Out of Character

by Annabeth Albert

  Jasper nodded because this was hardly news to him. I’d talked him into doing most of the heavy lifting with group projects in middle school. His mouth pursed as his expression turned more thoughtful.

  “How did you cope with papers at college? I heard you got a soccer scholarship somewhere out of state.”

  “It wasn’t easy,” I admitted. And with anyone else, I wouldn’t share this much, but Jasper already knew me on a deeper level than some of the kids I’d shared a dorm with. “I practically lived at the writing center and still struggled. This one tutor there suggested that maybe I have some sort of learning disability. Like my processor doesn’t run at the same speed as others.”

  “I can see that.” Jasper didn’t sound at all judgmental as he clicked away on his laptop. “There’s help for all sorts of learning differences these days. But you’re not at college now?”

  “No.” I sat back in my chair.

  “Oh. Right. Your leg. Was it—”

  “Can we talk about the cards now?”

  “Got it. No more questions.”

  Predictably, as soon as his tone went cool, I missed his prying. God, I was a mess. “Sorry. That was rude of me.”

  “Nah. It’s okay. I was being nosy.” Jasper shrugged, but only some of his easiness returned. “Anyway, here’s what I’m finding. Some partial sets for, like, $5K.”

  He tapped his screen, which had a bunch of pictures of cards with price tags with way too many zeroes.

  “F—”

  “Yeah, I know. It’s a lot.”

  “There’s no cheaper way to score these cards?” Squinting, I leaned forward, like that might help the screen show something different.

  “Like armed robbery?” Jasper laughed, then sobered as he clicked over to another browser tab. “Occasionally, you’ll see one or two offered on a prize wall at a tournament. Like here’s one this weekend in Philly. It’s a decent competition. I won a bunch of transforming cards there last year.”

  “Hold up. You’re good enough at the game to win prizes?” Turning in my chair, I studied him, almost like I was seeing him for the first time. He’d had a whole life in the years since we’d been friends. And he wasn’t simply this computer wizard good at searches. He was…competent. Successful. A stranger.

  “Why, yes, Milo. I’ve only been playing since I was sixteen. I’m on a popular vlog about the game. I’ve played at various regional tournaments. I’m not a pro, but I am good.” His expression was closer to the Frog Wizard than the Jasper I knew. This guy was cocky. Radiating confidence.

  “Better than George?” I tried like heck not to let on how freaking impressed I was.

  “George cheats.” Jasper made a pained face. “But yes, assuming he’s not loading his deck with bombs, I’m the better player.”

  “Good on you.” A stray thought wandered into my brain and wouldn’t let go. “So you could maybe win that card?”

  Jasper blinked. “You want me to enter that tournament, go to Philly on Saturday, and fetch you one of the missing cards? Is that all?”

  “Well, when you put it like that…”

  “It’s a ton of work. It’s not like some casual games with friends.”

  “I know.” Pinching the bridge of my nose, I inhaled sharply. I should have known better than to share my big brainstorm. It wasn’t like I could do it—playing with George had proved to me how very little I knew.

  “But…maybe we could make a deal.” Jasper voice had an edge to it I couldn’t quite place. A slyness almost. Not like George-level sliminess but a little more calculating than I was used to from him.

  “What sort of deal?” My head tilted as I considered him.

  “You can stop looking like I’m about to ask for…personal favors.”

  I made an audible gulping noise. My brain hadn’t gone there at first, but now he’d said it, vivid images danced in my mind, each more enticing than the last.

  “Yeah. I know. The horror.” He rolled his eyes as he laughed.

  He couldn’t be more wrong, but words failed me. And even if I’d managed to speak, volunteering for those kinds of favors probably wouldn’t go well. He’d assume I was pranking him, and that would be the end of his help.

  “Anyway…” He made a dismissive gesture right as the people at the table nearest to us stood. They glanced our way, and God, I hoped they hadn’t heard his joke.

  “Yeah?” I whispered, hoping he’d take the hint to lower his own voice.

