Chapter 16
Luca
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My head is turned stiffly to the right, because even the sight of my own blood makes me nauseous.
“Nearly there!” Naomi’s soothing voice tells me from the left.
A moment later, she steps into my field of vision and makes sure everyone’s fine.
Aside from myself, there are two more people donating blood, but they seem to be handling the whole thing better than I am.
The brunette woman diagonally across from me, for example, is absorbed in her book and doesn’t even seem to notice Naomi.
I lean my head back against the headrest and close my eyes.
The first time I was here, I was so scared that Naomi, the nurse, almost stayed with me for the entire time.
My parents and Maleek offered to come, of course, but I hate them seeing me so weak.
Especially my parents. They worry enough as it is.
I still don’t like being here, but upcoming appointments no longer make me lose sleep the night before.
I listen to the sounds of the hospital, the hustle and bustle, and I can’t stop my thoughts from drifting back to Lara.
Again. When I got back to the bar, Maleek chewed me out, telling me to keep my paws off the competition.
But thanks to the fact that Amanda couldn’t keep her hands off Maleek all night, he was distracted soon enough.
Lara and I didn’t exchange mobile numbers, but she followed me back on Instagram—it’s something, at least. Her video seems to have faded into obscurity, which she must have noticed as well, because she’s back on social media.
I know Maleek is right: Lara and I are competitors. But what if one of us doesn’t get through to round two? What if my game’s too scary, or if Lara’s worries come true and the judges really do kick her out for her presentation? Would it even matter then? Does it even matter if we both get through?
I flinch as Naomi steps closer. “Well then, let’s unplug you,” she says cheerfully, and when I turn my head away with a theatrical sigh, she lets out a hearty guffaw. “You’ll get used to it at some point.”
“You’ve been saying that for years, but nope.”
“And still you keep coming back.”
Because it’s the least I can do after everything that happened, I think.
I’m aware that the pint of blood I let them draw from me every two months doesn’t make up for anything, but it still feels like the right thing to do.
It’s not enough, but it’s a start. From the corner of my eye, I can see the sterile, mint-green gloves that contrast with her brown skin.
There’s a quick twinge, and then Naomi has removed the needle from my arm.
“And we’re done. Have a seat out front, eat something sweet—you know the drill! ”
“Thank you,” I reply and leave the room on wobbly legs. The slight throbbing sensation at the puncture site on my arm is the only pain that remains. Not for the first time, I wish the pain was worse. And not for the first time, it reminds me how unfair it was that I stayed safe and sound.
“You did it!” I’ve barely entered our corner of the office when Maleek flings his arms around my neck. “Hank was just here; he wants us to come to his office. Mate, we’re through to the next round!”
The melancholy that draped itself over me like a gray veil, the way it always does on blood donation days, dissipates as his words settle into my brain. “The next round? At GameChanger?”
“Yeah, mate!” Maleek thumps my back again, and then he lets go of me.
“We have a real chance of winning! That could change everything!” Laugh lines crinkle the skin around Maleek’s eyes as he beams at me.
For the first time in a long while, I can see real hope in his eyes.
It’s not that Maleek doesn’t believe in our game; he does, but he also realizes that we’re going to be toast without that cash injection.
I can feel the corners of my mouth lift, and my muscles, tense after my overcrowded tube ride, relax. We have a chance! Desolate Dread has a chance! Maybe I can do more than donate blood after all.
“That’s . . .” I shake my head, step up to my computer, and drum my fingers on the desk impatiently as it boots up.
I wonder whether Lara’s gotten through as well.
There are mixed feelings whirling around inside my head, because I really want this for her—but not for PixelPulse or Sophia.
Maleek leans in over my shoulder as I open the email addressed to Hank, Maleek, and me.
“‘Congratulations,’” I begin, reading the subject header out loud.
My gaze slides past the usual introductory nonsense and finally lands on the paragraph that has changed everything: “‘We’re pleased to invite you to GameChanger’s second round.
Your skill, your ingenuity, and Desolate Dread’s extraordinary story have convinced the judges.
