My Life as a Gamer

by Janet Tashjian

  I remind him how our plan to sell an antique doll online backfired, costing me a lot of money. I hold up my bag of goodies and say this is good enough for me.

  “We’re also implementing several of your suggestions.” Tom swipes across screens on his iPad. “We loved the suggestion of being able to change the Arctic blizzard to an Arctic lizard to an Arctic wizard. We think that’ll add a nice dimension to the boss level part of the game.”

  The pogo guy lets out a shriek and ricochets around the room. I don’t know what this kid’s going to do with all that energy after the focus group ends.

  “We also liked the idea of adding a catchphrase and thought Chill out, you frozen nimrod! was a good one. So look for that in the final version too.”

  “That’s hilarious,” I whisper. “I wish I’d thought of it.”

  Matt shakes himself out of a state of shock before answering. “That was MY idea.”

  “Get out!” I say. “Kids all over the world will be saying a line YOU thought up? No way!”

  Matt pumps his fists in the air, so proud he might pop.

  “How about impaling one last snowman before you go?” Tom asks.

  The group responds with a giant YES!

  As I evade the razor-sharp icicles for the last time, I realize I’ve never had more fun at a console than playing Arctic Ninja. And when I look over at Matt, Umberto, and Carly, it seems as if they feel the same way too.

  Before we break for lunch, Tom pulls me aside. “Derek, there’s something I want to talk to you about.” He flips through some drawings on his phone, which I realize are from my notebook. “Your dad texted me some illustrations you did of the Arctic Ninja characters. I love the narwhal wearing a sombrero—it’s so random. Like a sponge living in a pineapple.”

  “That’s what I said!”

  “How’d you come up with it?”

  I shrug and tell him I live in the world of random.

  “I do too,” Tom says. “So that’s why I want your permission to add a sombrero to Skippy’s final design. It’ll be a great way for him to hide his tusk.”

  I MUST have misunderstood what Tom just said. “You want to use MY narwhal in Arctic Ninja?”

  “If it’s okay with you,” Tom says.

  The thought of my narwhal design—WITH sombrero—appearing on millions of monitors across the country leaves me speechless.

  “And in case you’re interested, I’m running a weekend workshop in character design in Burbank next month. It’s for high school kids, but I think you’d get a lot out of it.”

  When this focus group started, I felt like the stupidest kid on the planet. Today, I feel like I just might have something to contribute.

  But there’s one more thing I need to say to Tom before I score a seat in his workshop. “I’m really sorry about spilling the beans to my tutor. It was nice of you to let me stay in the focus group.”

  Tom smiles and gives my arm a whack with the folded-up papers in his hand. “Your dad pulled for you on that one. He’s a good man. But you already know that.”

  The thing is, I do.

  Tom and I head to the cafeteria for one last mega-buffet. While I balance two pieces of corn bread on my plate, I notice Tom talking to Umberto. Does he want to use one of Umberto’s designs too?

  I sit next to Tom as he plays the pizza game app on Umberto’s phone.

  “You designed this yourself?” Tom asks.

  Umberto tells him he took a programming class last year and has been designing basic apps ever since.

  “Your apps aren’t basic,” Matt interrupts. “Show him the bowling game.”

  Umberto points to the icon on his phone and the familiar sounds and sights of a bowling ball knocking over pins fills the screen. Tom swipes his finger to hurl the ball into the pins.

  “The first few times you might overshoot,” I tell him. “But you’ll get the hang of it pretty fast.”

  When Tom scores a strike, he actually shouts.

  “Umberto, would you be interested in an internship this summer?” Tom asks. “I think you’ve got a lot of good ideas.”

  If it were possible for Umberto to jump out of his chair, he’d be bouncing off the ceiling right now. “Absolutely!” Umberto answers. “I’d LOVE that.”

  Tom tells Umberto to make sure to leave his contact info so he can get in touch with his parents. When an intern comes to grab Tom, the three of us no longer have to control our excitement. In the midst of our celebration, I tell the others about Global Games using my narwhal design.

