I hesitate, unsure how much I should tell him. Surely he’s not still a Codester fanboy after what happened with Cody; surely he wouldn’t run and find Cody and divulge to him my whole plan. But after I stupidly spewed out the whole thing to Willow, I have to be more careful.
Before I can answer, he says, “Because I’m not a fan of being the butt of people’s jokes.”
I shake my head quickly. “It’s not for that. Definitely not.”
“Though you may end up being the butt of some people’s jokes,” Legs tells him, and part of me wants to hit him, while another part of me realizes that it’s good that he’s here with me for this. Because this kid—Sam—deserves to know that, and if I’m honest, I’m not sure I would have told him. Maybe Willow is right. Maybe I’m as bad as she is.
Maybe I’m even as bad as Cody.
Sam cocks his head and studies me, then says, “Does this have to do with what you said yesterday? About Code being a terrible person?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Right. You specifically said you didn’t say that. But are you saying it now? Is that what this is about?” He’s stopped picking at the pimple on his face and is staring at me intently.
I’m almost certain he’s not going to run to Cody with my secret, and not just because of Cody calling him names. He’s a good kid. I nod. “Yeah. That’s what this is about.”
He takes a deep breath, his shoulders rising almost up to his ears. His fingers find that pimple on his face again. And then he says, “Okay. You can use it.”
I blink at him. That was easy. “You don’t want to know more?”
“Will it make some worlds better?”
It’s a weird question, but I know what he means. This earth can sometimes feel like it’s full of a million worlds—good ones and bad ones and kind ones and corrupt ones and complex ones and hateful ones and beautiful ones—all coexisting in the same country, the same city, the same community, the same family.
“I . . . don’t know for sure,” I admit. “But that’s the hope.”
“That’s good enough for me. Go ahead and use it.”
“People might make fun of you,” Legs says again.
Sam looks over his shoulder into the room where his friends are playing cards. “Not in all worlds,” he says with a quiet smile. “So I think I’ll be okay.” He turns to me as his hand finds its way back to his face. “Will you, though? I hope you have another job lined up.”
“Pardon?”
“He’ll fire you, won’t he? When he finds out you did it?” His eyes go toward my badge like they did yesterday. It’s not turned around backward this time. It says “Codemeister,” just like Cody’s own badge, since he’s the one who got them.
This kid—Sam—has no idea that I’m Cody’s sister. He thinks I’m some rogue employee. If only. That would make this all so much easier.
“I’ll be okay,” I say. “It was nice to meet you, Sam. Thanks for the permission to use the video.” I hold out my hand, and he reaches his own out to shake it, then pulls it back abruptly like he’s just remembered he’s contagious.
“Sorry,” he says in alarm as he stares down at his hand. I follow his gaze to see a dot of blood on his pudgy middle fingertip. His hand goes back up to his face, where there’s a matching red dot blooming. His whole face flushes red. “Sorry. It’s a disorder. So sorry. I know it’s gross.”
I mean, picking at pimples is sort of gross, but there’s a weight to his words that makes me think there’s more going on than pimple picking, and more going on than his own use of the word gross. “Who says that? Jerks at school? Just ignore them. People are idiots.”
“And my opa.” His fingers go to his face again, then drop immediately as he catches himself.
“Hang on, your own grandfather tells you your disorder is gross?” Legs asks.
Sam shrugs. “He’s nice in other ways.”
“Dude,” I say, “you can’t let him say that to you!”
“What am I supposed to do? He’s my opa.”
“Ream him out. Tell him he’s a jerk.”
Sam’s eyes open wide like I told him he should murder the guy or something. He shakes his head. “No. I can’t. He’s family.”
Cody is my family, too. “Being family doesn’t excuse someone for being a jerk,” I say.
And that’s when I know for sure—for 100 percent sure—that I’m going to do it.
Once Sam disappears into the room after his friends, I turn to Legs. “I’m posting a video of Cody for sure.”
Legs narrows his eyes. “I thought it was already for sure.”
