Cards Against Camaraderie

Author’s Note: This story contains mentions of sexual violence, themes of homophobia, misogyny, and themes of racism.

Senior year’s near and college … isn’t how I imagined. No parties with piss-drunk fratboys, cocaine-addicted roommates, or hazing. Just books. Maybe that’s my fault. Honestly, it is! I’m not a party girl like Joi-Anna Nwosu.

Joi defied every regulation, and was regulated to her dorm for two weeks, after complaining about her lost taste a couple days later. Nevertheless, she’s my best friend on campus.

My laptop chimes. My eyes shift to the screen. An anime girl’s circular portrait stares at me. My eyes flick from the girl to my laptop camera’s blue light. The portrait’s rim flickers green. “Joi’s not here yet?” Brian says. Not even a ‘hello,’ and apparently, I won’t be talking to him.

My lips purse. “Nope.”

He pauses. “How’s your summer been?”

I shrug. “Fine. Working. Family stuff.”

“Working and family stuff. Uh-huh.”

My head tilts. “You think I’m lying?”

“No,” his vowel stretches. “But, you haven’t spoken to me all summer while you talk to Joi.”

I check my nails for absent dirt. “Look,” I say. “She was my friend before she was your girlfriend.”

My laptop chimes. I look at my screen.

Our guest waves. “Hi, guys!” Za’ra says. She’s dressed gorgeously. Draped in a sparkling, black hijab and a beige shirt. Her eyes radiate warmth behind her glasses.

“Hey, Za’ra,” I say.

“Hey, Zah-Zah. How’re things in Queens?”

“Very good!” She says. “Joi-Anna’s not here yet?”

“Not yet,” Brian groans. “I was telling Drew—”

Another chime. Brian groans. David’s arrived. Or, as I call him, King. And yes, only I can call him King.

“Hey, sorry I’m late.” David says. His voice is a deep rumble with a southern drawl that leaves my chest fluttering. “Y’all ready for game night?”

I grin. “No worries. How was your day, King?”

He groans, “Nashville traffic, sug’.” His words carry the cadence of soulful songs, my face tints as purple as a summer plum. His beauty entraps me. David smirks. “How’s work?”

I slouch. “It ain’t worth sixteen-thirty. But, here we are.”

We can’t look away. 

Brian groans. “Are we gonna watch you two eyefuck, or are we gonna game?”

“C’mon, Bry. No reason for you to be jealous that someone wants to fuck Andy.”

Brian mutes his microphone. Za’ra and I cachinnate. Just after Brian mutes himself, there’s another chime. 

“Hey, Joi!” We say.

She’s lazily grinning. “Hi, guys!”

“Ms. Joi,” I say. “Ms. Joi, Ms. Joi, Ms. J—”

“Yes, Pookie?”

“What kept you?”

Joi chuckles. “Gettin’ groceries. My arms hurt, bruh. It’s too hot in Georgia for this shit.”

Brian unmutes. “Hey, Joi,” he lengthens both words. His camera comes on. A pale, beaming boy with fluffy, blond hair covering his eyes. His room looks terrible. Junk litters his bed, whether it be trash or gaming accessories. Anime girl posters decorate dingy walls.

“Hi, Pookie,” Joi says.

They gaze into their screens. 

I minimize discord, open my browser, and set up a game of Cards Against Humanity. All expansions. I copy the link, maximize discord, and paste it in our group. “Get y’all’s asses in. It’s time.”

Before I can finish my sentence, they flood the screen with their usernames. ZofArakko, Za’ra; JaneFosterFan, Joi-Anna; KingKaplan, David; and Brian_Lol, Brian. Then, my eyes slide over something … unusual. A fifth name.

“Drew,” Joi says. “Who’s that?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never seen him before.”

“Kick him.” David says.

Brian laughs. “Let him stay! He’s just lonely.”

I kick Xx___JustALilGuy___xX from the game, then swipe to the start button. Unceremoniously, Xx___JustALilGuy___xX reappears. My eyebrows knit and I set us to private. I kick him again.

Somehow, he rejoins. 

