Simon Says by Elizabeth L. Brooks
Simon opens the door and I walk through. There is a flutter low in my belly, a shiver of anticipation.
He closes the door and locks it, ever-careful, before turning to face me. “Well?” he asks. “How many did you get?”
“I got fourteen,” I tell him.
His eyebrows go up, though I doubt he is truly surprised. Our counts never match. “I counted twenty-three violations,” he says mildly.
Whether or not he is surprised, I certainly am. Our violation counts usually only differ by two or three. s**t, twenty-three? And each violation a punishment stroke. Fourteen was already pushing the limits of my endurance—the most I’ve ever taken was seventeen. I swallow hard. “You’re kidding,” I try.
He shakes his head. “Six times you stood to my left,” he counts, “five sel
