Life in the Lucky Zone (The Zone #2) (23 page)

I eyed the bag of bagels. No one likes cold bagels, right? I needed to fix that. I snatched one out and dropped it into their toaster to warm. I was just rewrapping it when Lindsey came in with wet hair and a disgruntled look on her face. I couldn’t decide whether it would be more fun to kiss her or just squeeze her until that look went away.

“So?” she asked.

I held up the paper sack. “Here’s breakfast. Grab something to drink so we can go.”

She scowled. “I don’t like bagels.”

I grinned. “Don’t lie. You want orange juice?” I headed for her fridge, but she pushed past me.

“Oh, get out of the way.”

I bit my lip. It was gonna be really hard to keep from laughing this morning, but I’d better try. She didn’t look like she’d appreciate it very much.

She emerged from the refrigerator holding a bottle of some fancy organic juice.

“You ready?” I asked.

“I guess.”

“Come on. It won’t be so bad. Let’s go.”

She made a weird noise in her throat, but led the way into the front hall. “We’re leaving, Mom,” she called.

Mrs. Taylor appeared carrying a tennis bag. “Have fun, you two.”

Lindsey grunted again and walked out the front door.

I looked at her mother, who gave me a brief smile. “Thanks for doing this, Trey.”

I nodded. “No problem.” I went out but then turned back. “Wish me luck?”

She chuckled. “Sure. Good luck.”

“Thanks,” I said and rushed after Lindsey, who was halfway down the front walk to my sister’s car.

We didn’t talk until we were in the car and buckled up.
Okay, definitely not a morning person.
I set the paper sack in her lap. “See if there’s anything in there you want.”

She started opening it. “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.”

She sighed. “Seriously, Berger?”

I pulled into the street. “Eat your breakfast.”

“You’re so bossy today.”

“You didn’t know? It’s Bossy Saturday. Everybody’s supposed to be bossy to everybody else.”

“In that case, take me home immediately and let me go back to bed.”

I laughed. “You’re not even the least bit curious about what we’re doing?”

“I am, darn you.” She opened the packet of cream cheese and spread some on half a bagel.

“If it makes you feel any better, we don’t have to talk. You can even have control of the radio.”

Staring straight ahead, she smiled evilly. I almost hit the curb. “Look out,” she said.

“Sorry, sorry. But that’s an evil look you just had.”

“Shut up and drive.” She turned the radio on, and for the rest of the trip I was treated to “You Done Me Wrong” at super high decibels. She even sang along at the top of her lungs, which must have been an attempt to irritate me. It failed.

I loved seeing her happy, even if it was only because she was trying to get under my skin. It was too late. She was already there.

Okay, something to remember—a little food and country music helps Lindsey over her morning grumpiness.

We’d already entered my neighborhood when she turned down the music. “We’re just going to your house?”

“Yup.”

“I thought we were going someplace fun.”

I pretended to cry. “Oh. That hurts.”

“Shut up.”

I pulled into the driveway. “My sister needs her car soon.”

“Then how am I getting home?”

“You’ll see.”

We got out, and she glared at me over the roof of the car. “I hate it when you’re mysterious.”

I smiled. “Come on.” We were about to run the gauntlet of my entire family. At least she’d already met Nana and Ashley. Now it was just my parents.

We headed into the house and straight into the kitchen, where my mom and dad were reading the paper and drinking coffee. They looked up in surprise. Yeah, okay, I should’ve told them the friend I was bringing over was a girl.

I made the introductions, and my mom did all that hospitality stuff while Lindsey smiled and smoothed her hair nervously. When he thought no one was looking, my dad raised his eyebrow at me. I shrugged. He had questions, probably lots of them, but they were going to have to wait.

I touched Lindsey on the back of her arm. She glanced at me. “Okay, um, we’ll be in my room,” I said.

“Do you need help moving the pool table out a little?” Dad asked.

“Oh. No. At least not right now.” He had to be wondering what the heck I was up to. It’s not like this kind of thing happened every day.

We made it to my room without running into Nana or Ashley, thank goodness. It was time to get this show started—especially since Gray and Claire would be here soon.

