Dr. Renner pressed a finger to her lips for a second as she thought.
“You can’t know,” she finally said.
“Exactly. I can’t know. He didn’t admit that he was having problems until I caught him. He just pulled away. Cut me out of his life.”
Dr. Renner made a calming motion with her hand. “It’s normal for addicts to distance themselves when they slip. Husbands and wives do it to each other even though they’ve been together for twenty years. This is completely expected behavior. Deep down, he’s ashamed. He’s trying to hide.”
“No offense, Doc, but nothing about addiction is normal.”
“Relapse is.” A slight smile touched the corner of her lips. “You’re all still human even if the rest of the world doesn’t think so.”
That was the truth. To the rest of the world, we were invincible. Our daily grind of physical torture and high-protein diets wasn’t just for the game. We were all supposed to look a certain way. Embody the epitome of the human physique and condition. There were Olympians, and then there were gamers.
Years ago, when pro gaming made the switch to immersive virtual reality, gamers themselves replaced the characters in video games, and our body expectations were just as unrealistic. Men with their eight-pack abs and chiseled jaws. Women with their perfect breasts and impossibly toned physiques. To the world, we weren’t people. We were characters.
Objectification personified.
Dr. Renner tapped a fingernail against her tablet several times as she studied me. “Try thinking of it this way: When you have a hard decision to make, what do you usually turn to for help?”
“You.”
My answer brought out an unconventional laugh from the doctor.
“And?” she asked, once her chuckles subsided.
“. . . Rooke.”
My heart twisted at the answer because the person I used to go to for help was now the one who needed it.
Dr. Renner chuckled again but much softer this time.
“I’m not talking about a person, Kali. I mean your spirituality,” she said. I curled my lip. “And I know you don’t like that word.”
“What, spiritual? Of course I don’t. We live in an age of science. It fixes everything. We ran into a lack of resources, and science gave us space mining and exploration. Then we had limited access to education in various parts of the world. Virtual reality now takes students to the depths of the oceans or to the Mars colony, no matter where they live.”
“Science didn’t invent these things. People did. They believed they could fix a problem and make life easier for someone else. And that starts with faith. I don’t mean religion, necessarily, but a belief in what is right.”
“But that’s the problem. There is no right answer—”
She held up a hand. “There is. You need to put your feelings aside and think about what’s right. Not what society thinks is right, or the VGL, or even the team. This is about you. You started this journey as team owner because you wanted to do the right thing. Now you’re in a position to do exactly that.” She crossed her legs, looked me straight in the eye, and took a breath. “So, what feels right to you?”
Nothing felt right to me. That’s why I was here. But Dr. Renner was right. Asking her to supply me with the answer to my problems wasn’t the way to handle the situation. And I knew how. I knew the way to clear my emotions and get to the root of my problems.
I pushed myself out of the chair and started walking toward the exit.
“Where are you going?” she called, as I left the room.
“To meditate.”
I headed to the training room. This late in the day, it was abandoned. I pulled open the doors to the garden. A warm breeze brushed against my face, and suddenly, I remembered why I’d chosen this house. Despite the technology, every room had a sense of the real to it, whether it was the wood floors, the sunlight streaming through the windows, or the rich, natural tones on the walls. Some days, if I stopped long enough to just sit and listen to the quiet stillness of the atmosphere here, it felt as if the house itself had a soul.
I stepped into the garden. The cool grass weaved through my toes. I sat cross-legged next to the pond and breathed deep, inhaling the scents of azaleas and peonies. Air expanded my lungs and left again, each time taking with it another ounce of stress.
I closed my eyes.
Cleared my mind.
Let go of my emotions.
For a while, I thought about nothing. I just sat listening to the distant sounds of the city and the water as it lapped against the rocks. After a while, I’d calmed myself enough that I could actually think about the problem at hand without my insides screaming.
What was the right thing?
In Taoism, nothing was truly good or bad, and fighting against the tide created turmoil. Disharmony. Simply allowing things to be as they were created peace.
I don’t know how long I sat there, contemplating. But when I opened my eyes again, the sun had set, and I knew what to do.
I calmly walked to my office, sat down at my computer, and sent in the test. Unaltered. This was why I’d fought so hard and bought out the team in the first place. This was what I’d set out to do. No corruption. I allowed the test to be what it was, a representation of the truth. It was the right thing. I was sure of it. Still, my stomach was a roller coaster, looping, flip-flopping. I was about two seconds away from revisiting lunch. I folded my arms on the table and rested my forehead within them, as if my own limbs could serve as a safety net from the reality of the situation.
I’d just handed the media Rooke’s reputation and private life on a silver platter. Come morning, they’d rip him apart.
• • •
I didn’t sleep.
