The Initiation Game

It was, at first glance, a simple task. Some would say it ranged between child's play and a teenage boy's dare. Something that could be easily completed but once attempted, you would be quick to realize it was a mistake.

It was some club Piper was peer pressured to join. She hardly remembered what it was even for or who was in it anymore. All she knew was she had gone too deep - and now the night was here. The very night she had been dreading. Initiation. Or, as they liked to call it - the Initiation Game. Not for the faint of heart, and the word game just scared her even more. Rules were simple: follow the task to the point, have no outside assistance, and don't get caught. As soon as Piper had heard the words ‘don't get caught’ it clicked in her head. This was no ordinary task she was about to embark on.

She slipped in the gate. Horrified by the creaking sound it made as she eased it shut. Every branch she snapped or breath she breathed she felt as though Indiana Jones-style traps would spring up from the ground. Shoot her with lasers or scoop her up in a net. But that was why she chose the famous Leonardo Dicaprio home. He was out on holiday - so hopefully security was at least unmanned. Left to cameras.

That's right. Leonardo - the Leonardo Dicaprio. She was stalking like an amateur half-drunk ninja across Leonardo Dicaprio’s more than luxurious backyard. Slipping past the pool deck. Through the curiously trimmed hedges. Twelve-year-old Piper would have just been marveling at every trace of the famous actor. But this Piper was on a mission.

She had been told barely two hours ago what her job was. Break into (actually they had said sneak into but she could hardly tell the difference now) a house and steal nothing but a fork. Plastic, metal, gold, or silver - it just had to be an actual fork. Now, why they felt the need to spice things up she had no idea. But they handed her a small list of papers and addresses and told her to choose from the list. The list consisted of nothing but celebrity houses. Jenifer Lopez, Nicolas Cage, you name it. Anyone within the Hollywood Hills. She could still feel that sinking in her gut from the moment she’d been handed those papers.

Finally, she arrived at the back door. She paused, looking at the huge sliding doors up and down. Nearly triple the size, and floor-to-ceiling glass. Even with all those glittering lights turned off, she could see inside. Rich colored furniture, huge light fixtures, and art that was probably worth more than her studio apartment and car. She sank into the corner, making sure the back door camera was facing its blind spot. Which was small but she would take it.

Thank the lord they had given her a kit to get inside. Some sort of motion sensor disarming device, and, as she ducked inside, she had a strange feeling she was not the first one to use it.

The door gracefully shut behind her and the emotions hit her like a tidal wave. She was inside. Inside a house that was most definitely not hers - not even a friend. It belonged to a man who lived in the limelight. Rich beyond comprehension. Someone who seemed to reside in news feeds and movie posters and limousines. Simply speaking his name could spark up a conversation of all kinds. Connected to that one sinking boat or Great Gadsby at one point or another. And there she was. Standing like a deer in the headlights on his imported Italian rug.

“Kitchen. Get to the kitchen.” She whispered, almost dizzy. Piper could imagine the headlines when she was inevitably busted. ‘California girl breaks into the Dicaprio Home’.

Stalking down the first hall she could find, she emerged into a great space. Without a question, she knew it was the main area. Kitchen and dinner on one end and a small living room. Furnished similarly to the back patio sunroom. Classy and modern and oozing with wealth. The house had the vibes of a French villa mixed with smooth Arizona stucco, and the inside reflected this style. Rod iron staircase railings and glossy pained windows. Luxurious draperies. It was breathtaking, even in the half-lit darkness.

She paced to the kitchen. Careful not to step on any rugs or touch any piece of furniture. She made her way around the island, which was easily bigger than her own living room. When she reached out to begin looking through drawers, she drew in a sharp breath. Her hands were shaking like a leaf, completely jello. Piper couldn't get her mind to sit still. Her heart to beat at a normal pace in her chest. She could hear a pin drop in the eerie silence and jump out of her skin. Cars driving by on the street made her hold her breath, watching headlights dance through the ceiling.

And all of this - for a fork.

She stumbled through the first set of drawers. Frantic. Until finally she got it. The Silverware drawer. She yanked it open. Saw it was filled with surprisingly normal-looking cutlery. No fancy gold-laced spoons or glittering forks. She fingered the butter knives. Gliding her hands over until they wrapped around a lone fork. So small and frail, she felt the weight in her hands as she lifted it from its groove. ‘How many famous mouths have touched this…’ she thought, turning it over. It felt as though she was holding a billion-dollar sculpture - not a fork Leo’s assistant probably picked up at an Ikea. Which made her feel just slightly less guilty.

Piper shoved it into her pocket before she could think too much about it. Eased the drawer shut - and turned to trace back down the hallway. Back out of the yard and down the street to her car. Peel out and never look back - that was the plan.

Before every single light snapped on in a flash.

Footsteps. Lights. A distant door shut. Piper could physically feel her heart skip at least four beats. Her stomach froze like ice in her gut. She looked around frantically, the footsteps only approached faster and faster.

She bolted on the balls of her feet to the nearest door. Dove inside a bit louder than she hoped, and shut the door. Her breaths were heavy now, as she had just summited a mountain. Luckily it was a bedroom, with a small door leading to the front yard. It would have to do.

She unlocked it and ran. Tearing across the yard like a frantic ding dong ditcher with everything to lose. Cursing the day she decided to make friends with people involved in niche gangs that steal famous forks.

Sure enough, there was a limo parked in the drive, idling. Driver standing post by the door, no passengers as far as she could see. She ran harder, closing the last bit of distance before hopping the little stone wall. Crashing down onto the street. Laying flat on her back without thinking twice.

Piper slipped her hand into her pocket. Pulled the stupid fork from that void with an as exasperated glare. Held it up into the air above her like Simba.

“One Leonardo Dicaprio fork. Check.”

“I'm sorry - what?”

Piper sat bolt upright. Head whipped around to see a boy her age kneeling behind her. He jumped too - having thought she fainted.

His eyes traced back from her, the fork, and back. Moments strung along like time was suspended in honey. Piper could feel her chest tightening. Caught.

Until the boy grinned. And pulled her to her feet.

“Come on - let's get you outta here.”