"Try winning next time!"

It’s the next day.

The summer sun shines down on the beautiful Upknott College campus. Oak trees shade lush green lawns. Duckponds glimmer. Roses turn their faces heavenward. Students flock in and out of eighteenth-century stone buildings, so enthused by their surroundings that they’re actually excited to go to class.

You and Meg sit side-by-side on a stone bench, watching the crowds. Meg’s still trying to process what she saw last night. “Did you really make that happen?” she says. “How?”

“It’s just how being a demon works.”

“And there’s, like, no limit to your powers?”

“I wouldn’t say that. I can’t destroy the universe, or usurp the throne of God, or even do anything particularly humiliating to men. But, within my sphere of influence, my powers are certainly very poorly defined.”

“So you couldn’t, like… embarrass straight guys by making them do gay stuff?”

“No, there’s a completely different demon for that. Legitimate area of interest, but it’s not my style.”

“Oh, well. Doesn’t hurt to ask. About the game…”

“Yes?”

“Have we always had this tradition?”

“What tradition?”

“The one where any Upknott College women’s sports team who loses a game on home ground has to perform the away team’s forfeit of choice? You know, to motivate them? And the away team always makes sure the forfeit is really embarrassing?”

“Oh, that tradition,” you say, as the Upknott Unicorns come walking down the old stone path that winds around the old stone buildings, crossing every major lawn and describing a loop that takes in every important landmark and well-trafficked public space on campus. Students call it Molly’s Folly, after a legend about a nineteenth-century female student who lost a bet. “Yes, you’ve always had it.”

“But have we always always had it?”

“Now you have.”

“Can you actually change the past? Because the implications of that are…”

“Don’t think too hard about it. You’ll only get confused. Anyway, you’re missing the show!”

Whistles and cries of “Loser!” ring out as the Unicorns, biting their lips, squirming, led by furiously blushing Jo, come walking down the path. In nothing but bras, panties and basketball shoes. Shoelaces tied together. Hands on their heads. The whole campus is on hand to point and laugh at the five girls’ walk of shame as they shuffle slowly down the track.

“Oh,” says Meg, watching them pass by. “Wow.” She puts her hand to her mouth to control a giggle, and flashes Jo a sweet smile. The angry brunette shoots her a vicious glare, which is robbed of any element of menace by the fact that she’s wearing only her white sports bra and yesterday’s hot pink thong. “Nice undies, Jo! Looking cute! Try winning next time!”

“Nerd! Shut up!”