Arena (24 page)

How much was real?

My heart jumped into my throat and nestled in like it was home. Seriously, it was impossible to swallow or even take a deep breath.

The match ended, and the footage cut out to the VGL announcers and their stunned expressions, staring wide-eyed and openmouthed into the camera.

My teammates burst out laughing.

“Wait, wait.” Derek waved at Hannah. “Put it on again.”

Hannah complied and pushed the rewind. The stunned announcers popped up on the screen again, and my teammates erupted in a volcano of giggles. Popcorn rained down instead of ash. A dozen times, Hannah rewound the feed. Each time they slapped their thighs and threw their heads back. One time in slow motion was particularly entertaining—for the people beside me, at least.

I leaned forward and rested my head in my hands, wishing I could use them to cover my eyes without anyone's noticing. I risked a glance at Rooke. Luckily, he was watching our teammates-turned-hyenas kill themselves over the announcers' reactions. Wasn't he embarrassed about this? God, I wanted to bury my head in the sand.

Finally, Hannah stopped the repeat and let the feed roll forward. The footage cut back to present time, and Marcus and Howie pretended to laugh at themselves.

“Well, that was unexpected. What will they do next to top this week's performance?”

Our teammates looked at us, heads turning in unison as if all were being controlled by a single puppeteer.

“So, what
is
next?” Derek laughed. “A sex tape?”

Rooke looked down at me, eyebrows raised, a slight grin tugging at his lips. The knot in my throat doubled in size.

I managed to shake my head. “I think not.”

“Come on, Kali,” Hannah cooed. “Give the people what they want. It's for the show.”

The trio erupted with laughter again. Heat burned my cheeks. Until that moment, I thought there was a level cap for embarrassment. Beside me, Rooke chuckled right along with my teammates. At least one of us was enjoying this.

“Be sure to join us next week as Defiance faces off against their longtime rival InvictUS, the team that creamed them in the Death Match.”

“I can't wait to see these two together again. This is going to be a hell of a show. Good night, everybody.”

The scene cut to snippets of our rivals, the bloodiest of their battles, where their weapons ripped through every opponent the tournament could throw at them.

InvictUS.

The undefeatable team. The ones who now stood between us, the championship, and the rest of our lives.

The channel flipped to a commercial, though none of us really watched. The images from the screen projected odd shapes and images over the motionless room. My stomach swirled, and I doubted mine was the only one. We were so caught up in the moment, we'd all forgotten about the tournament. Reality came crashing down around us even though we'd never really left it. For a few fleeting moments, the game hadn't been anything more than that. A game. Something for fun.

Finally, I exchanged glances with my teammates, all stone-faced with their lips pressed into straight lines. Though no one spoke, a silent declaration rippled through us all.

The championship was set.

I
sat in bed studying InvictUS on my tablet. Replays of their fights flashed across the screen. In every single match, they ripped through the stalks like they were weeping-willow branches. Few opponents lasted more than a minute against them, and that was only because InvictUS was toying with them, drawing it out, like how a cat torments a mouse before killing it. These guys were brute force, a runaway train—each of them. Especially Trent, their leader. His weapon ripped through his opponents with ease, like a giant merely swaying an axe side to side, sending men and women alike to the virtual afterlife. Together with his four teammates, they formed the epitome of invincibility. Ever since video games had hit the market, characters had been endowed with temporary indestructibility. Mario had sparkling stars. Ms. Pac-Man had giant pills. But no one had ever thought they'd see it in true form inside gamers themselves.

My eyes glazed over as the action continued across the screen. I let the tablet slump against my knees, and my head against the wall behind me. Screams, blood splats, and other sounds of battle floated in the background even though I wasn't listening anymore. Hours and hours of watching their fights, and I still hadn't found a weakness among their team. Maybe they didn't have one.

For a distraction, I scooped up the tablet and opened the general eBook
and magazine store. Under the sports section, several magazines immediately popped up featuring Rooke and me on the cover, all with the breaking news over the sudden rekindling of our romance. Some captured shots from our little late-night display, others with us spliced together. And that's all they'd ever get.

