Stay in the Game

by Megan Atwood

His watch ticked to 4:49.

  “Um,” was all he could say. He had no idea how to get her away from her computer.

  The ring of her phone startled them both. Ms. Bravo said, “Hold on one sec.” Then, into the phone, she said, “What? Just a minute.” When she hung up, she was no longer smiling. “Excuse me . . .” And then she stormed out of the room.

  James’s watch ticked to 4:50.

  He took one quick look out the office door to make sure no was watching. Then he pushed the door almost all the way closed. He stepped around the desk and squatted down. Sure enough, her hard drive sat on the floor. James got down on his knees, pulled the drive forward, and put the jump drive in the USB slot.

  He stood up so quickly that he almost fell over. But he righted himself and stared at the computer. Luckily, it hadn’t locked up, so he wouldn’t need a password. He found the jump drive icon on the desktop and opened it. It held one file called “SolarStar Share.” There wasn’t time to find out what it was. He ejected the jump drive and scooted around to the other side of the desk, ready to sit down again. And then he thought, What am I doing? He had to go. Now.

  James opened the door and peeked around. A crowd of people seemed to be gathered in an office down the hall. He could slip out with no one noticing.

  James edged past the front desk and opened the outside door. He took one last peek at the people in the office. Sandra Bravo was holding her hair like she going to tear it out, her face blank with shock.

  James left the building.

  CHAPTER 12

  “I’m not hungry!” James yelled. His stomach grumbled in protest. But he needed to check his computer.

  His aunt Beth opened the door. “I’m getting a little sick of this attitude, James. You’re going to come down to eat in five minutes or you don’t eat at all, you understand?”

  Dark circles underlined his aunt’s eyes. James wrestled with conflicting emotions. He was irritated by the interruption, but he knew how hard things were for her.

  His irritation won. “Then I won’t eat at all.” He turned away from her. With a heavy sigh, she closed the door. The sound of his grandpa’s whirring machines echoed through the room.

  James pulled up the website.

  TASK 5 COMPLETE

  TASK 6

  At exactly midnight tonight, call the number programmed into the phone given to you. Say, “We will come after your family.” Then hang up.

  At 12:30 tomorrow afternoon, wear the clothes given to you and follow this man from the Government Center office in downtown Minneapolis until he returns to the same building.

  A photo loaded onto the page. It showed a thin, balding white man. He looked like every middle-class white man James had ever seen. Probably in his forties. The picture seemed to be a professional photo from a website. The guy was dressed like a lawyer in a police procedural. James tried hard to memorize his face. Then the photo vanished. James refocused on the rest of the instructions.

  What phone? What clothes? For the millionth time, he wondered what he was doing with this contest. Even if these instructions made sense, they still rolled two tasks into one. The Benefactor seemed to change the rules whenever he wanted. Not that James could do anything about that. It was clear that the Benefactor pretty much did whatever he wanted.

  At least tomorrow was Saturday. He wouldn’t have to miss class again for this contest. James had always been a straight-A student. But with so much else on his mind, he was pretty sure he’d fail some classes this semester.

  He turned off the computer and lay down on his bed, his arm flung over his eyes. Maybe he could forget this one. He was so tired. He could just give up now and wait with his aunt for his grandpa to die.

  Without warning, tears streamed down his temples. But a knock at the door made him quickly sniff and wipe his eyes. Too late—his aunt walked in. When she saw the tears on his face, she set down the package she was holding. Then she sat on the bed with him, putting her arms around him. Before he could help it, he put his arms around her and sobbed. It felt so good to just surrender. He could feel her shaking and crying too.

  When the two broke apart, his aunt smiled at him through her tears. “This is all unfair, James, I know.” James briefly wondered if she could read his mind. “But we have each other. We’ll get through this. You’re strong and wonderful. You always have been.” And she stood up. “Tacos downstairs when you’re ready.” James wiped his eyes and smiled back up at her. He nodded.

