2 chapter two

I ping Kelly again on my way out. He immediately connects this time. As I walk past the window I look in. Jake's just standing there watching me leave. I can't see his eyes because of the reflection, but something about the way he's staring makes me a little uncomfortable. It may be totally innocent, but I can't decide whether to feel threatened, creeped out or flattered by the attention.

"'Sup, J?"

I hurry away, but I can feel his eyes on my back.

"On my way home from practice. Mind if I stop by?"

"Mom's here, but sure. I'm just hanging out, not really doing anything."

"Translation: trying to figure out a way to get past level eleven," I say.

He sighs and tells me I'm coldhearted. "So much for Micah's extra cheater lives. I'm lame. I'm just a lame gamer."

"Self-pity doesn't suit you, Kel."

"Nothing lamer than a poor-ass gamer like— Wait a sec… Yes! Woohoo!"

"You're playing right now, aren't you? You're playing even as I'm talking to you."

"…maybe."

Frustration wavers on the verge of anger. I don't know what's going on between us, but lately it feels like he's slipping away. I don't want to lose him, and yet it feels like I am

"It's just the 2D version," he says, trying to placate me. "You know we don't have HG."

"Just save some of that energy for me," I say. It's a desperate move to distract him, make him pay more attention to me. I immediately feel guilty for being so needy, but not enough not to use my coup-de-gras: "I'm feeling frisky."

"Um, I did mention my mom's home, right?"

"Never stopped us before."

I can hear him exhale shakily into the Link, and it brings a smile to my face.

When I get to Kelly's house, his five-year-old brother Kyle answers the door. He gives me a big smile and a hug, which I enthusiastically return with change: an extra loud zerbit on his neck. He runs away giggling.

"Better watch it," I warn Kelly, when he wanders down from his room. "Looks like you've got some competition."

"What? Kyle? Robbing the cradle now, are you?"

"No one will ever replace Kyle," I answer. "Not even you. No, I mean at the dojang. There's this new kid. I sparred with him this morning. I think I embarrassed him when I suggested he was hitting on me."

"Was he?" Kelly asks.

"Easy there, cowboy," I reply, but even I'm not so sure what it really was that happened. "Jake couldn't land a real hit, much less a figurative one, unless I let him."

Did you? Let him, I mean."

"Really? Don't be like that, Kel"

He sighs. "So…Jake, huh? Do I know him?"

"Doubtful. He's a junior. Not a gamer or hacker. Seems Ash does, though. He was her science lab partner last year."

I take Kelly's arm and lead him back upstairs.

"Keep the door open," his mother yells up at us from the kitchen.

"Morning, Mrs. C," I shout back.

We keep the door open—barely—but we don't exactly behave. Even an open door doesn't stop us from getting in some serious make-out time. And it sort of makes things a lot more exciting, too, knowing someone could walk in on us at any moment.

By the time his mother calls for Kelly to come down a half hour later, my whole body's tingling and I feel like I'm about to explode. Kelly has this glazed look in his eyes. I don't know who's in more agony, him or me.

We straighten our disheveled clothes and hair before going downstairs.

"What are you kids up to today?" Mrs. Corben asks innocently.

"Going over to Micah's," Kelly answers. He looks over at me, sees the look on my face and shrugs.

If Mrs. C notices this, she doesn't say anything. Instead, she looks her son up and down and then says, "Walk over. You could use the exercise. You're starting to get a little flabby."

"Mom! I'm not getting flabby!"

"Mm hmm. And what exercise have you gotten lately? Outside of VR, I mean."

I stay out of this conversation. I know anything I say will just come off sounding suggestive in a way that would make me look slutty.

She throws him an apple from the bowl on the counter and tells him not to stay too long. "Your father'll be home early tonight and he wants to talk to you about colleges."

Kelly grunts.

After I drop my sparring gear off at home and get a quick shower, we head out to Micah's.

"He pinged your Link while you were in the bathroom," Kelly informs me. There's a dark look in his eyes. "Did you talk with him last night after we left or something?"

It's not like Kelly to be jealous of Micah, but after my teasing him this morning, I figure he's probably a bit more sensitive than usual. That's what the make-out session was supposed to take care of.

I shake my head and tell him about Ash's call during dinner.

Kelly grumbles. "This is all just a waste of time. You know that, don't you? An exercise in futility. There's a reason they sealed that place off, and I'm sure they didn't just do a half-assed job about it."

I shrug. "So what if you're right? Even if it turns out to be impossible, it still beats just sitting around watching you play Zpocalypto all the time."

"I don't play it all the time!"

"Dude, you're totally obsessed with it."

"I just want to pass this level is all. What's wrong with that?"

I squeeze his hand as I stop, swinging him around to look at me. "Then what, Kelly? Level thirteen? Fourteen? When does it stop?"

He gives me a resentful look.

I sigh with frustration. "Last year you told me you didn't just want to be a code jockey. You wanted to go to college and become something more. Why else would you suffer with those academic geeks in the college track at school instead of being in the trade track like the rest of us?"

He shrugs.

I'd feared that his entering the college track last year would put a strain on our relationship, since it meant we wouldn't get to see each other as much during school, but it actually didn't matter. It wasn't like we saw much of each other during classes anyway. The real strain actually started over the summer, feeling like a repeat of last year.

"Now look at you," I say. "All of a sudden you're eating and sleeping and drinking that stupid game! You were the one person that the rest of us looked to as a reminder that there's more to life than games and codes. But now it's like you're addicted."

"Me?" he exclaims, yanking his hand away from mine. "You're accusing me of being obsessed? You're the one who's obsessed. You and Reggie—"

"Reggie's just a friend, Kel!"

"—and all the others. How could you even consider going into Gameland?"

"It's not Gameland, Kelly, and you know it. Reggie didn't mean to say Gameland. It's just LI, and it's just for fun—"

"It's not just for fun! This is serious. Micah's all over it like flies on dog crap! Stupid Reggie for even bringing up such a dumb idea. He's had some bad ones in the past, but this one takes the cake."

"Stop screaming at me."

He raises his hands to his head and stumbles off like he's hurt or something. I suddenly just want to kick him, to send him sprawling, to knock some sense into his brain. But to do so would be to violate all the principles of discipline I've ever been taught in hapkido. We never attack out of spite or anger. We only fight to diffuse those emotions and to defend ourselves.

But the thing is, I know he's right. We are obsessed with games. All of us. And why shouldn't we be? Look at all the things my generation grew up with that we can't control: global warming, a fractured government that has pretty much given up doing anything useful, the Undead. Why wouldn't we want to escape into a world we can manipulate? The worst consequences in a game are having to go back to the beginning and starting all over again. You can't do that in real life. When you die, you just keep playing.

It's telling that we're most obsessed with games where we have to fight the dead, since what we most want is to live and feel. We want to experience life. But we can't. Our lives are so full of rules and restrictions. Nobody ever pushes us because pushing goes against everything we're taught. "Go to school," they drone. On and on like it's a mantra. "Become like everyone else." Sometimes it feels like we're just going through the motions.

That's why we play. It allows us to escape.

And the worst part about it? Games are such piss-poor substitutes for life—flat and two-dimensional, even in HG—that they only make us want more. We want to do something dramatic, something that we can feel. Like break into LI.

Kelly stomps off, leaving me behind. How could he not understand?

I sigh and follow along after him.