-10 C is like 14 F.

These things always start out harmless enough. Some beers, some guys playing videogames, just normal stuff to do before classes start again. If I had normal friends, the worst that could happen is maybe someone would puke on the carpet and pass out. No big deal, especially when you have a carpet that already looks like it’s been puked on by a dozen other guys.

Sure, we’d all probably have hangovers in the morning, and maybe there’d be some more vomit to wipe up, but eighteen-year-olds have the knowledge to deal with that kind of situation. It’s, like, instinctive, or the product of evolution. Something like that.

The point is, if you’re in university and you don’t live in a cave, stuff like that happens all the time, to pretty much everybody. What doesn’t happen to everybody, when they’re innocently drinking and playing Ultimate Burnout 8, is to have their roommate suddenly decide that now is the perfect time to go grocery shopping and restock on junk food and pop. Even if there’s only three of you and you’re all definitely unfit to drive – I’m trying to keep my possible run-ins with cops to a minimum, even if the entire police force of Saskatoon probably doesn’t know my parents’ number – and the grocery store’s an hour’s walk away. But my roommate’s a ninja, or he thinks he is. Ninjas are resourceful.

In this case, resourceful meant dropping his controller and running out of the apartment to hammer on the door to number 307 and loudly, cheerfully invite our neighbour to hang out with us. And act as the designated driver.

We have three neighbours. Two of them are totally certifiable and think we’re gay. Ray got the third one, who’s never asked me if I’m gay, but is strangely willing to help out Ray whenever he asks, so the jury’s still out on certifiable.

Sarah Montgomery. She has classes with Ray, has met me all of twice, and doesn’t know the third member of our party, my best friend Dustin, at all. But all Ray does is ask and grin and crack a few jokes, and she agrees.

She’s cute, anyway.

Which is why it’s almost ten, only a couple of days into the new year, and I’m standing in the ethnic food aisle of Saskatoon’s biggest grocery store with a crazy half-Japanese ninja-wannabe, a self-inflicted mute genius, and a cute girl I barely know. Right now, besides really hating the complete lack of sanity that is my life, I’m wishing Ray had thought of food before he started drinking.

“These look good,” Ray says cheerfully as he tossed a plastic packet in the basket I’ve ended up carrying, because I wasn’t smart enough to be several steps ahead when Ray seized one on entering the store.

“‘White rabbit candy’?” I read the only English words on the packet. There’s a picture of an artificially cheerful white rabbit with a bow around its neck. I frown. “Is this some kind of weird Japanese drug in disguise?”

“It’s Chinese,” Ray says, not answering my actual question. He’s already moved on, looking for some new horror, and we follow, because that’s just what you do when you’re with Ray. You don’t really have a choice.

“And the drugs, Ray?” Sarah asks with absolute patience.

Wonder of wonders, Ray answers.

Sort of.

“Drugs? It’s candy. What does candy have to do with drugs?” Ray asks, not seeming very interested in the answer as he braces one hand on Dustin’s head and half-climbs the shelf to get something suspicious and squishy from the top shelf.

Which is really stupid, because the shelves? Not that high.

“It’s a reference to a children’s book, Ray,” Sarah says in the tone of one who knows they’re looking at a lost cause.

“Uh huh.” Ray’s tuned her out, jumping down from the shelf and tossing his latest find in the basket.

It lands with an unpleasant, sloshing sound.

I try not to look at it.

“Alice in Wonderland had a distinct lack of ninjas in it,” I say as Ray darts down the aisle and back again, bumping into harried, late-night shoppers. “It probably wasn’t part of his training curriculum.”

Sarah shakes her head, making her hair do really pretty things around her face, as Ray drops a bag of innocent-looking cookies and something in opaque packaging that crunches when he throws it in the basket. “Is he always like this when he isn’t studying?”

The way she says it, you’d think Ray and studying were things I’d commonly associate. Why shatter an illusion like that? If she knows how rarely Ray actually picks up a textbook, she’ll probably never come near us again. “Not always,” I shrug. “Usually he’s worse.”

Well, I can’t lie outright, can I? She’d find out and then I’d be screwed.

“Is it a ninja thing?” she asks dubiously as Ray starts climbing the shelf again, this time without Dustin’s help.

“I think it’s a Ray thing.” I sigh. If there really are ninjas, I pity Japan if they’re anything like Ray. “Come on, we better make sure he doesn’t fall.” I grab Dustin’s arm – he’s just standing, staring at a weird collection of tiny plastic containers that look for all the world like grape jelly – and walk quickly to where Ray’s being glared at by an irritated old woman.

Sarah follows, nearly running to keep up.

She probably thinks I’m an inconsiderate asshole. Unless she thinks I’m sweet for not wanting to see my roommate’s brains spread over the tiles of a grocery store. Whatever, as long as she doesn’t think I’m gay.