Lindsey set her purse on the floor and looked around the room. I’d straightened up, but it still looked a lot like a hamster maze. “This place is amazing,” she said. “I don’t think I really noticed last time I was here.”

Uh, no.
That topic would bring up memories of her crying over Adam. I did not want to go there. “I have something for you.”

That got her attention. “Yeah?”

“It’s something I’ve never given to any girl.”

A tiny frown pulled her eyebrows together. “Okay.”

“Hold out your hands and close your eyes.”

“Berger.”

“I mean it.”

Another dramatic sigh. “Oh, all right.” She shut her eyes.

I placed an Xbox controller on her open palms, allowing my fingers to slide across her soft skin before I let go.

She opened her eyes. “What’s this?”

“The opportunity to kill me.”

Her smile lit up the whole room.

Forty-Four

Lindsey

My smile felt like it started in my toes before shooting all the way up to my face. Berger watched me, his lips pressed together like he was fighting a grin. “What do I do?” I asked.

He cocked his head toward the couch. “Come, sit down.”

I sank onto the old leather sofa, while he turned on the TV and the game machine thingy.

“First we need to get you set up. Pick your weapons.”

“What should I pick?”

“Anything. There’re shotguns, rifles, explosives. See how the screen is split in half? My character will be on the top half and yours will be on the bottom.”

“Okay. I want a rifle. And explosives. Lots of explosives.”

He smiled. “Right. So we’ll do the loadout.” He made selections from menus quicker than I could follow.

“Okay, now let me show you how you move everything.” He pointed to all the different buttons and toggles on the controller, which he called thumbsticks, explaining what each one did. Then he showed me how to hold it, his long fingers fitting around the thing as if he’d come out of the womb gripping it. He gave it back to me. “Now you try it.”

“Try what?”

“Move your character around.”

“How do I move—” I pushed the thumbstick with my thumb, and my character went jogging sideways across the screen. “This is harder than I thought, Dragon Boy.”

“It just takes some practice. Push some more buttons.”

I did. My character’s arm moved forward like it was throwing something. There was a flash, and then something on-screen exploded, and I jumped. “What was that? And why the heck was it so loud?”

Berger laughed. “You just set off a sticky grenade. Let’s work on moving the character around first.”

“Well you told me to push random buttons.”

“I didn’t say random.”

“It’s what you meant.”

“Oh, so you can read my mind now?”

I glared at him. “It would probably be easier to just kill you in real life.”

“No doubt. But not as much fun for me.”

I laughed. “Who said it was supposed to be fun for you?”

He raised a hand in jerky motions. “Me?”

“Okay, let me try this.” For the next fifteen minutes or so, I pushed buttons and moved thumbsticks but came nowhere near moving my character as smoothly as Berger moved his. It was irritating, but made me more determined than ever to figure it out. Our characters snuck around the ruins of some kind of fortress on a planet where everything was gray. Even the sky. Maybe it was supposed to be nighttime.

“How will I know if I’m dead?” I asked.

“Like this.” And with a series of machine-gun shots, red splotches hit the screen and the camera zoomed out of my character’s head, showing my dead body on the ground with blood everywhere.

“Hey! What’d you do that for?”

“You wanted to know … ”

Words filled a portion of the screen:
Waiting to respawn
. A timer counted down from five. “What happens when it gets to zero?”

“You’re alive again.”

“Really? Huh. That’s not so bad then. But I’m still planning a surprise attack on you later.”

He laughed. “Okay—”

The doorbell rang and Berger shifted, but before he could even get up, the sound of voices rang out and then Gray and Claire stood in the doorway.

“How’s it going?” Gray asked with a slight smile.

“Oh, good,” I said. “You both have to help me. Claire, you can get something to tie around Berger’s mouth. Gray, you can help me kill him.”

Claire laughed as Gray plopped down, squishing me into Berger’s side. “It’s what I live for,” Gray said.

“Hey!” Berger said.

“May I?” Gray asked, holding out a hand.

“Absolutely.” I gave him the controller.

“Traitor,” Berger said.

“Who?” I asked. “Me or him?”

“Both of you,” Berger muttered, but he stared intently at the screen.

I’d lost his attention, but that was okay. For now.

