Arena

by Holly Jennings

  I crossed my arms and narrowed my eyes at the doc, waiting for her reply. She tapped a fingernail against her tablet, taking a few extra seconds before trying to talk again.

  “Sometimes it takes someone to stand up to what’s wrong before people can see what’s right,” she finally said.

  “Oh yeah? What if the sponsors don’t like it?”

  She shrugged. “That doesn’t sound like much of a warrior to me.”

  My eyebrows went up. “Are you encouraging me to rebel, Dr. Renner? To stick it to the man?”

  She held up her hands, signaling innocence again. “I’m just saying it wouldn’t surprise me if you did. After all”—she smiled—“it matches your image.”

  A stunted noise came out from the back of my throat that sounded like “hmmph.” It did match my image. And Dr. Renner was just as much a mutineer as I was. Maybe she wasn’t like Clarence after all.

  “I’ll let you mull that over.” She tapped her tablet. “I’ve been meaning to ask about the sleeping pills. Have you needed them?”

  A spasm clenched my stomach, and my gaze lowered to the floor. “I, uh, stopped taking them.”

  “Stopped? So, you did need them?”

  I bit my lip as the spasm in my stomach started swirling. Time to own up to the truth. The warrior inside took a step back.

  “I abused them, doc,” I admitted. I locked my gaze on her face and forced my eyes to stay on target. The doc sat back in her chair, but she remained quiet, allowing me the opportunity to explain. I continued, “I was taking too many. I couldn’t sleep without them. Without a lot of them.”

  She nodded and clicked her tongue, but her features softened. “Kali, I wouldn’t have given them to you if I didn’t think you could handle it.”

  “I know. You gave them to me as an aid. As a last resort. I understand that now. I didn’t before.”

  “It’s good, though, that you realized all this on your own.”

  “Yeah, I guess. I mean, Rooke helped, and Nathan’s death made it real for me. Not at first. But eventually, yeah, I realized I had a problem.”

  “Speaking of Rooke, how’s your relationship with him?”

  I clammed up. “What relationship? There’s no relationship.”

  The warrior was back.

  A smiled touched her lips. “The training room would say otherwise.”

  My jaw set. I crossed my arms. “You spying on me, doc?”

  “No, no. But I go down that hall on my way out every night. How long have you two been going at it?” She cleared her throat as she realized her choice of words. “Sparring together, I mean.”

  “About a few weeks now.”

  “And how has that impacted your relationship?” she asked. “As friends.”

  Friends sounded a little too emphasized for my liking.

  “We’re better friends now, meaning I only want to punch him in the training room. Most of the time.”

  Dr. Renner tapped her foot as she thought over my words, and I swear I saw her suppress another smile.

  “Last time we talked, you were motivated to make some changes in your life. How has that worked out for you?”

  “Good. Really good. Fantastic, actually. I mean, I’m not naïve. I know there’s always a chance of slipping down that path again, but I feel different now. Stronger. I’m in control.”

  She nodded. “Good. What helped you regain that control?”

  “Training. I talked with Rooke over what was wrong with me. We worked together a lot. I’m also trying to live my life in balance. It’s something I believed in a long time ago, and when I started practicing it again, it was exactly what I needed to bring me back from the edge.”

  She tilted her head. “How so?”

  I held up my necklace for her to see. “A yin yang represents balance. One black half and one white half to make a whole. But see how there’s a white dot on the black side and a black dot on the white side?” She nodded. “That shows how they’re interconnected. You can’t appreciate the light without knowing the dark. Otherwise, you’d have no comparison. I realized the same thing about the virtual world and the real one. They’re interconnected, and I can only be strongest there when I’m strongest here.”

  She considered my words for a while. “That’s insightful, Kali.” She made a few notes on her tablet. “Speaking of the virtual world, the finals are tonight. Are you anxious about that?”

  “A little. If it were just me, I’d be hungry for it. But I worry about the team.”

  “The more you worry about the team, the less focused you are on everything else. You’re ready for this. You wouldn’t have made it this far if you weren’t.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. Any other advice?”

  “Yes. Get out of here.”

  “What?”

  She smiled. “Kali, you figured out on your own how to handle your gaps in time, and you stopped yourself from taking too many pills. You’re stronger than you think, and not just physically. You really don’t need to see me anymore. Besides, I think you have some things to consider.”

  “Like what I should do about Nathan?”

  She nodded. “I can’t answer that for you. You need to find a way, your own way, to honor him.”

  I glanced around the office. “But I can still come back if I need it, right?”

  It had only been a few weeks since I’d started coming back to reality. While the nightly training sessions and meditation had helped, I’d take anything I could get to stop from slipping back down that slope again.

  The doc’s smile widened. “Of course. My door is always open if you need me.”

  As I left the doc’s office and headed for the training room, thoughts from the appointment dominated my mind. What could I do about Nathan? Nothing that Clarence and the sponsors would approve of. I couldn’t stand up to them, not directly. I couldn’t risk getting kicked out of the games, or my team might be forced to forfeit this late in the tournament.

  Was there nothing I could do?

  In the training room, at the far end, Rooke sat in one of the weight machines. I joined him, climbing into the leg press.

