by Claire Adams
"She's driving me crazy," Sienna had said many times. "I mean, she went to the movies with this nerdy guy. She could have gone out with the first baseman of the baseball team."
"Not into the whole dating thing?" I had asked Quinn when she was a freshman in high school. We sat on the worn leather sofa in her parents' basement playing video games while Sienna did her makeup for a pep rally.
Quinn had shrugged. "Sienna makes it sound like a competition. I'd rather just sit here and beat you at Mario Kart."
I did not tell her then, but I preferred the same thing. There had been too many nights when all I wanted to do was hang out with Quinn. I leaned on the doorframe and called myself a coward.
She must have heard my heavy sigh. "Owen? How long have you been standing there?"
"Long enough to be impressed with your use of the frost sword," I said.
Quinn paused the game. "Yeah, right. An expert like you. I probably did 100 things wrong back in that glen."
"Well, there is a secret passage in one of the trees, but you were a little busy with that ogre." I slipped onto the couch next to her.
"Is it wrong that all I wanted to do all day was escape down here?" Quinn asked.
I resisted the urge to brush her chestnut curls off her bare shoulder. "I don't think anyone would judge you for that. It’s surreal up there."
"All the almost crying but not actually, because women don't want their mascara to run. All the cheery stories about Sienna, even from people who called her the b-word to her face," Quinn said. "Perfect pictures, perfect flowers, perfect conversations – I'm not sure I'd call that reality."
"Sienna would have loved it."
Quinn gave a short laugh that ended on a jagged sigh. "She would be so mad about me hiding out here. I should be trolling the guests for a good date."
"'I don't need a date; we're good,'" I quoted her.
"Every time Sienna caught us down here playing video games." Quinn gave a ghost of a smile.
"You know, I was being honest. You're getting pretty good," I said. I picked up the second controller and tossed it between my hands.
"You don't need to lie to me," she said.
"And you look beautiful in that dress and your hair looks great long," I said. I nudged her with my shoulder. "Now can I compliment your playing or should I keep going about you?"
Quinn never believed me when I told her she was beautiful. It had almost turned into a game. I wondered if she heard compliments so rarely that she never knew what to do. Sienna got the compliments, the praise, and the bragging stories from their parents.
I told myself it was good for Quinn. Really, it was just a way to say what was on my mind. I would have gone crazy if I could not have told her somehow.
"Compared to you, I'm just stumbling around Dark Flag," Quinn said.
"On great legs," I said. It took a moment before I could tear my eyes off them.
"Oh, shut up, Owen. Tell me where that secret passage is. I'm heading back to the glen."
I slumped back on the couch and started the second controller. Within seconds, my avatar was with her in the glen. "I'll fend off the ogre, you look for the secret passage. I'm not just giving away secrets for free."
"Oh my God, where are all these people coming from?" Quinn asked. Multiple players appeared on the screen.
"My clan. I rallied some of the best players I ran across and we've made a good team," I said.
"Yeah, I read about you. Nice cover shot," Quinn said. "No pimples, extra weight, or wormlike pallor. You're changing the face of gaming."
"Hey, I'm not taking a compliment if you can't," I said.
"It sounded like the journalist was smitten," Quinn nudged me with her elbow. "She described you as having the shoulders and muscle tone of Captain America and the skills of an extreme gamer."
"At least someone noticed."
"Looks like a lot of people have noticed. I've never played with a clan before. So, are you a professional gamer now?" Quinn asked.
"I entered a few tournaments last year and did really well, got a couple of sponsors. Now that the article came out, I got bigger sponsors. It’s enough to live on," I said.
"That's amazing, Owen. Congratulations," she said. She paused her player and kissed my cheek.
I let the warmth melt some of the tension in my stomach. It was the first time I had actually said it out loud. My parents knew I was doing just fine. My roommate knew I paid all the bills. Still, I had not admitted to anyone but Quinn that I was now a professional gamer.
"Did Sienna know?" Quinn asked.
"Watch this. When three or more players join together, you can actually take over the ogre and control its actions," I said.
