“Ha-ha!” I patted the steering wheel. “Daddy’s gonna buy you an oil cocktail. Anything you want, baby.”
I had lost ground. Dryad pulled ahead of me, billowing sand that pinged against my helmet. On the final stretch we both slammed on our brakes. As we passed the finish line, the coach screamed, “Slow down!”
I let off the gas until halfway down the straight shot. Then I floored it again.
Final lap.
Soup had driven so slowly that we actually lapped him. He sped up when I passed and gave me a little wave. I pointed back at Dryad. “Get her!”
Soup drove right at her, forcing her to swerve and nearly lose control of her kart. I laughed maniacally. I didn’t want her kart to blow up or anything. Maybe just get a popped tire or something.
I screeched around the first turn and wove with the wiggling curves. On the final wiggle Dryad appeared next to me, as if blossoming out of the desert. I cursed Soup’s ineptitude. She swerved and weaved with my kart, perfectly aligning our wheels and inching me toward the inside of the track. Soup tried to accelerate between us to protect me, but Dryad boxed him out. I jerked the steering wheel left, knocking her kart’s wheels with mine, but she skidded, recovered, and came right back at me. Our tires separated as we both screeched around the final curve and floored it.
Dryad and I were nose and nose for the last stretch. I looked ahead to the coach. I needed Dryad to spin out in time for me to slow down to twenty-five miles per hour so as to not be disqualified. But before I could act, Dryad hit me with everything she had. My kart jerked right, but when I tried to recover and hit her back, she swerved left.
The Gravitator’s tires slid like butter across the sandy track, rotating me so I was parallel with the fast-approaching finish line.
That was when Soup’s kart T-boned me.
They say your life flashes before your eyes. They say you’re supposed to be concerned about what you did or didn’t do. Loved ones. Hated ones. Joyful moments. Regrets.
But my only thought was, My face! Gravity!
Then, Maybe she thinks road rash is badass.
My stomach lifted, the horizon flipped, and suddenly my head was vibrating and bucking. Sparks exploded in my vision. Metal screeched in my ears.
Then blackness.
• • •
I woke and heard feet running.
And then the horizon righted itself, while my head flopped back and forth. My helmet slid off.
“Miles? Are you okay? Miles! Miles!”
A thumb peeled open my eyelids one by one.
“He’s conscious,” the coach said. “Can you focus on me?”
I tried. Everything was a blur.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
I did a quick check. Head—fine. Neck—little sore. Shoulder—stinging, covered in blood.
The race came back to me.
I’d crashed. I’d lost.
I stumbled out of the kart and wobbled on my feet a bit. The people around me looked like they were underwater.
“Whoa, son,” the coach said. “You need to sit back down.”
I felt a hand on my arm. I blinked. Dryad.
“Oh my gosh, are you okay?” she said. “That is not what I meant to—”
I pushed her away and walked toward the finish line, where the rest of the players stood watching. The sand felt watery beneath my feet. My shoulder was really starting to burn, but my fury numbed me to it. Things grew clearer as I walked.
I found the skinniest player and shoved him.
“What the hell is your problem?” I asked Scarecrow.
He pressed his chest into mine and stared me down. I clenched my fists and fumed. The players formed a circle of shadows around us.
“Why are you mad at him?” Meeki asked me. “He wasn’t even racing. Dryad’s the one who hit you.”
Scarecrow and I ignored her. We only focused on each other.
“I know you planned this,” I said. “You had your woman come after me.”
Scarecrow said nothing.
“You’ve hated me from the first day for no reason,” I said.
He smiled, his nose close to mine.
A hand touched my non-bloodied shoulder. “Son,” the coach said, “we need to get you to sick bay.”
“Now isn’t the time for this,” Fezzik said, placing his hand between my and Scarecrow’s chests. “We can have a meeting—”
“No,” I said, pulling away from the coach’s hand and pressing against Fezzik’s, so that my chest was touching Scarecrow’s. “I want to know why you hate me so bad. I want to know why you sabotaged the race and made me—made me lose everything. Go ahead.” I opened my arms to the crowd. “Tell everyone.”