  “With the sombrero?” Matt asks. “No way!”

  “We are rock stars!” Umberto adds.

  Umberto frantically texts his mom and brother while Matt and I gush over our friend’s good fortune.

  “This never would’ve happened if you hadn’t invited us to this group,” Umberto tells me. “I really need to thank your dad too.”

  I tell Umberto I didn’t do anything, which is true. But his happiness is infectious, and I look across the cafeteria so we can share the good news with Carly. She’s in line, stacking brownies onto a napkin.

  “They’re not all for me!” she exclaims. “El Cid’s starving after racking up 346,000 points on that last game.”

  I don’t know what’s more alarming—the fact that someone scored that many points or the fact that Carly’s now enjoying El Cid’s company in the private dining room. For a moment, my mind flashes to that quick kiss and I suddenly forget why I came over here. Luckily Carly jogs my memory.

  “I saw Tom talking to Umberto. What’s up?”

  I fill her in on how Umberto will be spending the summer at Global Games video camp. I also tell her about my narwhal and Tom’s character design workshop. Carly congratulates me, then shoves the brownies into my hand before she goes over to congratulate Umberto.

  El Cid must be hungrier than Carly thought, because he sneaks into the main cafeteria to find out what’s taking so long. Carly tells our helmeted colleague about Umberto’s good fortune. El Cid gives Umberto a long, sweeping bow like they’re both members of King Arthur’s court. Soon the whole table knows the news, then the room. It’s a great way to end our time at Global Games.

  I’m so busy taking in the celebration that I almost miss El Cid sneaking up beside me. He nods, then holds out his hand. I stare at him mutely until he points to the brownies. I pluck the first one from the top of the pile, pop the whole thing into my mouth, and hand him the rest.

  I’m not quite sure, but I get the sense that El Cid just smiled underneath all that bulky headgear.

  Hannah Rears Her Head

  In the weeks that follow, all my friends and I talk about is how much we miss the Global Games focus group. It was great to play a part in what will probably be next year’s hottest game. To fill the void, I spend Saturday mornings with Frank and Bodi watching old Westerns on TV.

  Mom sorts through mail at the kitchen table, and Dad empties the dishwasher. He stands in front of the cabinet holding a stack of plates, frozen in his spot. “I’m not sure the sea horses work in here,” he announces.

  “You have my complete and total permission to paper over them,” my mother says. She skims through a letter at the top of the pile. “Derek, remember Hannah? She wants a reference for her next job.”

  “What?” I almost spill my bowl of Count Chocula, which gets Frank excited in his cage.

  My father holds his finger to his mouth in a gesture for me to be quiet. I quickly realize he never told my mom about Hannah’s tirade telling me what a loser I am.

  Mom continues to study the letter, oblivious to the secret conversation Dad and I are having behind her back.

  “Hannah must have amnesia,” Mom says. “Did she forget how she didn’t let us know when she was out of town for over a week?” She tosses the letter in the trash pile, and when her cell rings in the next room, she runs in to get it.

  “I can’t believe you didn’t tell Mom about how mean Hannah was.”

  “Of COURSE I did
n’t,” Dad says. “She would’ve dragged Hannah out of her dorm room to yell at her.”

  My father and I have seen my mom angry enough times to know he’s only SLIGHTLY exaggerating.

  “She’s one crazy mama lion,” I say. “But Hannah might’ve deserved to sample some of Mom’s fury.”

  “I didn’t feel like bailing her out of jail,” Dad jokes. “Your mom, not Hannah.”

  He’s only partly kidding.

  “Hannah was wrong about you,” my dad says. “Global Games is using your narwhal design. That’s BIG! If I’m lucky, you can give me some fresh ideas for the barbarians in my graphic novel.”

  I appreciate the compliment, but both Dad and I know he’ll probably never need my help in the art department.

  “I didn’t ask your permission to send those sketches to Tom,” Dad says. “It turned out great, but I still should’ve asked.”