We disappeared into the game for a while. All the sadness and confusion from upstairs could not penetrate the world of Dark Flag. For a moment, Quinn and I felt light, free, and happy.
Her eyes sparkled as she soaked up the new moves. In her excitement, Quinn bumped her knee against my leg. Her little black dress was drifting up her thigh. It was a good thing the controller needed two hands.
"Quinn? Are you down there again?" Mrs. Thomas called.
"Yes. Sorry, Mother."
"Is that Owen bum with you?"
Quinn looked at me. Empathy made her eyes darker. Then her lips quirked up, my conspirator from our high school days. "No. I haven't seen him. Maybe he's up in Sienna's room."
We heard Mrs. Thomas's footsteps on the stairs. "Well, if he hasn't left and comes skulking down here, tell him I'm looking for him. I'm going to give him a piece of my mind. Everyone knows he was never right for our Sienna."
"Sienna loves, I mean, loved him," Quinn said. Her voice faded.
Mrs. Thomas ignored her daughter and stomped back upstairs. "Sienna loved a challenge. What a waste. Speaking of waste, stop messing around with that stupid game. You have a chance to visit with Sienna's friends."
It was as if Mrs. Thomas sucked all the air out of the room. Quinn was deflated, and I could tell her mind was on her sister. I felt the weight settling back on my shoulders. It took too much strength to lift my arms and restart the game. The other players disappeared as we stayed offline.
"I'm so sorry, Quinn," I said.
She did not say a word, just leaned against my shoulder. I slipped my arm around her and pulled her close. I tried to sweep her hair back to see her face, but she buried it against my suit. I pressed my cheek against the top of her head and held her.
Quinn's breath was ragged, but she did not cry. "She couldn't have meant it. It had to be an accident."
"Your mom was right. Sienna was a shooting star."
"Sometimes, I hated her for it," Quinn said. "She was always trying to change me, make me better, make me more like her. I tried. I just wasn't good enough."
"She was wrong to try to change you," I said. I hugged Quinn tighter. "You didn't do anything wrong. You loved your sister, and underneath it all, she loved you, too."
"We should have known. Everyone thinks it. My mother told me last night I should have done something," Quinn said.
"What could we have done? How could we have known? Sienna never shared her plans for herself. She only told people how to play their parts."
I was angry again. Sienna threw us into this horrible drama without a second thought. She had never thought about anyone but herself.
"I was going to be the nurse to her surgeon," Quinn said. She sat up and swept back her hair. It smelled of rose water.
"And I was supposed to be the trophy husband to her successful career woman," I said.
"Except you were supposed to go off and coach little league or join the Rotary Club. Not go and get professional sponsors to play video games," Quinn said.
"Yeah, I went off script."
"Me too," Quinn said. "I almost failed gross anatomy. You should have seen Sienna's face when I bombed the practice final."
"What are we going to do without Sienna here to organize us?" I asked. My arm was still aroun
d Quinn's shoulders. I didn't let go.
"Sit on the couch and play video games," she said with a weak smile.
We settled back, Quinn tucked into the crook of my arm, and restarted the game. Upstairs, the funeral reception continued. People shared stories of Sienna the perfect, Sienna the ambitious, Sienna the bright ray of golden sunshine. In the basement, we tried to forget how she hurt us, her death most of all.
#
It was easy to ignore everything else. Quinn was tucked under my arm. She fit perfectly. Dark Flag was open on the wide screen television. It had to be alright for us to disappear for a while. The upstairs world could go on without us.
"Have you seen the Black Fields?" I asked.
I felt Quinn's head shake then nestle in closer. "No. Could you show me?"
"Wanna get away for a while?"
"Exactly."
I booted up the game to a new entry point. Players from my clan popped up everywhere, but I repeated the same message: "Touring a newbie."
It was actually part of my job. In fact, within five minutes, I spotted the avatar of one of my supervisors. My sponsors had players in the game to see that I logged the required number of hours and mentioned their product enough times.