  As she left his room, she pointed to the package she’d left on his computer desk. “Oh, this was in the lobby. It’s for you.”

  James’s heart sank.

  CHAPTER 13

  James wasn't surprised to find that the package contained a burner phone, a hoodie, a baseball cap, and sunglasses. As usual, the Benefactor had held up his end of this arrangement. Now it was James’s turn.

  The call at midnight was easy. He didn’t even have to talk to a person. And he tried not to listen too closely to the pleasant, deep voice that recited the voicemail message: “Hi, this is Paul. I can’t answer my phone right now, but leave a message . . .” James had left the message, trying to make his voice sound as deep as possible. And trying hard not to think about what he was doing.

  Following Paul the next day turned out to be fairly easy too. Almost fun. With the hat and sunglasses, James felt like a spy, only without the cool equipment. At 12:30, the guy walked out of the building, and James stayed two or three people behind him.

  Still, James noticed the guy noticing him. For a minute or two, James was scared—what if he called the police? But then James thought about the Benefactor. Anyone mixed up with him probably wouldn’t call the police. For the first time since the Contest started, James felt a surge of power. But one look at the guy’s scared face, his body language of fear, and James felt bad again. How could somebody feel good about doing things like this?

  And then that feeling of power turned to rage again. How could the Benefactor live with himself? He had to be seriously messed up. Evil.

  Paul ducked into a coffee shop, came out with a sandwich, and circled back to his office. James was pretty sure he’d spoiled the poor guy’s appetite. And now James didn’t know what to do with himself. He had a restless energy. He walked to the downtown library and used the bathroom to change out of the clothes. Then he went to the computer terminals.

  TASK 7

  You will receive an envelope this afternoon. Do not open it. At 8:00 p.m., deliver it to the mailbox of 4201 Summit Avenue.

  He was more than halfway through now. And he was way ahead of one of the other competitors—the one who’d been beating him. In fact, he was in the lead.

  He just wasn’t sure if that was a good thing.

  *****

  That evening, a bubble envelope was waiting for James when he got home. James shrugged off dinner, telling his aunt he’d eat at a friend’s house. He crammed the envelope into his new backpack and went to catch the bus.

  James took the bus all the way to Summit Avenue, a super-rich part of St. Paul. He’d always wondered who lived in these huge mansions. When he got to the right house, it was 7:45, fifteen minutes early. The house sprawled in front of him, all brick, with a manicured lawn. James was afraid of not doing exactly as he was told, so he figured he should wait. He walked to the end of the block and sat by a bus stop there, holding the envelope. He felt through the paper to see if he could figure out what it was. The objects were rectangular and stiff. They felt like printouts of photos.

  He glanced around out of habit and didn't see anyone. It occurred to him that even if the Benefactor was watching him right now, it must be from a distance. James’s house might be bugged, but a random bus shelter? Not likely. So if he was careful . . . maybe he could look at those photos.

  James reached into his backpack. Without taking the envelope out of the bag, he carefully pried open the top and brought out about five pictures.

  The photos looked like they were taken from far a
way and like the people in them didn’t know they were being photographed. James flipped through them. A little girl about three years old, sitting on a swing, and a boy just a bit older, was pushing her. Another one: a woman pushing a stroller with the little girl in it, the boy walking alongside it. And one of a man—Paul—plus the woman and the two kids, all piling into a minivan.

  James's skin was crawling. What kind of a game was this?

  The alarm on his watch went off: 7:55.

  James stood up and walked slowly to the house. Suddenly, all of this felt very real and very dangerous. If he got caught, how could he possibly explain himself? These were pictures of kids. This looked like stalking, or a threat, or blackmail. And it probably was all of those things.

  Anyway, how could he live with himself if he went through with it? He tucked the pictures back in the envelope and put it inside his jacket. He couldn’t do this to this family. Even if that meant losing the contest, losing his grandpa . . .