The players stood around us, listening.
Scarecrow’s crooked grin flattened. He looked down and wiped his mouth. “You and I played DotA against each other one time.”
Defense of the Ancients. A game the Wight Knights and I had been obsessed with for months.
“So?” I said.
“You—” Scarecrow said. “You told me to go fuck my sister.”
Everyone gasped. I felt dizzy on my feet.
“That . . . I would never say that.”
I would. In the heat of battle, I totally would.
Everyone stared at me with shocked expressions. I avoided Aurora’s eyes.
“After it happened,” Scarecrow said, “I looked up your gamer tag and found your face online.”
I swallowed hard. “It was a moment of passion.”
Scarecrow looked me full in the eye. “My sister has Down syndrome.”
My face fell. All the Sefiroths and Cheefs and Meeki booed me.
“C’mon, Miles,” Fezzik said, touching my good shoulder. “Let’s get you to the Fairy Fountain.”
He led me toward the facility. I glanced back just in time to see that crooked grin return to Scarecrow’s face. That asshole.
“Fezzik, look!” I pointed. “He’s smiling!”
Fezzik didn’t look.
“I’ll bet he doesn’t even have a sister,” I said, still looking back. “I’ll bet I just crushed him in DotA one time and now he’s just trying to get revenge.”
“Did you say what he said you did?” Fezzik said.
“I . . .” I didn’t answer.
“Don’t worry. I’m not going to take away any points. If it happened before Video Horizons, then it’s out of my jurisdiction. But I think it’s important that you consider how your words affect others, even when you believe you’re anonymous.”
“Why?” I said. “What’s the point if I just lost the race and won’t make it out of here in time to get to my date and will just get rejected by every other girl I meet?”
Before he could respond, two scrawny arms wrapped around my waist and squeezed.
“Miles! Miles, Miles, Miles!” Soup said, jumping up and down and making my fat jiggle. “You did it!”
“Careful, Soup,” Fezzik said. “He just had an accident.”
“Did what?” I said, prying Soup off of me.
“You won!”
“I . . . did?” I turned around. My kart had rolled across the finish line. And Dryad’s . . . was still behind it. She had stopped to see if I was okay. My heart lifted. “Seriously?”
“Yep.” Fezzik nodded. “You skidded across.”
Soup rolled his hand through the air. “You were like Psh krnch prk pow! Bang! Ha-ha! I’m only laughing because you’re okay, and I helped you win, so we get to hang out! Hee, hee, hee.” He put a hand on my stomach and back and jiggled both. “Do you hate it when I do that?”
“I won?” I said.
Fezzik nodded. “Last I checked, you were gunning for best time.”
It was as if some invisible force had pulled my kart across that finish line. The Gravitational pull was strong, and it was helping me win at everything.
My date was destiny.
I immediately headed back toward the coach to get my scroll stampe
d. Soup skipped alongside me and chanted, “I helped you wi-in! I pushed you acro-oss! Now you have to hang out with me when we get ho-ome!”
I couldn’t argue with that. He had helped me win—in a really weird way. And I had promised that I would hang out with him. That didn’t mean I had to look excited about it.
“Plus also?” Soup said as if he could sense my hesitation. He mimed sewing.
I quickly slapped his hands down before anyone could see. Then I smiled. I’d almost forgotten. The cross-stitches. They would close my 3,000-point gap.
I patted Soup’s head. “I’ll let you watch me play video games at your house.”
“Yesssssss!”
As we approached the coach, Scarecrow stormed past us. Dryad followed him, saying, “I just wanted to see if he was okay!” She didn’t even glance in my direction. Fine by me.
I held my scroll out to the coach. He didn’t take it.
“You went above the speed limit,” he said.
“Yep,” I said, all smiles. “I also almost died.” I rolled up my bloody shirtsleeve and showed him my road rash. I sucked through my teeth, even though it didn’t hurt that bad. “I’d hate to have to sue this place.”
