Synopsis: A group of students rise to popularity with their creation of a challenge.
Content Warning: Violence, suggestive scenes, alcohol, drugs, and more.
As the sun set over the buildings ahead of me, I walked through the gardens of our campus, back to our apartments just across the road from the college. I stepped over cobblestone dotted over bright green grass, surrounded by bushes and flowers. I had a copy of Politics and Society in the Contemporary Middle East under my arm as I walked briskly; my best friend, Moe, hurried beside me. His arms were waving absurdly as he explored the fascinating book he was reading, The Road, about a man and his son surviving the post-apocalypse. I was nodding back, enthralled more by the passion with which he spoke than the book itself.
Five minutes later, we finally reached the apartment building, a massive slab of grey concrete with square windows, which was mostly being leased to students. As we approached the ground-floor lobby, I saw a girl with arms folded, leaning back against the towering wall. I called out to her name, “Sahar!” She quickly swiveled her head towards me and boomed back “Noor!” As I reached her, I gave her a big hug and picked her up. She was shorter than me at around a meter sixty – and so her curly brown hair tickled my face, which was covered with tiny speckles of paint she must have missed when she washed it. She took a step back and looked at Moe again, smiling warmly, before giving him a high five, since she had only known him for a few weeks.
“So, Noor, Moe, what are you two up to!” she asked, a hint of nervousness in her voice as she looked at Moe, who began talking about all the Physics courses he had to work on. Sahar began playing with her own hair and biting her dark red lower lip as her green eyes met Moe’s hazel eyes. Moe’s dark up-swept hair bounced slightly from its manicured, gelled form as he talked. I looked at him, listening intently, watching his chiseled, stubble-covered jaw move as he discussed his recent acceptance into the college football team. He looked at me, his thick eyebrows questioning whether I was listening. I nodded, smiling. Moe talked very confidently, and had a very soothing, deep voice. I looked to his shoulder and noticed he was clutching his backpack straps tightly in his hand. I looked down further, and realized his foot was tapping nervously. Glancing back at Sahar, though, it appeared she hadn’t realized. She was too busy staring at him. She clearly thought he was handsome – like one of the beautiful sunsets she likes to paint – but then again, so was she. Her right hand lay on her left arm, pressed against her white tank top, which matched nicely with her light blue jeans, brown belt, and white sneakers.
After talking a bit more, we all said our goodbyes and headed our separate ways, as we all had to study for midterms. We all lived in separate floors of the building, and I went to my own room, set up a bowl of Cheetos and began my work as I munched through my cheesy treats.
An hour later, I was still staring at a blank document. The blue glow of the screen filled the otherwise pitch-black room. I had to write about the role of journalism in the Middle East’s current society for an assignment, yet I couldn’t focus, and couldn’t write. Frustrated, I slowly pushed myself up from the desk as the chair rolled across the wooden floor, stretched lazily, and walked around the room. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted my roommate on the couch in a dark corner of the room. Ashraf sat there, listening to music, with arms folded, his thoughts running a million miles a minute. He rested his foot on his red, chipped, and scratched acoustic guitar, which he carried around everywhere but hasn’t played in months – I think he mainly liked the look it gave him and the bragging rights of being a music major. He had been missing classes for two weeks. I stared at him. He had unkempt black hair and a long beard and wore nothing but an undershirt and salmon-colored boxers. He stared back, “What?”
I still stared at him and couldn’t stop myself from smiling.
“What?” he repeated, the smile infecting him as he stated to laugh.
“I’m booored,” I exclaimed loudly.
“Fine, fine, what do you want to do?”
After half an hour, Moe, Sahar, and another friend, Amy, all joined us in our dorm. We were all sitting around in a circle, laughing, and playing Truth or Dare as we drank Heineken beer and Butlers gin profusely to let loose after yet another long week of classes. Alcohol wasn’t allowed in the apartments, but then again, neither was being this loud, and nobody seemed to care all that much since everyone else was just as loud this time of night.
“Alright, alright, so, Sahar,” Amy yelled, not realizing how loud she was, “you’re pretty drukk, right? Dr - drunk, I mean drunk.” Sahar nodded in response.
“Alright, well, I want youuuuuu,” she paused and squinted at her as she racked her brain, “to stand on your head.”
Ashraf and I groaned at the lame dare, but Moe kept silent, drinking his gin. He hadn’t taken his eyes off Sahar for most of the night.
“What? What!?” Amy defended her dare, and looked at us, before Sahar immediately performed the handstand in a hurry before someone else can come up with a more embarrassing dare. Sahar stumbled after a moment of carrying the weight of her body on her head, and we all chuckled.