I shrug. “Well, now it’s super for sure.” If it’s wrong to stand up to my bully of a brother, to try to turn him into less of a jerk, to tear him down in hopes of building him back up into a better version of himself—if that’s wrong, then I don’t want to be right.
I glance into the card room after Sam. Not every means is justified by the end, though. “Maybe I shouldn’t post the clip with him in it.”
“But he said you could.”
“Yeah, but he’s going to get bullied, like you said. He’s the nobody in that video. I think he’s badass for standing up to Cody because of it, but you’re right, some people will only laugh at him. He’s too nice for me to use it.” I hurt Janessa. I don’t have to hurt Sam, too.
“He’s too brave for you not to use it,” Legs counters.
I laugh. “How did we get switched around on this one?”
Legs shakes his head in amusement. “Apparently we have opposite reactions to both bad people and good.”
“Apparently,” I agree with a smile. Sam is clearly good people. I think of the slip of paper he gave me yesterday, of the way I immediately dismissed it as something that’d turn to dryer lint in the pocket of my other pants. I should have at least watched one video. “But we’ll keep each other honest because of it, right?”
“Right.”
We grin at each other.
And that’s when another idea pops into my head. “Hey, Legs, remember how we were going to go say bye to people, then go for a walk? What if we went for a walk first?”
Legs recognizes, somehow, that I’m not suggesting a casual stroll by the water, that I have something else in mind. “You have an idea?” he asks.
“I have an idea,” I confirm. “And this one I think you’re actually going to like.”
Twenty-Three
SamTheBrave
I SLIDE INTO THE TABLE WHERE MARK AND LEROY ARE PLAYING LOTS: THE Card Game.
“What was that about?” Mark asks.
“It turns out Code actually is a . . . what’d she say yesterday? Bigoted jerk? Misogynistic douche?”
Mark laughs. “You think?”
I laugh too. It feels nice to know that Code’s just a jerk to everyone, and that his comments say more about him than about us.
“Take your turn,” Leroy says to Mark. “You’re being too slow.”
Mark rolls his eyes but takes his turn.
I grin at them both. I thought this weekend was going to be all about winning over Code and promoting my channel, but it’s ended up being about something else entirely.
I watch them play for a while, until Mark says, “Hey, when you’re doing that, do you want me to say anything or just leave it?” He gestures to the back of my left wrist, where my right hand has made a bloody mess of what used to be a small scab.
My face flushes hot. As Mark waits for my answer, though, he doesn’t crinkle his nose or show any other signs of disgust. His eyebrows are raised and his eyes curious, like he genuinely wants to know what he can do to help.
“I’m not sure,” I admit. “I can’t always control it. If something starts to bleed, my mom usually hands me a Kleenex, which usually helps.”
“I can do that,” Mark says. He pats his pockets. “Oh, uh, I don’t think I have any Kleenex, though. Shoot, sorry.”
“No worries. I’m set.” I reach into my bag and pull out a lit
tle pouch of Kleenexes, taking one out and setting the package down on the table.
As I press the one Kleenex to my unintentionally self-inflicted wound, Mark reaches and grabs the Kleenex pack. “Great, thanks,” he says, then he shoves it into the pocket he was just patting. He’s ready, I realize, to do just what I said should the need arise—when the need arises.
This whole weekend has been so much better than I could have imagined.
“Let’s scrap this game and teach Sam how to play,” Leroy says to Mark. “You’re not even paying attention.”
Mark agrees, and as Leroy heads to the games station to get a loaner deck for me, I check the notification flashing on my phone.
It’s from YouTube. There’s a new comment on my latest video.
MEGAdawn: Super-hilarious videos, bro! I’m subbing and making my friend sub, too. She’ll <3 them.
“Anything good?” Mark asks.
“New sub. Possibly two.”
“Awesome! You’re on your way to fame, SamTheBrave!”
“Sure. One slow sub at a time.” Which I can live with, I guess.
“Possibly two.” Mark holds up two fingers.
“Right.” I laugh.
