We don’t even have to knock. The door is ajar and the whole Minus-One Club is waiting in the D-loop storage room when we get there. The room is larger than I’d have expected, nearly the size of a classroom, jam-packed with extra desks, whiteboards, and random AV equipment, and at the center of it all, an open Ping-Pong table.
“I know you love to mess with me,” Matt says by way of greeting. “But why would you do that to poor Kermit, here?”
“The walking really took it out of me,” I agree, though the truth is I’m more energized than I’ve felt all day.
Janna grins and chucks Matt on the shoulder. “This is what we get for designating Matt as Kermit’s guide.”
Celia waves a Ping-Pong paddle at me. “Come on, Kermit, you get first game.”
“And pick of your opponent,” Patrick adds. “With no advance commentary on our respective skills.”
Janna writes everyone’s initials on one of the whiteboards for scorekeeping.
“I choose Mister No Sense of Direction,” I declare. “I can use that kind of confusion to my advantage.”
“Ooooohh.” Patrick, Janna, and Simon all groan an “oh snap” groan in unison. Celia busts out laughing.
Matt shakes his head. “And to think you all were worried. Kermit here is going to fit in just fine.” He grabs a paddle and points it at me. “You’re on.”
Perhaps I failed to mention: My dad played on his college Ping-Pong intramural team. We have a Ping-Pong table in our basement. I’ve got this.