Playing Tyler (13 page)

Small black figure on the top of adjacent building. Code in and zoom, I target set the loser and call him target one. Paint him red. Done. Find target two.

403 and 416 approaching fast. I type target one's hit code into drone 416 and then go back to the sim's real-time satellite view. Type in the building locations where the grenades seem to have come from – looks like a shed. Cool. Toggle back to drone view, initiate targeting sequence for drone 403 and paint it red, set target two.

Heart racing. I get a visual on fire between our guys and a building with a big domelike oven out behind it a little further down the block. It's tall, like three stories high, that same ugly brown concrete and looks like it's half torn apart already. Small fence, probably wood, in front and approximately five hundred feet from the smaller building spewing a purple cloud.

Coding in the laser target, I hit the timing mechanism so that the Hellfires will hit at approximately the same time, give or take a differential of… look at the timer screen… eight seconds. That's too long. Two minutes inbound. I re-program the codes, trying to get a hit at a tighter… yes! Differential lowered to four seconds.

Pulling the safety off the firing mechanisms, I make the calls into the machine for the Hellfires. Waiting for the exact “go” moment to get the time differential that I need. Fingers hovering over the keys, waiting, shaking. Ninety seconds. Pause, inhale, exhale.

Waiting's hard. I think of the time Rick took me to the firing range. Shot his 9mm Glock. The way it felt in my hand. How Rick had me pause and control my breathing. Feel the lethal weight of the gun. Target only when perfectly calm. Perfectly focused. The grip of the gun. The feel of the controller. Breathe.

“Whiskey three, this is bravo one, strike package inbound. ETA thirty seconds, over.”

Laser set, laser ready, lasing. My heart pounds, thrumming in my ears. Damn I feel so alive. Weapon set, weapon ready, firing.

Wait… wait… wait… The drone view is a thing of beauty, with only a four-second lag on the satellite view. The building blows. Gray-brown smoke rising, then the sniper, he stays right where he is, a blurb of bland browns and khakis and now there's a cloud and he's gone, the building is gone. Soldiers, our soldiers, leave their location and take care of the man that jumped from the windows of the building as it blew and the one running from the shed.

The rush rises up from my heart and makes my fingers shake and my breath all wild like a laugh.

Whiskey three comes back on, over the headset, which is unusual, but then this whole mission was unusual. Must be changing, upgrading.

“Bravo one, thanks, you just saved our asses, out.” His voice is high and full of something that I never thought was possible to program into a computer… relief.

 

Is she going to answer? I hope she gave me the right number. B said to wait a few days before I called her. It's been like a day and a half. That's like a few, right? Or should it have only been the full two? What if I should have called yesterday?

She gave me the wrong number. It's been like five rings already. I mean, she kissed me and all, you'd think she'd give me the right number, or was that before the kiss? What if the kiss sucked so bad that she changed her number?

“Hello?”

Her voice. Shit, now what do I say? “Hey.”

Silence. Fuck, this is hard. Ideas, ideas, quick I need ideas. I look at the poster hanging on my wall, Miss January. Well, that's not going to help. “Have you been making changes to the game? I had this pretty tight mission and thought I'd let you know.”

“We're always making upgrades, we do it daily.”

Quick, think of something else, something smart, thoughtful, Yale-like. “Um, I went to Pepe's for pizza last night. You been?”

I sound like a fucking moron. Moron! You'd think there'd be a book, like dating for dumbasses or something.

“No, I hear it's good, though.”

Well, alright. She hasn't hung up yet, at least, that's good. “It is. It's like a New Haven landmark and all. Didn't they take you on any tours of the town or something for college orientation?”

“They did, just not of pizza places.”

“That sucks.” I lay back on my bed, looking up at the ceiling. How come ceilings always look like they have sand mixed in with the paint like that? Wait. I stand up and grab my wallet off the desk. I look at the clock. It's 4.30. “Are you done with classes today?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Text me your address, I'll be there in half an hour,” I say.