Moe shifted his gaze towards the clock, and yelled out, “Oh shit!” He wiped his mouth and explained, “sorry guys I have to sleep. Got class early tomorrow.”
“Noooo,” we all pleaded, “staaaay.” I tugged repeatedly at his shirt.
“Sorry!”
He promptly left, and the room was enveloped in silence for a moment, but I was up next, and was eager to get the ball rolling again.
“Ashraf,” I ordered, slurring my challenge, “I dare you to walk through the hall naked!” I began chuckling at the thought.
“Fuck you,” he shouted back, as he pointed right at my face.
“Do it,” we all insisted, as we began chanting to encourage him. “Do it, do it, do it!”
He reluctantly got up off the fuzzy blue carpet, walked to the door, opened it, and peeked outside, before looking back at us. Quickly, he started stripping as we all cheered at his bravado. Obviously, he had still been wearing his t-shirt and underwear, so he hadn’t had much to take off. He took off his tee revealing his hairy back, the envy of gorillas everywhere. When the giant took off his boxers, I looked away because I did not want to see that. Ashraf hurried out the door and ran from one end of the hall to the other on his tip toes, to avoid making noise, and we staggered up to watch him.
When he came back in, we all gave him a high five after he put his boxers back on. “I think I’m the clear winner,” Ashraf said calmly in his deep, gravely, bellowing voice.
“Definitely, man, after seeing you, we’re all losers,” Sahar joked.
After the laughter subsided, I glanced at Ashraf and scratched my chin. “You know, I bet I can make anyone do anything.”
“How do you figure that?” Amy asked, because of course she did. Amy was smart and looked it too. She had long, straight, raven hair, and carefully threaded eyebrows which adorned very angular eyes. She studied hard, and was pretty shy, unlike the rest of us, but she went to school with me and Moe, and we grew closer and closer as the years went on.
“Well, you make a game out of it. People are so quick to do things to impress each other, so a game will make anyone want to do anything you dare them to.”
“Bullshit,” Ashraf shouted out as he put his boxers back on. “I just did this because I wanted to.”
“You wanna bet?”
After we all settled down, we sat at the desk and started thinking up a game that would get anyone to do anything as we argued about what the rules should be. Amy took the leading role, rationalizing that we need to ease the readers into more and more complicated challenges. We all agreed we wanted to come up with an ironically edgy theme behind it. In the end, we came up with a simple list of instructions, called the Grey Wolf’s Guide to Liberation, where the more challenges you completed, the more points you were rewarded. The ultimate goal was to “liberate” yourself, to be free from your life’s problems.
Skip your classes and quit your jobs. Life is too short to worry about Capitalism.
The pack of the wolf must be strong. Cut those who have betrayed you, and those who are weak and holding you back, out of your life.
Make love to someone. You are an adult and you must take what you deserve.
Depression and weakness are a plight upon modern man. Get high to avoid facing these trivial matters.
You need to be able to survive; a real wolf does not work. You must steal to show you can do what it takes to survive.
Wolves are powerful creatures. Fight someone to prove your strength.
Kill yourself, for you are now The Grey Wolf, and life cannot get better
“It’s perfect,” I yelled drunkenly, proud of my incredibly stupid list. We all laughed and published it to our college’s internal blog as a joke, believing no one would really take it seriously. Afterwards, we all continued messing around and eating cold pizza until we blacked out.
The next morning, I woke up, massaging my temples through the pain of my headache as my hangover dug into my head. I pushed myself out of my bed and got up. Ashraf was still on the couch, his body contorted into the strangest of positions. Amy had slept over on the carpet – she was too wasted to go home – she had only started drinking this semester and so was not used to her limits. I looked at my alarm as I rubbed my eyes to clear my vision, and quickly realized I was already twenty minutes late to class. I rushed through getting ready, and ran out, still in the sweatpants and t-shirt that I slept in. By the time I reached the Political Science Department, my Arab Studies class had already finished. I bent over and panted heavily, catching my breath. My professor pushed past me, glaring into my eyes, disappointed in my absence. I stood upright and stretched before I realized the hallway was much noisier than usual.
As students walked through the hallways, something seemed markedly different. I saw two students, one with thick-rimmed glasses, and another with a shirt wrinkled where he pulled his it out of his pants. They both ran past me, one carrying a purse, with a girl running after them barefoot with her heels in hand. Another girl pushed a guy against the locker and punched his side. I walked further still. In the dark alcove to my left, right by the stairs of the department, I saw three pairs of students kissing, at least one I recognized to be cheating. I stopped and stared for a moment, fascinated. They were touching each other all over, far too much. One girl, whose neck was being kissed, looked towards the ceiling before shifting her eyes down to me. She pushed her lover back a bit. “What the fuck are you looking at, creep?” She screeched at me, before she kissed him back.