  A voice behind him startled him. “You work here, huh?” James turned around to see a kind-looking white woman standing next to him. She had some sort of accent. “I work over there.” She pointed to a huge mansion across the street. “I hope your people treat you nice,” she said. “Mine aren’t very nice, but it’s a job anyway. Rich people—what can you do?” Then she crossed the street. James watched her walk all the way to the back of the house.

  Rich people. People who could afford treatments. People who could afford to hire someone like that woman. Someone like him. And of course that woman had just assumed James was working here, not living here. The usual assumptions and prejudices.

  Anger surged through him. He bounded up the steps to the house. Before he could think about it more, he dropped the pictures through the mail slot.

  His watch blinked to 8:00.

  CHAPTER 14

  The familiar scrawl began on his phone screen. He could barely see it through the screen’s enormous crack, but it was enough to make him smile.

  TASK 7 COMPLETE

  TASK 8

  Take the next package you receive to the Amtrak station. Put it in locker 235. The combination is 85-05-42. Do not look inside the package.

  If he squinted, he could just make out the clock on the website homepage. 24:00. He had a full day to complete this. No problem. He was so close, he could taste it. He took a bus home and got there at 9:00. Walking into the apartment, he said, “Anything left for dinner?”

  His aunt Beth jumped at the sound of his voice. “James! I thought you ate at your friend’s place?”

  He stopped short. He’d completely forgotten about his lie.

  “Um, I didn’t like what they were having.”

  She narrowed her eyes. Then she pointed to the couch, where another box sat. “You have another package here.” She looked away and said, fake-casually, “You’re not in any trouble, are you?”

  James scooped up the package and grinned. “I’m building a really slow nuclear device.”

  Aunt Beth grinned back. “Smart aleck. That’s enough from you, then.”

  He put his backpack on and started back toward the door. If he could knock this task out tonight too . . . well, he’d be way ahead.

  “Where are you going now?”

  James thought fast. “Well, actually, this box is for a school science project. My partner and I have been waiting for it. I’m going to go over to her house and see if we can finish the project now.”

  His aunt raised her eyebrows. “Her?”

  James looked down and smiled. “Her name is Ana.” He remembered the beautiful girl from the school and a familiar pang of guilt shot through him. He wondered what he had stolen from her.

  Then he forced a smile. “See you later, Aunt Beth.”

  But his aunt was still giving him the hairy eye. “Uh-uh. It’s after nine, James. You have school in the morning. This project can wait till tomorrow. You stay here. Sit with your grandpa. Hang out with your aunt.”

  James thought about arguing, then changed his mind. He should spend some time with his grandpa. Besides, his whole body ached with tiredness. And he was so close already. He was even ahead of schedule.

  “Okay, sure.” He flopped on the couch, taking off his backpack. “So what do we have for dinner?” He grinned at his aunt. “Nuclear scientists need their strength, you know.”

  His aunt looked at him worriedly. “Well, you sure look like you do. You’ve lost a lot of weight, James. You’re looking scrawny.”

  He tried to laugh it off. “Thanks a lot.” She just looked at him more intently.

  “What’s in the box, James?”

  “Ah, nothing, just science-y stuff.” His voice was light, relaxed. But he could tell his aunt didn’t believe him. He’d never been much good at lying. Until now, he hadn’t ever needed to be.

  CHAPTER 15

  The next day, James had no trouble planting the cardboard box in the locker. The train station was practically empty. James was in and out in five minutes.

  Now he found himself on University Avenue again.

  He’d just completed his eighth task. Only two more to go. Exhaustion settled in his bones. Flashes of the faces of people he’d harmed ping-ponged in his mind. The kids in the picture. The woman in the hardware store. Sandra Bravo.

  As if he’d conjured up the business, he found himself standing outside the EarthWatch building. The office was dark.

  The buzz of an unfamiliar phone snapped James out of his trance. He remembered he still had the burner phone from when he’d called and left the eerie message for that man, Paul. He dug in his backpack and found it. A new text message had just come through.

