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Chapter 7


The next morning at school, whispers and pings were flying as hard and fast as poison spit from a mob of Spithra. The school had various news boards on their virtual wall, but they also had chat boards for each class and each student year. Lynn never touched those—she knew the kind of veiled bullying that went on in them despite the supposed monitoring of the teachers. But there was a running count of the number of posts and conversations on the school’s main virtual wall, and it had jumped by nearly thirty percent overnight.

Lynn had assumed it was chatter about the power-grid escapade the day before, but her “Larry sense” went off when Dan and Mack came running down the hall to greet her outside their first class. Their faces were pale and their eyes were wide as they huddled close, backs turned against the curious stares of passing students.

“What’s up?” Lynn asked in a low voice.

“Nothing good,” Mack said.

“You won’t believe this,” Dan hissed at the same time. “We had to come show you. It’s just too unbelievable for a ping! Look at this!”

A tiny stream-vid icon popped up in Lynn’s message box in the top right corner of her AR glasses, which she’d already put on to check class topics for the day. Lynn maximized it by focusing on it and blinking twice. An image of Elena and her flunkies standing in front of a local restaurant filled Lynn’s vision. But it was the person standing beside Elena that made Lynn’s jaw drop open.

“I’m sooo excited to announce the newest member of the Cedar Rapids Champions. He’s actually the former team captain of Skadi’s Wolves. But obviously he could see how superior the CRC is and he was thrilled and honored to be invited to our team. I only allow the best players in my team, of course, and I’m dedicated to making sure we’re always on the top. So stay glued to your streams, my lovely fans. You’ll be seeing a lot more amaaazing battles from us. We’re the top team in the region and we’ll be training tirelessly to make sure we win the national championship!”

Lynn barely even registered the next few seconds of the stream because she couldn’t seem to rehinge her jaw to her face and make it close. She stared past the stream image at Mack and Dan in front of her, her mouth still gaping. Both stared back with similar expressions, though their mouths were pressed into worried lines, not flapping stupidly like hers.

“W-what? Ronnie? In the CRC?? Wha—” She cut off abruptly and refocused on the stream image as a familiar voice interrupted the gush of Elena’s drivel in response to one of the onlookers’ questions.

“Elena and I are working together to make sure this team is second to none. Elena does, well, this part”—he smiled painfully at the camera—“and I’m in charge of training and leading the team, since I have many, many years of gaming experience. The only way any team has a chance of winning is loyalty and cooperation under a strong leader. So watch out, Hunter Strike Teams, because we’re coming for the prize and nothing can stop us!” Ronnie gave another painfully awkward smile at the camera and pumped his fist in the air. Elena, standing beside him with her arms crossed, visibly rolled her eyes and then hip checked him out of the way to start talking again with a brilliant smile of white teeth and perfect lipstick.

“So be sure to like and follow our stream, and don’t forget to set your notifications to ‘always on’ so you don’t miss a single juicy update!”

The stream clip ended with a spinning, flashing logo of a fearsome hawk, wings spread across the city symbol of Cedar Rapids and the name “Cedar Rapids Champions” wrapped around the upper curve of the image.

A few seconds of stunned silence passed before Lynn rediscovered her vocal cords.

“Whaaat?”

“I know, right?” Dan said, hands twisting and squeezing each other in front of him. “Did you hear him? Loyalty and cooperation? Talk about unsubtle digs.” His tone was scoffing, but Lynn could tell Ronnie’s words had bothered him. Dan wore every feeling and thought on his sleeve, and his guilt was palpable.

“It seems kinda extreme, even for Ronnie,” Mack said quietly. “I mean, joining Elena’s team? Is he crazy?”

Lynn shook her head, not in negation but because she simply had no words. What was that idiot thinking? The hostility and disgust between him and Elena was so painfully obvious it had made his awkward speech look even worse. Did he really think Elena was going to follow orders and support him in whipping CRC into shape? Not that Lynn thought Ronnie was capable of whipping anyone into shape, much less a fractious group of self-serving airheads.

She couldn’t fathom what Ronnie thought he was going to accomplish by it all. Unless that was exactly it: he hadn’t been thinking? But he hated Elena, so what could have prompted him to take up such a terrible offer? Was he really that desperate to compete? Or was the move made out of revenge and spite? Or maybe Elena was blackmailing him?

“Hey, have you all seen—”

“Yes,” all three of them answered in unison as Edgar strode up to their huddled group, his sneakers squeaking overloud in the nearly empty hall.

It was almost time for class.

“Look, everybody,” Lynn said. “I don’t know what has gotten into Ronnie, but he obviously wasn’t ready to give up and drop from the competition. We should be grateful he didn’t recruit four random people and try to hijack Skadi’s Wolves.” They hadn’t yet called TD Hunter support to make the team member change official. They needed to do that soon. “The important thing is that he’s got his own team now, and we can leave him to it. Ignore the CRC. Don’t watch their stream, don’t comment on their wall, don’t talk about them at all. We need to focus. It’s the only way we’ll stay on track. We’ve got a lot of work to do, but we’ve got good players and I think Connor is going to be a good team captain. So let’s keep our heads down, get our schoolwork done to keep our parents off our backs, and keep training and hunting like professionals. Got it?”

Everyone nodded, though her little pep talk hadn’t lessened the worry or guilt in their faces.

“Come on, we’ll be late for class,” Lynn said, and jerked her head toward the door to their room.

* * *

It was hard to stay focused at school, but at least there were no more confrontations in the halls between periods. Perhaps Elena had decided ignoring Skadi’s Wolves was the best way forward, and Lynn could not have been more pleased.

Lunchtime brought a surprise, though.

“Um, c-can I sit with you all?”

Lynn and the guys looked up in surprise to find Kayla standing there, lunch in hand and expression hesitant. She was wearing unusually casual clothes—at least compared to what she used to wear around Elena—but her face was freshly made up and her hair was perfectly styled. Lynn thought her eyes looked rather puffy, though.

“Sure,” Lynn said, thankfully finding her tongue before any of the guys had a chance to say something nasty. She’d completely forgotten to tell them about Kayla’s surprise visit and change of heart. At the looks of confusion from around the table, Lynn hurriedly gave them the cliff notes version while Kayla pulled out her seat and settled carefully between her and Mack.

“So,” Lynn finished, directing her gaze at Kayla, “how did it go yesterday? With Elena?”

Kayla bit her lip and poked at her food, but then looked up and gave a weak smile.

“About like you’d expect. I went home early afterward.”

“Wait,” Dan said, “so you weren’t here for the power-grid failure?”

“No, though I heard about it. What happened?”

That was all the encouragement Dan needed to embark on a dramatic retelling using a hapless fry to gesture like a conductor’s baton.

“Dude, eat that fry before it breaks and goes flying,” Edgar said, shaking his head.

Dan didn’t miss a beat but stuffed the fry into his mouth and kept right on going. Lynn noticed with interest that the antic made Kayla smile shyly as the girl listened and nibbled at her food.

Once that story had run its course, Dan launched into another about the time a storm had knocked out the power in his house right at the climax of a vital boss battle in one of his MMORPG games. Lynn ducked her head to hide her grin with bites of her sandwich. Dan was always chattering on about one thing or another, but now he was barely even pausing to draw breath. It was as if the presence of a pretty female at their table—Lynn didn’t count, obviously—had made him incapable of closing his mouth for even a second. As for Kayla, her eyes hadn’t glazed over—yet—and she seemed happy listening. Maybe she was simply relieved to hear something other than mean-spirited gossip.