"Hang on. I have to tell that Cloaked Corpse about Buzz Fuel," I said.
"The energy drink?" Quinn asked.
I was glad she did not sit up, and instead, stayed nestled against me. "Yeah, it’s one of my sponsors. I get paid to mention it during play. There are even bonuses if I mention it a certain number of times."
"Your clan players don't think it’s weird?"
"A lot of them know it’s part of my gig. Though, it’s also pretty natural because a lot of the players log on after work and pull all-nighters. We talk strategy and staying alert is part of that," I said.
"Do you drink Buzz Fuel?"
I looked down at her scrunched up nose and laughed. "I go for plain black coffee. Keeps you from getting dehydrated. But don't tell the Cloaked Corpse that."
"I'm just following you," she said.
Her avatar stood behind mine. It looked surprisingly like her. Most people chose idealized body types and features for their avatars or decided to be otherworldly creatures. My avatar had a wicked spiked helmet, but if I removed it, the face was a composite created directly from a digital photograph of me. My sponsors wanted me to be recognizable.
Quinn had also chosen to be a human warrior. It meant her avatar depended on weapons, charms, and spells to survive, but her ability to gather such things was unlimited. She was new to the game and had earned very little armor, and I could not help but noticed her avatar's curves matched her own dimensions.
Unlike the avatar that approached me as I left the Cloaked Corpse. It was a female Nocturne with bluish skin and iridescent eyes. Her breasts had been pumped up past voluptuous and the skintight silver suit showed off every ounce.
"May I please the clan leader?" the Nocturne asked.
"Whoa, avatars can do that?" Quinn asked.
"You mean throw themselves at other avatars?" I asked. I typed in a sequence that put the Nocturne aside. "They can do a lot more than that. In the waysides and taverns, avatars can kiss, fondle, undress, have sex, all of it. Dark Flag is not just rated M for violence."
The pop-up screen of commands appeared next to Quinn's avatar. I tried not to watch as she tried a few out. Her avatar ran its hands over its breasts, unzipped its jacket, and licked its lips.
"You might want to watch what you're doing. There are other players around that might be interested," I said.
Quinn quickly scrolled through the commands but could not find the reverse. Her avatar's jacket was slipping off one shoulder, revealing the very thin tank top underneath.
"Why is my avatar not wearing a bra?" Quinn asked.
"Virtual gravity is not a factor?" I suggested.
She whacked my arm and finally found the right command. With her avatar fully dressed, she sat up. "Okay, there is way more to Dark Flag than I'm ready to take on right now. Are you hungry?"
"Thirsty," I said. The heat between us had made my mouth go dry.
"Then let's go on a real-life raid. The caterers in the kitchen know me and they'll put together a quick tray and drinks for us," Quinn said.
"So you really plan to hide out down here the rest of the day?" I asked.
Quinn stood up and nodded. "Yes. Definitely. I mean, I get it if you want to leave."
I shook my head and followed her upstairs. We rounded the corner on the way to the kitchen and Quinn ran right into her father.
"Quinn, Owen. I should have known you two were hiding out together," Mr. Thomas said. "The hearse just arrived and we'll be leaving for the cemetery in half an hour." His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. "I expect you to be in the limousine with the rest of the family, Quinn."
"I will, Father. I'm just getting something to eat. I'm feeling lightheaded," Quinn said.
The change was instantaneous. As soon as her father appeared, Quinn became a pale shade of herself. She said as little as possible, nodded while her father spoke, and her sweet mouth turned down at the corners. I had seen it hundreds of times before. Every time it happened, I wanted to punch Mr. Thomas in the face.
"Sienna would have known how to handle herself," Mr. Thomas told his youngest daughter. "Pull yourself together for her sake."
"Yes, Father. Can I get you anything?" Quinn asked.
"No, but maybe Owen here can explain why my wife is so upset," Mr. Thomas turned on me.
It seemed obvious, so I said nothing. The silence infuriated him, and I saw Quinn shrink back. Finally, I relented. "She never approved of me and Sienna. I think maybe I should go."