I glance at the facecam. My friends are puzzled and perturbed. “Let’s just ignore him, guys. Brian’s right. He wants to game. Who doesn’t?”

Brian nods. “Glad you see it my way!”

“I guess,” Za’ra says.

Joi and David grimace but acquiesce as we start.

Za’ra is the card czar. The first black card presents itself: [When I’m in prison, I’ll have _____ smuggled in.]

We’re all silent. I look over my cards. I’ve got nothing good. The best I have is [The Make a Wish Foundation] white card. So, I play it. 

Za’ra clears her throat once the time is up. “When I’m in prison, I’ll have ‘The Make a Wish Foundation,’ smuggled in”—no laughs—“‘A fetus?’ ‘Kim Jong-il?’”—Za’ra giggles. Her face contorts—“‘a sad handjob…’ ‘MechaHitler?’” When she guffaws, we know who wins this round.

“Boom!” David says.

We move to the next round. I’m the card czar. They all chuckle, or giggle, or smirk, their answers pile up. My eyes flicker over to Xx___JustALilGuy___xX. Something about him still rubs me the wrong way. How do you rejoin a private game without its password?

Once I get their responses, I clear my throat. “BILLY MAYS HERE FOR ‘Doin’ it in the butt!’” I glance at a giggling David, then continue: “‘the heart of a child’—wow, these suck, Jesus—‘a cooler full of organs’ … okay that’s actually good,” I chuckle. “‘HULK HOGAN,’ and lastly … ‘Deflowering the princess—’” My eyes dash over to him. Who else but him would play that card? “Really, Brian? The fuck?”

Brian moves hair out of his face. “What?”

“Deflowering the princess? Really?”

“That’s not my card. Mine was ‘Hulk Hogan.’”

David sighs. “Sug’, pick a winner and let’s move on.”

I grumble. “Yeah.” 

The next card czar is Brian. He claps his hands together, places them behind his head, and reclines. “Give ‘em,” he says.

[What’s a girl’s best friend?] glows before me. I eye my friends with mock suspicion. I have the perfect card for this. [The gays.] It’s stereotypical and over-played; but, it’s so perfectly silly.

Once all the answers are in, Brian groans and rises. “Okay, let’s see what we got here. ‘What’s a girl’s best friend?’ Is it A. ‘The gays?’ B. ‘Scientology?’ C. ‘Not reciprocating oral sex?’—Wow, shady, Joi. Real shady”—Joi laughs—“D. ‘Hot Pockets?’ Or, E. ‘Date Rape?’” There’s a pause. When Brian realizes his words, he blanches. 

I can’t tell if he’s looking at me, but his eyes melt through me. I’m the only one here that knows about that night.

“And you thought I was being weird, Drew?” He says.

“Wasn’t me,” I say.

“Uh-huh, whatever.” Disgruntled, Brian clicks a button. His camera shakes. The point goes to ‘Hot Pockets.’

The next card czar is Xx___JustALilGuy___xX. 

[What’s my secret power?]

I submit my answer. Hopefully, my friends will enjoy it.

It starts as a giggle. Then Joi instigates a choral roar, everyone loses composure. I win the point.

“Holy shit,” David says, holding his stomach, a puppet trying to stop his seams from splitting. “‘Crystal meth!’ I can’t!” his camera goes off as he guffaws. 

We resettle and Joi is the next card czar. [What am I giving up for Lent?]

I already know what card I’m going to play. It’s a card Joi loves. A single-word question that never fails: [Bees?]

Joi hums the Jeopardy theme-song as answers flow in. Then, suddenly. “Eerk, eerk, eerk! Pencils down,” she says. She reads out our answers: “‘What am I giving up for Lent?’ ‘A passionate Latino lover’—girl, Henry and I been done,” she rolls her eyes, smiles, and continues.  “‘Black people?’ Nope! Not even for forty days … ‘bees?’”—Not even a chuckle!—“‘Free samples’ … Hey, rude!” She huffs. “‘Just the tip.’ Hardy har har, Bry” —Brian’s perplexed—“‘The Pope.’ My hat’s off to you … Davey.” She selects [The Pope]. But, the point goes to Brian … She stares, puzzled. “Who sent ‘just the tip?’”

