Chapter 36
Lara
Most inhabitants of Novel Haven are on your side.
But you’ve probably already noticed the rubbish problem on Novel Haven’s beaches.
It’s annoying for residents and a danger to the wildlife.
Looks like someone in the village isn’t being a good neighbor.
It’s your job to find out who they are and stop them!
“I’m looking forward to your questions,” Sophia finishes her presentation, smiling at the audience.
I bounce up and down in excitement back at our booth, and I can barely stop myself from breaking into frenetic applause and startling our visitors.
Sophia’s presentation was top-tier, and though I still don’t feel like going back on stage anytime soon, a new wish has formed in my mind: I want to be able to do that sort of thing someday.
I want to be able to speak as freely as she does, and I want to captivate large crowds with my speeches.
I glance up to see if everything’s still running smoothly at our booth, and then I look back at my phone screen and the live stream running on it.
Sophia smiles at the crowd—but then a moment later, her smile slips.
In the long shot, it becomes clear that only one hand is raised.
Sophia’s lips press into a thin line, and she scans the audience, waiting for someone—anyone—else to raise their hand.
When no one moves, she nods at the man with a pinched expression.
As the camera zooms in, I recognize him: It’s Hank, Luca’s boss.
“Ms. Richards, what a fascinating project you’ve presented to us here. But I will say, it feels rather familiar. You just said you started developing two years ago, didn’t you? So why is it that I’ve known the game for longer?”
Hank’s voice sounds provocative somehow, raised and with an undertone of smugness. While the people around him look about as confused as I feel, the camera perspective of Sophia’s face shows nothing but pure and utter horror.
“If you mean to say that the elements of our game feel familiar, then yes, of course, it picks up on game mechanics from other farming simulators. We can’t—and don’t want to—reinvent the wheel, that would . . .”
“No, no.” Hank taps his chin like he’s lost in thought. “That’s not what I meant. I’m quite sure I’ve seen something exactly like this before. That must have been about four years ago.”
Sophia swallows. It’s so clearly visible that even I can see it on my small phone screen. Something is very wrong. Much as I’d like to discount Hank’s comments as simple intimidation tactics, I can’t. Luca’s words are still ringing in my ears.
Novel Haven wasn’t Sophia’s idea.
I have it on good authority.
Please, just trust me on this.
The screen jerks before my eyes as my hands start to tremble. Hank must be Luca’s source. But Hank must be lying. Of course he is.
The people around me have no clue of the drama unfolding only a few feet away on the stage, instead happily posing for photographs.
One woman sits in front of our PC with her girlfriend on her lap, playing Novel Haven.
They’re all bubbling with excitement, and I wish I could breathe it all in and make it my own again, but a cold feeling starts spreading through my limbs.
I know Sophia. I know her enough to trust her, but I also know her enough to recognize the sudden uncertainty in her face.
She’s not one to be put down so easily, to let men interrupt her—and yet, she isn’t fighting back.
“Say something,” I beg my screen, and as though she can hear me, she starts to speak.
“The initial idea for this game came up during my studies.” She smiles, but it looks stiff. “I suppose that’s where you know it from, Hank.” I’m not the only one to notice they’ve dropped the formalities. The chat section next to the video of the live stream seems to have noticed as well.
cassandradark
They know each other?
emilio_playz
what’s going on?
veronsim
Sounds like drama, get the popcorn!
Several messages race across the screen, some cheering on Hank, others obviously confused, and some posting laughing emojis.
My phone vibrates in my hand. It’s Nataly. Her messages cover the video showing Sophia’s face, now beet-red, and they keep coming faster too.
Nat: WTF.
Nat: Who the hell does that Hank idiot think he is?
Nat: Please, leave the booth for a second and go kick his arse for me!
Nat: Or even better, straight in the bollocks!
Nat: Do you think this is about that thing Luca told you?