  “The hospital is doing a costume ball in a few weeks. I need you to be Neptune for that. And maybe a few other visits too.”

  “A costume ball? Like a bunch of rich old dudes in wigs and masks?” This wasn’t the worst thing he could ask for, but it also wasn’t the best.

  “Probably.” Jasper didn’t sound too put out by the prospect. “And before you say no, I’m sure there will be other people in togas. Gods are always popular costume choices. Also, it would mean a ton to April.”

  Oh, that was low, making it about the kids. Of course I didn’t want to let April or Chase or any of the other kids down.

  “And you?” If he was going to go low, I was going to at least make him admit this wasn’t only April wanting me to go.

  “Fine. I’d like to have Neptune there too. And apparently I want it enough to drive to Philly in my death trap of a car.” He finished with a groan.

  “We can take mine if it’s not snowing.” My pulse sped up and sweat trickled down my back, but it was the least I could offer. If he were going to go try to win the card, I could give him a cheering section. Or whatever the heck observers did at these things. Maybe it was like golf clapping, but whatever, I’d figure it out.

  “Deal. And if it is, I’ll see if I can trade with Katie. She has an SUV now that she’s all employed and stuff.”

  “She graduated?” Jasper’s oldest sister had been in college last I’d heard. She’d always been nice. Super smart, like all the Quigley kids.

  “Yup. She’s a nurse now, over at the regional medical center.” Pride laced Jasper’s words as he smiled. “Her specialty is outpatient surgery.”

  “Wow. All I remember about her is her obsession with that one British band.” It was hard to imagine that the gangly teen Katie had been was now in charge of people’s lives.

  “Well, like you said, people grow and change.”

  “That they do.” I gave him a pointed look.

  Expression more speculative as he narrowed his eyes, he turned toward me. “Tell me one thing different about you. And not the coffee-drinking thing. Something real.”

  I knew one thing. One big, giant thing, but no way in hell was I blurting it out right then. Hi. I’d be down with whatever personal favors you wanted to request. Anything. Surprise. And yeah, the news flash that he wasn’t the only one into dudes wasn’t going to go over well. I might not have his genius brain, but I knew that much. So I tried to think of other things.

  “Unlike you, the junk food–tarian, I eat vegetables now. And I’ve got a tattoo…” I could tell by his face that he wasn’t impressed by my answers in the slightest. And somehow, I hated disappointing him, wanted to prove something to both us. “Okay. Real talk. I got kicked off the soccer team. That’s how I lost my scholarship and ended up back here instead of being able to rehab and stay in school.”

  I wasn’t going to tell him the whole story, not right then, and maybe not ever. But considering that soccer had been the original wedge between us, it felt…significant somehow, sharing my greatest defeat with him.

  Jasper whistled low. “Wow.”

  “You’re not going to celebrate that I can’t play anymore?”

  “No. First of all, you got injured. I’m not going to cheer for anyone getting hurt. Second, I worked damn hard for my scholarships. I know how much losing them would suck. And no matter what you did, I can bet that gett
ing kicked off wasn’t your intention. You lived for soccer.”

  “I did.” I had to swallow hard. “And yeah, it sucked. And you’re right. It was my fault, but I didn’t think… Hell, I didn’t think, period.”

  “That does seem to be a persistent problem with you.” Jasper sighed, but his tone wasn’t unkind.

  “Yeah.”

  “Hey.” Surprising the heck out of me, he patted my upper arm. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about the team.”

  “Thanks, man. That means a lot.” And it did. Him voluntarily touching me, that meant something, too, made something fluttery break loose in my stomach. “And I do appreciate your help. I know my dumb ass got me into this mess, but I’m grateful you’re bailing me out.”

  “I haven’t bailed anything out yet.” Jasper’s laugh was warm and welcome.

  “But you will,” I insisted. Our faces were much too close now, but hell if I was going to be the one to move first. “I’ve got a good feeling about this tournament.”

  “Does your good feeling extend to the seventy-five-dollar entrance fee?”