Either way, it was nice to have another girl at the table. At the very least, it distracted Lynn from the mountain of worry scrabbling for her attention. But more than that, it brought a bit of optimism. Kayla would probably never be the friend she’d once been. But it sure was nice to see Elena’s perfect little façade of popularity and control crumble, first with Connor, now Kayla.

HEY.

A ping from Kayla popped up in the corner of Lynn’s vision.

I TALKED TO MY DAD. HE WOULD LOVE TO REPRESENT YOU. HAVE YOU THOUGHT ANY MORE ABOUT IT?

Lynn scrunched her nose in thought, then subvocalized an answer.

HAVEN’T HAD A CHANCE TO TALK TO MOM ABOUT IT.

Kayla didn’t visibly react to the answer, but her reply popped up soon enough.

WE CAN DO A VIRTUAL MEET WITH MY DAD SO HE CAN ANSWER ALL YOUR QUESTIONS. YOUR MOM TOO.

The idea of doing anything of the sort made Lynn want to throw up—not the meeting part, but the discussing of her bizarre and still-surreal rocket to international fame. But she knew deep down that ignoring her problems never led anywhere good. Better to face it head on, even if it was the last thing in the world she wanted to do.

SURE, she finally replied. I’LL ASK MOM ABOUT IT TONIGHT.

She thought that was the end of it, but a few seconds later a last reply from Kayla popped up.

THANKS FOR GIVING ME A CHANCE. I WON’T LET YOU DOWN.

An echo of old hurt twisted in Lynn’s gut, but all she did was give a little nod. No reward without risk—that was Larry’s motto. When the only thing at stake was her mercenary reputation in WarMonger, though, such a life philosophy seemed easy.

In the real it was much harder.

Edgar suddenly reached to the side, wrapped his right arm around Dan’s head, picked up a handful of Dan’s fries with his left hand, pried Dan’s mouth open, and shoved the fries into the teen’s mouth.

“Eat,” Edgar growled, as Dan choked on the fries. “Eat food and for God’s sake shut up.”

“Buff Ah wub just talging abow . . . ” Dan said, spitting fries everywhere.

“Eat food,” Edgar growled again, forcing Dan’s mouth shut. “Enough talkie-talk!”

Everybody was laughing, though Kayla was holding her hand over her mouth in a ladylike fashion as she did so. She met eyes with Lynn and nodded at her.

“Thank you for letting me sit with you,” Kayla said, smiling faintly. “This is fun. Way more fun than Elena’s crowd.”

“That’s ’cause we’re dorks,” Mack said. “Dorks have all the best fun.”

Lynn shook her head with a smile as Edgar and Dan continued to argue and Mack seized the opportunity of Kayla’s undivided attention to tell her about his “definitely real” girlfriend from Japan.

Class after lunch dragged by, but finally the end-of-day tone rang out and they were free to rendezvous behind the school with Connor to start hunting. They met at the edge of the sports fields and Connor was all business from the start. His plan was for them to go into combat mode near the woods, far enough away from both the school and the mass of TDMs further north to quickly carve out a foothold and then assess their next move. He didn’t mention it, but Lynn wondered if he was as interested as she was to see how much the TDMs had respawned where they’d cleared out yesterday.

Things were rough at first—it was clear Mack was feeling nervous and that affected his performance. But Lynn opened a private channel with him and coached him through the best attack strategies using both a melee and ranged weapon in tandem. She didn’t ask Connor’s permission to do it. She was afraid he’d tell her to leave Mack to figure things out on his own—better to ask forgiveness and all that. Besides, the first half hour of clearing they did was comparatively easy, so she could afford to split her attention.

Once they’d cleared enough to take a breather, they gathered to inspect the overhead map. Southward looked like it had yesterday, though from experience Lynn knew more of the red dots would be aggressive patrolling types than the numerous gatherers they’d faced yesterday. She had no idea why aggressive types respawned faster and in greater numbers than gather types, but at least it meant there was never any shortage of monsters to kill for experience.

To the north, though, things were different.

“Whoa,” Mack said.

“Yeah, really,” Dan agreed. “What does the game think we are, terminator bots? It would take us days to kill that many monsters, at least if we care about our health and combat scores.”

Lynn didn’t respond, and neither did Connor. Whether to present its players with a challenge, or because the algorithm was hiding some sort of big prize up that way, the clusters and curving lines of red dots blocking their way north had grown thicker and extended even closer to the edge of the woods than yesterday.

“I wonder . . . ” Lynn began, then realized she’d said it out loud and stopped.

“Go on,” Connor said, giving her a nod.

“Well, I wonder if the TDM increase is a higher spawn rate, or if the game is shifting forces in response to our attack yesterday.”

“How so?” Connor asked.

“Think about the TD Hunter’s storyline,” she said. “I know the in-game narrative is a bit lighter than most gamers are used to, but this is a global fight of man versus monster. We’re supposed to advance in levels to gain enough power and experience to take out the monsters before they overwhelm everything. But also, our ‘forces’ don’t know much about these monsters in the first place, so part of our job is collecting data and identifying new threats. These bosses the TDMs circle around seem like an important key. I mean, the gather types we kill don’t respawn as much as the aggressives do, so maybe that’s the TDMs’ weakness, you know? And that’s why they protect them like they do?

“I like the way the game’s algorithm keeps us guessing and the narrative doesn’t lay out a linear storyline like a lot of other FPS games. It’s kinda open world meets adventure puzzle game meets first-person shooter. Obviously, we can never win the game by killing all the TDMs, that’d be impossible. And obviously the game is trying to hint at something by massing all these monsters between us and whatever is north. I wonder what we’d find if we made a big circle instead of trying to assault directly through.”

Lynn looked around at the guys and noted with satisfaction that Dan’s expression had transformed into one of intense thought as he stared off over their heads, while Connor had that unfocused look of someone studying their AR interface. Mack’s brow was furrowed in worry—probably still hung up on the solid mass of red on their overhead map, but Edgar looked oddly amused. When their eyes met, he tapped the side of his forehead and nodded at her in approval, as if acknowledging some brilliant leap of deduction on her part.

She rolled her eyes, but Edgar just winked.

“That’s a very interesting observation, Raven,” Connor finally said, his eyes refocusing on their group. “We may even check it out at some point. But with the national championship ahead of us, our priorities are clear. We aren’t here to play through the game narrative, we’re here to reach Level 40 and become the most technically skillful players in the world. That’s the only way we’ll win. So, for now, let’s stick to the basics and work on our assault technique while using this helpful mass to accelerate our leveling. Hunting near the school gives us more time to practice. Obviously, the terrain isn’t ideal.” He glanced toward the woods and frowned. “But it will be good practice for whatever they set up at the national competition. We don’t know what sort of terrain they’ll use, so we should be ready for anything.”

It wasn’t what she wanted to hear, but Connor’s point made sense, so she suppressed her curiosity to focus on the fight ahead. She’d never been one for game storylines, preferring to stick to what she was good at: killing things in the most efficient way possible. There was just something about this game that irked her, something that made her curiosity itch.

Now was not the time to be curious, though. Instead, she put on her Larry calm and got out her batons while sinking into that ultrafocused mindset she’d used for years to kick butt and earn money.