  “You’re late,” he said, glancing at me.

  “I went to see Dr. Renner.”

  He nodded. “How was it?”

  “Good. She thinks I’m doing really well. She’s impressed with how I’m handling things.”

  Rooke smiled. “You sound a bit surprised, and you shouldn’t be. Most gamers have more trouble pulling themselves back.”

  “Yeah. She said that, too. She also said I don’t need to see her anymore.” I started pumping my legs and focused on the burning sensation in my muscles. Never thought I’d appreciate that feeling, but I’d learned to appreciate many things I never thought I would. “But I think I’ll still go anyways. I mean, you’re supposed to go to your general physician for a physical every year to check that everything is okay, right? So, I mean, why not check in with the shrink once in a while, too. We have enough stresses on our minds to justify it, in my opinion.”

  Rooke stared at me for a minute as he processed my words, then shook his head.

  “What?” I asked. “You don’t think so?”

  “No, I think you’re dead on.” He stood up from his machine and began adjusting the weights.

  “Do you ever go to see her?” I asked.

  He fumbled, almost dropping the weight in his hands. “Uh, yeah.”

  “About the drugs?”

  He met my eyes. “Mostly.”

  “Mostly?”

  He sat down on the machine, facing toward me. “Look—”

  I held up a hand. “If it’s personal, you don’t have to tell me.”

  “Yeah, I kinda do.”

  My brow furrowed. What did that mean?

  “Hey.”

&n
bsp; Lily walked up beside me. She frowned, foreshadowing bad news.

  “Clarence is looking for you.”

  Ugh. The worst news.

  I climbed out of the weight machine and started for the exit when Lily called out.

  “No. Both of you.”

  She motioned toward Rooke.

  Double ugh.

  Together, we headed for Clarence’s office. Maybe with two of us, it would buffer the blow of his wrath. The second we passed through the doors, Clarence stood up from his desk. “What do you two think you’re doing?”

  Or maybe emphasize it.

  Rooke and I exchanged glances.

  “Lily said—”

  “This past week you haven’t been out or seen at all. You have an image to uphold.” Clarence ground his fists into his desk as his neck turned red. Great. Angrier than usual.

  “We’re getting toward the end of the tournament,” I protested. “I think training and rest is more important than being seen.”

  Clarence glared at me. “How could you ever think that? You need to be out there promoting the sport and our sponsors.”

  Oh, yes. The sponsors. How important.

  “I’m supposed to do all that on top of leading the team, studying my opponents, and training every daylight hour? I’m one person. Plus, that doesn’t include leisure time.”

  “Leisure time?” he barked. “You think celebrities get leisure time?”

  Everyone should. Maybe that’s why half of them go crazy, too.

  “You want us eating right and exercising every day so we’re at our prime,” I said. “Don’t you think some rest and relaxation should be a part of that?”

  “You are the top athletes in the world. You should be able to rise above the circumstances.”

  “Rise above the circumstances?” My tone matched his, growing louder with each word. “We’re gamers, not gods.”

  “The public doesn’t know the difference. You die on-screen, and, like magic, you’re fine in real life. You’re not a person. You’re a character.”

  Every muscle inside me clenched. We were people, same as anybody. Maybe we had more drive and determination, or maybe we were just obsessed, but we were still human.

  “Is that what Nathan was?” I asked through gritted teeth. “Just a character? We’re human beings, for fuck’s sake.”

  I motioned at the posters around the room, none of which featured our fallen teammate. Clarence’s gaze darted about the room, as if acting against his wishes but too curious not to peek.

  Clarence rolled his eyes. “Kali, Nathan’s gone. Leave him be.”

  “No. It takes me longer than two months to forget about somebody.”

  “Obviously.”

  My fists balled up, and I made no effort to hide them. “Nathan deserves to be remembered.”

  “As what? A drug addict?”

  “As a person,” I spat. “As an athlete and a gamer. Not someone who the sponsors can just wash away because it might affect our ratings or popularity.”

  “The sponsors run these games. They can do whatever they want. If they don’t want the public to know the truth about Nathan, then they never will.”

  “Why? Are they afraid that people will find out just how dangerous this sport can really be? No, no. It’s fake. We promise. No one really dies. No one ever goes crazy.” I threw my arms up. “Gamers go crazy all the time. And we do die. Nathan died. And it’s all because of this ‘sport.’”

  “This isn’t the reason why I called you in here,” Clarence muttered, waving a hand to dismiss the topic. “Half the media think you two have broken up.”

  He motioned toward the wallscreen behind us. I glanced back as it filled with tabloids featuring the news of our apparent split. Oh, this bullshit again. I’d been inside the facility so much, I’d forgotten about the media and how much it was a part of all this.

  “What the hell are we supposed to do?” I asked. “We weren’t even together in the first place.”

  “You need to get out there and convince them otherwise.” Clarence pointed a finger out the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. “I don’t care what it takes.”

  “What do you want us to do? Have sex in the streets?”

  He shrugged. “If necessary.”