  “It could.” The money wasn’t nothing. My wallet felt every penny lately, but it also wasn’t five-freaking-K, so I’d happily take it. More peanut butter and soup, maybe, but I’d also get a chance at some cards.

  “Okay. We’re on, then. You sure you want to spend yet another day slumming with the nerds?”

  “Yeah. I am.” And I was. Gamers might be an improvement over another weekend of listening to James and Luther bicker. And if there was one particular geek I was really looking forward to spending the day with, well, I wasn’t going to tell Jasper that.

  Chapter Nine

  Jasper

  “You didn’t warn me that gamers get up at the ass-crack of dawn.” Milo was waiting where we’d arranged to meet, at the campus parking lot near my dorm. However, instead of me needing to search out his car, here he was standing in the cold on the sidewalk, stamping his feet and looking down at his phone. His knit cap, same one he’d had at the game store, was out of place on his usually stylish head. One of his many aunts undoubtedly knitted it. And maybe it was the cold or the early hour, but I was oddly touched that he’d left the car instead of waiting for me to find him. As a result, I kept my tone light as I followed him across the parking lot.

  “Gamers do when they want to win prizes. Or stand in line for new releases. We’re killer at standing in line.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind for the next Marvel movie.” He came to an abrupt stop between a beat-up Toyota and a classic Mustang.

  “You still watch superhero movies?” I reached for the passenger-side door of the Toyota, but to my surprise, he unlocked the Mustang instead.

  “You don’t?” Smiling like he knew he had me, he gestured at the car. “You getting in?”

  “Okay, now this is a car.” I slid into the passenger seat as he went around to the driver’s door, which also had a manual lock. The leather upholstery was butter-soft, and the car was super clean. Even the gear shift was dust-free and shiny. A car guy would probably call it pristine, and it seemed about as unlike the rest of Milo’s life as one could get.

  “It’s all right.” Milo shrugged like he didn’t have the coolest car in the parking lot. Hell, simply the fact that he could drive a stick was impressive. His easy coordination as he backed out of the space and put it in gear made my body hum with awareness. But I didn’t need to be finding anything about Milo sexy, so I tried to keep my attention on the car. I’d learned to drive on a minivan with a wonky starter, but Milo would have had his pick of cool cars.

  “Is this the one your dad was always tinkering with?” His dad had been a mechanic at a garage in the next town over and had always had a restoration of some kind going. Growing up, I’d liked going over to Milo’s, especially when his dad wasn’t home and we could sneak into the garage to check out what he was working on.

  “One of them. First one he finished that wasn’t a job went to Bruno. Next one we fixed up together all through high school. All my cash went into parts. Got the keys graduation day.”

  “Wow.” That was a lot of time and effort that I hadn’t realized Milo had in him. And cash. I wasn’t a car guy, at all, but I did know collectible items and this certainly had to qualify as one. “You know…this car would probably fetch a whole lot of cards. Just saying.”

  “Nothing doing.” Milo’s voice hardened. “Dad wouldn’t let me or Bruno sell our cars. The whole eighteen months he fought that liver disease, he kept saying they had the bills under control. But they didn’t.”

  I groaned at the all-too-familiar tale. “Oh, how I know that dance. My parents have been there with April’s medical bills more than once. Luckily, they’ve had resources like a fundraiser Dad’s work did and the foundation from the hospital to keep from total bankruptcy.”

  “Yeah, well, not a lot of resources for my folks. Mom couldn’t even keep the house. But they both insisted we keep the cars since we built them with him and the titles were in our names. It was like…the only thing he could leave us.” Biting his lower lip, Milo didn’t glance my direction as he made the turn that would take us to the highway. Damn. That was terrible. Simply thinking about one of my folks dying made my stomach twist.

  “Bruno kept his car too?” I found myself strangely invested in this tale, wanting Bruno to have kept that last link to his dad, too, wanting him to value it as much as Milo clearly did.

  Milo nodded sharply as he merged onto the highway. “Yeah. His is in special storage with a buddy of Dad’s who collects classic cars and stores some for people. He almost… Never mind.”