Leroy slips back into his seat. “Okay, so here’s your deck.” He starts to fan out the new deck in front of him to show me as my phone flashes with another notification. I ignore it. “It’s a starter mage deck, so—no, hang on, they gave me the wrong one.” He hops back up.
I pick up my phone again while we wait. There’s another YouTube comment.
Tacos4L1fe: LMAO SUBBED!
It’s weird to get two comments back to back a couple of days after the video is posted. Normally I get a decent number of comments the day I post a video, but then they trickle off. But maybe Tacos4L1fe is MEGAdawn’s friend. That would make sense.
I set the phone back down as Leroy returns with the right deck this time. He and Mark explain the rules, and it’s similar in mechanics to Hearthstone, which I play online, so it seems straightforward enough. Leroy shuffles my deck for me, hands it over, then starts to shuffle his own.
There’s another notification flashing on my phone. I know I shouldn’t interrupt our game, but I can’t help myself. I grab it and unlock it. There are three new comments on my video.
Hlibishark: hilarious!!1!!!
Life in Italics: You’re doing great, sweetie! So funny!
Dewibear: I like this
What is happening?
As if in answer to my unspoken question, my phone beeps with a message from Jones.
SAMMYBOY HAVE YOU SEEN IT?!?!? YOU DIDN’T TELL ME YOU TALKED TO HIM!!!
Seen what? I glance at my YouTube channel. My subscriber count has jumped up to 271. That’s thirty new people—more than I’ve ever gotten in one day before.
I switch over to my chat with Jones. Seen what? I type.
The link pops up a second later, and I click on it.
Holy crap!
“What are you grinning about?” Mark asks.
“He posted about my video!”
“Who did? Code?” Mark wrinkles his nose.
“No!” I hold out my phone to him.
“Holy crap!” Mark says. He snatches the phone from me. “Dude!”
Leroy, finally intrigued by our excitement, sets down his deck and holds his hand out for the phone. “Whoa,” he says once Mark hands it over. He blinks at the screen.
“How’d that happen?” Mark asks, his voice shaking with almost as much excitement as I feel.
Legs couldn’t have done it alone. He didn’t have my channel info. “It was that girl from yesterday.”
“Who you were just talking to?”
I nod. “Legs was with her.”
Mark’s eyes go wide. “Hang on. Legs was with her, and you didn’t call us over to get his autograph?”
“I—right, yeah, I should have done that. I’m sorry. I didn’t get one either. It all happened so fast.”
“Is that what they wanted to talk to you about?” Leroy asks, pointing to my phone.
I shake my head. “No, it was—” I break off. There’s too much in my brain right now to explain. I’ll tell them the whole story later. “No. This was a complete surprise.”
A new comment comes in.
KittyKat: legs and MEGAdawn are right. you’re funny. good video.
“A pretty darn good surprise,” Mark says.
“No kidding.”
Dereck’s finally appeared in my chat window with Jones, and the two of them are freaking out.
“What are you going to do now?” Leroy asks.
I blink a few times, trying to clear my brain. “Uh, well, tonight I guess I’ll do my usual stream, edit it, put the highlights on YouTube. Keep trying to make quality content. Until then . . . play cards, I guess?” I hold up my nicely shuffled deck. My phone flashes with another notification. “Though, um, I might be a little distracted.”
Leroy nods. “That is acceptable.”
“You never let me be distracted during our games,” Mark protests.
“If LumberLegs ever tells the world about your currently nonexistent videos, you will be entitled to be as distracted as you like.”
Mark and I both laugh. “Cards it is, then,” Mark says.
I pick up my deck, still mind-boggled and confused and over-the-moon excited.
Later, I’ll probably stare at my phone for hours. I’ll spend just as long writing and rewriting a thank-you tweet to Legs—and, if I can find her online somehow, Lainey. I’ll ignore any troll bullies who pop up, just like Opa said. And I’ll record the best video I possibly can, to keep my new subscribers interested. And did I mention staring at my phone for hours?
For now, though, as my subscriber count continues to climb and the comments keep coming in, I’ll sit here at this convention and play cards with my friends.