I let go of Dustin, who takes a few staggering steps back, then calmly takes the grocery basket from my hand. He’s weird, my best friend, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t helpful. With both hands free I can grab the back of Ray’s jacket and snag the can he’s reaching for.

Hooray absurd height.

I yank on the jacket. Ray quickly lets go of the shelf he’s clinging to and falls. He lands on his feet, carefully balanced. Like a cat. A stupid, stupid cat.

“What was that for?” he asks indignantly. He brushes at his jacket like the short fall has somehow damaged it and its red-and-black, eye-burning glory.

“For being stupid.” I toss the can in Dustin’s direction, aiming for the basket. It bounces off his knee and rolls to a smooth stop in front of Sarah’s feet. Four years of high school basketball, and this is what I have to show for it. Oh yeah. Erik, you are the sex machine. I wish I hadn’t thrown that can. Not that I care about the whole looking like an idiot thing. I’m resigned to that. But it would have been really satisfying if the can had, by some freak of physics, bounced off something to hit Ray in the head. I settle for aiming a crappy punch at his forehead. I grind my knuckles against it. He makes a face and swats my arm away. “Really stupid,” I emphasize. I am so eloquent. “You can reach the top shelf from the floor, you idiot.” Sarah could probably just about reach the shelf if she stood on her toes. “Why climb up there and risk bringing the entire damn thing crashing down when you can reach it from the floor?”

Ray stares at me sympathetically. He makes his dark eyes wide and soulful and all that stupid shit he likes to fake to make other people look bad. He puts a hand on my shoulder and pats. Heavily. I twitch. “Oh, Thor.” He sighs. Shakes his head. “It’d be boring otherwise. We really need to work on your sense of adventure someday.”

Ray releases my shoulder, finally, and walks over to where Dustin and Sarah are standing and staring at us. Well, Sarah’s staring. Dustin’s head is craned upwards. He’s counting spots on the ceiling.

Sarah hands the can of evil to Ray with an embarrassed smile on her face. Because of him? Me? The fact that she’s in public with us?

“Does Thor do things like that often?”

Me. Aw shit.

“Sometimes, sometimes.” Ray shakes his head sadly and tossed the can in the basket – perfect shot – which he then takes from Dustin. He continues down the aisle like that, grabbing things without looking at them. “It’s not his fault, you know. Being a Viking raised in the isolated wilderness, well, that kind of thing effects you. The city’s strange and frightening to his sheltered young mind. Really, he’s just like a child sometimes – ”

Sarah laughs. It’s not really a totally comfortable laugh, but it’s still a laugh.

He’s the unthreatening one why?

Dustin lowers his eyes from the ceiling to shrug at me.

Too true. “Come on, let’s not loose them. They’re our ride back.”

Dustin’s mouth twitches.

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t put anything past Ray. If anyone could do it, he could.”

Another warning twitch.

I glare and feel my face getting hot. Shit! “Shut up, man. That’s not even funny.”

Dustin’s been my best friend since we were four. Well, he was four. I was three. Stupid birthday . . . And yeah, I’d be lost without him, maybe, and he’s definitely better company than Ray any hour of the day. But sometimes, I really wonder why I haven’t kicked his stupid perceptive ass. Still, he knows when to quit and quits now, shoving his hands deep into parka pockets and following the others.

Half the lights in the store suddenly go off and we are politely told by a disembodied voice to come back at some hour of the morning I’m not sure actually exists because as of now, the store is closed.

“Ray, maybe we should hurry up and pay for this stuff.” Sarah suggests, walking encouragingly toward a till.

“Just a minute!” Ray drops the grocery basket. “Still don’t have any drinks,” he says, as though we haven’t had enough already. He runs past me and Dustin, back down the aisle. After a minute, I pick up the basket before someone trips on it.

“Maybe we should get in line, before Ray gets back?” Sarah suggests, staring after him.

“Might be a good idea. Dustin, you got your wallet with you?”

Dustin nods.

“Right, then. Let’s – ”

Ray returns at a run. He uses my back to break. Moron! I groan and pick up some things that fell out of the basket when the master of stealth ran into me.

“I found something to drink!” Ray announces. He grabs the basket from me and waves a six-pack of cans below my nose. I squint and try to focus on the writing.

No way. That can’t be right.

“Grass jelly?” Sarah asks. She sounds horrified.

Shit. “I thought you wanted drinks. We already have some freaky little jelly things in there.”

“This is a drink!” Ray glares and waves the cans at me again. “Listen!”

With a sigh I bend over and listen to the sound Ray’s constant shaking of the cans produces.

I blanch.

It’s definitely the sloshing sound you get of liquid against aluminum.

Mostly.

“Ray, I’m really not sure – ”

“Sense of adventure, Thor. Sense of adventure!” Ray grins up at me and kicks the person standing in front of us in the back of the knee. The guy doubles over in pain, clutching at his leg. And, while making a sort of tutting noise, Ray pushes up to the till and dumps the contents of the basket on the counter, followed by the cans of grass jelly.

