WHEN I TELL MY FRIENDS what I saw, their initial reactions mirror mine.

Benjamin's yelling and cheering during the football game restored some much needed colour to his face. Unfortunately, bringing up Terrence's cruel trick makes his features pale and drawn again. But I had to tell everyone. I don't keep anything from my friends.

"Impossible," Delaney snaps. "We searched everywhere."

"Not under the tank."

"Under it?" she asks. "We couldn't have. It was on a stage."

"Yeah, the stage was hollow, and there was a little compartment for the snake to go into."

"What the fu— oh," Delaney says, when she realises what we missed. She scowls, hating being wrong as much as I do. "Those fuckers should pay."

Leah reminds us, "They will pay. In the long run. Sophie couldn't get any evidence, remember? And I have a feeling Derek and Terrence used the last quarter, when everyone would be concentrated on the game, to get rid of everything. The stage, the tank, the rig."

"We'll win the war, if not all the battles." Drew nods, spreading his hands encouragingly. "Now can we finally enjoy the fair?"

"Yes," I laugh at the eager gleam in Drew's eye. "Yes, we can."

The five of us slip easily into the crowds of people leaving the football field, looking for stalls to catch our attention. Benjamin slows his long strides so that we can walk side by side. I've always known him as practical, logical, level-headed. He would be the last of us to let a snake encounter traumatise him. But I saw a different side to him tonight — afraid, uncertain and angry.

"Are you sure you're okay?" I ask, my shoulder brushing against his forearm each time I take a step.

"I'm fine. The snake wasn't poisonous, particularly hostile or dangerous. Snakes don't even scare me," he reassures me. "I was actually really fascinated with them growing up."

"You seemed really freaked out when you saw it, though."

"Well, it was a bit of shock to see one in the tank with me. Had I met it in regular circumstances, I would have loved to see a snake up close." He smiles faintly. "Don't worry, Sophie. I'm fine. Just mortally pissed off at the Monarchy. Now, can we enjoy the rest of tonight? I swear, I saw a riddle stall that gives you prizes for every riddle you complete."

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We all have to help carry the sweets, toys and shop coupons Benjamin — now glowing with pride and happiness — won at the riddle stall. After steadily making his way through their entire collection of riddles, Benjamin discovered that they also did trivia games.

It was an avalanche. He practically robbed the place.

"Dude, remind me to bring you next time my family does a quiz night." Drew laughs, while examining the DVDs and gift cards in his arms. Delaney is carrying board games and puzzles — the generally oblong-shaped prizes — in a neat stack. Leah has the soft toys and t-shirts. Me, I get to carry the giant orange bean bag.

"I think I might donate some of this stuff," Benjamin mumbles.

"No! Keep it, you earned it," Delaney shouts. "Or, if you decide to donate these prizes, might you first consider a poor, needy senior?"

"You're right," Benjamin says thoughtfully. "Drew? You need some decor for your games room?"

Delaney scowls while the rest of us laugh raucously. "I hate you, BJ."

With the steady advance of midnight, all the elderly people and young children have left, leaving behind a scattering of young adults. Leah's parents showed up halfway through a round of Shakespeare trivia, telling us they and Faune were going to bed, and that any of us should not hesitate to call them if we had any problems. Delaney's sisters haven't been seen since they showed up at the riddles stall to watch Benjamin, and giggle at how he fumbled his way through the Hollywood stars topic.

But despite the diminishing of people, it feels as if the night has finally started. Drew smiles gleefully, pointing to a stall to the left of us, draped in navy satin, with a wooden wheel pinned to a stand. On a quirky-looking chalkboard, gold lettering reads Wheel of Fortune. "Anyone feel lucky tonight?"

Benjamin shakes his head. "Considering I was chosen to swim with a snake, I'm not going to bet on my luck tonight."

"I agree with Benjamin. I've got a whole lot of bad karma waiting for me, so I'm not tempting fate tonight." Delaney offers, "Anyone who wants to come get food with me is welcome. Drew, you have to come. I need you to pay."

"Use me for money. I see how it is." Drew smirks, before jogging to catch up with Delaney, grinning.

Leah fiddles with the end of her ponytail, before sheepishly saying, "I'm actually really hungry. You guys have fun with the wheel, though."

"It's fine. Go get some food." And I turn to Benjamin, "Do you want to eat?"

"No." He shakes his head tersely. "I don't really have an appetite."

I chastise myself for forgetting. He must still be quite shaken up. Scooping out some notes from my bag, I step up to the stall. A woman, in extravagant robes and excessive dark eyeshadow waits patiently, as if expecting me. She smiles crookedly, takes the change from my outstretched hand and gestures for me to take my turn.