Everyone shrugs. We look at Xx___JustALilGuy___xX. “Dude, we gotta play something else later. he’s weirding me the fuck out.”

“Me too,” I say.

The next card czar is David. [That’s right, I killed _____. How, you ask? _____.]

I look over my white cards. All my combos are equally unfunny and boring. I click randomly, letting fate decide for me.

David reads our responses. “‘That’s right, I killed Tom Cruise. How, you ask? A death ray!’ … ‘That’s right, I killed Darth Vader. How, you ask? Viagra!’ … ‘That’s right, I killed fingering.’ How, you ask? Adderall?’”—that one’s mine, David snorts—“‘That’s right, I killed science. How, you ask? Balls!’ … ‘That’s right, I killed’ … who picked this? Fuck is wrong with y’all?”

“What’s it say?”

“‘The Jews,’” His Billy Kaplan profile picture scalds us. We know about his mother’s family. “‘How, you ask?’ ‘Nazis.’ Nazis!”

The call is silent, our eyes bounce over each other, we bleed sweat—except David. The rim of his picture flickers occasionally. 

I blurt. “It was probably Brian.”

Brian recoils. “Me? It wasn’t me, Princess.”

I glare. “Fuck you!”

He grunts. “My answer was ‘Science’ how do we know it wasn’t Za’ra?”

Her head reclines. “Why would it be me?”

He rolls his eyes. “Quit playing innocent! We’ve heard your dead baby jokes!”

“What’re you smoking, you deranged meth-head?”

“Whoa!” Joi says. “Guys let’s take a breath.”

Everyone stiffens when a bang explodes in our ears. David’s picture flickers. “I ain’t gonna ‘take a breath!’ Your boyfriend always does this shit! First the princess thing, then the Nazi thing, and now Za’ra? Shit’s got to stop!”

“Fuck do you mean, Davey?”

“He just did it and you always get pissy when someone tells him to fuck off!”

“Well maybe if Drew wasn’t a weirdo—”

“I’m a weirdo? Okay, I’d rather be a weirdo than the guy that raped Carlie!”

“Nobody fucking raped Carlie!” Brian thunders.

Joi scowls. “The fuck you talking ‘bout, Drew?”

I sneer. “Yeah, your boyfriend raped a sorority girl!”

“Carlie is a trick, she lets anyone in. My boo don’t gotta answer for her hoeing.”

There’s a sudden chime from our laptops. We look at the empty space. Our mouths gape. The notification pops onto our screens: [⬅ZofArakko left the group.] I check the cards against humanity tab.

She’s gone.

I glare at Brian. “This is all your fucking fault.”

“My fault? You started this!” Brian says. “You always start shit, you love drama!”

Chime. [⬅Brian_Lol left the group.]

Chime. [⬅KingKaplan left the group.]

Joi and I remain. “Apologize,” she says.

“No.”

“God, you’re an asshole.”

Chime. [⬅JaneFosterFan left the group.]

I disconnect. I need a shower. I need sleep.

#

I flop in bed, my face hits the pillow. I check my phone. I have a lot of notifications. One from David, telling me ‘Brian is an asshole’ that ‘it’s gonna be fine when we meet on campus.’ I don’t believe him, but it’s what I need to hear. He’s probably asleep in Nashville already. I tell him I love him. 

One from Za’ra wishing me goodnight with crying emojis, bewildered from tonight. I tell her I have no idea what’s wrong with those two. 

There’s a ton from Brian. Justifying everything with Carlie, denying that anything happened with Carlie, and cigarette emojis … what ‘joy.’

Joi gives me more of the same. How I ‘owe him an apology.’ 

Both of them have blocked me, and honestly, I could care less.

My phone lights up and I see a notification from “Xx___JustALilGuy___xX.” [Thanks for tonight, I haven’t played CAH in forever! - Carlie]. 

Thumb trembling, I tap the notification—Unlock my phone.

Nothing. 

It’s gone!

[Wtf? Carlie???]

The message grays. Under, it reads: 

[Failed to send message. Hold for options.]

I glance at my laptop. My jaw drops. The blue light is still on…