by Alexis Nedd
“Ma’am, can I talk?” Bob asked. Penelope rolled her eyes but made a zipping motion in front of her lips.
“Thank you,” he continued. “We kept seeing each other for six months or so; we’d get rides into Philly and hang out. Talk all night on Ventrilo—yeah, Ventrilo, we’re old—and I fell for him.”
“Hard,” said Ki.
“Just because you’re not Penelope doesn’t mean I won’t tell you to zip it too.”
Jake nudged Ki with his elbow as well as he could. She still had her arms around him. “Let the man speak,” he said.
“There’s not a lot to tell after that,” Bob said. “He was long-gaming me. He wanted sole control of the guild, and I called him out, so we had a vote one night when he wasn’t online and kicked him. He found a new guild and ganked all of us to pieces. It was systematic, search and destroy. None of us could log on without one of his goons ruining the game. I moved on to play GLO, and he followed me there. Enter Unity. Enter Fury.”
“Enter Jake and enter Emilia,” Muddy snorted. “Now do you see?”
“Do you still love him?” asked Jake.
Ki, Penelope, and Bob all answered at the same time: “Hell no.”
Jake could see how the nature of the feud between Fury and Unity had colored Bob’s reaction to finding him with Emilia that morning. He’d been holding his captain’s behavior against him all day but had hoped that their victory might assuage him; now he saw that every step that brought Team Unity closer to a showdown with Fury looked to Bob like a move on Byunki’s chessboard.
It was the world’s biggest coincidence, or else a hilarious conspiracy of fate to put Bob’s and Byunki’s teams together with even more feelings at stake. Jake tried to press the buttons that he always did, the ones that told him he was stupid and gullible and all the bad things that could happen were entirely his fault because those were his favorite buttons. As much as it sucked to feel terrible about himself for what happened to his parents, he knew how to feel terrible. He’d felt like that for so long it was the only comfortable state he recognized. He was dumb as hell for not knowing Bob’s story. He was a massive idiot for trusting Emilia. Inside his mind, he reached for the boxing gloves he’d been beating himself up with for years and found them missing from their hook.
Emilia didn’t think he was dumb. She thought he was kind and funny. She didn’t want him to curl up and disappear, and she never let him beat himself up, even when he thought he wanted to. Emilia trusted him. He had to trust her too.
“Well, I still like her,” Jake said. “I’ll kick her Fury butt in two weeks, but I can’t stop liking her.”
Ki and Penelope both sighed while Bob let out a groan. Sonically it was a mess, but that wasn’t anything less than Jake expected.
“I didn’t exactly factor true love into my plans for this competition, so here’s an option,” Bob said when he finished groaning. He sat back down on the couch and nudged Muddy’s feet away with his hips. “Just to be safe, and to make me and everyone else here feel better about your choices, you stay away from KNOX, Emilia, whoever, until Round Three shakes out.”
“But—” Jake wanted to interrupt. Bob didn’t give him the chance.
“Nah, son. This is your captain speaking. I can tell you really like this girl and she likes you—”
Muddy snorted from behind Bob. Jake didn’t let it bother him. Yet.
“Just walk it back for the sake of the team. It’s two weeks. You can tell her before if you want. No talky, no touchy. Y’all are competitors and strangers until one of us wins the league spot.”
“It does make sense, Jake,” Penelope agreed. “Two weeks isn’t that long.”
“Jesus Christ.” Muddy slithered off the couch and leaned down to grab his jacket off the coffee table. “Do you hear yourselves? Thibault Adige wants to give the winning team a million dollars and a full-time contract, and you care more about Jake’s girl problems. I feel like I’m taking crazy pills. Ditch the bitch and get your head in the game! Tell him, Bob.”
Jake felt his body moving before his mind could make a choice about it. He jumped up from the couch and lunged across the coffee table to grab at the collar of Muddy’s shirt. A second too late, Jake remembered that all of the finger coordination he’d built up over years of gaming had definitely not transferred to the rest of his body, so he missed and almost face-planted into the table before he swung an arm down to catch himself. He would have been embarrassed if the wild feeling of wanting to stuff Muddy’s words back into his mouth and make him choke on them hadn’t burned his ability to feel anything else clean out of his system.