The coach crossed his arms, making his nipples look angrier than usual. “You used that line before.”
I stood firm. “I sure did.”
It worked this time too.
Achievements
Looks like you could use some rest, adventurer,” Fezzik said, back in the Nest.
“Oh, no, I’m fine.” I rolled my shoulder, trying not to wince. “I really”—need points—“don’t want to miss out on therapy.”
Fezzik nodded. “I don’t want you missing out either. Especially considering it might be your last one. Heh. Just promise to head over to the Fairy Fountain when we’re finished.”
I gave him a thumbs-up and joined the guild circle.
“No fair!” Soup said. “Why does Aurora get to sit so close to you?”
Aurora and I glanced at each other, found we were only a few inches apart, and then scooted in opposite directions.
Fezzik shut the blinds and turned on the fluorescents, making us all look sunburned and exhausted.
“Exciting Chocobo race today, everyone!” he said. “Especially for you, Miles. Nothing like a few battle scars to bring home, right?”
I rubbed my shoulder and smiled. I’d finally be able to share real scars with a real lady.
“That was the craziest!” Soup said. “Miles was driving, and he went like rrrrrrrrrrrnnnnnn—rrrrrrtttttttt—”
“Fury Burds mayor?” Fezzik said. “We’re going to talk about some pretty heavy things today. May I have your permission to do that?”
Soup placed his hands together between his knees. “Yes.”
“Thank you.” Fezzik opened to the guild. “Today I want to start by talking about the desire to be important.”
Despite the pain in my shoulder, I was glowing. This could be my last guild therapy. If I participated in every activity, turned in Soup’s cross-stitches, and won just one more gold, I was going to make it. I was going to fucking make it. I felt invincible.
There was only one problem. If and when I won the paintball tournament, I’d have about two hours to get back to Salt Lake. It had taken Command more than an hour to drive us to Video Horizons, which means I’d be cutting it close. I wondered if G-man would need to take me straight to Mandrake’s or if I’d have enough time to run home to clean up a bit.
“We all want to have a place in the world,” Fezzik said. “We want to be acknowledged with good grades, boyfriends, girlfriends, awards, scholarships, and all of the things that make us feel like successful human beings.”
No time for a back and crack wax now. But I definitely needed a change of clothes. I’d look like an idiot if I changed back into the Super Mario shirt I’d been wearing at the car wash. And these white pants hadn’t been flattering before spending four days in the desert. Now I looked like a toasted marshmallow that had been dropped in the sand.
“We feel important when we game,” Fezzik continued. “We feel powerful. The problem is, the more you invest in those other worlds, the more you lose in the world we actually live in. Obviously, for everyone in this circle, the draw to other worlds is strong. It’s easy to get swept up in a fantasy landscape with clear challenges, immersive environments, and an attractive avatar who gets updated graphics . . . unlike our real selves. Heh.”
“Speak for yourself,” Meeki said.
“Heh. Except you, of course, Meeki.”
Maybe I could pick up some flowers on the way to the restaurant to draw attention away from the pants. Or maybe I could get a dandelion puffball from Aurora and show Gravity how it mimicked the universe.
“The point is,” Fezzik said, “these worlds can make you leave the really important things behind. Health. Cleanliness. Emotional stability. When you’ve got games on the brain, everything else receives minimal attention. And who could blame you? This world we live in is punishing. You’ll never be the best goalie or the best artist or the best student. That’s not easy to swallow. Real life seems like it’s designed to make you feel helpless. Games, however, are designed to make you feel like the most important thing in the universe. That’s what makes it a psychological addiction.”
I started when I realized Fezzik was staring at me. “That’s why you’re here,” he said. Then he looked at Aurora. “To learn how to enjoy being good at real life.” He looked at Meeki. “To find the power in doing the dishes and getting some exercise and being social.” He looked at Soup. “To learn that the most uncomfortable things in life are often the most rewarding.” He looked at Zxzord, passed out in his chair. “To learn how to enjoy yourself without harmful stimulation.” He slapped his leg. “If you’ve got those in line, I say play all the video games you want. Just don’t tell G-man I said so. Heh-heh.”