The Wheel of Fortune is actually rather heavy, and I can't make it spin that fast.

As it spins, I find my eyes lingering on each slim segment of the wheel. Obviously, winning an iPhone would be better than winning nothing — but altogether, none of the options are that terrible. With a low rumble of wood, the wheel slows to a stop. On the part that aligns with the arrow is one word, written inside a smiley face. Pie.

My eyes drift to a pile of three circular pie trays, all made of the same disposable aluminium. Ready to be smashed into the faces of a passing player. Or me.

"Oh, no. Thank you for the spin—" I move to leave, hands raised in an apologetic manner, but I stumble into Benjamin. His arms lock around me in seconds, preventing me from going anywhere. "—you really don't have to do this."

In my ear, so close that his breath warms my skin, Benjamin whispers humourously, "I got dunked, you get pied."

"Ha. Very funny," I start to squirm frantically, upon seeing the woman lift a pie and give it to Benjamin. "No, no, I'm actually really fond of this shirt—"

Too late.

It happens all too quickly, and the only thing I can do is instinctively squeeze my eyes shut. The tray is not filled with a real, baked pie but rather, a thin wafer crust and mounds of whipped cream. This discovery is only made once said whipped cream has made its way into my nose.

Keeping a firm grip around my waist, Benjamin takes more of the chunky toppings and rubs it into my hair. Doing so also forces a great deal of vanilla-flavoured foam down my collar and onto my skin. It feels disgusting, of course, almost like an act of vengeance. Though I'm not the one it should be directed at. The only reason I don't fling my leg back and prays it hits his manhood is because—

He's had a pretty shit night. And I want him to feel better.

"I hate you." I would glare, but if I open my eyes, all the cream will flood in. So all I can do is scrunch up my face angrily at him. The laugh I hear from the left of me is almost worth the disconcerting sensation of slime making its way down my back.

A new voice chimes in, and split second later, I hear Leah by my side, "Hey, guys— oh, my."

"I don't think that's what we meant by wanting to get food," says Delaney. I stick my tongue out at her, catching a taste of sugar and wafers.

"Ooh, cream." A finger sinks into my cheek, scooping some cream away. "Yum!"

"Drew!" I swipe at him, but fail to hit him.

I see nothing behind my squeezed-shut eyelids, but I hear laughter, taste sugar on my tongue and feel a soaring joy all around me.

Tonight, that's victory enough.

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Monday's classes finished fifteen minutes ago.

As such, only teachers and kids who take extracurriculars are on campus. And school without the Monarchy is exactly what we need today. My bag jostles against my hip as I hug the walls, making a beeline for the library, where our next Revolution meeting is scheduled. The one I'm late for.

The Homecoming Fair was three days ago, and like someone's turned a flame stove right down, the leftover excitement from it is just starting to simmer away. There are a handful of videos circling Carsonville's social media network — none of which contain any trace of a snake. Other than that, and the lingering imprints in the grass from the game stalls, the Fair and all the chaos it brought now only exist in our memories.

Inside the dusty, weakly lit library, the table where my four friends are sitting at comes into view. I turn into the small study area set aside for students, noticing the way my shadow falls across Delaney's hands as I slide into a seat.

"So, we really should get going on the part of the Revolution." I ask them, a bit worried about our plan myself, "Any ideas about who would be crazy enough to join us?"

"Well, the other people in the Unofficials. Ashley would probably be up for it, she likes the idea already," Leah offers.

"The Mathletes have never liked the Monarchy. I could try to convince them," Benjamin says. "Science Olympiad kids probably feel the same." He looks at Delaney, prompting her to offer some ideas.

"Debate Club, too. Although it's going to take a while to convince them. Bunch of selfish, cowardly, headstrong idiots they are," says Delaney.

"I'm sure you could do it though, Delaney," I say, adding a bit of challenge into my voice. The thing with Delaney is that being highly confident makes you highly susceptible to reverse psychology — and she knows entirely when I use it on her, but just can't help proving me wrong. However, I have no doubt she can hold her own against the whole Debate Club. She is the President, after all.

"That's still not enough though." We need as many students as possible, enough to counter the Monarchy's loyal followers. Hopefully, if everything happens as planned, the rest of the school will eventually follow. "Are there any other people that might not like the Monarchy?"

Everyone looks thoughtful for a moment, the sound of my breathing and a distant analogue clock the only sound I can hear. "I heard Brittany has been diverting funds from the Arts department to the girls volleyball and lacrosse teams to pay for rhinestone embellishments on their uniforms," Leah suggests. "The Arts clubs might join if we talked to them."