  I tell him I’m glad he DID send them. I also thank him for talking Tom into letting me stay in the group.

  Mom finishes her phone call and gets back to the large stack of mail. This time when she holds up an envelope, she’s perfectly quiet.

  “Is that…?” I ask.

  She nods and hands me the envelope. “The results of the state tests. Why don’t you do the honors?”

  “Are you kidding? I’m too nervous. YOU do it.”

  Mom calmly opens the envelope and hands me the letter without looking at it.

  “Can’t you just read it to me?”

  Her face is completely deadpan. “You are perfectly capable of reading this yourself.”

  Leave it to Mom to never let me off the hook when it comes to reading. I look over to Dad, who nods in agreement.

  I take the letter and lower myself onto the chair, nauseous and worried my chocolate breakfast might come back up. I scan through the letter until I finally get to the results.

  “I’m not in the lowest group!” The relief hits me like a rogue wave at the beach.

  “I told you all that hard work would pay off,” Mom says.

  My dad pulls me in for a hug, and Mom joins in too until I collapse back on the chair in nervous exhaustion. I feel as if I’ve been liberated from an evil curse that’s lasted for months. I DID work hard, but not only that—I worked SMART this time too. After years of banging my head against an academic wall, it’s finally sinking in that I’ll always need to find my own best way to learn. I may not be the sharpest knife in the drawer when it comes to most things, but there is one subject I’m the world’s top expert in: ME. Figuring out a way to use my gaming skills to help me study WORKED. I guess coming up with new ways to master difficult tasks is what I’ll be doing for the rest of my life.

  But for right now?

  I’m jumping on my board and skating over to Matt’s.

  Victory is mine!

  GG

  It turns out we all did okay, even Amanda. She’s up from San Diego to go to a show at the Pantages with Carly this weekend, and they texted me this morning to come over for brunch.

  The table’s filled with bagels, three kinds of cream cheese, and a big pitcher of orange juice. Amanda can’t stop talking about how my storyboard technique helped her during the test.

  “There was a question about coral reefs, and I just kept picturing the fish from Finding Nemo while I was reading,” Amanda says. “I’m sure I got every one of those questions right.”

  After we eat, Carly shows us the mosaic she’s been working on in the spare bedroom. It’s a large piece of wood with pieces of glass forming an abstract pattern.

  The only art of Carly’s I’ve seen are the pieces she’s worked on in class; I had no idea she’d developed into such a good artist on her own.

  “Can you make me one of those?” Amanda asks. “I’d love something like this for my room.”

  Carly tells her of course.

  “Hey, how about some Rayman Legends?” Amanda asks.

  No one has to ask me twice to play that video game—it’s one of my favorites. I excuse myself to use Carly’s bathroom as the girls head to the TV.

  I check myself out in the mirror as I wash my hands. I’m so glad Matt isn’t here to tease me for spending the afternoon with two girls. On my way back to the living room, I stop in Carly’s spare room to take one more look at her mosaic. The glass is evenly cut and the whole piece is symmetrical. One thing you can say about Carly—she takes a lot of care with whatever she’s working on.

  Amanda must be staying in this room because there’s a wheelie suitcase next to the bed and a pile of clothes on the floor. (It looks like Amanda’s as messy as I am.) A vintage Donkey Kong T-shirt is on top of the pile. I know poking around other people’s stuff isn’t cool, but the Rubik’s Cube on the nightstand calls my name. I’m turning the layers of squares, attempting to line them up when I spot a Trader Joe’s shopping bag in the corner of the closet.

  I drop the Rubik’s Cube on the floor. What I THINK is sticking out of the bag cannot POSSIBLY be there. I tiptoe to the closet for a closer look.

  Inside the bag are El Cid’s cape, helmet, and gloves. Not a replica of his outfit, but the actual one.

  WHAT IS GOING ON?

  Carly and Amanda must hear me and race into the room. “I can’t believe you’re such a snoop!” Carly shouts.

