Life in the Lucky Zone (The Zone #2)

by Patricia B Tighe

He stepped back, his gaze knowing. “Why would people do that?”

  A spark of guilt lit inside me. I wrapped my arms around myself. “Because people are stupid.”

  “Right.”

  “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” I tried to leave, but he caught my arm.

  “Come on, Lindsey.”

  “Because there are some people I haven’t been very nice to,” I bit out. “There. Happy now?”

  “Not really. Everybody’s a dick at some time or other. But that doesn’t mean you have to fake everything, that you can’t show who you really are.”

  “You’re wrong.” I headed toward the living room.

  “People probably know you’re pretending anyway,” he said.

  That stopped me. Was that true? Had I been hiding my feelings for no reason?

  Austin came up beside me. “Don’t worry so much about what people think. Okay?”

  How could I not? If I didn’t keep up my everything’s great persona, no one would want to be around me.

  Mom appeared in the living room entry. Thank goodness. “Come on, you two. We have the Wii all ready to go.”

  Austin chuckled. “Hooray.”

  “And while we play,” Mom continued, “we can talk about the trip to Colorado for Spring Break.”

  Spring Break. That was the least of my worries. I had to get away for a few minutes. There was no way I could jump back into happy family mode after that conversation. “I need a drink of water,” I said. “Be there in a sec.” I hurried to the kitchen. Austin was wrong. High school was not the place to be real. Was it?

  Forty-Three

  Berger

  I slid out of bed, careful not to bash my shin on the pool table like I’d done fifty times since Nana had moved in. I was probably going to have a permanent bruise. But it was a new day, a Saturday in fact, and it was time to take Operation Lindsey to the next level.

  Three weeks in and things were looking good. She and the Football Dude had called it quits last weekend, and so far she hadn’t shown any interest in anyone else. She’d spent the short week after President’s Day being such a demanding director in theater that even Mike and Parker had scowled at her.

  Which was fine with me. I’d rather she be griping at people than searching for her replacement Adam. If I had my way, she’d stop searching altogether. Not that I had any control over it, but it couldn’t hurt to try.

  I’d already arranged things with Lindsey’s mom, so hopefully Lindsey wouldn’t freak out when I launched my plan at her. It was a basic one. Get Lindsey to have fun. And since she hadn’t gone back to the grocery store—her normal Saturday morning chore I’d been told—since she saw Adam there, I wanted to get her out of the house.

  So with that in mind, I had a quick shower and breakfast, then texted her.

  Berger: Hey! Want to come over and play?

  Lindsey: Ha! Already going to hang with the girls this afternoon

  Berger: I mean this morning

  Lindsey: Seriously? Not up yet

  Berger: It’s 10:00! Get moving.

  Lindsey: Ha ha

  Berger: I’ll be there in half an hour

  Lindsey: What? No! I haven’t even showered!!!

  Berger: Then do it. Or just be dirty. Doesn’t matter.

  Lindsey: You don’t know how long it takes a girl to get ready.

  Berger: I have a sister. Better get started. I’m walking out the door.

  She didn’t text back. That was good, right? I bought a couple of bagels on my way to her house in case she didn’t have time to eat. Hopefully that would give her enough time to get ready.

  But of course it didn’t.

  Mrs. Taylor, wearing a tennis outfit and sun visor, smiled at me at the front door. “She’s still upstairs. Come on in.”

  “Thanks, Mrs. Taylor. You playing tennis today?” I followed her into the kitchen.

  “Yes. The high is supposed to be sixty degrees. Can you believe it?”

  “Yes I can, actually.”

  She laughed. “I can’t wait to get onto the court. But first, can I get you anything? Coffee? Cereal?”

  “No, thanks, I’ve eaten.” I held up the paper sack. “But I brought Lindsey breakfast if she wants.”

  “Bagels?” She pursed her lips. “She’s pretty particular about bagels.”

  I smiled. “Blueberry?”

  “Yes.”

  “Light cream cheese?”

  Mrs. Taylor nodded. “Okay, I’m impressed. I’ll let her know you’re here.” She left the room in a wave of some powdery perfume I hadn’t noticed when I first got there. I sat on one of the barstools while I waited. I sure hoped this would work. That Lindsey would actually enjoy what I had planned. The odds were about fifty-fifty. Ha. What was I thinking? Probably more like a hundred to one against her liking it. Oh well. At least I’d be getting her out of the house.

  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.

&nbs
p; 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.”