I don’t reply to Nat, because I’m too transfixed by the screen, too hopeful. Sophia runs a shaking hand through her hair. She glances around the room, about to pick another questioner, but Hank holds on to his mic and keeps talking.
“Oh yeah, that’s right.” He smiles and snaps his fingers like he’s just had a brilliant idea.
“It feels so familiar because we worked on it together. At Bytes time is up.
If you need any more information from Ms. Richards, you’ll find her .
. .” Elsa’s voice is quiet, but I can hear the urgency in it.
As I snatch my phone off the ground, I can see her placing a hand on Sophia’s back, guiding her off the stage.
I feel numb inside. I have no idea how I’m supposed to breathe normally, let alone move, ever again.
I want to jump up, run over to the stage, and confront Sophia.
It can’t be true. It can’t, and it mustn’t.
The phone’s vibration sends unpleasant prickles through my body as Nat, Aria, and everyone else from our group send their texts.
Hank is lying.
But if he’s lying, why didn’t Sophia defend herself?
You’ve noticed yourself that Sophia’s been weird these last few days.
Was Luca telling the truth after all?
I need to get out. I need everyone to leave. I don’t know what I want, I . . .
“Lara.”
A pair of arms wraps tightly around me. Luca’s voice and his scent envelop me like a warm blanket.
The cozy feeling reminds me of the old days, of Before.
Of a time when I would build blanket forts for my cat Nugget and me.
Luca pulls me close, shielding me from the visitors’ stares.
They still don’t know what’s going on, but they must have heard people whispering in the aisles already.
“You were telling the truth, weren’t you?” I ask, though I already know the answer.
“I’m so, so sorry.”
There’s a contradictory mix of emotions raging inside me.
I want Luca to hold me, to disappear with me, to hear and see no more of the world.
At the same time, I want to shove him, because he knew all along.
Because his boss made a fool of Sophia. Because surely, there would have been about a hundred better ways to resolve this whole situation.
And yet, even now, there’s a spark of hope in my chest. I can hold on to that spark until I hear it from Sophia’s mouth. “I think you should leave now.”
“Lara . . .” Luca says again.
“Why didn’t you tell me it was Hank?” I interrupt him, yanking myself back out of his embrace.
My voice sounds as husky as it did on that stage when I was the one being stared at.
And angry as I am, I’m suddenly overcome with a wave of compassion.
Whatever Sophia did or didn’t do—no one deserves to be publicly screwed over like that.
“Because I promised Hank I wouldn’t.”
“You knew full well how much I care about this game!” Now we do start to draw curious glances, but I’m beyond caring.
“That’s why I warned you,” Luca tells me quietly. “But Hank is my boss. And he’s not wrong.”
I grind my teeth, and it’s all I can do to control my anger. Yes, he warned me. But against the scope of it all? Against the fact that Hank would enjoy tearing us down in public?
“That was so messed up just now! If this was just about his principles, if he cared about Novel Haven in the slightest, he could’ve sorted this out some other way!”
“I didn’t realize Hank would talk about it in front of the cameras.”
“Well, he did!” I laugh out loud, because a fat lot of good his warning did me. How should I have stopped this from happening? “I need to go see Sophia.”
I whirl around, only to stare down the lens of a camera.
“You’re Lara Anderson, aren’t you?” the fellow standing next to the cameraman asks me. He gives me a curious look with his blue-gray eyes, and he’s holding a mic. “Sophia Richards’s colleague, is that right? She just had her presentation. May I ask you a few questions?”
“I . . . what?” I stammer, blindsided. Is this the team of reporters Mr. Crow was talking about?
I check the mic and the camera, but these men don’t look like they’re from the BBC—and Rodrick Crow is nowhere to be seen.
Looks like it only took the press a few minutes to latch on to the scandal like vultures tearing into carrion.
“No, you may not.” Luca’s voice is steadier than mine, sharp as a blade, but unfortunately, the reporter isn’t cowed in the slightest. He shoves past Luca, holding the mic up under my nose.