  “What?” I hated when people did that. They’d get all pensive and stare off into space and then try to act like they hadn’t been on the cusp of some big revelation. Spill already.

  “Nothing.” Predictably, Milo didn’t finish his thought, but his expression stayed distant and sad. “Just that I owe Bruno for a lot. That’s all.”

  “I get it.” I stretched to try to stay awake. This was weird, too, being on the road to an Odyssey event, especially without any of my usual crew along. The previous summer I’d had a trip cut short by April’s illness, and that missed chance made me more determined to get a win here for Milo. Play hero, like I did at the hospital and with my family. “Katie and Brenda have both paid a couple of bills when my folks couldn’t. It’s what family does.”

  I probably should have let Milo stew in quiet, but I figured I could give him some conversation since he was the one doing the driving. Might be rude to fall asleep before we were even out of Gracehaven’s city limits.

  “Yeah. Family’s good that way.” Milo didn’t sound all too upbeat about that. Probably still thinking about Bruno and his dad.

  “I’m sorry about your dad. He…” I searched for a compliment that wouldn’t sound false. “He was a good guy.”

  “You don’t have to pretend. Everyone knows his liver went because of the drinking. And he yelled at you personally. More than once.”

  When we’d been kids, his dad had had a weird sleep schedule, especially on weekends. He’d never been violent, but he had been loud a few times. It hadn’t taken long for most of our sleepovers to be at my house.

  “Yeah. But he wasn’t all bad. He’d take us for pizza.” Weekdays, especially right after work, he’d been sober and sometimes he’d be the one to pick up Milo. He’d been funny then, joking around, a nice guy in that moment. And Milo had always alternated between being skittish around him and big-time hero worship. “You loved him, and that counts for something. And he built the car with you.”

  “And he went to a ton of my soccer games.” Milo exhaled hard, and I wanted to pat him like I had at the hospital, but that had been a mistake. Touching him felt too good. Too familiar. Couldn’t risk it.

  “He did.” His dad had been a sports nut, particularly for soccer, waking up
in the middle of the night to watch the World Cup and cheering for Italian soccer teams with names I couldn’t pronounce.

  “It’s weird. Missing some things but not others. Wanting the family back together, but also knowing it wasn’t all that.” Outside, there was a rogue flurry or two. I really hoped there wasn’t snow while we were in Philly. Milo seemed weirdly antsy about driving despite being, as far as I could tell, really good at it. Like, he used his signals and changed lanes responsibly—that sort of basic stuff—but unlike the other times when I’d ridden with someone who drove a stick, the ride itself was smooth, not all jerky and bumpy, which was even more impressive given whatever was up with his leg.

  “I get it. Parents are complicated.”

  Milo snorted at that. “Says the guy with the perfect sitcom family.”

  My hands fisted. I resented the hell out of that assumption. Milo didn’t know squat.

  “April almost died last summer. That…takes a toll. Jeff, he doesn’t call home much anymore. Guess that’s how he copes. And it’s not the same as drinking, but I’ve found my mom, more than once, scrubbing the kitchen at 2:00 a.m. Dad, he’s not perfect either. Works too many hours. Doesn’t talk enough.”

  That toll was a big part of why I tried to help out so much. Seeing my parents so stressed made me feel helpless, and I hated that feeling. Any amount of chores or nice deeds was worth it if it made them smile a little more.

  “I’m sorry about Jeff. That sucks.” Milo had always gotten along with my older brother, who was in Bruno’s year. Now he was out in Seattle working for a tech company, and we mainly had to use social media to keep up with him. “And you’re right. I didn’t know.”

  “No, you didn’t.” My mom’s stress-induced cleaning fits and relentless insomnia could be particularly hard to cope with, but I didn’t kid myself into thinking that I’d had it worse than Milo. “But it’s not the suckitude Olympics either.”

  “True. I…uh…picked up some doughnuts on my way to you.” He jerked his head in the direction of the back of the car, and I found a white bakery box right behind the console. As far as changes of subject went, that wasn’t a bad one.