This talk was unnecessary for me. I was kicking ass at real life. In the last few days, I had placed third in a sporting tournament, levitated a Ping-Pong ball, and taken gold in a kart race.
Fezzik rubbed his hands together. “Does anyone want to talk about the hurdles they’ve experienced when dealing with the real world?”
Aurora raised her hand.
“Aurora. Excellent.”
“It seems like real-life hurdles are always moving,” she said, playing with her hair. “You want to do something, like paint a wall. But then it’s so much harder than you thought it would be. The paint isn’t as pretty as it was on the swatch thingy, and the rollers keep sticking, and the ugly old green color keeps showing through, even after three whole coats. And then all of a sudden it’s dark outside because you’ve been painting all day, and you get frustrated and you try to work faster and then you accidentally kick over a paint can and then you have a whole new hurdle, which is convincing your parents to buy you a new carpet.”
“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience,” Fezzik said. “Heh-heh. After a debacle like that, it’s no wonder we want to go play a game where the rules are as simple as THERE! DRAGON! KILL! Heh. Excellent, Aurora. Anyone else have frustrating real-world hurdles they’ve experienced?”
The road rash on my shoulder itched. I tried to scratch it as lightly as possible, but it just made it tickle, so I gave up.
“Miles?” Fezzik said. “You keep going the way you are, you just might be back in the real world tomorrow.”
“Nooooooo,” Soup said.
“Yes,” I said.
Meeki scoffed.
“Bless you,” I said.
She looked ready to kill me. “Why is it fair that he gets to leave this soon when he hasn’t learned anything?”
I rolled my eyes.
“Care to elaborate, Meeki?” Fezzik said.
“Yeah, some of us are trying to grow as people so we can get back and see our friends and families.”
“Uh, really?” I said. “Last I checked, you wouldn’t even admit you hit your brothe
r.”
“Hmm,” Meeki said. “Weird that I’m the one who won’t admit that I hit someone.”
That made me shut my mouth. Fortunately, Fezzik seemed distracted by a thought.
“It’s true that life isn’t fair sometimes,” he said. “Most of the time, actually. Some people receive more privileges in life. They’re able to pull ahead more quickly than others.”
And some people are just naturally more talented, I thought.
“Maybe that’s another reason video games are attractive,” Fezzik said. “We all start from the same place when we pick up a control paddle. Games are the great equalizer.”
Meeki nodded.
Again, Fezzik looked at me.
God, I just wanted out of there.
“Miles, let’s say you are, in fact, released tomorrow. What do you think you’ve learned while you’ve been here?”
“Plenty of stuff,” I said.
“Like what?”
“Um, like, that I’m not terrible at Four Square or kart racing or . . . cross-stitching.”
“He’s a real good cross-stitcher,” Soup said. “The best.”
I widened my eyes at him to convey that he was saying too much and to please shut up, but Fezzik just nodded. “I’m sure it’s nice to find some innate skills in surprising areas, Miles. But I want you to dig even deeper.”
“What do you mean?”
“During my training as an addictions counselor, I saw plenty of people in treatment who set up unrealistic expectations for what would happen once they were released. They were always sorely disappointed. It’s like taking on a raid that’s seven levels too high but seems so enticing that you can’t turn it down.”
“Gravity is not seven levels too high for me,” I said, hoping that was actually true.
“I’m not saying she is,” Fezzik said. “But let’s look at a worst-case scenario, shall we?”
I braced myself. I’d been living through worst-case scenarios my entire life.
“What if Gravity isn’t interested in dating a gamer?” he asked.
I scratched at some of the sand baked into my pants. “That’s fine. I don’t think of myself as a gamer.”
Meeki snorted. “You’re a player.”
“Very funny,” I said. “You need to get girls to be a player.”
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