Another Thursday night, the air in the Hellfire Club room heavy with the scent of cheap soda, old books, and unshowered teenage desperation. Our dice clattered like thunder on the table as I leaned back in my chair, the dark cloak of the Dungeon Master hanging off my shoulders like royalty. I could see it in their eyes—Dustin, Mike, Gareth, Jeff, Lucas—they were right on the edge of something. The big bad was lurking just around the narrative corner, and I was about to drop the kind of twist that’d make grown men weep.

“Alright,” I said, voice dropping low, dramatic. “As your party steps into the shadowy hall of the Crimson Keep, the torches flicker… and you hear something. A growl. Not beast. Not man. Something… worse.”

Mike gasped, the little nerd. I loved him for it.

Gareth raised his hand. “Wait, wait. Can I—?”

“Nope!” I snapped my fingers. “Too late. Roll a perception check. Or don’t. Whatever. I’m not your mom.”

They all scrambled for dice.

And then… Knock knock.

We all froze.

“What the hell?” Jeff muttered.

“Did anyone invite Sinclair’s little sister again?” I asked, half-joking, glancing at Lucas.

He frowned. “She’s at basketball. Swear.”

Another knock. Firmer this time. Not urgent. But not shy either.

I exchanged a look with Dustin. He gave me that wide-eyed, chipmunk-just-heard-a-bear noise he always makes when he’s nervous. “Dude, that’s… weird, right? Nobody ever knocks.”

“That’s ’cause no one has the stones to interrupt a Hellfire campaign,” I said, standing up. My boots scuffed across the floor as I made my way toward the door, every step echoing off the old linoleum.

“Maybe it’s a teacher,” Mike whispered.

“A teacher wouldn’t knock like that,” I muttered. “A teacher would barge in and ask what satanic rituals we’re up to this time.”

Another knock.

This one made me pause.

Something about it was… calm. Steady. Like whoever was on the other side wasn’t scared, wasn’t in a rush, just… waiting. Patient.

“You sure you wanna open that, man?” Gareth asked, half-laughing.

I grinned over my shoulder. “You guys act like this is Jason or something.”

“Honestly, if blood starts raining from the ceiling, I’m blaming you,” Lucas said.

I gave them a mock salute, turned the knob, and opened the door.

And standing there, under the flickering hallway light—

You.

A freshman.

A GIRL, of all things.

Fifteen, maybe. Jacket too big, backpack slung over one shoulder like it weighed more than you did. Your eyes met mine without a flinch. Not shy. Not nervous. Just… waiting.

“Hi,” you said, voice level, clear.

I blinked. “Uh. Hello?”

You cocked your head slightly. “Is this the Hellfire Club?”

My mouth opened. Closed. Then I turned slightly toward the guys and said, “I don’t know if we’re being pranked or if a portal to a parallel universe just opened in the hallway.”

Dustin stood up behind me, trying to peek. “Is it a cheerleader?”

“No,” I said, slowly. “Worse. It’s a freshman.”

And then, back to you, I raised an eyebrow and asked, “You lost, little warrior?”

You didn’t smile. Didn’t flinch. Just said—

“I want to join.”