The next few hours were grueling but satisfying. More than once, Lynn was grateful that it was October and not August. The day was cloudy and their exertions kept them comfortably warm instead of giving them heatstroke. The massive amounts of experience they were racking up got them to Level 26 late in the afternoon after a fight with a crowd of Managals that split and split again each time one of them was killed. The willowy, long-limbed monsters were unusually aggressive, more so than Lynn remembered when they’d first encountered the monster type several levels ago. Did it have anything to do with what they might or might not be guarding?

Lynn put it down to her imagination and focused on keeping Mack’s head in the game. He was improving but had a tendency to get overwhelmed when they were in the thick of it. Edgar was as unflaggingly enthusiastic about blasting things to bits as always, and Connor was as quietly efficient as Dan was noisily lethal. Their team captain’s reprimands for Dan’s constant quips grew less as the battle grew more fierce, and Lynn was silently grateful. As much as she appreciated Connor’s experience and professionalism, they weren’t his ARS team, and he shouldn’t try to make them fit his boring, vanilla athlete mold.

They were gamers and geeks, and proud of it.

By the time they’d made it a hundred yards further into the woods than the previous day, Connor finally called it quits. With the coming evening they’d started getting harried by Yaguar, the scarily fast upgrade of Stalkers. It reminded Lynn of the Vargs’ behavior, though the wolflike monsters were so low level they were merely a nuisance now.

Skadi’s Wolves were met at the southern edge of the woods by a larger group of drones than yesterday. Lynn wondered with a sinking stomach if the word had spread and drones would now start camping out around this hunting site like they often loitered around her apartment. If this kept up, obsessed fans and lens junkies were sure to follow, eager to watch battles live. That was why Skadi’s Wolves had always rotated hunting spots before, so their movements wouldn’t be predictable.

Well, Lynn wouldn’t say anything. Connor either knew what to expect and had a plan, or would come up with a plan when the time came.

Connor didn’t try to “escort” her home this time, a fact which seemed to cheer Edgar up immensely. On the airbus ride he was unusually chipper, at least for Edgar, which meant he was mildly talkative instead of mostly silent. Lynn enjoyed their quiet banter, and Edgar even asked how her “other” gig had been going. His exaggerated eyebrow wiggles made it clear he meant WarMonger, but she just shook her head, since Mack was sitting right next to them.

Besides, thinking about WarMonger made her sad. She missed playing it—missed being Larry with no worries but winning her fights and collecting her bounty, missed the quips, even missed her late-night research on military forums. There simply wasn’t time anymore. She had different priorities now, though that didn’t soften the ache of knowing all the years she’d spent building her reputation was slowly wasting away.

After she made it home, she took longer in the shower than normal. Her muscles needed it. Connor had pushed them hard, which was good for them, but also incredibly exhausting. She still had homework to do, not to mention catching up with her mom who she’d hardly seen all week. That Friday Matilda had only a half shift, so they were having a late dinner together.

Lynn ate heartily, but quietly. So much had happened in the last few days, and she wondered if she could get away with not mentioning most of it. That, though, ran the risk of Matilda catching the gossip from the streams rather than the real story from her, and that wouldn’t be good.

“Honey, the school sent me a notice that they had a power malfunction yesterday that cut the school day short. Did everything go all right today?”

So much for not mentioning it.

“Um, yeah, it was all fine. And yesterday wasn’t a big deal. We just sat around in the cafeteria for a while, then they sent us home early. Though, I stayed and went hunting with, um, my team.”

“I bet a lot of students wished you could have a few more power malfunctions,” Matilda said, smiling.

“Yeah, probably.” Lynn grinned back.

“Well, thank God it wasn’t the hospital again. They claim they’ve fixed the glitch that knocked out our backup system when the grid went down. I really wish GForce would get its act together and figure out what bug keeps causing all these blackouts. Did you hear there was another airbus crash in New York? There were no casualties this time, thankfully—the nearby power nodes got it enough juice to slow before it hit the ground. But no one in the news can explain why fully charged batteries would spontaneously just shut off. Like they’d been sucked dry in an instant or something. You wouldn’t believe the conspiracy theories I’ve heard flying around.”

“Let me guess,” Lynn said, stabbing a chunk of cheese-covered broccoli with her fork, “somehow the Chinese are involved, right?”

Matilda snorted and shook her head.

“Apparently this is just the start of a global takeover by the Commies, either Russia or China, take your pick. Most are betting on China, since they’re obviously the ones in charge of the TransAsia alliance, no matter what the PR streams say. I’ve heard every bit of nonsense you can think of, from remote-activated EMP chips in every battery manufactured in China, to hackers taking over the power grid, to backdoor kill switches in the algorithms running global infrastructure.”

“To be fair,” Lynn said, gesturing with her fork, “you’ve been telling me about how the Chinese have been tightening their hold on their global ‘partners’ for years in, like, South America and Africa. Why else would they have invested billions in building up those developing countries? But the US is different, right? I thought the last president promised a complete ban on Chinese-made parts for all critical infrastructure and military equipment?”

“Just because he promised it doesn’t mean it happened, dear. That’s the beauty of being a politician. Once you’ve been elected, you don’t have to keep your promises unless it’s politically expedient. Besides, what about the companies who found creative workarounds through third-party suppliers to cut the cost of such a massive transition?”

Lynn frowned and chewed her food, troubled by the thought.

“But enough about gloomy politics. How is hunting going? Find any new monsters recently?”

Lynn nearly choked on the bite she was swallowing but managed to wash it down with a few gulps of milk without killing herself.

“Uhhh, it’s been good . . . ”

“Why does it sound like there’s a ‘but’ in there?” Matilda asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Weeell, the team has, um, switched a few things up.”

“Do tell,” her mom said, obviously having no intention of letting Lynn off easy.

Lynn took a deep breath, then spoke in a rush.

“Ronnie kicked me off the team because he’s an insecure jerkhole, but then we voted him off the team instead, and then we recruited Connor Bancroft to fill his spot as team captain, and Connor is a lot better and we’re doing good now. Oh, and Kayla has dumped Elena’s crowd and wants us to be friends again.”

In the stunned silence that followed, Matilda blinked a few times, then cleared her throat.

“Goodness. Well, that all sounds like a change for the better, but isn’t Connor Bancroft the captain of your rival team?”

“Yeah, he used to be. But he got sick of Elena and quit to come to our team.”

“Oh. Are you sure he’s . . . right, for your team?”

“Because people who hang out with Elena tend to be arrogant bullies?”

Matilda nodded, a wry look on her face.

“Yeah, I was worried about that too, but . . . well, so far he seems okay.” She didn’t mention his odd behavior the other evening. She was even tempted to “forget” to mention their Saturday plans but couldn’t quite bring herself to stoop to that level of dishonesty, despite Connor’s veiled barb about Lynn’s lack of autonomy. It had been very difficult for Matilda to adjust to Lynn’s newly active life after all those years Lynn had spent gaming safely in her room. Lynn knew exactly how hard it was to face your anxiety, whether you were an image-conscious teenager or a trauma-scarred mother. She didn’t want to betray her mother’s trust after they’d worked so hard to build it.

“Oh, and, um, I’m having a meeting with Connor tomorrow evening to talk about team stuff and how to recruit sponsorships for Skadi’s Wolves.”

“A meeting?” That really got Matilda’s eyebrows up.

“Yeah, a meeting. Nothing weird, he just offered to help strategize since he’s negotiated a few sponsorship contracts before—you know because he’s captained the ARS team at school and everything.”

“I see.” Lynn’s mother pursed her lips. “And this ‘meeting’ is in a public place?”

Lynn rolled her eyes.

