Chapter 4
The cold and rain of the last couple of days had been pushing more people inside, but first thing in the morning, DragonByte was still quiet.
My stomach sank as the spreadsheet for a single semester at each of the nearby colleges sneered at me from the screen.
I’d pulled an A+ on my English essay, but the future roared at me with all its teeth, each a unique item I needed to think about.
Entries for tuition, books, food, housing, etc.
Everyone wanted not just good grades, but extracurriculars too!
How was I going to fit an after-school activity into my already busy schedule?
And then there was my last history test...
I looked down at my backpack on the floor, which held the offending paper.
I needed top grades to get a scholarship.
Mom had stressed the importance of not getting financial assistance that required to be paid back because it took decades to get out from under the debt.
But I just had to go to college. My options were limited, and application deadlines were coming up.
And, and, and... I still needed money to get my laptop fixed.
My stomach cramped. Some gaming time sounded good.
Better than good. Essential. At least that was free.
I could also take the opportunity to check if the prize loot was in my account yet. It had been over four weeks.
The headphones—at good old number twelve—slipped on comfortably, blocking out the sounds of the real world. I logged in and my muscles sighed, as DragonByte faded away and I became ScarlettSaber, wielding my blood sword and blood armor once more.
First, I checked my inbox. There were several uncomplimentary messages, calling me a griefer. Strange. Then I smiled. My not-first-place-but second-best loot was here. I combed through it, looking at all the different items and their various abilities, while mentally pricing them.
A high-level sword with a fire ability was one of the better pieces.
Under normal circumstances, I would have just sold it.
I had become obsessed with squeezing every dollar I could out of every aspect of my life.
But influenced by the recent hopelessness—my savings were such a tiny percentage of what I really needed—I moved the sword to my personal inventory.
I could always sell it after using it for a bit.
Then I dumped the rest of the loot into a chest and started posting their stats, putting them up for sale. It was real-life money that I wanted. Done with the work part of logging on, I was ready to blow off steam by killing something.
A tricky boss, Ghost Necromancer, was keeping me from finishing a quest. Taking it on alone wasn’t working, so I sent out a “looking for group” request as I headed to the cemetery where the boss could be found.
The warmth of the sun filtering through the glass windowpanes waned as I slipped into another world where rain fell on headstones.
Pitter-patter. Some of the graves were cracked and broken with age and due to the boss’s fury.
A rusted black fence surrounded the central plot where the larger stones and several tombs waited.
Checking my inventory for the magic potion I’d made in earlier steps of the quest and was supposed to dump on her grave, I started hacking the random zombies on the outskirts.
Leafless, dead-looking trees dotted the hilly ground.
I cleared one side of the outer square. During the breather, I checked my LFG post. Why were there no responses?
Well, I would just keep up with the hacky-slashy.
If I removed all the mobs before the boss got aggroed and attacked me, then I wouldn’t run into them when I was trying to make space between us.
She was a super-fast boss. The gray sky and low visibility made noticing the green zombies on the grassy background more difficult.
Their moans swirled over the falling rain.
Some crawled from the earth if I stepped near where they hid.
I finally got a single response to my request for help. But it wasn’t an acceptance. Instead, it was a message from an anonymous player. I clenched my teeth as I read it. Stupid RogueStriker had apparently been defaming me all over the game, and now no one wanted to work with me or talk to me.
According to him, I stole kills and loot, and did whatever it took to level and get the best items. What was wrong with that guy? All because I hadn’t wanted to meet him IRL? And what were these other players, sheeple?
RogueStriker had destroyed my friendship with the last group I’d played with, and now he was keeping me from finding even a temporary group to finish a quest. I’d already changed servers once; I wouldn’t do it again just because of him.
And how had he found me? Why was he following me and ruining what I loved?
A horde of zombies and the higher undead minions of the Ghost Necromancer suffered my wrath.
The frustration fueled their slaughter. At least RogueStriker had done that for me, as I pretended each new monster was him.
Things went well and I cleared most of the cemetery, until I got to the necromancer.
As usual. This was the part where everything usually fell apart.
All I needed to do was pour the potion on her corpse, but the ghost guarded her crypt zealously.
I ran away to heal, then tried again. Dodging her magical attacks as she raised more zombie adds. I could do this. It was just one boss. I didn’t need anyone else. My health potions dwindled quickly, but I was determined that RogueStriker wouldn’t take my fun from me.
I clenched my teeth as she used her shriek ability to take half of my remaining health and force me to run out of her circle of influence.
Her high-pitched banshee scream drowned out the thunder and the moans of her zombie minions.
I drank the last of my health potions and waited for the fear effect to wear off, then ran back in.
Three players were tag-teaming the boss when I got back in her zone.
How dare they try to steal my kill! I had gotten her down to half health by myself before they had arrived! Now here they were plugging away.
My jaw tensed further, and I almost cracked a tooth. In the time it had taken me to return, she was already down to a mere sliver of life. And then I recognized the armor. IvoryKnight was leading the kill steal.
I charged. If he wanted a fight, I’d player-kill him. Before I reached them, he and the others saluted me and disappeared, as if they had left the game. Well, that was confusing. Were they running away, or had they helped me?
Strange.
I collected the loot and added it to my “for-sale” list.
SHOCKINGLY, DRAGONBYTE was even busier. Buzz would need more help if it kept this upward trend.
I was working my tail off and I knew the others were too.
Weekend mornings were at least calmer. Maybe it would get better over winter break when people went on vacation.
But for now, it was hard to find time to myself.
Deadlines for college applications were coming up in the next couple of weeks, on top of the already high demands of semester-end tests and projects that were a hefty part of our grade.