“Don’t call her that,” Jake snarled as he picked himself up and eased back onto the couch.
Muddy just laughed and nonchalantly threaded an arm through his jacket sleeve. “Stick to healing, Jake. It’s the only thing you’re good at.”
“Matty!” Bob barked. “I get that you’re frustrated, but you don’t have to be mean. We’re Unity; we put each other first.”
“Whatever.” Muddy rolled his eyes and made for the green room door. “Keep nursing the baby; I don’t care. I gotta go talk to some people.”
Jake hated that Muddy didn’t even bother slamming the door. A big, abrupt crash was exactly what the moment needed. Leave it to Muddy to ignore the rules of high drama in an effort to look cooler than the rest of Unity.
“I’ll go after him once he’s cooled down,” Bob sighed. “He wants that league spot bad.”
“We all do,” Penelope said, “but you don’t see the rest of us going knives out on Jake’s jugular.”
“Our knives are in,” Ki agreed, while rubbing Jake’s elbow. He’d landed hard on the coffee table, and even though he hadn’t said anything, it still hurt like hell. Nothing to jeopardize his hands, of course, but still. Ow.
“I don’t want to be stuck in a contract with him if we win,” Jake muttered. He’d put up with Muddy’s asshole schtick for years, thinking it was an in-joke. Like “hey, Jake, you’re dumb, just kidding!” Knowing that Muddy actually thought he was useless and stupid would make it so much harder to play alongside him. Going into Round 3, liking Emilia was one thing, but going into it hating Muddy was another.
“When we win,” Bob corrected, “we’ll have to get over it. Wizzard knows the league announcement might change the teams’ strategy, so they’re cool if people bring in alts for Round Three, as long as they’re finalized a week out. After that, whoever plays the final match is locked into the contract. We don’t have alts; we have Muddy, one of the best DPSes in the game. We don’t have a chance of beating Fury without him.”
Bob was right. The Guardians League was too much to give up on account of one prick. Jake had told Emilia not to give up, so he wasn’t going to give up either. He had two weeks to rally and/or stuff his now-seething Muddy hate deep down where he couldn’t feel it. Two weeks without being able to talk to Emilia about it. Or anyone else. Jake felt insanely good about that. Spectacular, really.
“This is my fault,” Jake said again. Not everything was his fault, but this particular snafu was totally . . . mostly on him. “I’ll get it together for Round Three.”
“What about KNOX?” Bob asked, for sure using Emilia’s Fury name to remind Jake what was at stake.
“P’s right. Two weeks isn’t that long, and she’ll understand. I solemnly swear not to talk to, text, or otherwise communicate with Emilia while she’s still our competition.”
Two weeks was forever in Jake years. He wished he knew how long it would feel for Emilia, or if she’d still want to look at him after Unity wrenched away the dream Jake loved to see her chase.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Emilia, Monday
IT’S ONLY TAKEN Mr. Grimes two weeks to turn his fish tank of an office into what I’m sure he imagines is a den of Zen but is doing way more to stress me out than calm me down. The last time I was here, the most egregious things were his wooden-beaded bracelets and my mom. Today, it’s everything.
The macramé dreamcatcher-looking hangings stuck to the glass wall with suction cups. The bamboo mat on the floor. The crystal collection on his desk, which includes a tiny faux-jade Chinese lion the size of my thumb, a patchouli oil diffuser, and one of those mini sand gardens in which someone (I’m hoping another student) has meticulously raked the outline of a . . . Is that a dick? I think it’s supposed to be a dick.
“You can rake that out,” Grimes says. It’s not awkward at all that he caught me looking. “I try not to dissuade students from expressing themselves creatively, but if you wanted to make something new while I grab the folder you need, I would appreciate that.”
Poor guy. How many dicks have people drawn in his garden in the last two weeks? Going by the defeated look on his face, I’m going to guess a lot. Out of pity more than artistic impulse, I pick up the little rake on my side of the desk and scratch some wiggly lines in the sand. There. Now it’s an amoeba wearing a mushroom-shaped hat.