“Yes, Mom. We’re going to grab a bite somewhere cheap after we finish hunting for the day.”

“Oh? A dinner meeting? Sounds . . . portentous.”

Moooom,” Lynn groaned. “It’s not like that.”

“Don’t be naive, sweetheart. I know you’ve . . . struggled with how you see yourself. But even you can’t deny you’ve really changed over the past five months. You looked good before, but now you look fantastic. Don’t underestimate the effect that has on boys. They can’t help it. It’s biological—and a good thing too, or the human race would have died off millennia ago.”

“The guys on my team never seem to make a big deal about it,” Lynn argued.

“They’re your childhood friends, honey. That gives them some familiarity to hide behind. But I wouldn’t say none of them have noticed.”

Lynn’s brow creased.

“What are you talking about?”

Her mother pursed her lips again, but this time in an unsuccessful effort to hide a smile.

“Don’t mind me. You’ll figure it out, if he ever gets up the guts to say something.”

“You’re crazy, Mom,” Lynn said, shaking her head and absolutely not thinking about Edgar. Her mother was imagining things, plain and simple.

“Well, just promise me you’ll be safe. No going anywhere alone with this Connor. I made an exception for Edgar when you needed to practice your gaming because you all have known each other for so long. But you don’t know Connor and it’s just good sense to be cautious.”

“I get it, Mom. I promise, I’ll be careful.”

“Good. Now, what is this you mentioned about Kayla? She was visiting the other day and I was really surprised to see her. I thought you two . . . ”

“Yeah,” Lynn shrugged. “Well, apparently she’s finally ‘seen the light.’ I kinda feel sorry for her, having to put up with Elena for years. She said Elena has always bullied her and the other girls in their clique. Elena is a poster girl for controlling, spiteful, and mean, so it doesn’t surprise me. I’m just glad she finally got up the nerve to tell Elena to get lost. I’m not sure about being friends, but . . . well she offered to help me.”

“Oh? In what way?”

“Do you remember her stepdad? Apparently, he owns some kind of PR company called Global Image Consulting and is interested in representing me, or maybe the team. She made it sound like his company would act as a go-between and manage our public presence so we can focus on competing.”

“That sounds wonderful, dear! You don’t seem very excited, though. What’s the matter?”

“Well . . . ” Lynn paused, not wanting to sound petty or whiney. “I guess I’m still coming to terms with Kayla not being one of the mean girls, you know? Not that she was ever really mean personally, she just hid behind Elena. But she stood by for years while . . . you know.” Lynn shrugged, not sure what else to say.

“Oh honey,” Matilda said, and reached out to squeeze Lynn’s hand. “That must be really hard for you.” She was silent for a while, her eyes going distant in thought. Finally she said, “Life is never simple, and I don’t have a perfect answer for you. I wish I did. As your mom I wish I could just make everything better. But that would rob you of the important experience of dealing with life yourself and growing into the wonderful, mature woman that you’re becoming.” She smiled at Lynn and gave her hand another squeeze, then let go and leaned back.

“I will say, though, that people can change. Forgiveness isn’t about ignoring the hurt done to you, or about allowing someone to keep hurting you. It’s about willingly accepting the burden of that harm, and in doing so taking away its ability to keep hurting you. You can forgive Kayla and overcome how she hurt you in the past without having to be friends with her now. Maybe you’ll never be friends again. But you have the power to lay to rest whatever is between you. It won’t be easy. It never is. But that’s your decision, and nothing she can do will change that, because it’s your choice to accept. Or not. Friendships are hard, sweetie. So hard. But the reward is worth the risk, even when you get hurt.”

Lynn made a face, but nodded, her mind full of things to think about. There was a moment of silence, then her mother spoke again, her words hesitant.

“Do . . . do you want to know how I learned all that about forgiveness?”

Lynn’s eyes widened, and she nodded eagerly. Her mother took a deep breath.

“A long time ago, when you were very little, I hurt your father. Badly. I won’t go into details because it doesn’t matter. It was stupid and impulsive and foolish, and he had every right to hate me for it. There was even a part of me that wanted him to hate me for it, because I honestly deserved it.”

“But he didn’t, did he?” Lynn whispered. Her eyes burned and her heart ached, knowing exactly what her dad had done, because that was the kind of person he’d been.

“No, he didn’t,” Matilda echoed, then smiled, though it was overshadowed by the lines of sorrow on her face. “Of course, he needed some time to come to terms with it—anyone would have. But instead of holding onto my mistakes and letting them fester between us, he wholeheartedly accepted the hurt and then let it go. He never brought it up again in any argument and never made me feel guilty about it, even though I’m sure the pain of it affected him for years afterward. He bore the burden of it for my sake, and it set the example for our relationship for the rest of our marriage.”

“Wow.”

Matilda nodded, and after that neither of them spoke for a while. They finished their meal and then went about the cleanup together in a silent dance of familiarity built over their years of loneliness together.

After they finished, as Lynn was heading out of the kitchen to get her homework and evening training done, her mother spoke again.

“For what it’s worth, honey, I do think you should give Kayla a second chance, if you can. I’ve heard good things about her stepdad, and I’d be interested to hear what his company can offer. You need all the help you can get, and I hate watching how much stress you’re going through without being able to do a darn thing to help. You know my schedule for the weekend, maybe you could contact Kayla and arrange a conference call or something with her stepdad?”

Lynn took a deep breath, then nodded. She hated the idea of contacting and arranging and conference calling. But hopefully if things with Kayla’s stepdad worked out, she wouldn’t have to worry about it—or the paparazzi—anymore.

* * *

The very last thing Steve Riker wanted to do was talk to a punk like Ronnie Payne. The kid reminded him of some of the nightmare officers he’d had during his career—the kind you couldn’t work with, you just had to endure until you could escape them.

But he’d promised Mr. Krator he’d look out for Lynn, and despite Ronnie’s most recent asinine choices, Steve had a feeling about the kid’s future with Skadi’s Wolves. And heck, that kid needed the mentoring way more than Lynn did. That girl had her head on straight. She only needed a nudge here and there to remind her of her own worth.

But Ronnie Payne? Steve had shaken his head sadly after refreshing his memory on the kid’s file. That boy had really gotten the short end of the stick. Didn’t excuse his behavior, but what kid whose mom had abandoned him to run off with another man, and whose dad buried the pain of his wife’s betrayal under flaming misogyny, wouldn’t be messed up?

There would be no “fixing” Ronnie Payne. But maybe Steve could get the kid to open up a bit and start thinking about his behavior and how it could be better.

Talk about a Hail Mary. But he had to try.

He put the call through, and fortunately—or unfortunately, depending on how you saw it—Ronnie answered.

“Uh, hello?”

“Mr. Payne? This is Steve from TD Hunter customer support. I’m calling to follow up on your recent team assignment changes. We wanted to make sure everything on our end was working and you didn’t need any further support.” As far as excuses to start a conversation went, it wasn’t a bad one. Now all Steve had to do was get Ronnie to open up.

“Uh, no, I’m good, thanks.”

“That’s great. We at TD Hunter are dedicated to making sure our players have a seamless experience on our platform. Now, I also work in our tactical department, and I know something like a team change can be disruptive to your normal training regime. Can I offer any advice or resources to help you and the CRC continue to advance toward your goals?”

Steve didn’t even need a script by this point. He’d become fluent in “customer supportese” pretty quickly, considering the hundreds of calls he’d made since he was pulled into this whole circus. Plus, it wasn’t that different from the diplomatic bureaucratese enlisted guys like him used on their officers. Well, the bad officers anyway. The good ones you could just talk straight to.