Last night, Lin and Charisse had talked about attending SCAD, the Savannah College of Art and Design, together.
I browsed the website. I could see why Charisse wanted to go; they offered a degree in performing arts.
And Lin, while reticent about sharing what she liked to do besides being bossy and playing games, was interested in digital art—and her car suggested she loved other types of art too.
I scrolled through the various types of design programs until my heart galloped.
They offered a degree in Interactive Design and Game Development.
I clicked, and my breathing increased as I followed link after link on student work, the campus, and more.
As much as I would enjoy going to college with my friends, SCAD—if I could afford it—had just become my dream college.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I looked up the requirements for the SCAD application and essay. I just hoped that my academics combined with my volunteer hours and everything else were enough. Yet getting in wouldn’t be the biggest hurdle; I needed scholarships.
My new college fund was growing steadily, no thanks to the lawyer fees that had sucked up what my parents had saved over the years. It wasn’t developing fast enough to cover college tuition by next fall, especially for a place as prestigious as SCAD.
I had a list of non-specific scholarship and grant applications, many of which required their own essays. It would be a long shot, but I couldn’t get in if I didn’t try.
Before I could get started on the SCAD essay, the call of hungry or thirsty customers and DragonByte’s poor, abused computers demanded my attention as the people flowed in.
The level of use was tough on the hardware.
It required my help, along with the rest of the staff’s, to keep most of the computers up and running. And today was no different.
Lunch break rolled around, and I sat at one of our offline computers, using the desk as a table, eating another cheap PB&J, and considering the right words to use in my essay for SCAD. A shadow fell across the words on the page.
“Hey,” Ni said. “Buzz asked me to bring you this.” He set an unopened grape soda on the desk next to my papers.
I couldn’t wait until winter break, when I wouldn’t be distracted by him for a while. The whole book-borrowing thing had felt uncomfortably intimate, and I was regretting it now. I kept chewing, the peanut butter thick in my mouth, and raised an eyebrow.
“I had fun reading your comments. Though I have to say, I still disagree with some of them. Maybe we could talk about it sometime?”
“Sorry. I’ve got too much on my plate right now.” I gestured to the essay I was grinding out, popped open the soda, and rinsed my mouth with grape fizz.
“Do you want some help? Essays are my strong point.”
I knew it was true. The teacher had gone on and on about his last English essay.
She hadn’t mentioned mine. Which probably proved his reasoning.
I didn’t want to have anything more to do with him, but I wanted to get into SCAD with Lin and Charisse even more.
So I nodded, hoping he would just drop me a hint and keep doing whatever he was here to do.
Instead, he pulled up a chair and started talking me through what I had. “This line here is good. But be careful of your wording there.”
I immediately saw what he was talking about. It sounded a little negative and didn’t quite give off the “I’m the perfect candidate” vibe I was going for. I erased and tried again.
He rewarded me with one of his butterfly-inducing smiles. I was starting to think of them as a magical attack, like a siren’s song.
Once he was happy with the content, he turned into an English machine, pointing out every grammatical error I had.
How was it possible for someone to keep all those dumb rules straight in their head?
The exceptions to each rule were enough to make a grown girl scream. I truly sympathized with Lin’s parents.
“Their perception of you is all on paper, so you have to give them your best sides and leave off what you are worst at.”
I already understood the concept, but I wasn’t as good as Ni at implementing it.
He was good with words and able to spin the most mundane task into a heroic effort.
It made me even warier of him. How could someone who was so adept at making one thing seem like something else be entirely honest?
I had a feeling there were things he was hiding, and I wondered if all the stories about him were true or a public relations smokescreen to make him popular.
I didn’t really know anything about him except what I had heard from others, and they were all convinced he was great and perfect.
Charisse never stopped singing his praises, and even Lin agreed with her.
He turned to me. It was as if he felt my attention had drifted. I took a long drink.
“Kind of like a first date—you only get one first impression. They can find out your drawbacks over time, but by then it’s too late. They’re already hooked.”
My attention snapped up, and when our eyes met, his words trailed off into a strange silent bubble that surrounded us.
It was as if there were a spell halting time and sound.
Was he staring at my mouth? I could see the shadow of stubble on his chin.
The tiny lines in his lips. A stray eyelash marred the perfection of his cheek, making me want to reach out and brush it away.
With the sun glinting off the brown waves of hair, they seemed soft.
And the fine wrinkles around his eyes proclaimed his habit of tossing about those killer smiles.
But those gray eyes with flecks of brown and blue penetrated deep within my soul.
I suddenly felt as if he could see right through me—past the layers of armor—to the core of who I was.
And I had a sudden urge to run. The image of my dad turning his back on me and Mom to pamper Princess Val gave me itchy feet.
Running and hiding were my only options for now.
I had only one more semester to survive before I wouldn’t have to see him anymore.
Besides, wherever I went to college, even if it wasn’t SCAD, wouldn’t be the same place football scouts whisked Mr. Quarterback off to.
I stood, breaking the spell.
He looked as if he were about to say something, but I couldn’t let him.
“I appreciate the help.” Mom had drilled manners into me, and I was relieved to find the automatic reaction very useful in this case. “But I’ve got it from here.”
My lunch hour was over, so I stacked my papers up and slipped them into a folder, waiting for him to get the hint. He did, leaving after a stilted “bye.” I hoped I hadn’t been too rude, but being around him called for extreme measures. I turned back to the screen and saved the file.
With Ni popping up whenever he wanted, DragonByte had become a high-level dungeon, and I didn’t have the level of equipment necessary to take out this boss alone. I’d finish the submission later.