Kat and Meg Conquer the World

by Anna Priemaza

  “I’ll be home by midnight,” I promise. My usual curfew.

  “And no city buses alone after ten.”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  “Meg.”

  “And no city buses alone after ten, I got it.” I throw an air kiss at Kenzie and Nolan in the other room, then wave my dumpling good-bye and slip out the door. I’m out of here.

  KAT

  “KAT, CAN YOU GRAB THE FRONT DOOR, PLEASE?” MOM CALLS DOWNSTAIRS TO me. “I just heard the car.” I hit pause. Normally I hate answering the door—and the telephone—but I have a sudden need to see Granddad, to know for sure that time hasn’t caught up to him and stopped his heart. I close the LumberLegs video I was watching and take the stairs two at a time.

  When I open the door, my still living Granddad is taking his final wobbly step up onto the front porch. “Hello, Katharina,” he says. He’s always called me that, for as long as I can remember.

  “Hi,” I say quietly as I open the door nice and wide for him. I wanted to see him, but now that I have, I’ve no idea what to say.

  Mom says that Granddad is recovering much faster than they expected him to after the hip replacement, but I find that hard to believe. He is definitely wobbling as he takes one slow step after another through the door.

  I look out the door behind him instead of at him. “Where’s Dad?” According to Mom, Dad took Granddad to his appointment, then to grab a few groceries.

  “Your dad’s still at the car. I beat him here with my superhuman speed.” He grins, but the joke tastes sour to me. Like an emaciated child in Africa joking about having too much food to eat.

  I lean carefully toward him. After school, I purposely changed into my softest pants and my fluffiest knit sweater, no zippers. It’s really more of a pat than a hug that I give him, but it’s still close enough to feel the jutting boniness of his shoulders. If his skin did tear off, perhaps there would be no oozing flesh underneath, only brittle bone. Like a shadowdragon—all skeleton and shadow.

  Dad arrives in the front door then, blue-plaid-shirted arms laden with cloth grocery bags. “Kat, my favorite daughter!” He holds the grocery bags out to me. I roll my eyes, then take half of them.

  It’s been an exhausting week, and all I want to do is disappear downstairs to the computer and work on my castle until Luke comes on and we can do a rift raid. But first I have to survive family dinner.

  “How was school today?” Dad asks once we’re all sitting at the table. He adjusts his tie. He never takes it off until after dinner.

  “Yes, Kat, how was school?” Mom passes me the roast turnip with a raised eyebrow that says, “I notice you don’t have any of this delicious vegetable on your plate.”

  “Fine, I guess.” I scoop a spoonful of diced turnip onto my plate. Definitely not my favorite, but I’m not going to argue with Mom’s raised eyebrow, especially with Granddad sitting there watching me. I mean, he’s not watching me right this minute, but I’m sure if I started arguing with Mom, he would.

  “Any major events?” Dad’s forkful of mashed potatoes hovers in front of his mouth. “Meteors? Apocalypses? Math tests?”

  I don’t really want to talk about my clueless new science fair partner, but it’s either that or explaining how I almost ate my lunch in a washroom. “We had to choose partners for our science fair projects.”

  “Oh? And who’s yours?” Mom asks.

  “This girl Meg.” I want to sneak a peek at my phone to see what time it is and whether Luke will be calling soon, but that’s sure to earn a lecture from Mom or Dad, and then what would Granddad think of me?

  “Is she nice?” Mom likes to ask questions more than she likes to eat.

  I shrug again. “She didn’t know what a science fair was.”

  “Well, maybe she didn’t have to do a project last year.”

  Yeah. Because this isn’t her second time being a freshman. I take a biteful of potatoes.

  “So what are you going to do for your project?” Dad asks.

  “I don’t know. I was looking up some ideas this afternoon, but nothing popped out at me.” Last year, my partner and I did ours on how fast helium balloons deflated in different temperatures and why. I barely knew my partner, despite having gone to school with her since kindergarten, but fortunately, school wasn’t her forte and she was content to just let me do most of the work, so we didn’t actually have to spend much time together. We got an A, but I don’t think my analysis section was quite up to snuff, because we only came in eighth. This year’s will be better. Assuming this Meg girl doesn’t ruin it.

  “Oh, you shouldn’t look something up, sweetie.” Mom again. “It’ll feel too rote. Make up something creative.”

  “Like what?”

  “We’ve got some interesting new materials we’re experimenting with at work,” Dad says. He’s an engineer of some sort. Mechanical, maybe? I’ve never been able to figure out exactly what he does, only that his company is apparently just as happy to have him doing it here as in Ottawa. “Don’t know if I could get clearance for you to run tests on it, though.”