@LumberLegs: My new all-time favorite streamer and YouTuber: SamTheBrave. I wish I could pull off pranks like this brilliant one. Check it out!
[1.7K likes]
Twenty-Four
ShadowWillow
AFTER MY SIGNING, Z AND I MEET GRAY AND MARLEY AT A CLUSTER OF FAUX-LEATHER chairs in the big hallway outside the main auditorium. The chairs are full of people, so we stand grouped in the back corner, out of the way of the passing crowds.
There’s a long lineup stretching down one wall of the hallway and back up the other, waiting to be admitted to a panel featuring a few of LotS’s original developers. I had planned to catch that panel, and if I wanted to, I could walk up to the front of the line, flash my badge, and get let right in—which is still absurdly cool—but I have more important things to worry about right now.
“Do you know where Lainey’s at?” I ask Z and Gray and Marley. “I need to talk to her about something.” I need to get on my hands and knees and beg her not to post that video. If Code gets hit by a firestorm, how will that impact his channel? And more important, how will that impact mine? Especially if I go through with what I’m planning to do.
Gray and Marley shake their heads, while Z says, “I told Legs where to meet us, and I assume Lainey’ll be with him, but I don’t know how long they’ll be.”
Even though Lainey said she wouldn’t be posting her video today, I don’t trust that whatever anger’s brewing inside her won’t spill over and make her change her mind. I don’t have time to wait to see if she does or doesn’t show up with Legs. I need to talk to her now. “Do you have her number?” I ask Z, and he does. It’s a US number, of course, which means it’ll probably cost me an arm and a leg to text her, but it’ll be worth it. Hopefully.
I’m in the middle of crafting a text asking her to meet me somewhere to talk when Gray practically shouts, “Are you guys dating? I knew it!”
For a moment, I think she means me and Z, and I shift quickly away from him as I realize our shoulders are almost touching, but when I look up, Gray’s looking past us. I turn around to see Legs and Lainey ambling toward us, hand in hand.
“I called it at PAX!” Gray turns to Marley. “Didn’t I call it at PAX?”
Legs and Lainey have clearly heard her, because their cheeks are matching bubble-gum pink as they join our circle. It’s so adorable that I almost forget that I want to convince Lainey not to completely undermine everything I’ve worked for.
“Hey, Lainey, can I talk to you?” I ask. Her unplucked eyebrows rise, but she follows me over to a couple of chairs that are now freed up a little ways away.
“So, you’re planning to post some sort of video trying to convince people that your brother is a terrible person?” Even though we’re probably out of earshot of Z and the others, I speak quietly, not much above a whisper.
“You’re not going to tell Cody, are you?” Lainey half whispers back.
I shrug. Telling Code wouldn’t accomplish anything—except maybe gaining his trust. Knowing a storm is coming doesn’t stop the storm. But she doesn’t need to know that. Maybe I can use it as a bargaining chip.
“You can’t stop me from posting it,” she says. “If I can’t post it right on Cody’s channel, I’ll just post it somewhere else. And if Cody starts avoiding me, well, that’s fine; I have enough video already.”
“I know.” My heart sinks as I study the set of her jaw, the determination in her eyes. Anger seeps through the cracks she’s trying to hold together, and it’s an anger I know well. It’s an anger I feel every time a guy says, “Do you even know how to play this game?” Every time there are more comments on my videos about my breasts than about how many enemies I managed to kill. Every time someone DMs me a dick pic.
I’ve learned to push my anger away, but I can’t blame her for not doing the same. I just wish I wasn’t going to be the one to suffer for it.
Right now, my success is tied to Code, and if I go through with my plan, that’s going to be even more true. Though it’s not only shippers who like my channel—or at least, it’s not only the shipping they like. That girl at my signing came to my channel because she’s a Code fan, but she stayed for me, because she likes my content. And that guy who asked a question at the panel yesterday said he’s watched one of my CS: GO videos dozens of times. And he was wearing a Codemeister shirt, so he probably was a Code fan first, too.
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