Behind her father's ramrod straight back, Quinn caught my eye and shook her head. She looked so sad, as if I was abandoning her. I imagined the limousine ride to the cemetery. Her parents could not go five minutes on a regular day without comparing her to Sienna. What would they say to her on the drive?
I held out my hand to shake Mr. Thomas's in farewell. He ignored it and walked away.
"Are you really going?" Quinn asked. "At least grab a sandwich or something first."
I should have left, but I followed her to the kitchen. The quiet caterers moved easily around Quinn. Their manager came right over. "You want a plate, Ms. Thomas?"
"Yes, please. Two. Whatever you've got," she said. She was anxious to retreat again. Her eyes kept scanning the doorways.
"We're so sorry for your loss, Ms. Thomas," the manager said. "It sounds like your sister was an amazing person and you were following in her footsteps. Your parents are lucky to have you."
Quinn gave me a painful look. She had been surviving comparisons to Sienna all her life, but today everything was compounded. "Let's hope I don't go too far," Quinn said.
The nearest server fumbled a handful of silverware.
"How about a little something from the bar, as well?" I said. I took Quinn's arm and steered her back towards the basement.
"Quinn, what on earth are you doing with him?" Mrs. Thomas hissed from the doorway.
"You mean Owen?" Quinn spun to face her mother, the color bright on her cheeks. "Trying to get through this awful day, same as you."
"Well, he can't be helping," her mother said.
"How can you say that? Don't you remember how many times Owen came to Thanksgiving? Nine. He made the stuffing and the gravy at four," Quinn said. "And remember who did all the touch-ups when you fired the painters? These walls would be splotchy if he had not taken a whole day to fix them for you."
"It's okay, Quinn. I should go," I said.
"No. How can they forget that you're my friend?" she asked. "You didn't like him dating Sienna, but you had no problem with him driving me to Los Angeles. It wasn't an issue when you scheduled a cruise during Sienna's cheerleading camp week and Owen had to stay here so I wouldn't be alone."
"Really, Quinn, you are just being silly. I'm sure it’s the stress of al
l this, but you should stop before you make a fool of yourself," Mrs. Thomas said.
"A fool of myself?" Quinn asked. "I'm not hunting around for someone to blame."
Mrs. Thomas gripped her narrow waist until her knuckles turned white. "He certainly did not help Sienna, did he? You don't think she realized how close you two were? You don't think we all knew about your 'friendship’?"
"Sienna was happy I was spending time with Quinn," I said. "She knew we like the same things."
"Childish things, little kid games," Mrs. Thomas spat. "Well, at least you realized Sienna was too good for you. I was glad when you two started drifting apart."
"You wanted him out of Sienna's life, but you expected him to be there and prevent all of this?" Quinn asked. She threw her hands up in disgust. "You don't even know what you're saying."
"No one does today. It's alright, Quinn. I'm going to leave," I said.
"I'll walk you to your car," she said.
Mrs. Thomas opened her mouth to protest, but Quinn brushed past her. I had no choice but to follow her out the front door. She moved fast, her long legs flying down the front steps. Her black high heels clicked quickly along the sidewalk and I had to hurry to catch up.
"Quinn? Are you alright?" I asked.
"No. Yes. I have no idea," she said, finally slowing down.
"They feel the same way," I said. "You can't listen to anything they say."
"Except they're right," Quinn said. "You were Sienna's boyfriend, not my buddy. I shouldn't have pestered you. I should have stuck by my mother and kept her calm."
"You're allowed to grieve, too. You're allowed to need someone in your corner." I caught her arm. "I'm on your side, Quinn. I've always been on your side."
"Sienna didn't mind us being friends, did she?" Quinn asked, tears in her eyes.
"She encouraged it. Sienna was the one that pointed out how much we have in common. She made us friends," I said. I bit my lip to stop from saying more.
Quinn threw her arms around my neck and hugged me hard. I steadied myself, then wrapped my arms around her. I could not think about how her every curve fit alongside my body. We came together too easily to ignore, but Quinn needed comfort, not complications.