The entire night, I tossed and turned in my bed, worrying over what would happen now that I’d reported the test. The day before, I’d been sure it was the right thing to do. But after a night of insomnia, my confidence had waned. So, before the rest of the house came to life, I’d gone straight to the kitchen and grabbed a cup of coffee, hoping somehow it would have the same effect as alcohol and give me the liquid courage I needed to face him.
In other news, the fact that I was naturally awake before the sun came up for the second time that month must have been a sign of the apocalypse.
But now I had a plan to win him over. Rooke loved three things: philosophy, martial arts, and books. So, sometime in the middle of the night, I’d ordered a hardcover copy of a Baguazhang instruction guide, complete with two sets of deerhorn knives. Before the crack of dawn, a drone had dropped it on the doorstep. I’d also downloaded a virtual instructor, which I could project off my tablet anywhere in the house. Baguazhang was a Taoist martial art, based on the philosophical concept of the Bagua—an eight-sided symbol said to represent the basis of reality. It was a martial art he’d never studied—at least, I didn’t think so—and was based on Taoist philosophy about the concepts of reality. I’d have that boy wrapped around my finger by sunset. I hoped.
As expected, Rooke walked into the kitchen before any of my other teammates. He didn’t even look at me seated at the table. Instead, he headed right for the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water.
“I reported the test,” I said. Might as well get it over with.
He froze with his head still poked inside the fridge, but I’m sure the irony was lost on him. Slowly, he stood straight, shut the door, and turned to face me. He stared directly into my eyes, not blinking, as he processed my words. I fought with myself not to fidget or look away from his gaze. What was he thinking? Did he hate me for it?
After several seconds without a word, I spoke in his place.
“I still expect you in the training room with us.”
“What’s the point?” he asked. “I’m out of the Death Match.”
He didn’t have to say he was angry
with me. His tone was enough. I had expected this kind of reaction. Not only was Rooke someone who preferred privacy, but he also had high expectations of everyone around him—especially himself. And since he was struggling with addiction again, I couldn’t really know what was driving his emotions. Him, the drugs, or the withdrawals.
He just needs time, I told myself. I took a breath and kept my tone neutral. “You’re part of this team. We train together.”
He stared at me a few more moments before his gaze flicked down and landed on the book. His eyebrow twitched.
Gotcha.
“What’s that?”
I glanced around, like I didn’t know what he was talking about. “What?”
“That.” He nodded at the book and took a swig of his water. “You reading it?”
No, I’m using it as a coaster.
“Just starting it. Have you?”
He walked up to the table, eyes fixed on the book. “Actually, no.” He glanced over the title a few times. “Are you learning this form of martial art?”
“I’d like to start,” I said, taking a sip of my coffee. “But it would be easier with a partner.”
He looked down and shook his head. He saw right through my plan and knew I was looking for him to join me. “It would be easier with a virtual simulation.”
“I’ve added an instructor to my tablet, but I don’t want a virtual partner. They aren’t as easy to hurt.”
I slid the book across the table.
Take it.
He remained standing at the edge of the table, but he hadn’t taken his eyes off the book, either.
“It recommends studying with a real partner,” I added, emphasizing the word real. Last year, when we’d first been on a team together, he’d emphasized the importance of appreciating what was real instead of what was virtual. As virtual gaming stars, it was all too easy to get caught up in a superior digital world and leave reality behind.
Finally, Rooke sat at the table and pulled the book to him.
I grinned. “Wanna start tonight?”
He flipped the book open and didn’t even look up when he spoke. “In the training room?”
“I was thinking the garden outside.”
He nodded. “Yeah, yeah. Good idea.”
Hook, line, and sinker.
After breakfast, we headed for the training room. As we walked in, Hannah was flicking madly through her phone. Lily leaned against her, eyes pinpointed on the screen. When they realized Rooke was present, the girls slid the phone out of sight.
Subtle, ladies.
I could only imagine the tabloid gossip. The media and public attention on the all-star teams was at a frenzy, and a scandal like this was seal meat in shark-infested waters.
“You know what?” I said, raising my voice over the noise of the training room. “No phones during training. Hand them over.” I took Derek’s and Rooke’s first. Surprisingly, Rooke handed his over without hesitation. Guess he didn’t want to know what was being said about him.
“You have to be one hundred percent present,” I continued. “The media and the outside world don’t exist when you’re in this room. Understand?”
I went to take Hannah’s, but she hung on.
“Uh, Kali,” Hannah began as she leaned toward me and lowered her voice. “You realize this is exactly the same thing Clarence did, right?”
I halted. Clarence, our previous team owner, had also taken away our phones. But this was different. He’d taken away our phones for control. I was doing it for the sake of the team.
“This isn’t the same thing. I don’t care what you do after training. But in here, we focus.”