We extend a warm welcome to you at Crow Manor. ’”
Maleek’s hand closes on my shoulder, and he shakes it a little. It’s like he’s shaking all the adrenaline in my body loose with that movement, because my pulse suddenly quickens. I’ve really done it! I’ve convinced the judges! With my horror game! I laugh, incredulous, and then I quickly read on.
“‘Round two of GameChanger takes place over the course of three days, promising nothing but excitement—your game has convinced the judges, but will it hold up to a broad audience? You will present your gameplay in a live stream and offer the playable demo to the audience on site. For twenty years running, influential publishers have held their exhibitions within our walls. We will be providing you with free floor space for the presentation of your game. We are expecting guests from all over the UK, notable streamers . . .’” I break off mid-sentence and shake my head again. “Wow.”
I catch a movement from the corner of my eye, and I turn my head.
Amanda’s standing there in the doorway, tossing her blond hair over one shoulder, a coffee cup in her other hand.
“Congratulations, Luca!” she says before her gaze wanders over to Maleek, and she blushes a little.
“I was going to ask whether either of you want any coffee.” She waves her cup around by way of an explanation, and I bite back a smile.
She was obviously hoping to catch Maleek alone.
“We just need to go talk to Hank first, but I’ll join you right after. Though I think some champagne is in order!” Maleek smiles at Amanda, and if I’m not much mistaken, he blushes a little as he does. He really seems to have fallen for her.
I lock my computer screen and sit up straighter. “Let’s go see whether Hank can’t spare some time for us. Then you two can clink glasses, and I suppose I’ll book our tickets to Cambridge!”
I wish I could pick up my phone and text Lara right now. My gaze falls on the white sheet of paper wedged under my keyboard. It looks like any other old scrap of paper, but the words on it are not in my handwriting.
I’ve got my fingers crossed that you get the funding; you deserve it, I read for what I’m sure is the hundredth time.
Would she be happy if I told her about my getting through to the next round?
Is she through too? Will we be seeing each other again?
And do I even want that? What if she isn’t through?
What if she is? We’d compete, and then what?
If she wins, it’s over for me. Once and for all.
If I win—will she really be as happy for me as her note suggests?
Or are her words tied to the assumption that she’s out of the running?
I wish everything were as clear as it is for Amanda and Maleek. They both like each other, they take their coffee breaks together, they work together in a sense—it’s simple. Instead, I had to fall for the one person who couldn’t have made my life any more complicated. Great. Brilliant.
Amanda flashes Maleek another smile, and then she disappears in the direction of the kitchen with a wave. I waggle my brows at Maleek, who promptly punches my arm. “Not a word, you!”
“No need to beat any more blood from my arm,” I tell him.
I get to my feet, and we make it over to Hank’s office in record time.
I take a quick, steadying breath, but Maleek interrupts my moment of peace by knocking on the door, rolling his eyes.
We hear a loud “Come in!” Hank doesn’t stay seated the way he usually does, rising to his feet instead and removing the glasses that he only wears for work, holding out his hand for us to shake.
We oblige him with a slight sense of alarm.
He’s not usually like this; it’s almost unnerving.
“Good going, lads!” Hank’s gray eyes sparkle as he indicates the seating area with a sweeping gesture.
He drops down onto the yellow sofa, crossing his ankles.
“Have a drink,” he tells us, nodding at the minifridge full of energy drinks, water bottles, and juices.
I shake my head, still flummoxed by his bubbly friendliness, while Maleek gets himself a bottle of water.
I plonk down on the armchair across from Hank, and as Maleek joins us, I begin to realize that all of this is real.
That I’ll be visiting my first trade fair ever with Desolate Dread.
That we have a chance at winning, and at the prize money.
So this is what it feels like to truly be a part of the industry.
Is this everyday life for Amanda and the rest of the Lawless and Havoc City teams?
“That email was full of praise for you, Luca. Looks like you’ve really represented us well.
” Hank’s smile grows a little wider. “There’s one more thing I’d like to discuss with the two of you .
. .” He leans forward, looking slightly more serious again.
