handful of other partygoers echoed her.

“Great. Green team, your base is farther, so follow me. Red team, you’re just inside, you can start talking strategy.”

Katie opened the door and led the green team through. Esperanza listened to the blur of voices as her team discussed strategy, but she couldn’t get herself to focus on any of the words.

Finally, before anyone could ask Esperanza if she knew what was going on, Katie’s voice came over the loud speaker. “You may begin.”

Red and green lighting on the obstacles in the room flickered on. Esperanza’s team readied their laser guns and moved out. Esperanza trailed a step behind them.

Ash dropped back to talk to her. “Hey, you okay?”

Esperanza shrugged. “I don’t really know how to play laser tag.

Ash smiled reassuringly. “All you’ve got to do is point and shoot. Just press the trigger. Here, point it at that wall and practice.”

Espreanza cautiously pointed the laser gun at the wall Ash had gestured to and pressed the red button on the grip part. She squeezed her eyes shut.

Beside her, Ash swayed. “Esperanza. Esperanza. Did you see that?”

Esperanza opened her eyes. “See what?”

Ash pointed to the wall where Esperanza had pointed her laser gun. “That!”

There was a gouge in the wall.

But there was no way the laser had done that.

Lasers were safe. They were just light. Otherwise, there was no way that Esperanza would have agreed to come to this party.

“It must have already been there,” she said. “The lighting must have just changed.”

Ash shifted next to her. They didn’t look convinced.

“Ash! Esperanza! Come on!” Alexis whisper-hissed.

Ash and Esperanza exchanged a dubious glance, but they followed Alexis and the rest of their group.

Suddenly, they encountered a group of green players.

There was a chorus of yells as lasers started flying.

Esperanza hesitantly raised her gun and let a short burst of laser loose.

It hit Robbie’s wrist, and he collapsed, screaming.

Esperanza dropped her laser gun. “Stop, stop, stop!” she yelled.

Some of the other players listened, dropping their guns.

Zoe turned towards Esperanza, still holding the trigger to her gun. It swept across one of the green player’s shoulders, and he shuddered as his skin started to sizzle.

But Zoe still hadn’t noticed. Her finger was still pressed to the trigger. She was still moving.

Her laser sliced through the other team member’s neck, and his head fell to the floor.

Esperanza collapsed to her knees and heaved up her lunch.

Ash sighed behind them. “I really didn’t want to be right,” they muttered under their breath.

Finally, Zoe let go of the trigger. “What?” she demanded.

But no one could answer her. Everyone who had watched the laser behead the green team member had let their laser gun fall through numb fingers and was staring blankly at the headless body as it teetered, about to fall over.

Zoe looked over to where everyone was staring.

And let out a bloodcurdling shriek.

This was enough to draw a few people out of their stupor.

“What the hell, Mei?” someone demanded. “What is this place?”

“You killed Luke!” a green team member accused.

“What is this place?” Alexis moaned.

“This is not what I signed up for,” someone muttered.

Mei was close to tears. “I-I-I don’t know what happened,” she stuttered. “I’ve played laser tag here before, and it’s been totally normal! I swear!”

“Well, clearly something is wrong with these lasers,” someone snapped. “Whoa, whoa,” Damien said. “Y’all. Take a breath, okay. No one knew. If we’d known, we wouldn’t have shot at each other. No one here is to blame, but we will find out what is going on.”

“Yeah right, no one here is to blame,” someone scoffed.

“You killed Luke!” the green team member repeated.

“I didn’t mean to,” Zoe sobbed. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know!”

Esperanza hauled herself back to her feet. “We’ve got to get out of here,” she said, the first rational thought she’d had that day.

“Oh no you don’t,” a voice over the loud speaker chided.

Esperanza shuddered.

“Only one team is getting out of here alive.”

“This is ridiculous!” Mei cried.

“You should have read the terms and conditions,” the voice said with a cackle.

If Memory Serves Right

By Joy Schumtz

Content warning: mentions of suicide, abuse, childhood trauma, and gruesome descriptions

15(1) pills. That’s all it takes, to end this. 15 pills, down the hatch. The cold floor of the bathroom seems more welcoming than ever. More than those nights full of crying. More than childhood nights of the stomach flu. Those 15 pills made the floor seem soft, comfier than any bed no matter how tired. I’ve never been this tired before. Tired enough to sleep forever.(2)

As my eyes open I’m standing on a wide red line. Like a red carpet a celebrity would stand on. The room is less than glamorous though. It is dark, my body on the floor, slumped over on itself, leaning on the bathtub, eyes closed and drooling out the side of my mouth. It looks peaceful. Stepping forward the room shifts. In a quick movement I stand looking at myself sneaking out of my room with a bottle of pills. It’s obvious it’s in my pocket, but no one is in the hall. I’m still on the line looking at myself from an hour ago. Past me seems unfazed, unaware of my presence, of our success. Past me looks like they still need that hour to psyche themselves into my current state. I step forward.

Another jump in time. I see an even younger version of myself getting off the bus. Tired from school. The pajamas I’m wearing are the ones I wore exclusively months ago. Low saturation colorful pajama pants with little cats on them and an oversized black sweatshirt with monkeys on the sleeves. Both have sauce stains that have been poorly wiped off. It’s clear I’d been wearing them for days as the sweat stains are clear even from across the street where I stand. I look like I smell. Hair was unbrushed and thrown into something you could argue is a bun, but the mats make it unclear. As the younger me approached I could tell I had been crying. My eyes didn’t seem too puffy, but mascara traced the sides of my cheeks. At least I had tried to look nice that day, but that never seems to end well for me.

Another step on the red pathway. I wanted to leave after I saw my sorry state. At least I was able to clean up today without any issues. I thought it would be easier if I just wore what I wanted to be buried in. I don’t really want to be buried, but I know it’s a family tradition to be put in the old mausoleum. Eternally trapped in the red brick on one of the cold marble benches. I’d rather be in the ground, damp and with the bugs, rather than the other deceased. I’ve always liked bugs, especially worms. Puddles on the ground and worms on the high points of the cement. They just want to survive the flooding, and yet people step on them, crushing them, pushing them to the ground, flat, dead.

I stop walking forward. Years have flashed by. I stood in the old chapel, family and friends all around. I step off the path. I wasn’t sure where I was going, but muscle memory kicked in. I walked through the crowd, phasing through people. Time doesn’t move unless I’m walking on the path. I go behind my past self, next to the casket. My hair was so long then, and had been styled even though the days before I remember refusing to move out of bed. I remember the pain of pulling all the tangles out for that… this day. The younger me was sobbing, but as I looked in the casket the face seemed less pale than I remembered.

(1) Not based on my life, but written in first person to seem more informal and personal, along with keeping the protagonist androganist to make them more relatable to more people.
(2) Psyche dies before her rebirth, and has died before the ending. Literal death and rebirth/resurrection. It also relates 44 | RUSHLIGHT to Psyche’s constant attempts of suicide.

(Continuing on page 45 of the Rushlight magazine)