The Westing Game Novels & Stories

"Who is she?" He glanced at it. A flicker of panic crossed his eyes before he said, coolly, "A friend." I kept my voice from shaking. "Do friends need to kiss?" "She's a Fremorian. That's how they greet," he said, deadpan. I laughed bitterly and pressed the point. "You have prosopagnosia. Tens of thousands filled that concert, and she was in plain black. So how could you spot her right away?" There was a beat of silence before Andrew said, "We grew up together."

The executive chair. West took a seat there as she relaxed her muscles. Lincoln moved his laptop and a few files to the table close to the wall and sat on the couch to work. As he entered the file's info into the laptop, West was playing a video game on his computer. "Double kill" The game echoed in the office and Lincoln turned to look at her but she was too immersed in the game to notice. The two couples were busy with their various activities as West played the game to kill time as she waited for her husband.

“Is it fun to play me?” Stella was exhausted and sounded tired. “You were the one who promised to let me go...” “I did, and I didn’t force you to come back,” Weston replied calmly. Stella closed her eyes. She refused to play this word game with him. “Must you push me to the verge and force me to a dead end?” “Dead end?” Weston answered with a low chuckle devoid of any warmth. “Why would I? I don't have the heart to do that.”

"Are you going easy on me?" Westley was neither humble nor arrogant. "I'm not as good as him." Calvin had lived this long and still loved playing chess. There was no way he couldn't tell. When Zachary came back from the phone call, he teased, "Do you think you can really fool Grandpa?" Westley ignored him and continued playing chess with Calvin. Calvin said, "I won’t play if you don’t take this game seriously." Westley agreed. Zachary stood by, watching. Westley's moves became clearer, and by the end, he won just by an inch.

A cruel sort of poetry, considering what she’s walking into. I turn away before she can sense me watching. The castle’s corridors stretch ahead, whispering secrets in languages that are older than Nyxara herself. I have a script to follow, meet the players, play the fool, let a warrior guide them to their doom. Pretend I’m one of them until they start dying. But my wolf, Alister, keeps glancing back through the glamour. He is restless. The Game begins at sundown, which means I have a few hours left to remind myself what happens when I start to care. I’ve broken that rule before, and the price still stains these walls.

Alexis "Checkmate," I giggled, clapping with excitement after I countered Westin's move. His sour face made me double over in laughter. It was Saturday evening, and we were happy for the weekend. Westin and I sat on a leather couch in the common room, playing chess. Around us were boys and girls with their arms draped around their shoulders, some talking, some stealing kisses. "You're so competitive," he said softly, leaning closer. I became instantly uncomfortable when he fixed his gaze on me. His light brown fringe was against his forehead, partially obscuring his deep blue eyes that went wide with wonder.

Westin screamed in pain as he wriggled all over the ground. “You must have a death wish or something!” “If you can’t get any money by next month, just wait till your company goes bankrupt!” Ronnie chuckled coldly before turning around. “You can’t go, Harley…!” Westin stumbled off the ground, covering his face. He wanted to speak up, but he was sent flying a few feet away by Ronnie’s kick again. “Aaagh!” Westin happened to roll right beside Harvey. What a horrible sight. At this point, it wouldn’t be exaggerating to call him an outcast.

“Oh great! So you’re insane AND delusional! Fantastic!” “If I can just find a hardware store nearby, I can get started on a prototype. It really doesn’t seem so hard.” Weston, in lieu of an answer, starts to close the books displayed around Millan on the floor. “Hey! I’m reading those! I just have to put down a plan first... Will you please stop?” Millan tries to get the books back, but Weston’s way too strong and keeps getting the upper hand, shoving them on the shelves.

They’re about to, and Jackson looks a bit out of it. “How’s he doing?” I ask, eyeing the kid. “He’s worn out.” “Is he normally this tired at nine-thirty?” Weston shakes his head. “He’s usually a night owl,” he says and then his eyes cloud with worry. “Why? Is something wrong?”

Sitting on the bed, I prepare myself for what he knows. "So, there are two things. The Wolf Game is what you have seen where the werewolves fight. It actually has a name. People refer to it as the game, mostly, ‘The Wolf Game’." For it to have a name means this isn't small and simple. "What else did you find out?" "We might not need a test to confirm who you are. I'm getting information on the wolves that are kept there on show. Amazing fact: people pay hundreds to go in and see those wolves!"