Verse 19: Mind games and Loopholes Part 2

Sheila’s smirk left me with questions and zero guidance. I stood there like a misplaced Sim, not sure which social action to queue next.

Then the lights dimmed slightly, and someone hit a wireless speaker. Lo-fi beats started playing like we were all about to write essays and cry about them together.

A guy stood near the whiteboard—tall, clean-cut, that effortlessly cool look people describe as “hot in a T.A. kind of way.” His hoodie was layered under a blazer, and he had one of those sharp jawlines that screamed “main character syndrome.

He raised a hand.

The room quieted instantly.

“Alright, alright,” he said, grinning like the whole room was in on an inside joke. “Let’s get started. For those of you who don’t know me...which means our marketing is still garbage...I’m Noah. Second year. Bioinformatics major. Your Loophole Club president and part-time caffeine dealer.”

A few people clapped. Someone yelled, “Pick a real major!”
Noah flipped them off without missing a beat.

“Tonight’s meeting will cover the usual: class hacks, prof tendencies, library guard rotations, and of course, the updates on ‘Operation Cafeteria Coup,’ which we’ll get into after snacks.”

That got actual cheering.

“But first…” He glanced at me. “We got some new faces.”

Oh no.

“Oh yes,” Malik whispered beside me with a grin. “Welcome to the Thunderdome.”

Noah stepped toward me, hand out. “Name?”

“Davis.”

He nodded. “Cool. I’ve heard about you.”

That immediately concerned me. I knew exactly who was spreading my name around and he was sitting right next to me.

Malik coughed dramatically. “He’s Elena’s friend.”

Across the room, Elena sent Malik a look sharp enough to slice atoms.

Malik, of course, ignored it.

Noah’s smile barely flickered, but I caught the flash of interest. “Oh. Friend, huh?”

“Classmate. Not…," I coughed this time. "....yeah, Classmate.”

He nodded again. “Even cooler.”

Then he turned to face Sheila who was next to Malik.

“I’m actually Elena’s friend,” she said with a smirk.

 That got ripples of laughter across the room.

“Name’s Sheila,” she added, flicking a peace sign. “And I love having fun, Whoo!”

A few more introductions followed—four other first-timers. I found myself wondering who roped them into this—probably other bush-dwelling weirdos.

After the intros were done, Noah clapped his hands. “Alright, fresh blood. As per tradition—you gotta share something. A loophole, a secret, a hot take—bonus points if it’s morally grey or borderline genius. Impress us, confuse us, mildly traumatize us. Go.”

The room stared.

I panicked.

That’s what Sheila meant. If only she hadn’t been so damn cryptic, I could’ve planned something that didn’t sound like it came from a Reddit thread.

My brain flipped through every possibly useful thing I’d learned on campus so far and landed on:

“You can get free coffee from the Econ Department lounge if you walk in confidently and carry a clipboard.”

Silence.

Then someone in the back went, “Yo, he’s not wrong.”

Sheila whooped.

Noah pointed at me. “That’s what we like to hear. Confidence. Clipboard power.”

Then Sheila stood up to add her tip.
“Smile like you own the place and walk straight through the side gate near the North lot. Security won’t stop you if you look cute and a little annoyed. Works like a charm.”

She threw a wink. “Especially if you're me.”

I muttered, “Wouldn’t work for guys.”

“True,” Sheila said with a shrug. “Toxic flirt privilege. Use it responsibly, people.”

Everyone cheered.

Noah pointed toward a metal shelf stacked with cursed-looking objects. “Welcome gift. You each get one item from the Shelf of Bad Ideas.”

I looked at the options.
There was a cracked mug that said “Dean of Suspicion,” a tattered scarf that looked like it’d been dipped in mystery juice, and what I hoped was a fake ID with a raccoon photo.

I picked the scarf.

Everyone clapped. Why? No idea. “You’re officially in,” Noah said. “No takebacks. Unless you voluntarily sign up for a 7 a.m. statistics class. Then we exile you.”

I laughed along with everyone else.

I glanced over and saw Elena again—still polite, still distant. But when our eyes met this time, she didn’t look away so fast. Just held my gaze for a second longer than she needed to.

Progress? Or passive acknowledgment? TBD.

Noah turned back to the group.

“Okay. Next order of business…Professor Langston definitely has two phones. We have confirmed sightings. One is for students. One is for people he owes money to. We’re going to exploit that.”

Chaos resumed.

Someone tossed me a Tupperware full of spicy chips.

Sheila appeared again at my elbow. “Not bad, clipboard boy.”

“I can’t tell if that was hazing or a TED Talk.”

She laughed. “Around here, same thing.”