And then there was a lot of running around and gun shots and explosions and swearing.

“Guys!” Claire said in a harsh whisper. “Stop cussing. Nana’s in the living room.”

“Sorry,” Gray mumbled. And then to me, “Get ready.”

“Ha!” Berger said, causing Gray to swear under his breath and then start laughing.

Man, emotions changed fast in video games. I exchanged a look with Claire, who watched from the arm of the couch with both her eyebrows raised.

“Lindsey,” Gray said through his teeth.

I looked at his profile and then back at the screen. And all of a sudden the controller was in my hands. “Shoot!” Gray said.

I probably hit too many buttons at once, because my viewpoint lurched and I fired into the air and then the ground. Berger laughed. But somehow I straightened up and fired again.

This time, Gray exploded with laughter. “You ran right into her line of fire!”

“Aw, crap,” Berger said.

“Yes!” I said. I hugged Gray for a half a second, then turned, and threw myself onto Berger. “Ha! You didn’t think I could do it.”

A low grunt came out along with a laugh. “You didn’t. I accidentally committed suicide.”

I grinned as I smashed him into the couch. “Doesn’t matter. You’re dead from my bullets.”

“She’s right,” Gray said.

“Shut up,” Berger said. “Can you let me up, She-Ra?”

“Who?” I asked, pushing myself upright.

“Never mind.” He got up, ran a hand through his hair, and set the controller aside. “Well, that was exhilarating.”

Gray barked out a laugh. “I can’t believe you did that. And you’re always accusing me of screen-watching.”

“I was trying to get behind her for an assassination.”

“Ew, harsh,” Gray said.

“Hey, she’s my Padawan. She’s going to have to learn the hard lessons.”

“I’m your what? It’s like you’re speaking a foreign language.”

He turned off the TV. “Ready to go?” he asked me.

“Where now?” I asked.

“We’re meeting Sam and Rose somewhere for lunch.” He looked at Claire. “Did y’all pick a place?”

“Yup,” she said. “That Mexican restaurant off of Durango.”

I stood up, feeling oddly out of breath, images of gunfire and explosions still in my head. But weirdly, I wanted to do it all again. I grinned.

“You okay?” Berger asked me.

“Yeah.” I leaned close to his ear. “I killed you,” I whispered.

He smiled. “All right, all right. But I demand a rematch.”

“Of course,” I said, putting on my most queenly air. “But for now, I must visit your facilities before we leave.”

“After you, your royalness.”

Forty-Five

Lindsey

When I left the bathroom, voices and laughter rang out from the kitchen. I headed in that direction but stopped when I saw Nana approaching. We hadn’t had a lot of interaction since that time she’d slapped me, and I wasn’t sure I was ready to chance it happening again.

“Oh, there you are,” she said, wrinkles fanning out across her face as she smiled. “Come with me.”

“Um, Berg—I mean, Trey is waiting for me.”

She waved me forward. “He can wait a few more minutes. This way.” She walked on toward the hallway.

I glanced toward the kitchen, my body already turning to follow her. It was just a few minutes. What could it hurt? Ha. I knew the answer to that one. I’d just have to keep my distance.

She waited for me outside one of the rooms. “I want to show you something. Lindsey, isn’t it?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I thought so. Sometimes I don’t remember so well.”

Uh, what should I say to that?
“It happens.”
Ew, Lindsey. Could’ve chosen better words.

“Yes.” She took my hand, tugging me forward. Her skin felt amazingly silky, her fingers a little bony—just like my granny’s used to. A swirl of different emotions danced through my chest, making it hard to breathe. “Look what I did this morning,” she said, presenting me with a view of four potted petunias on a low shelf.

Little red, purple, white, and pink blooms winked up at me from dark soil. “They’re beautiful.”

“Yes, they are.” She let go of my hand and ran two fingers along the rim of one of the pots. “I wanted to plant them in the ground, but my son said we might have another freeze and then I’d lose them. I’ll have to transplant them later, of course, but I didn’t want to lose them. I’ve lost so many things already.”

Oh, no.
I was completely out of my depth here. Except maybe … maybe I could just pretend she was my granny. I could talk to her then. “Were they plants?”