A buzz came from my door.

I got up from my bed, bringing my tablet with me, and tapped the button beside the door. When it slid open, Rooke stood on the other side.

“Hey. You missed breakfast. I worried you were sick.”

I held up my tablet. “Studying. Sorry.”

He snatched the tablet from my grip, and kept it out of arm's reach as he looked it over.

“Studying us?”

I swiped for the tablet and missed. “I was looking at our rivals.”

He held it up to me, where he'd opened a full-spread shot of us kissing.

“Then what's this?”

I reached again. “A distraction.”

He leaned toward me. “Hey, if you need a distraction—”

I squashed his face with my palm and retrieved my tablet. Rooke pulled away, chuckling to himself. As I scanned through the picture on the screen, a knot formed in my stomach. I'd gotten so caught up in shoving the game up the sponsors' asses, I forgot about my true drive behind it all.

Nathan.

I sighed.

“This kinda sucks, though,” I said, hearing the heavy, defeated tone in my own voice. “This isn't where I want people's attention.”

“What do you mean?”

“The focus should be on Nathan. He died because of this sport, but nobody knows it. All they care about is shit like this.” I held up the tablet, now featuring a new angle of our make-out session. Rooke glanced at the picture and shrugged.

“Sure, but what are you going to do about it? I mean, the media will censor you anytime you try to talk about it, if Clarence doesn't kill you first. And then there are the sponsors dropping us in a split second.”

“I know.” I scoffed. “The media. The sponsors. Sure wish I could censor them.”

My breath caught in my throat. Censor them. I should censor them. Just like Dr. Renner had said, I'd need to find my own way to honor Nathan. Here it was, right in front of me. I had everything I'd need right inside this very facility.

I grinned.

“What?” Rooke asked.

I pushed past him and out the door.

“Where are you going?”

I never answered his question. He'd see soon enough.

Down the hall, Hannah and Lily leaned against the wall, talking. Oh, this was easy. Like destiny wanted me to do this. I snagged Lily's arm as I breezed by, dragging the pigtailed blonde along with me.

“Um, Kali?” Hannah called out.

“I'm borrowing your girlfriend.”

Hannah made a sound of protest, but I plowed ahead without looking back. Lily hurried along beside me, no complaints, as I led her down the hall. At Derek's door, I buzzed his keypad, repeatedly, once every second, until it became its own techno beat.

The door slid open.

“What?”

Derek stood on the other side dressed in nothing but a sheet clenched at his waist. I offered him my best smile, the one we're taught. “You said you can program anything, right?”

He waggled his eyebrows at me. “I've been a gamer since I was five, but I've been a programmer since I was born.”

Behind him, the bedsheets rustled, and the murmured voice of a woman called his name. I had the decency not to snoop at the woman, to crane my neck to see how pretty she was and how many plastic pieces she'd stuck in her body.

Derek glanced back at the woman and turned to me. “Look, now's not a good time, okay?”

He pressed the control button, and the door started sliding shut.

“One favor,” I began, raising my voice to get his attention, “and I'll convince Clarence to have our next ad campaign feature you alone.”

He caught the door. “I'm listening.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “If you're good at programming, then are you good at hacking, too?”

He just smiled.

—

I wasn't much for sharing my favorite place, but this was for something bigger than myself.

I stood on the roof of the facility over Clarence's office, looking out at the city with my teammates clustered behind me. Darkness and moonlight had settled on Los Angeles, but it still buzzed with life, a barrage of flashing signs and lights. Puttering vehicles, wailing sirens, and the general ambience of a million voices filtered up to us on the rooftop.

“What's supposed to happen?” Hannah asked, arms crossed as she tapped her foot.

“Just wait,” I said, waving a hand to dismiss her impatience. Then I winked at Derek and Lily. My accomplices shared a grin with each other. Hannah noticed.

“Wait, they know what's going on? How come they know, and I don't?”