  Check the website. You have two tasks left. Once you finish these, you will win $10 million.

  James pocketed the phone, frowning. He should have been happy. But all he felt was anxious and guilty.

  The weight of all his choices crashed down on him. This contest was the furthest thing from a game. And it went against everything his grandpa had ever taught him.

  Everything about this was wrong, he knew that now. He was just so far into it that he had no idea how to get out.

  He had to tell his aunt. She’d know what to do.

  Time to face things like a man.

  *****

  When James got home, he found Aunt Beth wringing her hands on the couch. A man he didn’t know walked out of his grandpa’s room, in scrubs. James’s heart dropped.

  “Is he . . .?” He couldn’t even get out the words.

  “Sit down, honey.” James sank onto the couch, hearing his heart pounding in his ears.

  But then Aunt Beth’s face broke into a huge smile. “Some angel has sent us a stopgap measure to help Dad fight a little.”

  James sat up straight. “You mean the treatment—”

  “It’s not the full treatment. But it’s a first round. It won’t hurt him to try. And someone arranged for it on our behalf. We don’t have to worry about affording it . . .”

  James couldn’t feel his body. He couldn’t feel anything. He stared at Aunt Beth—then at the guy in scrubs, who was watching them.

  Aunt Beth noticed. “James, this is Andrew, a special oncology nurse. He’ll be overseeing the treatment.”

  This was really happening. James struggled to take it in. “But you don’t know who set this up? Or why?”

  Why was he even asking? This had to be the Benefactor.

  His aunt shook her head. “I may be able to find out more later. But for now I’m just grateful. Andrew thinks this will give Dad a real chance.”

  “It’ll at least buy him some more time,” said the nurse. “And honestly, Dr. Trudeleau, he’s looking better already. The 30-percent statistic is very conservative. With continuing treatment, it’s very possible he’ll pull through . . .”

  James had a hard time not whooping out loud. He settled for a grin instead.

  Then he felt a buzz in his pocket. Andrew was talking to Beth about transfusions and bags and things.
James took out the burner phone to read the text that had just come through.

  We know your grandfather is failing. We’ve arranged for one round of treatment for him. If you finish the contest, the money you win can provide the additional rounds of treatment he needs.

  Relief flooded through James’s body. And for the first time, he felt something like gratitude for the Benefactor.

  Now he just needed to make sure his grandpa got the rest of the treatments he would need.

  CHAPTER 16

  TASK 8 COMPLETE

  Your ninth task is to run away from home. Leave a note for your family telling them not to look for you or alert the police.

  Your last task will be given to you tonight at 1:00 a.m. Go to 128 Nicollet Mall in downtown Minneapolis. Wear the clothes you wore to follow the man. Bring the phone. After this task, you will receive a check for $10 million.

  James stared at the computer. All his excitement, all his renewed energy—gone. Replaced by anger.

  This guy is just using Gramps to blackmail me. He has been all along. That’s the only reason he wants to keep Gramps alive.

  But it was working. James’s grandpa was alive. And he was so close to being okay.

  And James knew he couldn’t give that up. No matter what the Benefactor asked of him now.

  James tore a piece of paper from his notebook and scrawled: I can’t handle being here right now. I’m running away. Don’t look for me, and don’t call the police. His pencil hovered over the page. Was he allowed to say anything more? What more could he say? He hoped the “right now” part would tell his aunt that he’d be coming back soon.

  And it would be soon. As soon as he got the money tonight.

  But then . . . if the Benefactor planned to give him the money right after the last task, why did James have to write this note? What was the point of telling his family he was running away? What did the Benefactor gain by making him do this?

  James shook his head. Maybe the last task would take longer than the others. A few days, even. That had to be all it was. The Benefactor hadn’t lied to him yet. He’d threatened him, pushed him, kept him in the dark—but he hadn’t lied.