The largest wall was covered with memorabilia from Games for Good, including the sign from his Built kiosk, autographed by all the judges, even Naomi Ryan.
Looking at it made her sad. Allie had loved her Click’d kiosk sign, but she never even thought to save it. She certainly didn’t ask anyone to autograph it.
She turned back to Nathan. “What did you want to show me?”
“That.” Nathan pointed at a tall stack of boxes in the corner next to his closet.
Allie walked over to get a better look. Each box had a logo on one side. They were all from gaming companies. Clothing companies. Shoe companies. One of the bigger boxes had that telltale red-and-white Supreme logo on one side. “Is this the stuff from the sponsors?”
“Yep.”
Nathan had told Allie all about the gifts when they first started arriving, but he hadn’t mentioned anything in a while and she’d forgotten all about them.
For about a month or so after Games for Good, Nathan was a bit famous. He was interviewed on local TV stations and in the newspaper, and for two weeks solid, Built trended in the top spot on the Spyglass Games website. Companies started paying to sponsor billboards in his game, just like he hoped they would.
But eventually, he ran out of billboards, and he had to start a waiting list. That’s when companies began sending him things, like shoes, clothes, and gaming equipment in hopes of improving their chances. Nathan hadn’t even asked for any of it; the boxes just started showing up on his doorstep.
Allie had been jealous at the time. She hadn’t been in any of the news coverage. No one had interviewed her. She didn’t get a single surprise gift.
“Why is this all just sitting here?”
Nathan shrugged. “I don’t know. I kept a lot of the clothes, but I really don’t need the rest of this stuff. The shoes don’t even fit me. It used to make me happy—but now, it . . . doesn’t really.”
Allie looked at him, realizing for the first time how much things had changed. She never stopped to consider how it must have felt when those packages stopped coming, or how it felt to be someone, until you suddenly weren’t.
“I keep thinking I should sell it,” Nathan said.
Allie began to realize where he was going with this. “Really?” she asked, eyes wide.
He squared his shoulders. “Don’t get too excited. I’m not selling it all on Swap’d when I can make a small fortune selling it to total strangers online. But I figured it would be fun to sell one or two things. I thought you could help me decide.”
Allie looked at him sideways. “Are you serious?”
He nodded.
She returned her attention to the stack, scanning up and down. If she owned two or three of those things, she would have been able to sell them and buy Courtney’s plane ticket all by herself. She pushed the thought from her mind. Nathan was doing something nice for her. Something really, really nice.
“People seem to like those game controllers,” she said. “There was a fierce battle for a Supreme sweatshirt today. I bet you could get a lot of money for that T-shirt or the beach towel. And I can name ten sneakerheads who will fight over those Adidas.”
“Done.” Nathan pulled one of the controller boxes from the stack, and then reached for one of the Adidas boxes. The stack wobbled like a Jenga game.
He tossed the two boxes onto his bed, and then brushed his hands together. “I’ll post the controller tonight and the shoes tomorrow. I’ll save the Supreme stuff for Monday . . . make all those hype beasts wait for it.” He winked at her.
Allie stared at him. “Why are you doing this for me?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know . . . Swap’d looks like fun. All this stuff is just sitting here. And, I guess, I could use the money.”
“So, you’re doing it for purely selfish reasons?”
“Why else would I do it?” Nathan folded his arms across his chest.
Allie raised an eyebrow.
“Okay, fine,” Nathan said. “I’m not doing it for completely selfish reasons.”
“No?”
“See, my computer science tablemate keeps going on and on about this friend of hers named Courtney.” Nathan rolled his eyes. “It’s so annoying. This Courtney person is all she ever talks about. Courtney this, and Courtney that. CodeGirls camp, and the Fishbowl, and gummy worms. Seriously, it makes it hard to concentrate.”
Allie pressed her lips together, suppressing a grin. “Sounds horrible.”
“It is. Trust me.”
Allie looked at him. “Thank you.”
He nodded. And then he held her gaze for a moment. “I saw what you did in the final auction.” He spit the words out quickly, as if he’d been weighing whether or not he should say them.
“What do you mean?” Allie asked.
“The tutoring . . .”
She felt her face get hot. She tried to play it off. “I know,” she said. “It’s silly, right? I need the money, and I’m running out of my own stuff to sell, so Zoe convinced me to sell tutoring sessions—”
“To SurfSup?” he asked, cutting her off.
“Well, that’s who won, so . . . yeah.”
“Because that’s who you wanted to win.”
Allie’s stomach dropped. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure you do. There were a few seconds left in the auction. And then . . .” He snapped his fingers. “There were zero.”
Allie couldn’t speak. Her chest felt tight. She wiped her palms on her jeans and tried to play it cool. How did he know?
“Hey, it’s okay,” Nathan continued. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. And don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”
But that wasn’t the point. He knew she cheated. She wasn’t embarrassed, she was mortified.
“So . . . who is he?” A playful grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. It was so kind, so disarming, Allie felt the heat begin to leave her cheeks.
“I can’t tell you that. Everyone’s a secret in Swap’d.”
“But you like him.”
The flush had barely left and it was already back again. “What makes you say that?”
