Once everything had settled down and the appropriate alcoholic toasts drunk, Stephanie raised the question of the overall winner. “Kim,” she commanded, “please fetch the judge.” I grinned and went to find Paul, knowing this was exactly the sort of thing that he hated, but also that he would be too polite to refuse. I dragged his reluctant body into our circle and Stephanie explained the rules and outlined all of the dares. “Now then,” she declared, “having heard all the evidence, and pondered all the implications, which of us is the winner? Who had to overcome the most to finish their dare?” Poor Paul. I felt sorry for him. No matter what he decided, he’d be open to protests and I suddenly regretted getting him involved. But, as I should have known, he was equal to the task. “You’ve all had to fight an uphill battle,” he began, “and you’ve all done amazingly well.