Good ones like Lynn.

“Uhhhh, I don’t think so,” Ronnie replied. The hesitation in his “uhhhh” belied his words. Steve smiled grimly and dug deeper.

“It’s perfectly normal to feel out of place when learning to work with a new group of people, Mr. Payne. It’s one reason we offer the full spectrum of support that we do, from technical to tactical. Are there any particular concerns on your mind?”

“So, what, you all are giving out relationship advice now? That seems weird.”

To you and me both, kid. To you and me both.

“Think of it more as navigating the tactically nuanced minefield that is team dynamics. Since the TD Hunter championship is team based, and the technology of it is so new and cutting edge, we wanted to make sure we offered every possible tool to our Hunter Strike Teams that we have available. Believe me, Mr. Payne, not every player gets personalized calls from TD Hunter support.” Steve smiled as he spoke, using a conspiratorial tone to make the kid feel special. Stroking Ronnie’s ego was kind of the opposite of what the kid needed, but how else was he supposed to get Ronnie to open up?

“Well, that’s cool, I guess. I dunno . . . my team captain is . . . not that great.”

If only you knew the things Lynn has said about you, kid. Steve shook his head; glad he wasn’t on a vid call and having to keep a straight face.

“How so, Mr. Payne? If you give me a little more detail, I could offer some advice.”

“Uhhh, well, she’s pretty much incompetent, knows nothing about gaming, and only cares about her stream followers. I don’t even know why she’s playing this game.”

“I see.” Steve grinned to himself, unable to hold it back at the ridiculousness of the situation this kid had gotten himself into. But he carefully wiped it from his face before he went on. Hearing smiles was a real thing. “It’s understandable that some team dynamics don’t work out. Have you considered joining a different team?”

“Well, yeah, my own team that I built from the ground up,” Ronnie said, resentment lacing his words with ugliness. “They mutinied and kicked me out over some petty argument.”

Steve took a deep breath and reminded himself that the customer was always right, while simultaneously wanting to smack this kid over the head. How in the world did he say “You done screwed up” without saying “You done screwed up”?

“That sounds . . . terrible. What was their grievance? That might shed some light on the best way to tackle the situation.”

There was a pregnant silence and Steve mentally crossed his fingers.

“They, uh, said I wasn’t a team player,” Ronnie muttered.

Understatement of your life, kid.

“But it wasn’t my fault, I swear!” the boy continued. “There’s this girl on the team who’s always doing her own thing and never listens to anything I say. The guys all get gaming, you know? But this girl just doesn’t understand. Totally unreliable. I told her to shape up or get out and the rest of the team turned against me.”

Steve rolled his eyes. He knew in far greater detail than either Ronnie or Lynn would ever suspect exactly what went on in Skadi’s Wolves. This kid was blowing smoke up his anus and right out his mouth.

“Ah! I see. So, I suppose this incident occurred after you’d already explained the problem to her in detail and worked one-on-one to understand her specific struggles while improving her professional development and team-building skills? You know, all the usual things a team captain is in charge of doing?”

“Uhhh, what?”

Give me one week with this kid in basic training. One week. That’d shape him up.

“Well, generally in team environments,” Steve explained with methodical patience, “the members of the team are the captain’s responsibility. Not just their welfare but their performance. And it’s in the captain’s best interest to develop rapport and understanding with his team members so as to best address each one’s specific issues and help them overcome their weaknesses. After all, we each have our own foibles and areas we can improve. It’s up to the team leader to identify those areas and come alongside their members to grow as individuals and team players.”

There was a long silence.

“Uhhh, sure, sure. Yeah. That stuff. I did . . . something like that, I guess.”

Steve rubbed his temples. If only this kid would stop lying to himself for one second. Maybe if Steve gave him a little push . . . 

“And, of course, a captain is also responsible for his own professional development, so I’m sure you engaged in regular self-reflection, sought feedback from your team members on your leadership effectiveness, and conducted further reading and research to expand your knowledge of sound leadership techniques?”

“What? No. We barely had time to get our homework done and still hunt enough to qualify for the competition. I didn’t have time for all that shit.”

“Understandable,” Steve said, consciously relaxing his jaw to avoid gritting his teeth. “Would you say your current team captain engages in any of these proven behaviors to improve team cohesion and effectiveness?”

Ronnie snorted.

“Absolutely not. She’s a total airhead and a jerk. But, I mean, she’s a girl, so you can’t expect much else.”

Oooh boy. Here we go. Time to take off the kid gloves.

“Of course. It all makes sense, now. Because having breasts and a vagina obviously make it impossible for girls to become competent in basic human skills like logic, reason, problem solving, hand-eye coordination, and following instruction?”

“W-what? I mean—that’s not—they’re just—”

“Can you explain to me exactly, in scientific terms, why a girl would be any less competent at games than a boy, Mr. Payne?”

“I-I don’t like your tone, man. I thought this was supposed to be customer support or something.”

“This is customer support, Mr. Payne.” Support to all our other customers who have to put up with you. “Knowledge is power, and we want to do everything we can to empower you to succeed. Are you aware, for instance, that here at Tsunami Entertainment, our user base is evenly split, fifty-fifty between male and female?”

“Whaaaat? No way. Girls don’t game.”

“Our registration servers would beg to differ. Are you also aware that, on average across game genres, women make up approximately thirty-five percent of top-tier players?”

“That—that, sounds weird. I game a whole lot and I don’t see girls in the top tiers.”

“You game ‘a whole lot’ in virtual, where a person’s avatar and account name often have no bearing on their sex. Is it possible you have gamed with many top-tier women, and simply weren’t aware of it?”

“I mean . . . I guess it’s possible, but I doubt it. I can tell when I’m playing with a girl, they just act different.”

You poor, clueless child. I hope I’m there to see your face on the day you find out who Larry Coughlin really is . . . 

“Speaking as someone who works in the industry,” Steve said, unable to keep the dryness out of his voice, “I can assure you the statistics from the last decade show that, not only do women game just as much as men, they make up a statistically significant number of professional gamers. There is no evidence whatsoever to back up the idea that women are less capable of gaming or less capable of gaining advanced skills for those who spend comparable amounts of time on it as their male counterparts. Therefore, it would likely be in your best interests as an aspiring professional gamer to base your actions and attitudes on the proven and vital role women play in the gaming industry as a whole. Otherwise, you risk lessening your potential for success.”

There was a long silence, and Steve hoped and prayed that something, anything he’d just said had made it through Ronnie’s thick, clueless skull. When the silence kept stretching on with no response from the kid, Steve cleared his throat.

“Are there any other questions or issues I can help you with today, Mr. Payne?”

“Um . . . yeah, maybe. Let’s say, hypothetically, one of my teammates was a girl.”

Hypothetically? Steve thought. What is Elena, chopped liver?

“How do I . . . well, how do I deal with them? Like, how do I know how to talk to them and stuff?”

Steve rubbed his temples again, holding on to the shreds of his patience and reminding himself that Ronnie Payne had grown up without a mother, and likely no female role model in his life beyond various teachers. For a brief moment, he fantasized about putting the kid’s dad into boot camp for a week—the jerk of a man obviously had no idea how to be a father if his kid was this clueless about women at almost eighteen years old. The odds that this kid is a virgin is one thousand percent, Steve thought, and took a deep breath.

“I suggest, Mr. Payne, that you treat them like a person.”