  Okay, that’s it. I knew he was doing it just to get under my skin and to prove he could throw his weight around, but I’d reached my boiling point. I was being completely rational. He wasn’t. Now who was the adult?

  I imagined nails bolting my feet to the floor to stop from charging him. “We’ll be arrested. Is that the kind of media attention you want?”

  Clarence stared back blankly and didn’t object.

  Rooke weighed in on the situation. “I’m not entirely opposed—”

  “Shut up,” I snapped, and turned back to Clarence. “You’re being ridiculous.”

  He opened his mouth to reply, but I cut him off.

  “No. You can shut up, too.”

  Silence cut through the room with a heavy dose of tension trailing behind it. Clarence’s glare bore into me, and the muscles in his face went tight. At least, tighter than they already appeared. All except for his lips, which had split apart from shock.

  Rooke leaned toward me and lowered his voice, though the warning in it was clear. “Kali—”

  I held my hand up. “No. I don’t care. I don’t care if this is what’s expected of me. I don’t care if I have a contract. Disown me, or fire me. Slander me in the tabloids. I don’t care.” I marched up to the desk, leveling Clarence with my gaze. “I don’t play because of sponsors or media or anything else. I play because I love the game. And if I have to deal with all this bullshit, then maybe I don’t want to do it anymore.”

  I smashed my closed fist on the desk, hard enough that I half expected it to crack. Part of me felt like I was throwing a hissy fit, and the other felt like I was finally beginning to stand up for what I believed in.

  Clarence slowly lowered himself into his chair and stared up at me, eyes wide, studying me as if he’d never seen me before. As if this were the first time he’d met the warrior outside of the digital world. The doc had the same look in her eyes when I’d burst into her office. I was beginning to like this.

  I took a step back, slowly, purposefully, eyes locked on Clarence. Power curled through me, confidence like I’d never felt before. I was a tiger, and the man behind the desk was a little mouse.

  Clarence placed his hands on the desk, but judging by the lack of tension in his muscles and the calm look on his face, I took it as a sign of impartiality, not hostility.

  “The sponsors and media will always be a part of this, just like any sport,” he said in an even tone. “You can’t do away with what you don’t like just because you don’t like it. How would we fund the tournaments without companies to back it?”

  “Companies back themselves,” I argued. “We have to lick their feet just so they can drop us the minute we lose or aren’t popular anymore. They don’t give a shit about us. All they care about it making more money.”

  “You have your beliefs, and that’s fine, but that doesn’t amend anything. You can’t change the world, Kali.”

  I didn’t know if it was the mood in the air or the confidence still curling through me, but that sounded like one hell of a challenge. And then I knew how. I knew how to throw the sponsors for a loop. I knew how to make them lick my feet instead. How to convince the world Rooke and I were together without leaving the facility. Without the cameras and the red carpet, and all the bullshit. This was my life. My sexuality. I was free to express it how I chose, not the other way around. They’d pushed me too far now, and I was done playing their game.

  It was time for them to play mine.

  I splayed my hand Clarence’s desk, and leaned toward him. “If the media are so convinc
ed we’re breaking up, then maybe they should see just how much we’ve been fighting together. They want a show? Then let’s give them one.”

  —

  By the time Rooke and I had decided on a new plan for the night’s matchup, the rest of the team was already in the pod room, suiting up.

  “Geez, last minute, huh?” Hannah said, as soon as Rooke and I walked through the doors. “Where have you been? We were getting worried.”

  Then she winked at me, obviously thinking Rooke and I had been busy doing something in particular.

  Internally, I waved her off since I didn’t have time to convince her otherwise. “Sorry, guys, but we need to make a few last-minute changes. Lily, you’re going on offense.”

  The room cut to instant silence, except for the soft beeping of the machinery, which only emphasized the awkwardness. My teammates, even the programmers, all stared openmouthed and blinking. Mob mentality of the shocked variety.

  Lily sputtered. “But I’m always on defense.”

  “I know, I know. But the crowd needs to see me and Rooke together. Alone. I want all three of you to take the enemy’s tower. No middleman. Don’t kill anyone you don’t have to. I want every offensive player on their team to make it through to our tower. Understand?”

  “Hang on.” Derek held up a hand. “You want to purposely go up against as many enemies as possible?”

  “That’s right.”

  The trio exchanged glances with each other, then all regarded me with an identical lip-curling, what-the-hell-are-you-thinking expression.

  “Trust me,” I said, pulling on my own suit. “Oh, and don’t take their tower too fast.”

  “Don’t take their tower?” Hannah exclaimed.

  “No, no. Take it, but slowly.”

  “I thought you said a few changes.” Derek tossed his arms up. “You’re altering our entire gameplay minutes before the match. The final tournament match.” He leaned toward me with his last words and crossed his arms.

  “Look, I know it’s tough to stomach, but you guys can handle it. I’m not going to give you one of those corny ‘I believe in you’ speeches, but I do. I believe in you guys, and we’re not here because winning is what matters most to us. Yes, it’s a pretty huge chunk, and it would be fantastic to win the tournament. But bottom line: What we all really love is the game and having fun. We need to fight like we have inside the simulations. This is our chance to prove that training is more important than the media.”