“Lovely,” Grimes says when he straightens up from going through the cabinets under his desk. The folder he dug up for me looks dusty. It’s not common for students at Hillford West to request what’s inside it, so I hope the information inside is up to date.
“It’s thinner than I thought it would be,” I say to get his attention off the Zen garden.
“There’s more, but this is just the list of requirements and general starting paperwork,” he admits. He hasn’t actually handed me the folder yet. “Miss Romero, it’s my job to ask questions. Before I give this to you, I have to ask a few. Can we start with why?”
I take a deep breath and think back to what Penny and I rehearsed yesterday. “So there’s a scholarship program my parents would, like, die to know I got accepted to that would require me to intern after graduation. If I wait until the summer after senior year, I’ll lose the money. I just found out I’m a finalist, so I’m going to tell my parents about it soon, but when I do I want to show them I have everything planned out. You’ve met my mom; she’ll want to know I have everything covered before I make a move.”
By my ultrafast calculations, that explanation was about 40 percent true in reality, with a bump to 80 percent if we count the spirit of the statement over a more literal translation. Hopefully it dissuades him from lighting the beacons and bringing my parents into this before I’m ready to tell them.
“I remember your mother very well,” Grimes replies with a little too much wistfulness in his voice. “Can I ask which scholarship program you’re a finalist for?”
“I’d rather not say right now,” I reply. “I think my mom would be hurt if I told you before I said anything to her.” Penny and I came up with the half-lie scholarship excuse to get me the paperwork, but Matt was the one who told me to bank on my advisor having a crush on my mom to make it easier. When Matt’s right, he’s right.
“I understand.” He smiles. I’m begging him with my eyes not to wink, but he does. “Miss Romero, I’m all about the youth of today finding what gives them purpose. Your generation has inherited a broken world. If you’ve found something that might drive you to do your part to fix it, I respect and admire your spirit,” he intones. “But I wouldn’t want you to rush headfirst into leaving high school. You’re only young once; you should enjoy it before entering the working world.”
I don’t know; I think I’ll enjoy literally playing video games for money more than going to prom, but go off, Louis. I do not say this out loud.
“I’m going to give you this folder.” True to his word, he hands me the file across the desk. “But if anything happens with your internship, I want to discuss this further with your mother. I mean your parents, both of them. You . . . She did say she’s still married, right?”
A tap on the glass wall saves me and Grimes from having to continue this conversation. I can now proceed with Step 2 in my plan, which is going to be a lot harder. Grimes makes some apologetic noises to let me know my time is up, and I’m careful to be very, visibly thankful for his help.
“Change the world,” Grimes calls out as I leave, “and tell your mom I said hi!”
I’m halfway out the door of the advisors’ suite when I hear him welcome the student into his cube with a gentle “namaste.”
I riffle through the papers in the Department of Education folder while I walk over to the auditorium to prep for Step 2. Thanks to my parents toploading me in the first two years of high school, I’m well on my way to being able to graduate early without even trying. All I need to do is grab some summer requirements, pass a few Regents, and demonstrate full-time employment waiting on the other side of eleventh grade. Easy check, easier check, and significantly harder check, considering I still have to kick Jake’s ass to get the league spot.
A part of me knew that we would have to stop hanging out before the finals, but I still checked my GLO inbox yesterday to see if Jake had anything to say after the match. He left me a message saying he thought it was best we went no-contact for the next two weeks, which sucks but makes sense. It’s my turn to be a good secret friend.
But that kiss, though. Did kissing Jake transport me to Missandei’s home island of Naath from Game of Thrones? Because I got major butterflies and also felt like I was about to straight up die of happiness. Keeping it 100, I didn’t even know kissing could do that. Literally haven’t stopped thinking about it. I’m thinking about it right now. Yeah, that’s the good shit. Whew.