 

“You have to be kidding me,” Ani says as I place the order. “We're really going to eat three small pizzas? Just the two of us?”

“Hell yeah. This is one of the best pizza places on the planet. You have to try the margherita, the sausage and the clam.”

“Why three separate pizzas, though? Why not just get one with the three different toppings?”

“Because then the flavors mix together. Mess everything up. Has to be three different pies.” Damn, it smells good in here.

“How much pizza do you expect me to eat, exactly?”

“At least one slice of each pie here, then we go to Sally's.” I take a sip of my root beer. Love root beer with pizza. “Think of it as like a pizza taste-test.”

“I don't know if I'm going to make it. That's a lot of food.” She's wearing this pink sweater that makes her skin look too soft to even be real, and her brown hair is pulled back in a braid, the bleached strand left out and tucked behind her ear.

“Oh, you will. And then we'll go out for cannolis.” The brick and candles and gleaming wood floors mix with the smell of pizza and garlic and the noise from tables full with college kids and business executives and families as they set the day behind them and sit down for dinner. I have to lean in close across the table to hear her when she speaks. It's kind of nice.

“I think that there has to be some rule against carb-loading like this, it's unnatural.”

“You're only saying that because you haven't tried it yet.” My knees hit the leg of the table, I shift them around and the waitress shoots me a dirty look for blocking the tiny path between the tables. “Tonight is going to change the way you see pizza for the rest of your life.”

“We'll see.” She shakes her head and her ears flush pink. I like her ears. Not too big. Pretty.

“You have nice ears.” Oh shit. I didn't just say that out loud, did I?

“Um, thanks?”

“Can't believe I just said that. It's just they have this shape. Nice shape. Pink.” Crap. I suck at this. Shoving the straw from the root beer into my mouth, I look at the table. Not at her. God, she's gonna get up and leave. I'm such an idiot. Change the subject. Change it quick. “So, why do you call Rick Mr Anderson?”

She raises an eyebrow. She answers, “Because he's my boss.”

“It's weird.” Great. Now I just said something she did was weird. This so isn't going like I wanted it to. “And where did you get the phrase ‘goofy grape' for the sim? I had to Google that – it's like Vietnam-era or whatever. You might want to update that term before the sim goes into use.”

“What are you talking about?”

“In the sim… never mind.” Great. Now I've broken two rules. One, never insult a girl you want to impress, and two, talking about the program. Why is taking a girl out for pizza so freaking hard? Talk about her. Bring it back to her. “Your dad was in Afghanistan?”

“Yeah, with the Army.”

“Why'd he join? Was he like career or something?”

“No, he was laid off and couldn't find another job. The Army would pay him, pay for more school when he came home, so he joined.” She pushes her glass around with her fingers. Her eyes on her napkin. Not on me. OK. Change the subject.

“So, you miss LA?” I ask.

“I miss the weather, definitely. And my sister, she's at UCLA.”

“What's she studying?”

“I don't know if she's studying anything, really. I think Julie sees college as a way to kill time before some big producer finds her and decides to make her a star.”

I laugh and she smiles and my heart sort of jumps. “So what's next for
World of Fire
? You're gonna make more, right?”

“I want to, but the storyline is kind of getting away from me. I don't really know where I want it to go.”

“Tell me,” I say.

“Well, I have Janra rescue Philus at the end. So what's next? I mean, she extinguished the fire, right?”

“Well, yeah, so have her have to battle her way through a world of ice or something.”

She coughs on her soda. “You think it would be that easy?”

“Why not? It's your world.” By the time the small pizza is placed on the table in front of us, we've kind of outlined a rough plot for the next three
World of Fire
games. I actually
like
talking to her. My mouth waters. Ani's face wrinkles as she eyeballs the globs of mashed potatoes on the pizza. But she slides a slice of pizza off of the pan and onto her plate. She cuts off a bite-sized piece. Gives me a wary look. She's so cute. “I don't know about this,” she says.