“Because of the look on your face right now.”
Allie scolded herself for being so transparent. “I guess . . . I mean, I think so. Zoe says he’s really nice, but I’ve barely talked to him. I trip over my tongue every time I try.”
Nathan started cracking up. “You?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“It’s just a little depressing, that’s all. You’re always so confident. If you can’t talk to a guy, there is, like, zero chance I’ll ever be able to talk to a girl.”
“Oh, come on, you talk to me. I’m a girl.”
“That doesn’t count.”
She put her hands on her hips. “How do I not count?”
“I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just . . . you’re Allie. I’ve known you since kindergarten. You’re my friend, so it’s just . . . easy, I guess.”
The words made Allie feel a little bit sad, but she wasn’t sure why. They were true. And she felt the same way about him. Nathan was her friend. It was easy to talk to him. Everything about them was easy. If only she felt the same way around Marcus, she wouldn’t have to sell tutoring sessions or cheat to make sure he won.
“So what are you going to leave in the locker for him tomorrow?”
Allie hadn’t even thought about that part. “Do I have to leave him something?”
“What if he goes to the locker and there’s nothing there?”
Nathan was right. And for $28, Marcus should probably find something waiting for him. Something that told him that the next three days were going to be fun.
“I’ll think of something,” Allie said.
“Okay, but . . . how are you going to do the lessons when he can’t know who you are?”
“By text and phone call.” Allie told him all about her notebook she’d saved from the previous year, and then pulled out her phone and sho
wed him the picture she’d taken earlier. “This is everything he’ll be tested on.”
Nathan looked over her shoulder while Allie translated the items on the list. “Apple, train schedule, wrench, balloon . . .”
“So, basic household stuff,” Nathan said.
That gave Allie an idea. She turned to Nathan. “What if I leave these items in the locker, and then use them to teach the lessons?”
“I like it.” He walked over to his desk and opened the top drawer. “Here, I’ll get you started,” he said, handing Allie a wrinkled train schedule.
She took it. And then she looked at the list again. “Got any apples?”
Nathan was already heading for the door. “Let’s go check.”
The fruit bowl in Nathan’s kitchen was full. He grabbed a bright red apple off the top and tossed it to Allie. “What’s next?”
She pointed at the cabinet where he’d gone for a glass when she first arrived. “Have a coffee mug?”
“Yep.” He grabbed a black-and-orange San Francisco Giants mug off the second shelf and set it on the counter next to the apple.
Allie looked over the list again. “Wrench?”
“Follow me.” They walked into the living room, through the laundry room, and out into the garage.
“Whoa,” Allie said as the door closed behind her. It was the cleanest garage Allie had ever seen. Half of the floor was painted white, but the other half was carpeted and filled with exercise equipment. The walls were lined with shelves and cabinets, and everything was labeled. It looked nothing like her garage, which looked, well, like a garage.
Nathan stepped up to a tall red tool cabinet and opened a drawer marked with the word “wrenches.” “Take your pick,” he said, stepping back so Allie could get a good view. She studied her choices, and then reached for the smallest one, figuring it was the least likely to be missed.
Nathan spun a slow three-sixty, scanning the shelves and cabinets for anything else on the list, and then came to a stop. “Didn’t you need a shovel?” he asked, pointing at a shelf filled with gardening tools.
She dug around in the plastic bin until she found a small shovel with a blue handle. She took a step back and looked around Nathan’s garage again. On the highest shelf, she spotted a plastic tub marked with the word “Camping.”
“Think there’s a flashlight in there?” she asked.
“Knowing my mom, there are probably a dozen of them.”
Nathan grabbed a small ladder, and Allie steadied it while he climbed to the top, reached for the box, and carefully lowered it into Allie’s hands. She set it on the ground, removed the cover, and searched inside, digging under the paper plates, extra utensils, bug spray, and campfire tools, until she found what she was looking for: a plastic bag filled with a bunch of small flashlights in various colors.
“Told you,” Nathan said.
Allie took a green one out of the bag. She pressed the button to be sure it worked, and it cast a bright light on the wall. “Why do you have so many flashlights?”
“You always need flashlights when you’re camping.”
Allie shrugged as she clicked it off. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been camping.”
“What?” Nathan asked. “Never?”
“Yeah. Why? Is there something wrong with that?”
“There are so many things wrong with that, I don’t even know where to start.”
“Well, you can start by telling me why camping requires so many flashlights.”
Nathan shook his head, like he couldn’t believe he had to explain this. “Well, it’s dark, and you need to be able to get around at night. My mom puts them all over the campsite and in the tents, so you can always find one.” He reached into the bag, grabbed a red one, and flicked it on. “And, of course, you need them for ghost stories.”
She stared at him. “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t you like ghost stories?”
Allie nodded. “Of course I do. Emma, Maddie, Zoe, and I tell them every time we have a sleepover.”
“And you don’t know they’re, like, ten times better with a flashlight?” He walked to the light switch, flicked it off, and then used the light to lead the way. When they reached the carpet, he stretched out, flat on his back, and patted the spot next to him. Allie settled in. “Okay,” he said, “I’ll go first.”