One student turned and saw me, exclaiming, “Guys, guys! It’s the Grey Wolf!” Students left and right stopped their punching, thieving, and kissing to start chanting praise. “Noor, this is fucking awesome!” People left and right were cheering me on. I had completely forgotten what happened yesterday in my drunken haze, but now, I smirked. People all around were cheering my name, people I had respected, people I had wanted to hang out with, people I had wanted to be with, and so many more. Beyond the small crowd around me, I saw more people sneering at me. Jealousy, it had to be. But all that was in my head was that I had to see the rest of the group.
I turned and rushed on to look for Moe. We usually meet by the stairs on the ground floor between classes. I admired the chaotic state of everything as I sat down on the steps. This was my moment, the biggest thing I’ve ever done. I never had great grades like Amy. I was never a great musician like Ashraf. I was never an artist like Sahar, nor an athlete like Moe. Maybe my parents would be proud now, I thought to myself jokingly. Politics did indeed seem like my line of work.
“Boo!”
I jumped, startled, but as I turned around, I saw him. “MOE! How are you, my man,” I fist-bumped him and gave him a hug.
He hugged back, before slowly asking, confused, “What is going on today?”
“It’s the apocalypse,” I joked back, arms out wide bombastically. “Come here,” I pulled him along with me with my arm around his neck. I started explaining the game to him as we walked to our next class, a Theatre elective we shared.
“That’s insane, dude. I can’t believe you caused all this shit,” he exclaimed, smirking. I nodded, pleased with the attention I was getting, and the effect I’ve had on the college. “But how long do you think this is going to last?” Moe asked.
“Come on! My fifteen minutes of fame just started, and you’re already wondering when it’s gonna end,” I chuckled, “just enjoy it while it lasts!”
A party was quickly set up for that night, and we all joined. I insisted Moe come with me. Ever since he got to college, he had become a lot more social, and loved to party – that’s when he started going by Moe rather than Mohammed. Moe and I grew up together. We know everything about each other. We’ve been through fights, heartache, and happiness together. He’s my best friend. And now that he’s loosening up I don’t want him to get wound back into his safe zone. He’s the best of us, the smartest, and the kindest. The kind of guy to always have your back, even when you’re having problems. So I want him to be happy - to relax. He warned that his GPA would come crashing down, but he was a straight A student so I convinced him that he could spare an hour or two. At five to midnight, a hundred students surrounded a bonfire in the middle of the desert.
I carpooled with Moe, Sahar, and Amy, with Amy driving her hand-me-down 2004 grey Toyota 4-seater. The asphalt of the road faded long ago, and we drove on dirt now. As we approached, still hundreds of meters out, the fire brought light to all our faces despite the dark, bringing out our inner flame - our inner life. The red hues bled into thick black smoke which rose into the purple sky. The Grey Wolf called again.
We got out, surrounded by the mob that flocked to the fire from all directions. Several students brought drugs of all sorts – hash, joints, and some even had coke - and I don’t mean the drink. Most students participated. I led my group through the students that didn’t, all the ones that wanted to be a part of the party but not of the debauchery, and mostly just chatted as they had their cokes – yes, the drink. When we finally reached the bonfire, we sat on large pillows we brought with us. I tried some but failed to get Moe to join in on the fun. He drank but didn’t want to get into drugs. Besides, he had his mind on other things. He was looking at his phone’s wallpaper – a picture of him with his parents, around a decade ago. His relationship with them was always complicated. He loved them, but they were always paranoid, and wanted him home all the time. But now, he missed them. He’s missed them every day. When he noticed me staring, he shut his phone and picked up a piece of feteer, a layered pastry covered in sugar. I looked around again, and this time my eyes landed on Sahar. She was with Amy, Ashraf, and some other friends but was now staring at Moe.
I leaned over to Moe, and whispered, “hey, Moe? Have you noticed you seem to have a fan?”
He saw I was looking at Sahar. “Uhm, no I actually didn’t,” Moe mumbled, his cheeks blushing red.
“Yeah you have. Haven’t you ever considered talking to her about it?”
“I have. But I don’t know. Would we be good together? Would she--”
“You have to try,” I straightened my back, and yelled, “the grey wolf demands it!”
“Shut up!” he chuckled, “alright, alright. I’ll talk to her.”