“Uh, okay?”

“As confusing as women might be at times, they are not a different species. Men and women are all human beings, and a good place to start would be to treat your teammates—all your teammates—with civility and respect, regardless of how they look or act, and regardless of your opinions toward them. A little humility goes a long way too,” he added because he just couldn’t help it.

“Okaaaay, but—”

A slamming sound in the background of Ronnie’s voice feed interrupted the kid, and shouting became audible.

“Ronnie? Where the heck is my food? How many times do I have to tan your hide to get it through your thick skull that I expect my food ready to eat as soon as I get home from work?”

“Calm down, Dad. It’s keeping warm in the oven!” Ronnie yelled.

“You can tell time, can’t you, boy? Why isn’t it on the table? You better not be playing games in your room again. I told you, no more gaming nonsense if you got another C or below—”

The call abruptly cut off, and in the ensuing silence Steve stared blankly at his display screen in front of him.

“Good luck, kid,” he finally muttered to himself and shook his head.

* * *

Lynn both welcomed and dreaded Saturdays. No school meant a full day of training and hunting. But training meant she had to complete The Run From Hell. It consisted of slipping out a side door of her building and sneaking behind it and through the greenway to run a few laps around the Heather apartment complex. She was grateful for the later sunrise of the coming winter because it meant she didn’t have to get up as early to avoid nosey drones.

Even so, she still hated running with the burning passion of a thousand suns. Every time she passed someone else jogging on the sidewalk who smiled and waved cheerily, she had to resist the urge to punch the perky look right off their faces.

After exercise, a shower, and going through some simulator exercises, she headed out to meet the team back at their school. She took the roundabout way to the airbus platform and wore a bulky coat with the hood up to avoid detection from the cluster of drones hovering above it. It wouldn’t throw off those who would just show up at the school anyway, hoping her team would be there. But there was nothing she could do about that.

Sure enough, a flock of buzzing “stream vultures” were already hovering over their team meeting place behind the school when Lynn got there. She was the last to arrive, so they got right to business. Connor set up a group call to TD Hunter support and they took care of changing the team membership, all of them subvocalizing in their interactions to avoid the eavesdropping drones above. It went smoothly, as if the tech who helped them had been expecting their call—which, maybe he had.

It felt weird when they all had to verbally confirm Connor as their new team captain. A twinge of unease in her gut made her wonder if they were making the right decision, but she shook the feeling away and focused on moving forward and making things work.

The rest of the day was one long, grueling battle. They took a break at noon and retreated to the edge of the woods to order a drone-delivered lunch. But other than that, it was hours of slashing, stabbing, and dodging. Even Lynn, who loved the thrill of the hunt and relished the time and space to keep perfecting her technique, was flagging by the late afternoon. Connor didn’t seem too affected, but then he was the only one among them who was a professional athlete and had the body to back it up. Edgar, Dan, and Mack didn’t complain—well, not much—but their form and tactics slid further and further the later in the day they fought.

And still, the monsters kept coming.

Lynn began to think that their frontal assault, beyond the benefit of experience gain, was never going to succeed, no matter how hard they fought. The sheer number of monsters that kept coming, rank after rank, reminded her of the qualifier tournament and what it must have felt like for those unfortunate teams who’d tried to run straight into the fray from their original lineup instead of skirting the edges and coming in from the side like Skadi’s Wolves and the CRCs had done.

By the time Connor called for a final retreat and they exited combat mode to head back through the woods toward the school, it was after five and starting to get dim under the cover of the trees.

“I’m so tired I think I’m going to die,” Dan groaned, dragging his feet dramatically through the leaf litter.

“Buck up, Danny boy,” Edgar said, “at least you aren’t Ronnie. He has to fight and deal with Elena.”

Dan shuddered. “I’d rather fight a campaign-level raid boss by myself. I’d have a better chance of survival.”

“I wonder how he’s doing,” Mack said, sounding genuinely worried despite his own drooping shoulders and dragging feet.

“Reaping the rewards of his own decisions,” Lynn replied shortly. She wouldn’t wish Elena on her worst enemies, but she still refused to feel sorry for Ronnie. He’d made his own bed, now he could sleep in it. “Hey, Mack, you did great today,” she went on, hoping to distract her teammates from gloomy thoughts. “Your practice is definitely paying off.”

“Really?” Mack asked.

“Yeah, totally. The way you took on that brood of Creepers that popped up while I was being mobbed by Namahags was perfect. You kept your head, stayed moving, and got the job done.”

“Thanks, Lynn,” Mack said, and grinned.

“You’ll still never pass me on the leaderboards,” sang Dan, making little shooting motions at Mack.

“Gloat all you want, Dan. You can just never admit they weigh the stats unfairly.”

“You’re just sore that I’m better than you because of my super-ninja Bruce Lee-level Asian powers.”

“Riiight,” Mack said, and exchanged a long-suffering look with Lynn.

“Hey, is it just me, or is your goatee a little longer?” Lynn asked, noticing it for the first time.

Mack actually blushed.

“Uh, yeah. Riko likes it, so I told my mom I wasn’t going to shave it off anymore just because she thinks I look scruffy. It’s had a bit more time to fill in.”

“Mack and a scam bot, sittin’ in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G—” Dan sang.

“Shut up! You’re just jealous that being a famous gamer hasn’t gotten you a girlfriend.”

“Are you kidding me? They’re lining up in virtual, begging for my attention. I could have my pick if I wanted.”

“In virtual, huh?” Edgar asked, eyes crinkling in amusement. “You know most of them are probably bots, too, right? That makes you exactly the same as Mack.”

Dan elbowed Edgar, which was about as effective as elbowing a mountain. Then the three of them were off bickering good-naturedly again.

Lynn rolled her eyes, trying not to think about the topic of boyfriends and girlfriends and dating. Connor walked on the opposite side of their group from her, quiet as usual. But she still felt unnaturally aware of his presence, as if he were staring at her, even though he wasn’t. She was grateful for the distance between them, so she didn’t have to feel awkward every time she glanced his way and noticed his form-fitting hunting uniform. It was impossible to look at him and not notice it. He was eminently noticeable, and that didn’t bode well for her, considering she was meeting with him later that evening.

Somehow, she got home without collapsing and took a very hot shower, hoping it would relax her. When all it did was make her sleepy, she turned the cold water on and finished up hopping from foot to foot and cursing under her breath, alert even if she wasn’t very happy.

On a weird whim, she left her hair unbraided and brushed it out over her shoulders. At least with it down, she could hide behind it if need be. She didn’t have any “nice” clothes, so she simply wore her most flattering pair of smart clothes she’d bought at the Lindale Mall for school. The autumn yellow she’d picked for the blouse brought out the gold of her wolf eyes in a way she really liked, and she made the skintight jeans black to match her hair. She slid her dad’s knife into one of her pockets and patted it through the fabric, reassured by the weight of it there.

“You look nice, honey,” Matilda commented from the couch when Lynn exited her room shortly before seven.

“Uh, thanks?”

Her mom smiled.

“Remember to stay in public and be back by nine, all right?”

“Got it.” Lynn gave her a thumbs-up. “Have fun mindlessly browsing the streams.”

“Oh, I think I’ll catch up on the news,” Matilda commented, to which Lynn made a face of disgust. “Don’t give me that, young lady. Someone has to pay attention to what’s going on in the world, otherwise who will keep the politicians accountable?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know. I just hate the idea of having to wade through it all, trying to figure out what’s true and what’s lies.”