The first thing I did when I got home on Saturday was text Penny and Matt everything that happened at the tournament. Matt already knew about the Guardians League because he was following the competition on a stream, but I had to fill them in on the pre-match and backstage action. Their reactions, in order, were (1) let’s pick Bob up and throw him in a dumpster, (2) holy shit, that’s so much money, (3) good thing Jake was there to stop you from doing something stupid, Emilia, oh my god, and (4) sorry, you and Jake what?
Waiting on the triple dots to resolve after telling them I kissed Jake Hooper was thrilling. Penny waived her God-given right to say “I told you so” and expressed regret that she didn’t take Matt up on his bet, and Matt cobbled together an impressive emoji hieroglyph that included brown-girl-kissing-white-boy, video game controller, heart with smaller hearts inside it, interrobang, blue heart, red heart, robot head (?), and a party hat.
Then they asked me what I was going to do about Connor, which brings me back to Step 2.
When I get to the auditorium, it’s empty except for Penny and Matt taking pictures onstage. Matt’s kneeling on the floor with a reflective board propped against his chest and Penny’s phone in his hand, shooting upward to get her in a power pose against the backdrop of the red curtain.
“Stop moving for two seconds.” His whine carries easily over the rows of seating. “I’m trying to get the light to bounce off your highlighter.”
“That’s what the VSCO is for,” Penny explains. “Just set it to portrait and zoom out. I need these posters yesterday.”
“Why do we even need these?” Matt wiggles awkwardly to adjust the bounce board again, making Penny’s dark skin shimmer onstage. “It’s not like Connor’s gonna ditch you just because Lia’s dumping his—”
“Ask less, shoot more,” Penny mutters. Matt obliges. I let him get a few pictures in before clearing my throat from the back of the auditorium.
“You look great, Penny!” I call.
“Lia, is that you?” Penny breaks her pose to shield her eyes. “What’s it look like back there? Is the light washing me out?”
“Nah,” I decide, moving forward toward the stage. “The vibe is very Duckie Thot.”
“Aw, you always know what to say.”
I brandish the folder Grimes gave me. “Apparently I do.”
“Nice!” Matt holds up his free hand for a high five, and it takes me a moment to clamor onto the stage to accept it. “Grimes took the bait?”
“Like a guppy.”
Matt checks Penny’s phone for the time. “That gives you . . . �
��twenty minutes left in free period to complete stage two.”
“Be gentle,” Penny reminds me, “but firm. Connor’s still my VP, and I need his head in the game. And if he asks for a reason, don’t let the reason be ‘I hooked up with someone else at a nerds-only club in Philly.’ ”
“I’m just gonna tell him I have a lot on my plate and don’t have time for a relationship right now. When I win the tournament, the cat will be out of the bag anyway, for Connor and everyone else.”
“He’ll bounce back,” Matt says confidently. “Once you’re gone, the line goes, like, Audra first, then maybe Lena on the volleyball team, then Holly? After that it’s literally every other straight girl in school because you know the bi ones won’t put up with him, then the girls at Hillford North—”
“Message received, Matt,” I cut him off. “Connor Dimeo is a hot commodity.”
“Dumb hot,” Penny adds.
“Jake’s really cute too,” Matt offers. Penny and I both look at him sideways. “What? I’m secure enough to say that.”
“I like you more every day,” Penny says with a look of wicked approval. If anything, bringing Penny and Matt together as future supervillain and willing stooge has been the highlight of this entire experience. Well, one of the highlights. Sticking my tongue in Jake’s mouth and pulling off a nigh-impossible drop heal with Han-Jun to bring Fury closer to a million-dollar contract was pretty great too.
“You got this, Lia.” Matt salutes me. “Go forth and break up with your boyfriend so you can keep seducing a sophomore. I believe in you.”
I return his salute and try to catch Penny’s eye before I leave the stage. I really, really wish there was another way I could make this up to her. Her campaign has been a revolving door of VPs, and it’s all my fault, so if Connor checks out because of me, it will just be another way I screwed her over since she announced her candidacy. On one level, I think she gets it; once she saw how much I stood to win, Penny understood that GLO had to take the top slot in my life. I just don’t know if she’s actually as understanding about the whole Jake thing.