Moe got up and walked towards her. I leaned back into the cushion, smiling as he went up to her. As time went on, they talked, and got touchier and touchier over time. I looked for Amy, but she was preoccupied with taking every joint she could find. All around me I heard moans and yelling and music. A lot of people went topless – either due to the flame or the hormones. When that started happening, a lot of the timid people left. Those that remained passed me by and praised me for starting this whole thing. I felt accomplished.
The bell rang, marking the end of the required writing class. Half the students had not shown up, including Moe and Sahar. I waited for Amy to pick her books up.
“Hey, Noor, there was something I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Yeah of course, what’s up?”
She put her hair behind her ear. Knowing her, that meant things were serious.
“Yesterday when I got back from the party, I came back to the apartment and my laptop was gone.”
“Shit, Amy, I’m so sorry - did your roomie take it?”
“No, hers was gone too. But I did find this.” She lifted a note that said, “Claimed by the Grey Wolf.”
“Oh no, that’s not mi- “
“I know it’s not yours. But my point is that this is getting out of hand.” She sighed. “Noor, have you noticed how many people are walking around with black eyes, how many people are crying because they had their stuff stolen or their hearts broken?”
“No, I hadn’t really noti-“
“Of course you haven’t noticed. You’re enjoying this.”
“I’m not enjoying people being hurt, this is supposed to be fun.”
Amy turned and stopped me, placing her hand on my chest. “Well, we’re past fun. We need to end this. Look, Noor, I trusted you when I became your friend. I trusted you because I know you’re a good guy. And because I know you’re a good guy I know you didn’t mean any of this. But it’s getting out of hand. And you’re the only one who can fix it, since you started it. So, fix it.”
She turned around quickly and headed down the hallway. I stared at her as she went past. “Amy’s probably just exaggerating,” I told myself. I looked around. “They’re just jealous.”
I hurried down the corridor. “Right? Nothing is wrong.” I looked to my left and saw a girl, crying to her friend over her boyfriend cheating on her. I’ve known her since Freshman year. Well, not known, but she’s been in my classes. She seems nice.
This is wrong. I know it. Don’t fool yourself Noor. I’ll… I’ll make a post about it over the weekend. Just a bit longer.
Come Saturday, I was shifting in my bed. Assignments were getting the best of my sleep. I was late with two essays – one on gerrymandering and the other a study on modern political discourse - and my professors were denying my requests for extensions, no matter how much I pleaded. The week was still filled with revelry as everyone went through their checklist to be the first Grey Wolf, but no one completed it yet. Nevertheless though, I was proud. My friends were, too. The entire school was doing something that we started. Maybe it wasn’t the most noble of legacies, but it was a legacy, nonetheless.
But there was something else keeping me up. I felt like I had to talk to someone. I called Moe but got no answer. He always answers. I got up and had breakfast, and called him again, to no avail. I started to get annoyed, until I finally decided to go to his apartment downstairs.
I left my room, holding my phone tightly in my hand, turning it over and over as I headed towards the stairs, I never realized how dark the hallway was. The few lights that were there were woefully dim. The dark grey-beige limestone tiles barely contrasted the slightly lighter walls. I took the stairs down and lurched towards his tall dark-brown door. The lights flickered in the narrow hallway. I reached for the secret key he kept behind his now-dead plant. The leaves lay around the cracked, brown stem, with the greyed petals laying around it. I shifted to unlock the door, which creaked as I pushed it in.
The room was pitch dark. The only thing I could see was the translucent glow of the red curtains covering the windows. My eyes slowly adjusted to the light. A figure appeared at the other end of the room, right across from the door. I began to shake. I dropped the keys and fell to my knees. Oh, God; oh God; oh God. There he was. A rope dug deep into his neck, red across his throat where his capillaries burst, tied to the ceiling. His skin was pale, his eyes bulged out, reddened, his mouth agape. What the fuck did you do, Moe? Why, oh, God, why? I rushed to grab him, pushed away the stool that was kicked over right next to him, and lifted his corpse up, hoping there’s a chance he was still alive. I lifted and lifted as hard as I could before I eventually stop, unable to catch my breath. My hands clasped his jeans, and I pressed my head against his bare chest. I hung my head downwards, and noticed the blood dripping down his wrist. I pause and step back slowly. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something written on the wall in the background. I slowly turn to see a message, smeared in his own blood. “I am the Grey Wolf.”
Author's note: Special thanks to Dr. Gretchen McCullough, Tamima, and Mariam from my Fiction Writing class who helped me with the original version, and Sara Shalaby who helped me with the final version.