Matilda sighed. “Me too, honey. Me too.”

“Good luck.” Lynn gave her mom a little wave.

“You too, and be safe.”

Her mother’s words echoed in her ears as she headed for the front doors of her building. At the entrance she spotted Connor waiting for her on the bench outside, the same bench she’d sat on many times with Edgar. She was distracted from that thought by the inescapable image of Connor’s six-foot-plus frame lounging across the bench, his well-fitted t-shirt and jeans proclaiming in no uncertain terms that he had a gorgeous body and absolutely knew it.

The sight stopped Lynn short just inside the doors, and she swallowed.

“Are you quite all right, Miss Lynn? Your heart rate has increased precipitously and your core temperature is rising as well. Are you unwell?”

It took two tries before she successfully subvocalized a reply.

“I’m fine. Ignore your sensors, they’re probably malfunctioning.”

She’d left the TD Hunter app running mostly as a safety backup, even though there were any number of security apps she could have used, or even the built-in service AI of her LINC. But none of them were Hugo. She knew it was silly to feel a connection with a computer program, but she couldn’t help it. So, she chalked it up to user preference and let the app run.

“I beg your pardon! My sensors are most certainly not malfunctioning, and if they were, I can assure you that I would know.”

“Don’t get your panties in a wad,” Lynn subvocalized, still trying to will her feet to move. Conner had noticed her and was rising from the bench, a handsome smile on his face. “Just hush up and stop distracting me. Your job is to call the police if Connor tries to ax murder me, not to track my heart rate and body temperature.”

“Do you anticipate such an eventuality? Or are you simply indulging in the annoyingly human pastime of exaggeration?”

“You’re the genius computer program, you figure it out. Now hush. I have to pretend to be functional and you’re not helping.”

She exited the doors and attempted a polite smile as Connor approached, though she suspected a glance in a mirror would have shown something more akin to a grimace. He looked her up and down, and his smile turned even brighter.

“Hey Lynn. You look really pretty this evening. Ready to grab some food?”

She nodded, tongue-tied and glad nothing Connor had said required a verbal response. He’d noticed her body, which triggered years of learned anxiety and trauma . . . but the notice had been positive, so that did all sorts of weird and new things that she had no idea how to deal with. Was feeling elated and mortified at the same time a normal thing? Or was her brain malfunctioning?

More importantly, could she pretend to have sudden onset muteness all evening and get away with it?

He led her to the small parking lot of her apartment complex, where finally she became aware enough of her surroundings to notice the flock of drones following them.

Well, duh.

Lynn ground her teeth together and resisted the urge to look up. How could Connor act so at ease with this mob after him? Maybe he was used to it? Or maybe she was just messed up and normal people didn’t get anxiety attacks from being followed around by cameras.

It turned out Connor—or perhaps his father—owned a small electric car. Most people just used public transportation or ride sharing, since it was far cheaper and almost as convenient. But some people had the luxury of affording the privacy and autonomy of their own car. Lynn was simultaneously relieved and annoyed by it. It meant no staring strangers, but also no buffer between her and Connor.

Well, except Hugo, for whatever he was worth.

The space inside the car felt ten times smaller than it probably was, though Connor seemed completely unaffected. His entire demeanor was relaxed, and he chatted casually about their recent hunting trips as if this little “meeting” was the most normal thing in the entire world.

It took all of Lynn’s self-control to relax her muscles and respond in an equally casual tone. Fortunately, the ride was short. Connor kept things as simple and casual as he’d promised, taking them to a nearby pizza parlor that offered all of Iowa’s most delicious and outlandish pizza toppings. Lynn concentrated completely on the food, an easy thing for her to do since she was absolutely starving after all the calories she’d burned that day. Connor took her silent concentration as an invitation to tell her all about his ARS sponsorships, complete with his team’s win stats and the records they’d set. It all sounded suspiciously like bragging, except that it was the whole point of their meeting, right? Plus, Connor spoke so matter-of-factly that Lynn couldn’t tell if he was incredibly humble, or so massively arrogant he didn’t feel the need to hype things up the way Ronnie did all the time.

Whatever the case, the difference between him and Ronnie, not just as team captains but as normally functioning human beings, was stark as day and night.

Good grief, Lynn thought. Even Connor struggled to deal with Elena. Ronnie is going to get eaten alive.

“So, what do you think?”

“Huh?” Lynn said, suddenly aware Connor had asked her a question.

A corner of Connor’s mouth twitched.

“I said, do you think you’ll start taking on sponsorships now?”

“Uhhhhhh, probably?” She’d zoned out of the last few minutes of conversation, so she played it casual and hoped Connor hadn’t noticed.

“Good. Just make sure you require that they include the whole team. That way our uniforms will match and we’ll get more publicity that way.”

“Oh, uh, right. Got it.” She didn’t, that must have been part of the conversation she’d missed, but it kinda made sense?

“So, now that we’ve got that topic out of the way, I’m curious, do you have any big plans after we win the world championship?” He smiled, then took a bite of pizza, making headway into his mostly untouched plate.

“Um, well, probably just go to college and get a degree in game design. That’s the prize, after all. I’d love to work for Tsunami Entertainment afterwards, maybe doing play testing or designing mechanics for various games.”

“That’s cool. So you don’t intend to pursue professional gaming as a long-term career?”

Lynn thought about that—really thought about it. Nobody had asked her that before, not even her mom, and she wasn’t entirely sure of her answer. Finally, she shrugged.

“I really like gaming, but the stress of the competition is pretty intense. Maybe after a while I’ll get tired of it, you know? If I have a degree and a job at Tsunami, I can enjoy gaming without all that stress. What about you?”

For some reason that made Connor smile, though it wasn’t his usual charming grin. Lynn could see hardness under it, the same hardness she imagined in Larry’s eyes whenever she was talking to some cocky newbie who thought Larry was an old geezer who couldn’t back up all the hype surrounding his reputation. It was a hardness that demanded respect. And caution.

She kinda liked it.

“Oh, I’m an athlete, through and through,” Connor said, mirroring her shrug. “It’s what I’m good at, and I enjoy it a lot. Winning is what I do—why fix what isn’t broken?”

That was logical enough. It was similar to how she’d felt about WarMonger, at least until TD Hunter had come along.

“So, after TD Hunter, do you think you’ll go back to AR sports? Or focus on more traditional gaming? I’m sure there’s going to be lots of AR games coming out now that TD Hunter has been such a global hit.”

Connor took another bite and thought while he chewed.

“It will likely depend on what opportunities are out there. ARS is what I’m more familiar with, but I’m finding I really enjoy the less . . . constrictive aspects of gaming over school sports. Sometimes in ARS, the fun of the game gets lost under a pile of rules and regulations. TD Hunter has been incredibly refreshing. And the company isn’t bad either.” He winked at her, and Lynn felt her face heat. She ducked her head and took a bite of pizza, hoping Connor hadn’t noticed.

This was so, so weird. She was having a normal conversation about things she actually cared about with one of the most popular and hot guys at school—a guy that Elena freaking Seville had marked as her own. What alternate reality had she been transported to? Was this all some massive joke, and the CRCs were about to jump out from behind the booth on either side and dump ice water on her or something?

“You know, I’m really surprised someone like you has managed to fly under the radar for so long,” Connor said, leaning forward and propping both elbows on the table.

Mouth full, Lynn tried to hide her startled look under polite interest, but probably only managed to look constipated.