“Were you aware that Ms. Richards developed Novel Haven under her former employer?”
Now every last one of the bystanders has turned to watch in curiosity.
The girl who was just testing the game at our station actually pulls the headset from her ears so she doesn’t miss anything.
I swallow and open my mouth, but of course my voice won’t cooperate.
For the first time, I’m grateful for what my voice is doing, because what the hell am I supposed to say to that?
I realize I should be defending Sophia. But I can’t get rid of the mental image of her, the look in her eyes.
She looked desperate, shocked—but guilty too.
Like someone caught her committing a crime.
And what if that is what just happened? What if Novel Haven is actually stolen?
I have to talk to her before I say another word to anyone else. I have to save this game. Now!
“Ms. Anderson? Your comment, please?” The mic approaches until it’s nearly touching my nose.
Luca pushes himself in front of me until he’s sandwiched in between me and the reporter and his cameraman.
His eyes are on me, but I don’t return his gaze.
How could I, when my world is slowly falling apart in front of me?
Hank destroyed Sophia. Publicly. Without concern for how her employees would take it. And Luca knew. He knew that Hank knew.
“Get out.”
“Lara, I . . .”
“Out,” I repeat, louder this time. I have to call Sophia, but there’s no chance of leaving the booth.
Not now, when the camera team has just turned on the girl who was testing Novel Haven.
I turn around to face Luca. The worry in his dark-brown eyes makes me even angrier, because it’s too late.
I take a deep breath and try to keep my voice matter-of-fact. “You should get back to your booth.”
Without waiting to see if he’s finally obliging, I turn around and reach for my phone. But before I can call Sophia, her name pops up on my screen.
“Sophia?”
“Lara, I’m so sorry, I . . .” She’s sobbing, and my heart aches for her. “You saw what just happened, didn’t you?”
“I did.”
“My God, I’m so sorry.”
“Is it true?” Everything inside me is frozen as I wait for her reply. But all I can hear is more sobbing. “Sophia, is it true what Hank said?”
“Can you postpone the interview with Mr. Crow?”
“Sophia!” My voice breaks as I yell her name into my phone. The two reporters turn around to face me with intrigued expressions, and I take a steadying breath, willing myself to sound calm. All I need now is for someone to post our conversation on the internet. “We need to talk.”
“I know. I’ll . . . I’ll be over in a moment. Just give me five minutes, OK?”
“There are some journalists here. I don’t know how smart it would be to talk here.”
“Shit.”
“Should I close down the booth for a bit and . . .”
“No,” Sophia interrupts me, sniffling. “All that’s going to get us is an empty booth tomorrow, as a nice add-on to the headlines, and they’ll take it as a silent confession.
If that happens, we’re out. Then it’ll all be over.
All of it . . .” Her voice breaks. “If I’d known Hank would be here and turn this whole thing into an utter shit show, I would never have come. ”
“So it is true.” It’s not a question this time, and Sophia still won’t answer me. But her silence on the other end of the line shreds my heart into a million little pieces. Tears sting my eyes, and I turn to face the wall of our booth before anyone can see.
“I’ll be up in my room doing damage control as best I can.
I assume the phone will be running hot back in London too.
I’ll call Kamal to give him the exact wording, and then I’ll come, all right?
Text me when the reporters are gone, and hold the fort.
Would . . .” She hesitates. “Would that be all right? I can only imagine how angry you must be right now, but I’ll explain everything. I promise.”
Before I can utter a single word of protest, Sophia’s hung up the phone.
Stunned, I stare at it and then at the booth.
The two girls are immersed in the game again, and visitors keep flooding in.
The reporters are nowhere to be seen, but based on the glances I keep getting from our visitors, I can already see the storm rolling in on the horizon.
I unlock my phone again and make another call.
“Lairy-Fairy?”
“Nat? I need your help.”