  “I might be a snoop, but at least I’m not a liar. Is Amanda your cousin or not?” I then turn to Amanda. “Are YOU El Cid?”

  Amanda closes the top of the Trader Joe’s bag and shoves it deep into the closet.

  “I WISH Amanda and I were cousins,” Carly finally says. “We met a few months ago in the focus group.”

  “So that means…” I wait for Amanda to answer me.

  She rotates the rows of the Rubik’s Cube. “I don’t know—am I?”

  “Come on!” I yell. “This is important!”

  Amanda finishes the cube in record time and sits down on the bed. “This whole thing started because my brothers would never let me play their video games. I practiced a lot on my own so they’d play with me, then discovered it was something I was pretty good at.”

  “PRETTY good at?” I say. “You’re the number one PlayStation gamer in the world!”

  “I’ve got four brothers; I grew up pretty competitive.”

  Carly picks up the cube and scrambles the sides up again. “I told her that her brothers would be proud. It doesn’t make sense to hide El Cid from them.”

  I’m always amazed at how people react to things differently. If I were the top gamer in the world, I’d make sure even the UPS guy knew.

  “I keep telling Amanda she should admit to being El Cid—especially in a sport dominated by boys.”

  “People would be surprised, that’s for sure.” (I love that Carly just referred to playing video games as a sport.)

  “I got into gaming to hang out with my brothers,” Amanda says. “But discovered I liked having something that was just mine.” She takes the El Cid gear out of the closet. “I’m such a fangirl, and creating El Cid was a cool way to have a secret identity.”

  “Matt and Umberto are not going to believe this,” I say.

  “Whoa, whoa!” Amanda says. “You can’t tell them!”

  “This is why I didn’t say anything.” Carly is now acting as if I’m not even in the room. She must be able to tell by my face that I’m upset because her expression grows softer.

  “I HAD to keep if from you. If anyone in the focus group had found out, Amanda’s cover would have been blown.”

  “I would NEVER blab!”

  “Really?” Carly crosses her arms.

  “What are you talking about?” I shout. “I can keep a secret! It turns out the things I told Hannah about Arctic Ninja weren’t even part of the leak!”

  It’s only after the words have left my mouth that I realize I just let the cat out of the bag.

  “You gave away Arctic Ninja secrets to your tutor?” Carly asks. “And you wonder why I didn’t tell you about El Cid? You’re one of my best f
riends, Derek, but let’s face it, you’re a blabbermouth.”

  I’m suddenly faced with a serious wall of truth. After spending all that time worried about Hannah being a big mouth, I guess I never really thought of myself as one too.

  “Okay, MAYBE I would’ve told Matt and Umberto about Amanda. And MAYBE they would’ve told a few other people.”

  “At least you admit it,” Carly says.

  I turn to Amanda. “But I don’t understand why you’re hiding! I’m with Carly on this. It’s time for you to come clean.”

  Amanda tells us she’ll think about it. I take the Rubik’s Cube from Carly and she and Amanda watch as I struggle with it before finally giving up.

  “I’ve got a few questions,” I say. “Why does everyone think El Cid is a boy from Peru who goes to MIT?”

  “Amanda WISHES she could get into MIT,” Carly jokes.

  “I’ve never even been to Peru,” Amanda says. “Someone on the Internet started that rumor, and I let it spread. It sounds more exciting than a twelve-year-old girl from San Diego.”

  “Who surfs! We’re going next weekend if you guys want to come.” Carly the super-genius knows what I’m about to say and cuts me off at the knees. “But you have to promise not to tell Matt and Umberto. Okay?”

  I stare down Carly—the most generous and reliable friend I have. She’s always bent over backward for me, so as juicy as this secret is, I guess I can agree. Besides, with my luck, if I DID tell someone it would be all over the Internet five minutes later.

  “All right,” I finally answer. “You can count on me.”

  I may not be the smartest kid in school, but I’m smart enough to know I don’t want to mess with these two.

  Amanda gives me a crooked smile. “I think a video game challenge is in order to seal the deal.”