“Trust me.”

She puts the piece of pizza in her mouth, eyes slowly closing as she chews. Her face softens, glows, even, with surprise, and when she opens her eyes again, she's beaming. “Oh my God, that pizza is unbelievable.”

She stuffs another piece in her mouth and I grab a slice. “And we're just getting started.”

 

Ani

How did we get from eating all that pizza to running around in Wooster Square? I feel the touch of his hand as he tags me and bolts over a bench. “C'mon,” he calls to me.

Oh, right, the espresso he insisted that we have with the cannolis at that last café. What does that make it, then, four restaurants, total? My stomach might just pop. I run to chase after him, he's just a flash of movement beneath the lights of the park, but my side cramps up. “Ouch. Tyler, we have to stop. I think I'm going to throw up.” That would be so like me, though. Vomit on my first real date? Julie would never let me live it down.

“Not a chance. Well, maybe a small chance.” Another flash and he's got his arms wrapped around me from behind. I stiffen, then let myself relax, let the lingering scents of wood smoke and pizza soften my shoulders, let him hug me. We stand in the middle of the square, the sound of cars and the people walking home from evening mass at the church washing away as we stand beneath the moonlight. His lips brush the side of my forehead. “So, which was your favorite? Sally's or Pepe's?”

“I can't decide.”

“What do you mean you can't decide? Everyone in the area has to have an opinion. Stamp it on your driver's license and everything.” He smiles and it's as if he's lit from within.

“I mean I can't decide. We might need a do-over.”

He pulls me closer. “Guess we'll have to do it over, then. Maybe tomorrow?”

“Guess so.” I rest the back of my head against his shoulder. He wants to see me again. Tomorrow. My heart races. “It's late, where did we leave the car?”

“Forget the car. I don't want to go back yet,” he says.

Leaves falling from the cherry trees of the park catch in our hair and I turn, reaching my hands up around his neck. I stand on the tip of my toes and I kiss him, honeyed sparks shooting straight through to the tips of my fingers, lost completely to everything else in the world.

 

CHAPTER 14

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 10

TYLER

“Mom would freak out if she knew I went to class without any makeup,” Ani says. I love hearing her voice. Love it. It's even better when she's actually next to me. When I can feel her breath on my skin. Look her in the eyes.

But I'll videochat if I have to.

“Your mom sounds like she has issues. What the hell do you need makeup for?” I put the laptop on the kitchen island as I grab the milk out of the fridge. So hungry. Need some cereal or something. “What time is your class again?”

“I should head over to class now, actually. Talk to you later, OK?”

“Yeah, bye.” I close the fridge and end the connection. Is that Mom's car? I walk over to the window. Mom's talking with Rick. On the driveway.

I open the door, balancing a bowl of cereal in one hand. “Hey, guys.”

It takes a fraction of a second for Rick's smile to take over his face. He wasn't expecting me to be home. Mom's trunk is open and she places a bag in Rick's arms. She says, “Tyler. I thought you'd be out with that girl.”

Oh no. Don't say Ani, please don't remember, I only mentioned it once. Rick will be pissed if I broke his rule. Might take away the sim. Can't take away the sim. I need it. Please forget.

Mom stares over at the neighbor's lawn. They're running their sprinklers. In October. Not sure why they'd do that. I can feel the weight of Rick's gaze on my face. Physically feel it as Mom says, “What was her name again, honey? Samantha?”

Samantha was the name of a girl Brandon dated like four years ago. “Yeah,” I say. “Samantha.” Relief so strong it almost hurts. But, “What are you doing home, Mom, it's only like 4 o'clock.”

And what is Rick doing here with her? Did he know I'd be home? Rick's arms are full of grocery bags, and he brushes past me into the house. If he was secretly into my mom, he would at least blush or some shit, right? He can't be into her. They were on the driveway. Must have just run into each other. My hands clench.