Sarah and I help the guy to his feet again, apologizing and with Sarah hissing “Ray!” in an accusing manner. But the guy doesn’t seem to have noticed the bit where Ray’s booted foot connected solidly with the back of his leg. He just thanks us for our help and gets behind us in line.

And Ray’s done and clutching a bulging, threatening bag and heading for the doors. He’s whistling.

We follow him.

The parking lot is big, dark, and icy, full of a lot of impatient people trying to get out. It takes us a while to find Dustin’s car in the darkness, and when we do, Ray sits on the hood instead of going to one of the doors.

Keys in hand, Sarah frowns. “C’mon Ray, let’s go.”

“It’s not cold out,” Ray says.

It’s not. It’s really warm for January. Like, -10 or something, but that has nothing to do with anything. “Ray, no one wants to hang out in the parking lot all night. It’s creepy. It’s stupid. Let’s just go back and play games, eh?”

“We will.” Ray waves a finger at Sarah and me, scolding. “But first!” He pulls out the cans from the grocery bag. “First, we drink.”

I groan. “Ray!”

“I don’t move until we drink.”

“This is stupid. We can just get in the car and drive off, even with you there, y’know. You wouldn’t be hurt or anything.”

“I dunno, Thor. I mean, it is pretty icy . . .”

I groan again. A quick look at Dustin shows that he’s not going to be any help, either. He’s looking at the sky, trying to see the stars through the clouds and bright glare of city lights. “Fine. Whatever. Let’s make this quick. I wanna go back home.”

“No sense of adventure.” Ray sighs sadly and hands each of us a can.

“This is stupid,” I say, staring at my can.

“Stupidity is part of adventure, Thor. If people went around being smart and cautious all the time, nothing interesting would ever happen, and we’d all still be living in caves.” Ray smiles and pops the top of his can.

“How bad can it be?” Sarah asks, staring at her can.

It’s grass jelly. How good can it be?

Ray drinks first, because no one else wants to. He tilts his head back, the can pressed against his lips, and drinks. And drinks. He drains the entire can without pausing for breath. He doesn’t shudder or flinch. He doesn’t gag. He doesn’t wipe his mouth on the sleeve of his jacket when he’s done.

How bad can it be?

Dustin goes next. I think he’s bored. He brings the can to his lips and drinks with the slow, vacuum-like suction he uses when draining a can of beer. When he brings the can down, empty, he does a full body shudder and gags.

It’s bad. Oh fuck, is it going to be bad.

Warily, I open my can at the same time Sarah does. Our eyes meet. It might have the potential to be romantic, if we weren’t standing in a parking lot, in January, with Ray and Dustin watching us, holding cans of grass jelly.

“Look at it this way,” Sarah says, sweetly, rationally, and trying to deny the pain that’s going to be her immediate future, “it’s not going to kill us.”

“Probably.” If there was a fatal beverage in the store, Ray would have found it. Optimism has never been one of my strong points, anyway. But, because Sarah’s lifting her can, I lift mine.

I cross my eyes to stare down at the can as I bring it to my lips.

I hate Ray so, so much.

I shut my eyes.

Tilt my head back.

Tip the can.

Warm, muddy, grass, watery, revolting liquid fills my mouth. I open my eyes and look down. Sarah’s drinking. She hasn’t spit anything out. I swallow, I swallow, I swallow.

I want to die.

And then it hits. The thing that made the discordant noise in the can.

A blobby, slimy, gelatinous lump. It’s like the liquid condensed, compacted, and then lubricated. It’s practically chewable. And more are coming the further down the can I go.

Oh fuck.

But Sarah’s still drinking, so I keep drinking. And Ray finished the can. So did Dustin.

Ray finished the can. I’m finishing the can if it kills me.

I swallow, I swallow, I . . .

Gag.

Drop the can.

Double over.

Am messily, embarrassingly, humiliatingly sick all over the ice and snow.

When I lift my head, I know I’m blushing. This is beyond embarrassing.

Sarah’s spitting and wiping at her mouth, trying to get rid of the taste, I guess. But at least she didn’t throw up.

She’s not looking directly at me.

Fuck.

Dustin gives me a pat on the back and gestures to the car, slipping me a Kleenex as he does, so I can wipe my mouth, I guess. And chin.

I look down.

And, apparently, my boots.

Fuck.

Ray, drunken mastermind of the East, is still sitting on the hood of the car. He balances his empty can on one knee. He has his chin in his hand, and is looking at me, clearly feeling moved to deep contemplation after my display of bodily functions. As I wipe my chin clean, he lowers his hand. He has, apparently, come to some kind of conclusion. He licks his lips. Opens his mouth.

“Vikings have a natural allergy to grass, I guess.”

In the morning, Raymund Fujimoto dies.