“I’d like to take part in GameChanger and the presentation myself, but they’re only letting us send two people per studio to the convention. ”
“You want to come along to Crow Manor?” I ask, surprised. “The convention is three days, not counting the commute, which makes a full work week.”
“I know. But the GameChanger award is a prestigious prize, and Rodrick Crow is an influential name. I’d like to show my face. I think it’ll benefit your game. We’ll certainly get the attention of the press that way.”
I nod slowly, because Hank has a point, and then I glance over at Maleek, who’s already raising his hands. “I can stay here, no problem. I’m sure we’ll get interview requests from the press here too that I can take on.”
“You sure?” I ask, frowning at him.
“I mean, you staying here and me going makes no sense,” Maleek replies. “You’re the creative brain behind it all. We’ll be in the best position if the two of you go.”
I give him a suspicious look, but he doesn’t seem the least bit sad about our decision. I wonder if Amanda happens to have anything to do with that.
“Great, that’s settled, then,” Hank says, nodding contentedly.
A sense of hope prickles in my veins. Hank is respected in the industry—maybe not quite at Rodrick Crow’s level, but people know who he is; his games win awards.
Having him by my side won’t just get me the attention of the press; he also has the necessary expertise to present us well.
Significantly better than Maleek or I could have, probably.
We have a chance; we seriously have a chance.
“Do we need anything else for the second round?” Hank asks.
“Nothing except time, I think,” I respond. “We’ll put the playable demo to the acid test, of course, and I have to prepare the presentations.”
Hank nods. “I’ll have another look at the demo as well. Please send me all the information and updates you have.”
“I can take care of that,” Maleek offers, making a note on his phone.
“Excellent. I’ll have someone book the train tickets for us.
Please, try to find out together what promotional materials we need.
We could also do a team-wide brainstorming session.
Flyers, obviously, but is there something from the game that we can use as promo material?
Some sort of cool weapon as a USB stick—ah, but who even uses those things anymore?
” Hank glances up at the ceiling, thinking. “Mouse pads? Or is that too corny?”
“In the game, you can blind your opponents with your flashlight at night to slow them down,” I suggest, and Hank snaps his fingers excitedly.
“And we’ll be at a spooky mansion! Torches are a great idea.
We’ll have the game logo printed on them.
It would be even better if they’re visually similar to the torch in the game, but that would probably be difficult to achieve in such a short amount of time.
” Hank pulls out his phone and starts typing.
“I’ll text Steve to take care of it; maybe there’s still enough time left after all.
Send me any other ideas you can come up with. What about the booth?”
“The organizers are providing one, but Maleek has already come up with a few cool things to do so we can stand out a little . . .”
I stop at Hank’s dismissive gesture. “We won’t be using any of the standard booths. I’ll let our booth builder know from the last trade fair; he was brilliant. I’m sure they’ll design us something fitting for the event.”
“Isn’t that a little bit short notice?” I interject, though the thought of a custom booth has got my heart in my mouth.
Hank simply shrugs. “Nothing that money couldn’t sort out.”
“That’s not in the budget plan, though,” Maleek replies, and Hank gives another dismissive wave.
“Don’t you worry about that.” Hank keeps on flinging ideas around, and Maleek and I exchange puzzled looks.
Is this really happening? The fact that I’ve made it to the next round in and of itself is amazing.
But this? The promo materials, and Hank making time for us?
Him specially hiring a booth builder, while I was fully expecting a table and one or two computers?
I don’t even want to think about how much customizing a booth in that short time will cost. Just unbelievable.
The only thing tempering my cheer is the fact that I won’t be able to experience all this with Maleek. It’s his game just as much as mine, but unfortunately, we can only bring two people per team.
“Well done, you two,” Hank says finally.
“Just one more hurdle now, and your names will be on everyone’s lips.
” He gets to his feet—apparently our meeting is over now—and pats each of our shoulders.
It feels almost fatherly, which reminds me that I really need to call my parents.
They don’t know about any of this yet; telling them about a success I’ve had would be a nice change.