“You’re smart, hardworking, and incredibly skilled at what you do. It’s a good thing you’ve only gotten into shape recently, or I might’ve had to fight off all the other boys at school to get to you.”

Lynn choked. That led to a coughing fit as she tried to eject pizza from her lungs. She was too busy regaining normal breathing function to object when Connor slid around the table to the bench on her side to give her some helpful slaps on the back.

When she could finally breathe again, she took a long drink of ice water, mostly to cool her flaming cheeks. Not only had she made a fool of herself right after Connor had complimented her, but she was now trapped between a wall and the incredibly well-muscled Connor Bancroft. They were so close she could feel the heat coming off his skin.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Y-yeah,” she wheezed. “Just peachy. Thanks.”

“Good, I wouldn’t want to have to perform CPR, it’s not as fun as it looks in the movies.” He grinned at her, his eyes on her lips.

CPR? Fun?

“O-okay. Well, now that you mention it, I don’t think I can eat anymore, so I should probably be getting back home, you know?”

“Of course. Just let me finish my pizza real quick. It would be a shame to waste such perfection.”

Lynn could only nod and sit as still as a statue, afraid if she moved she might accidentally brush up against the statuesque physique beside her demanding her full attention by way of extreme proximity.

“Are you sure you are well, Miss Lynn?” Hugo’s voice queried in her ear. “Your heart rate and core temperature have skyrocketed again. According to available medical research, such symptoms indicate the possible onset of heatstroke. Should I summon emergency medical services?”

“I’m inside, you idiot! How could I be getting heatstroke?” Lynn subvocalized, never more grateful for the skill than at that moment.

If an AI could have sniffed in affront, Lynn imagined Hugo would have done so. As it was, Hugo’s only means of expression seemed to be with words, which the AI wielded with its usual precision.

“Madam, I am a gaming AI, not a medical diagnostic program. I can only work with what is in front of me, and you appear to be on the brink of collapse.”

“I’m fine. Can you make him eat faster? Because if not, then bug off!”

“That is, I regret to admit, outside my abilities to influence. Therefore, I will, as you say, ‘bug off.’”

Lynn might have worried that she’d offended the AI, if she’d had any spare brain cells left to rub together. Unfortunately for her, all of her brain cells were occupied thinking about certain other things rubbing together.

Somehow, she survived the excruciating few minutes until Connor finished his food and stood.

“That was some good pizza. Shall we?” he asked, offering his hand.

Lynn froze, staring at the hand like it was a snake about to bite her.

“You know, this is usually the part where you take my hand and I help you out of the booth,” Connor said, laughter in his voice. “Did that ice water give you brain freeze or something?”

Or something, Lynn thought and swallowed hard. Then she summoned all her courage, wiped her sweaty palm on her jeans, and took Connor’s hand. It was warm and strong, which made her even more conscious of how clammy her own hand was. Before she could think anything else, he was tugging on her arm and she had to slide out of the seat and stand up to avoid being pulled over face first.

“There we go. That wasn’t too hard, now was it?” Connor gave his trademark brilliant smile and Lynn was pretty sure her heart stopped for a second or two for no reason at all.

Yup. No reason.

“Come on, let’s get you home.”

Instead of letting go, Connor tightened his grip on her hand as he turned toward the door to leave.

“B-but we haven’t paid,” was all Lynn’s panicked brain could come up with as she tried to parse through the possible responses to having her hand held.

Punch him in the face?

Yank her hand away and run like a bat out of hell?

Kiss him?

What the heck?

“Oh, I already paid when we ordered, don’t worry about it,” he replied, looking at her. He gave an encouraging smile and tugged on her hand. “Come on.”

Somehow her leg muscles still functioned, and she found herself walking out of the restaurant, hand in hand with him, a picture-perfect couple for the dozen or so tiny drones hovering outside the entrance. They buzzed about as if in excitement, but Lynn was too busy trying to unfreeze her brain to notice.

Before she’d made any progress, Connor had gotten her into the car and they were headed back toward her apartment. The drive was short and gave her little time to figure out what to do or say when they arrived. She realized too late that her dazed lack of response gave Connor the perfect excuse to come open her door for her and offer his hand again to help her out once he had parked.

“Uh, I’m f-fine, thanks,” she said, and heaved herself out of the small car, hoping she didn’t end up colliding with Connor’s chest in her desperate attempt to escape. He took the hint and stepped aside, but then fell into step very close beside her as she speed walked back to her apartment. His stride was so long he seemed to put forth no effort to keep up, and when she didn’t so much as pause at the doors, he nonchalantly followed her in.

When he continued to follow her to the elevator, she stopped and spun around, only to find him so close they were almost touching.

“Oh! Uh, hey, um, I’m j-just going back to my, um, apartment, now. Bye?”

“I had a great time too,” he said with a smirk. “And you’re welcome.” With that, he leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. It was a chaste kiss, but he lingered there for a second before drawing back, the smirk still on his face. “We should do it again sometime. Well, see you Monday!”

Connor turned and left, hands in his pockets, posture relaxed as he swaggered back toward his car. As for Lynn, her brain was making feeble reboot noises in her head as she attempted to regain control over her limbs.

“Miz Raven? Lynn? Is that you?”

An elderly voice called down the hallway, making Lynn jump and turn, then clutch her chest in relief as she saw who it was.

“Oh, Mr. Thomas. Sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

“No need to apologize, young lady,” the old man said, coming out of his ground floor apartment and closing the door behind him. “I was just heading out to get some fresh air and I thought I heard your voice in the hallway.”

“Y-yeah,” Lynn laughed, rubbing her damp palms furiously on her thighs, “that was me.”

“And who was that handsome young man with you?”

Lynn gulped. “Uhhhh, just some guy?”

“Well, times have certainly changed from when I was your age if young ladies are letting ‘just some guy’ give them a goodnight kiss.” He smiled knowingly as he approached, leaning with every step on his cane.

“Oh, no, no, that wasn’t—I mean we’re not—I mean he isn’t—”

Mr. Thomas held up a weathered hand.

“Do not worry yourself, Lynn. I was merely teasing. Such exploits are far too tiresome to bother with at my age, so I must simply live vicariously through the young and adventurous.”

“B-but I’m not living adventurously! I swear!”

By this time her elderly neighbor had reached her, and he raised his hand to give her a gentle squeeze on her shoulder before dropping it again to join his other on the head of his cane. To Lynn’s surprise, the kindly gesture made her relax and feel a warm glow in her chest, the exact opposite of what she’d felt mere minutes before when Connor had touched her.

“There is no need to justify yourself either way to me, my dear. Youth is a time of great uncertainty, change, and exploration. How else are young ones to learn and grow?”

Lynn gave a nervous laugh and rubbed the back of her neck.

“I’m really not looking to learn in, well, that department. At least . . . I don’t think so? I don’t know. It’s all pretty confusing.”

Mr. Thomas nodded sagely.

“I remember the feeling well. It is perfectly natural. I would advise you to take things slowly, and do not be afraid to ask those you trust for advice. While exploration is healthy, acting in ignorance or on impulse is not, so do not keep your questions and fears to yourself.”

“Right. Thanks, Mr.—I mean, Jerald. Thanks.” Lynn gave him her first genuine smile of the evening.

“Any time, Lynn.”

“Enjoy your walk!”

“I shall endeavor to do so. Have a good evening.”

“You too,” she said, and gave a wave, then headed off down the hall toward the stairs. As exhausting as the day had been, she needed to burn off some energy. And cool down. Definitely cool down.


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Framed