Hannah glanced between me and the phone a few times and eventually let go. When I finished collecting the phones, Derek took up a stance at the head of the room.
“Since we don’t know who we’ll be facing in the Death Match, all we can really do is put ourselves in the best positions possible.”
We all listened as Derek laid out the strategy for the first round of the tournament. The rest of the team already knew that he was taking over as captain but wasn’t really captain. Man, that had been an awkward conversation.
“We have mics in this game, and that’s rare,” Derek said. “Use them as much as possible. Communication is going to be key.”
In the RAGE tournaments, we never had mics. It would be an advantage, as long as we remembered to talk to each other. And actually listened.
“I think we’ve all seen that Lily is our strongest runner,” Derek continued. “She should be the one to pick up our flag. At least, for this round. The other teams will catch on quick, so we can’t have her in that position every time. But I think for the Death Match, we should be able to get away with it.”
“Kali’s our second runner. She’ll guard Lily to and from the flag and will pick it up if Lily goes down. Hannah and I will guard our flag. Without knowing who we’re facing, this is the best we can do. Again, remember to use your mics. Communication, people. It’s key to this game.”
Not just the game.
I glanced back at Rooke. He stood on the other side of the room, arms crossed, looking at the floor. The fact that he was out of the Death Match was hurting him just as much as the rest of the team.
His absence became even more apparent in the afternoons, when we ran virtual matchups against the computer without him. We had to. We had to practice fighting four on five if we had any hope of surviving the Death Match. But not having him in the game only emphasized our weaknesses. Out of ten matchups, we’d won the first and none that followed. Instead of the team getting better and more used to fighting with just four, the computer was ripping us apart, more and more each round. First our bodies, then our morale.
“It knows,” I told Derek, once we’d exited the pods after the tenth matchup. “The computer knows we’re only four, so it’s destroying us like any other team would.”
“Kali.” He glanced at the girls, who remained near their pods, conversing with each other. Judging by the way their heads hung and their arms were folded tight across their chests, they weren’t too impressed with our performance, either. Derek grabbed my arm and pulled me to the side. “We’re not going to make it through the Death Match. Forget that we’re down a player and these new pods are destroying us. We don’t know who we’re facing. How can we prepare for that?”
I shrugged and tossed my arms up. “Then we’ll be in the losers’ bracket. You said it yourself. Rooke’s health is more important, and we can take the loss.”
“And I still believe that. It’s just . . .”
His voice trailed off, and he didn’t say anything more, but I knew what he was thinking. Suddenly, he was beginning to understand the pressure and why I’d considered altering Rooke’s test results. At least with five players, we’d be at full strength. Not just in the match, but outside of it. We weren’t a team. Not like this.
Too late to change anything now.
“You’re missing the RAGE tournament right now, aren’t you?” I asked him. He nodded. “Me, too.”
He pushed a breath out from his lips. “This might have been a mistake.”
“Rooke, or this tournament?”
“Take your pick.”
I sighed, and my gaze drifted from Derek’s face to Rooke’s empty pod. With the intensity of our training and the stress from the tournament, it was normal for things to be rocky on the team. Everyone’s nerves and ambitions were in overdrive, so some spats and fuckups were completely expected. But Rooke’s empty pod and Derek’s words stood for something more. This wasn’t just stress. We weren’t weathering the storm. The hull was starting to crack, and if I wasn’t careful, the ship would sink. This was my team. I’d thrown everything I had into this, and if I couldn’t make it work, what then?
Right then, I decided we were done for the da
y. At least, I was done for the day.
I leaned around Derek to call out to the girls. “That’s it for today.” Then I pushed past him and walked toward the door.
“Where are you going?” he called.
“I have a date.”
CHAPTER 10
Some people wouldn’t think much of an evening spent practicing a martial art in a garden, especially with someone who, at times, was so frustrating I felt like crushing his skull. But for me, this was my element.
March nights in Los Angeles still got cold enough for long pants and a jacket sometimes, and the cool air tonight bit at my bare arms. Despite the chill in the air, I felt cozy, like I was exactly where I was supposed to be, reconnecting with my body against the setting sun. This was serenity, and I was swaddled in it.
I fisted my toes in the blades of grass, feeling the cool air beneath my feet. Rooke stood parallel to me, approximately fifteen feet away. Tonight, we were beginning our lessons in Baguazhang. The first exercise: circle walking.
Circle walking was the basis of Baguazhang, an internal martial art, and was used to train body and mind to become more stable, more balanced. At the head of the garden, I’d rested my tablet in the grass and opened the Baguazhang program I’d downloaded. It projected a virtual instructor and two circles onto the grass approximately ten feet wide. Rooke and I each stood inside our own circle, attempting to mimic the movements of the instructor. We glided around the perimeter, arms up, palms open, facing toward the center of the circle.
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