“Just wait,” I stressed. “You'll see.”

She sighed but shut her mouth. Rooke waited behind her, patiently, though I saw the wonder in his eyes as they searched the horizon.

Across the skyline, every digital ad, poster, and billboard went dead. Instantaneously. From high above the city's highways to the street-level windows of coffee shops, gyms, and retail stores. Despite the car lights and streetlights, the city's wattage dropped by half, if not more.

Cars automatically screeched to a halt as passengers threw the doors open and stepped out. Heads poked out of buildings and windows, most pointing toward the sky. What was happening? A power outage? A technical glitch? They were about to get the answer.

After thirty seconds of blackout, Team InvictUS's picture flashed across every screen in the city, followed by the words:

THIS IS WHAT THEY'RE FIGHTING FOR.

A pile of money popped up next. Rich, green American moolah in stockpiles. Then it cut to a picture of us, Team Defiance, with the words:

THIS IS WHO WE'RE FIGHTING FOR.

Nathan's picture appeared. Dressed in his typical RAGE gladiatorial armor, he was sure to snag people's attention. Hey, he looks familiar. Haven't I seen him before? For clarity, we'd included his stats.

NATHAN SAUNDERS

2033–2054

TEAMMATE, BROTHER, AND FRIEND.

People gathered in front of stores. Cell phones left their ears, and as if for the first time, they spoke with others on the street, exchanging elbow nudges and nods toward the signs. Remember that guy? Yeah, yeah. I remember him.

Nathan's image blanketed the entire city, across every available digital space, in every direction, on every street. You couldn't look anywhere without seeing him. I took a breath that filled my lungs, and as I exhaled, it left behind a feeling of complete satisfaction. What do they call that? Pride. Lily and Derek shared a fist bump. Their grins told me they felt the same.

“The Internet just exploded,” Hannah announced, scrolling madly through her tablet. “It's everywhere. People are posting about it on all the social-media sites. There are already hashtags. Fight-for-Nathan.”

She held up the tablet for me to see. The feeds crawled at a blurred pace up the screen. Beyond Hannah, Rooke looked at me over the tablet. I met his eyes and saw the emotion dwelling within them. He wasn't just proud. He was proud of me.

I smiled. So was I.

By the next morning, every tabloid showcased Nathan on the cover. Inside were articles about his life. His real life as a person and not just a
gamer. His family. Where he grew up and went to school. His cause of death was still listed as heart failure, but that was to be expected. At least it was heading in the right direction.

On every channel, the television and radio reports went something like this:

“In a bizarre incident, every billboard in L.A. was hacked last night . . .”

“Is this a hoax or a bold media blitz by the sponsors of Team Defiance?”

“Either way, frenzy over the RAGE tournaments has reached an all-time high . . .”

The sponsors all pointed fingers at each other, until one of them lied and claimed responsibility for the debacle. Done purposely, of course, for the show. Handshakes ensued, complemented by pats on the back.
Well done. I'll have to steal that marketing rep from you.

Everyone on the team knew it was a lie, but we were all too happy to oblige. We were supposed to do this with smiles on our faces, after all.

Later that day, I passed Dr. Renner in the hall. She never looked up from her tablet. “You know, I saw some billboards on my drive home last night . . .”

I held up a hand and shook my head. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

She smiled. “I didn't think so.”

Back in my bunk, I scrolled through an online magazine shop. Not one cover featured me or Rooke, apart or together. Nothing on our relationship, breakup, making up, or anything that had happened the night before. In a blink, we were old news. Nathan was the one remembered now. Not forgotten. Not gone. Alive. In the hearts and minds of everyone.

That night, I fell asleep with a smile on my face and Nathan's picture on the tablet gripped in my arms. I'd broken the law, risked backlash from the sponsors, and maybe even jeopardized my career, and never in my entire life was I so sure I'd done the right thing.

Everything was set. We were in the championship, and Nathan was right there with us. I was done going ape-shit crazy. Now, there was only one thing left to do.

Train.