  “Why don’t you test how effective human urine is as a fertilizer?”

  If anyone else said it, my response would be “Eeeeewwwwww!” accompanied by a scrunched-up nose. But my two-hundred-year-old granddad stares at me, bifocals perched on the tip of his bony nose, likely awaiting a more sophisticated response.

  Fortunately, Mom saves me. “Dad,” she says, smacking him on the arm a lot harder than she should, considering that just falling down was all it took to break his hip. “Kat isn’t going to pee on a bunch of plants for her school science project.”

  “Maybe not. But it would be a real showstopper.” I can’t tell if he is grinning at me or if the wrinkles in his cheeks are so deep that they yank at the corners of his mouth.

  I have no idea what to say to that. My fingers itch to check my phone. I pull it out of my pocket and wrap my fingers tightly around it. “I do like the idea of plants,” I finally say.

  “Can’t go wrong with plants,” Dad chimes in. “They’re timeless.”

  “So’s urine,” Granddad says.

  My phone vibrates beneath my fingertips with a message, and I push back my chair to look at it before I can stop myself. Maybe Luke’s ready to play and I can be excused and escape to safety. After they all have a chance to talk to him, of course. Ugh. I unlock the screen and check my messages.

  Can’t play tonight. Sry. Next week?

  “Kat? Is it Luke? Can you ask him to call your dad’s cell? We can put him on speakerphone for a bit before you go off to play.” Mom’s words wrap themselves around my chest and squeeze the air right out of my lungs. How do I tell her that Luke doesn’t have time for us? That he doesn’t have time for me?

  One turnip . . . two university . . .

  “Don’t be silly, Laura.” Granddad’s voice cuts off my counting. “It’s Friday night. They don’t want to talk to us old fogies. Let them go do their thing.”

  When I look up, Mom and Granddad are locked in a staring match. Dad is eating the last of his potatoes, either oblivious or just refusing to get involved.

  Mom sighs. “All right. You’re right, Dad. Go ahead, Kat. But tell Luke he’d better call us later this weekend.”

  I grip my phone tightly, unsure what to say. Is it a lie to disappear downstairs without telling them that Luke’s abandoned me? Is it even worth disappearing downstairs if Luke’s abandoned me?

  Luke’s the one who got the server set up and makes sure it’s running 24/7. And recruited people to play on it through the LotS forums. And organizes our rift raids. And knows everyone by name as well as by username.

  But that doesn’t mean we need him. I don’t need to know real names to play with people. Usernames are enough.

  And I can always just work on my underwater castle alone. Again.

  One jelly bean . . . two underwater windows . . .

  “Go,” Granddad pronounces. He literally waves me away, flapping hi
s hand in the air like one of Mom’s dishcloths. “Those animated creatures aren’t going to kill themselves. Go have fun.”

  So I do.

  LEGENDS OF THE STONE

  KittyKat has logged on.

  []Sythlight: Hi

  KittyKat: hi

  Moriah: Hi

  HereAfter: hey

  []Sythlight has discovered a legendary weapon.

  KittyKat: sweet, which one?

  []Sythlight: Battle-ax of Lorenzo

  []Sythlight: Shadowbeast spawned right outside my door. Practically gave me a heart attack.

  KittyKat: yikes

  []Sythlight: Yeah

  KittyKat has entered the waterlands.

  KittyKat: there’s water pouring into my tower!!!

  []Sythlight: That’s what you get for building it underwater. ;)

  KittyKat: our world’s never been so unstable before

  KittyKat: rifts are usually under control

  []Sythlight: Yeah, Lucien hasn’t planned a rift raid in a while.

  KittyKat: yeah, he’s been busy :(

  []Sythlight: Two new rifts spawned outside town. One in the drylands and one in the badlands.

  KittyKat: that’d do it

  []Sythlight: Want to do a raid?

  KittyKat: sure

  KittyKat: moriah, hereafter, you up for one?

  HereAfter: Sorry about to log off

  Moriah: me too

  Moriah: good night everyone

  HereAfter: bye

  []Sythlight: Ciao

  Moriah has logged off.

  HereAfter has logged off.

  KittyKat: have a good night

  []Sythlight has entered the badlands.

  KittyKat: well, so much for that idea

  []Sythlight: Badlands rift is small. Might be able to do it with just 2.

  KittyKat: really?

  []Sythlight: When the 2 are us, definitely. We’ll be done in 5 minutes. ;)

  KittyKat: ha ha yeah ok. but only if I can be the archer

  []Sythlight: We could both be archers.

  KittyKat: that’d be suicide! >:O

  []Sythlight: But hilarious.