He shined the light on the wooden beams above them. “Are you ready?” he whispered.
“I don’t know,” she whispered back. “I guess so.”
He let the silence fill the room. And then, in a low, soft voice, he began. “A teenage girl was babysitting for a new family. Before the parents left, the mom told her that both kids had been having nightmares. She asked her to watch TV in the guest room after she put them to bed so she could hear them if they woke up.”
He paused. Allie stared straight up at the ceiling, waiting for him to continue.
“Later that night, the babysitter put the kids to sleep,” he said. “And then she went into the guest room, sat on the bed, turned on the TV, and started flipping through the channels. But she was having a hard time relaxing because of this creepy, life-size clown statue in the corner of the room.
“After a while, she couldn’t take it anymore,” Nathan continued. “She went downstairs and called the mom to ask if she could watch TV in the living room instead. The mom said that was fine, but then asked her why. The babysitter told her that the clown statue was creeping her out too much. There was silence on the other end of the line. And then the mom said, ‘Go upstairs, get the children, and take them next door. Right now. I’ll stay with you on the phone.’ The babysitter did as she was told. When she was safely at the neighbor’s, the mom calmly said, ‘We don’t have a clown statue.’ ”
After he delivered the last line, Nathan let out a loud, evil laugh as he brought his hand down slowly over the beam so it looked like a hand reaching down to grab them. Allie shrieked and jumped to her feet. Her heart was beating fast, but she couldn’t stop giggling.
“See,” Nathan said, cracking up. “So much better with a flashlight.”
Allie covered her eyes.
“Okay, your turn.”
Her heart was still racing as she settled back into her spot on the floor. He handed her the flashlight and she shined it straight up, like he had. Allie stayed still, letting the silence build tension before she began.
“It was late at night, and a couple was driving down a dark road when they noticed a young woman hitchhiking.” Allie spoke slowly, keeping her voice low. “The couple decided to pull over, and the young woman climbed into the backseat. She thanked them and gave them an address that was only a mile away.”
Allie kept the beam fixed on the ceiling, just like Nathan had.
“As they drove, the couple tried to make polite conversation, but the young woman didn’t say a word. They reached the address and the driver stopped the car. He turned around. There was no one there. The couple had no idea what to do, so they agreed to go up to the house and knock on the door. An elderly woman greeted them, and they told her all about the young woman who had asked for a ride. ‘She matches my daughter’s description exactly,’ the woman said. ‘But . . . my daughter was killed in a car accident many years ago, almost exactly a mile up the road.’ ”
Allie let out a loud, maniacal laugh as she slowly lowered her hand over the beam. Nathan knew what to expect, of course, but that didn’t stop him from shrieking in terror and curling up into a ball. That made Allie crack up.
When they were finally able to catch their breaths again, Nathan said, “Okay, what’s next?”
“You want another ghost story? I have a bunch of them.”
“I meant, what’s next on your list?”
Allie looked at him, confused.
“SurfSup?”
“Right,” she said, suddenly remembering the tutoring sessions with Marcus, and why they’d gone out to the garage in the first place. She pulled her phone from her pocket a
nd held it up in the air so they could both see the screen.
“I think I can get the rest of these at home. Except this one.” Her head fell to one side. “Where am I supposed to find a turtle?”
Nathan chuckled. “Yeah, I’m afraid I can’t help you there.”
He stood, and then reached down to help Allie up. “Thanks,” she said.
She followed him into the kitchen. He brought the dogs back inside, and then took a grocery bag from under the kitchen sink. “Here,” he said, handing it to her.
She dropped in all the stuff they’d found in the garage and scooped everything off the counter. “Well, I guess I’m ready for my first lesson.”
“I guess you are,” Nathan said.
Back at home, Allie turned the bag upside down, dumping everything on her bed, and scanned the list again.
Un libro. A book. That was easy. She picked one of her favorite novels off her bookshelf and tossed it onto the bed.
Las gafas de sol. Sunglasses. She rifled through her desk drawer and unearthed a pair of white plastic frames with scratched lenses.
El champú. That was easy, too. Her mom always brought those little shampoo bottles home when she traveled for work. Allie walked to the bathroom and found what she needed right away.
Nothing left but la tortuga.
And then she realized she had that, too. The last time she’d cleaned her room, her mom had convinced her to donate all her old stuffed animals, but there were a few she couldn’t stand to give away.
She opened her closet, reached up to the high shelf, and tugged at the pink canvas bin. She dug down deep, past the rabbits, and bears, and monkeys, until she found the stuffed turtle she used to carry around with her everywhere.
“Hey, Squirt.” She kissed his nose and added him to the pile of stuff already on the bed.
And then she walked to her desk and found a bright blue note card in one of the drawers. In her best penmanship, she wrote:
Hi, Marcus!
She scratched it out.
She wasn’t supposed to know who he was. And her writing looked too much like a girl’s. Although with the name, Princess Peach, he’d probably figure that much. Still, she tore the card in half, tossed it into the trash can, and reached for another one. This time she tilted her hand a different way and wrote more slowly, making the letters look blockier and more nondescript.
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