With that, it's like I'm the one dunked in ice, because I'm reminded of the extent of the Monarchy's power, being able to take money from the school. For a handful of glitzy jewels? "Dance, Photography and Drama, right?"

"Uh uh," Leah replies.

"Any others that have reason to join?" I ask.

Delaney says, "School newspaper. Remember, after Madison became the control centre for any news that circulated the school, everyone stopped reading it. They're still in print though."

"That's good, we can talk to them today."

"Also, try Chess Club and Book Club. Somehow, the Monarchy made it the norm to get your homework done by them. With a little threatening," says Benjamin.

"Well, it's a good start," I say shakily. "Getting the names is half the job done. Now we just have to talk them into joining a revolution to overthrow the kings and queens of high school."

Somewhere in the middle of my sentence, I am aware of the sarcasm seeping into my voice, though there's nothing to be joked about. I try not to do that, to stay confident, but I'm just not a naturally optimistic person. I'm paranoid, overly sensitive and concerned about people I don't even know. Call me a bleeding heart.

"Well, we're screwed," Drew announces, reflecting my darkest thoughts. "Let's call it a year and go home."

Leah lays her hand on the table, drawing my attention into her beacon of hope and positivity like always. "Whatever happened to optimism? These are our people. Nothing bad will come from at least talking to them."

Ever since I cheered her up following the most turbulent period of Faune's bullying, Leah's carried the mood of the group with effortless composure. She's so resilient, when the rest of us are prone to bickering, paranoia and reservation.

Drew crosses his arms and sinks lower in his chair. "Optimism died, along with our chances of success."

I bolster myself, drawing from Leah's strength. The marching band, Unofficials included. Drama, Photography and Dance Clubs. Mathletics, Science Olympiad and Debate Club. Book Club and Chess Club. School newspaper. "Okay, there are ten groups and five of us. Each takes two?" I say, ignoring Drew's sudden mood swing.

"I can talk to the marching band. Dance Club also partners with them for performances sometimes, so I know people in both groups," Leah suggests. The Unofficials should be keen to join, I know Ashley definitely is.

Benjamin remarks, "Mathletes use the same building for practise as the science Olympiad kids, so I'll talk to those two groups. I have Mathletes practise in half an hour anyway, so I might as well put that to good use."

"Debate, obviously. And maybe—" Delaney ponders the list, tapping her chin before reaching a decision. "—newspaper."

"I'll take Drama and Chess club," Drew mumbles, his head lying forlornly on the desk.

"And that leaves Photography and Book club for me. Are we all happy with that?" Another round of affirming nods and mutters. "Well then, I guess this meeting is adjourned. Good luck, everyone."

"You know what I just thought of? We should get a gavel so we can bang it at the start and end of meetings." Drew finally takes his head off the table, but Delaney hits it right back down at his stupid suggestion.

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The corridors are immediately to the left of the library exit.

Leah, Delaney and Benjamin break off to turn a corner — presumably where their respective destinations are — and I move to follow.

Drew grabs my wrist and drags me the other way. "Book Club is down by the Chess Club. They get the cruddy storage rooms to use."

"That's sad," I comment, eyebrows knitting together in pity. "Why don't people do something about it?"

"People hate the Monarchy already, but their power stretches everywhere. Every nook and cranny of every crappy room. Most of the school is against it, they just don't know how to fight them."

"We're giving them the opportunity to fight it. We can all help each other."

"If this works."

I have never talked to anyone from the Photography or Book Club, mainly because I don't really venture past my comfort zones in terms of friendship. But if they are bitter towards the Monarchy, at least I'll have something to go on. You'd think I'd have to tailor a different argument to suit each different group but here, we all have common ground to fight for. Hate towards the Monarchy. A desire for freedom from them.

Drew stops at a door, peeling and faded grey. It's open, with the clear sounds of improv practice raining out. He walks in without knocking, waving at me before slipping out of view. I keep walking down the hallway, turning twice like Drew directed me to, before the door of the Book Club room comes into view.

It's just as I'm about to knock that a thought strikes me. The Monarchy has already ruined the club's reputation, and probably the reputations of its members, when they made being clever uncool — so who's to say anyone is still in Book Club? High school is filled with fickle people, and too often, people are forced to change who they are and what they like to fit in.

Sad, but it's easy to break what does not bend. To avoid crumbling under the peer pressure, judgmental stares and insidious gossip, maybe everyone bends. Maybe everyone bows their heads to the Monarchy, rather than getting struck down.

Without the slightest idea of who may or may not be inside, I raise a tentative hand and knock.