Chapter 4
Indira paused in the middle of frosting a cinnamon roll to look at me. “You said today was a special day.”
“Today is a special day,” I said.
“I made you cinnamon rolls because you were so excited.”
“I’m very excited. That’s why I made the sign-up sheet for the TV.” I displayed said sign-up sheet. Every time slot from now until Monday morning was filled with my name. “That’s why I reserved it for the whole weekend.”
“For a video game?”
“Okay, one, the tone. And two, not just any video game. Wizard Cheeseburger.” And then, because I didn’t think she was getting it, I added, “Three.”
Keme made a disgusted noise as he tried to filch one of the freshly frosted cinnamon rolls.
Indira slapped his hand without looking. “Wizard Cheeseburger?”
I nodded. “Three.”
Keme was trying to get one of the rolls again, but he shrank back when Indira’s gaze flicked in his direction.
“I don’t understand,” Fox said. They were orbiting the cinnamon rolls as well, drawn away from whatever project they’d been working on. “Are you a wizard who’s also a cheeseburger?”
“What? No, that would be a terrible game.”
“Are you a cheeseburger who’s also a wizard?”
“Wouldn’t that be the same thing?”
“Are you a loser with no friends?” Keme muttered.
I stared at him in betrayal. “You told me you loved Wizard Cheeseburger 2. You said you even beat the secret level.”
The boy at least had the decency to blush when Indira turned in his direction. He snatched one of the rolls and sprinted out of the room.
“Well, if we’re helping ourselves—” Fox said.
But Indira picked up the spatula, and Fox took a precipitous step back.
“If you’re not a wizard who’s also a cheeseburger, then what are you?” Indira asked.
“Well, you’re a wizard,” I said. “And you’ve got this wand, and you have to use condiments to make your way through each level.
Like, you shoot a spray of ketchup as your weapon, and you can use a leaf of lettuce as a bridge or to float down a river.
Oh, and you’re trying to stop the bad guy, of course—that’s Count Cheeseburger. ”
“A distant relation, no doubt,” Fox said, “of Count Chocula.”
“What is with everyone’s tone today? This game is going to be great. The first two games were awesome. I’m going to crack out on Wizard Cheeseburger 3 for the whole weekend, keeping myself alive with Funyuns and Mountain Dew, and it’s going to be peak living.”
“This is why I said we should make him play sports,” Fox told Indira. “But you let him try out for that musical instead.”
“Ha ha,” I told them.
“Don’t listen to them, dear,” Indira said as she passed me a cinnamon roll. “Have fun playing your Nintendo.”
Some of my horror must have shown on my face because Fox cackled. It was hard to tell as Indira left, but I thought maybe she was smiling.
I soothed myself with a cinnamon roll. Or seven.
“It’s like feeding time at the zoo,” Fox said as they watched. “Mesmerizing.”
“Gotta gas up.”
“Quite.” Fox cocked their head. “Dash, for the love of God, you have to chew your food or you’re going to choke.”
I was going to reply to that, but that was when Keme sidled into the kitchen.
“Oh no,” I said. “Traitor. You’re dead to me.”
“You said I could play it first,” he said, darting an embarrassed look at Fox.
Fox, though, only said, “I want to try it. What happens if you squirt someone with mayonnaise?”
“Nope,” I said. I finished the last cinnamon roll, drained my coffee, and carried the dishes to the sink.
You know you’ve done it right when you’re literally trembling with a sugar-caffeine overload.
The cup actually rattled on the saucer. “I’m playing.
Me. By myself. Because you are a backstabber.
” That was for Keme. And for Fox: “And you said I should play sports.”
“It’s because you’re a, er, healthy young man.” To Keme, they asked in an aside, “Did that sound believable?”
“You—” I pointed to Keme. “—go work on your summer school homework so you can actually pass high school and graduate. I’ll help you write the paper, but you have to finish reading the book first.”
Keme did something unspeakably rude before sulking out of the kitchen.
“You—” I pointed to Fox. “—go work on your project so that I don’t have to wake up at three in the morning to the sound of wailing, only to find you curled up in the fetal position in the hall, moaning about how you had offended God and man because your work did not reach the quality it should have. ”
“I stole that from da Vinci,” Fox said smugly.
“I thought you were a werewolf!”
“Well, from a meme about da Vinci.”
“Go!”
Fox sniffed and drifted out of the kitchen.
I got my Funyuns. I loaded up my Mountain Dew. And I was ten steps from the billiard room when I heard the unmistakable noise of video game gunfire.
If Keme thought I was joking about finishing his summer school homework—look, nobody wanted to read The Great Gatsby—
But it wasn’t Keme. It was Bobby. And he was laughing as Millie gunned him down in Fortnite.
“Did you see me shoot you in the FACE?”
(You get one guess as to who got so excited about the, uh, face shooting.)
“Okay,” Bobby said, still laughing, “I think you’re getting the hang of it.”
For a moment, Wizard Cheeseburger 3 was forgotten.
This was my chance. This was my opportunity.
A polite but firm reminder that there was a sign-up sheet for the TV, and I’d reserved it, and we needed to respect the sign-up sheet.
I could say, Bobby, I know you’re used to being able to do whatever you want, whenever you want, but when you live with someone else, it’s important to find ways to take turns and to share common areas.
Before I could say anything, though, Bobby glanced over at me, grinning. “Check this out: Millie is slaughtering me.”
Millie beamed. “Bobby’s teaching me how to play so I can surprise Keme on his birthday. Isn’t he going to be SO SURPRISED?”
As I recovered from the sonic boom, somehow I managed to smile. “Oh,” I said. “Cool.”