  KittyKat: lol it’s ok. you be the archer. I’ll tank.

  []Sythlight: jk jk. It’s fine. You be the archer.

  KittyKat: you sure?

  []Sythlight: Yep. I prefer tank anyway.

  []Sythlight: Still no VoiceChat?

  KittyKat: no. no mic. sorry

  []Sythlight: No problem. Typing’s fine. Ready?

  KittyKat has entered the badlands.

  KittyKat: yep, let’s do this

  CHAPTER 3

  KAT

  THE TREADMILL CREAKS AS I MOUNT IT. I HAVE GOT TO CONVINCE MOM and Dad to buy a new one. In Ottawa, I used to just run outside, but even though the streets are numbered here, I’m not confident that I won’t get lost. Plus, from what I’ve heard about Edmonton weather, winter will probably be here in a matter of days. The leaves have already started falling from the trees. And not a slow, colorful striptease like in Ontario, but a sudden, down-to-business discarding of a plain dress onto the floor.

  My phone dings. It’s Mom.

  We’re stopping for groceries after dinner this eve. Need anything?

  She, Dad, and Granddad have gone to some conference for the afternoon, then out for supper. Their absence leaves me with the house magnificently to myself. And since I finished all my homework this morning—teachers always start the school year off easy, trying to win us over before destroying our souls—that means I get to spend my whole Saturday afternoon and evening with LotS and LumberLegs. Glorious.

  I do a mental inventory of our cupboards, then slow the treadmill to a walk so I can type.

  Yeast. I think we’re almost out.

  Tomorrow, maybe I’ll make a loaf of bread. I haven’t done that since we left Ottawa.

  I increase the treadmill’s speed and lose myself in my breathing. One dog . . . two cat . . . three fast . . . four faster . . .

  After my run, I’m going to work on my underwater castle. It took us a couple of hours, but Sythlight and I managed to close up two whole rifts last night, so that should make the world more stable—no more damaged castles or shadowbeasts spawning in safe zones. For now. But I still have to fix up the gaping hole in my castle tower.

  The doorbell rings, echoing hollowly down the stairs, and the castle in my head shatters from the noise. Outside, real-life noise. I hold my breath and slow the treadmill—not to stop it, but just to quiet it. Make it sound like no one’s home. The only people I know in this whole city—Mom, Dad, and Granddad—are all out for the day. Which means it’s a stranger at the door. Not even the promise of Girl Guide cookies could get me to talk to a stranger right now. Even a ten-year-old stranger.

  My phone dings again. Probably Mom wondering if there’s a brand of yeast I prefer.

  You home?

  Not Mom. I slow the treadmill even more.

  Who is this?

  Another ding, a moment later.

  Meg. your brilliant science partner. If you’re home let me in it’s cold out here

  I stop the treadmill abruptly. Not Girl Guide cookies. But still a stranger. Knowing her name doesn’t make her not a stranger.

  The doorbell rings again. My throat tightens.

  Why is she here?

  I focus on my breathing.

  One chocolate mint . . . two . . . two . . . two . . . I can’t get my—breathing—under—control—

  Ding.

  I thought we could work on our science thing

  She thought she could just show up and work on our science thing? Without calling ahead to make plans?

  I already have plans. I’m going to go to the water cave to collect more coral rock, then use it to patch up the hole in my castle. Then I have to fix the water damage in the hall, and then I’ll finally be able to organize my armory, which I’ve been dying to do forever. I need a big block of time to do that, so I can log and chart everything in a spreadsheet and decide how best to sort it. And then watching Legs this evening. I have the entire rest of my day planned and full of glorious awesomeness.

  I can’t just leave her standing there, though.

  Two helium balloons . . . three peeing on plants . . .

  I hop off the treadmill, take the steps two at a time, then unlock the front door and swing it open.

  Meg is halfway down the sidewalk, striding away from the house, but she must hear the door open because she whirls around to face me. “Oh, I thought you weren’t home,” she calls out.

  So I could have just waited and she’d have left? Crap, screwed that one up!

  “Sorry, I was working out,” I say, still breathing hard, though not from the exercise.

  She drops the skateboard she’s holding, hops onto it, starts speeding toward the front step, then kicks back or something and thrusts herself and the board into the air. She almost lands on the top step, but then her skateboard goes skittering out from under her, and she bashes her knee into the porch column. I lurch forward to help her, but before I can even reach out my hand, she’s already back on her feet, grinning. “Still working on that one.” She rubs her knee, still grinning, then scoops up her skateboard. “Okay if I bring this in? Don’t want it to get stolen.”

  I blink at her. “You skateboard?”

  “I’ve been trying it out. Stephen-the-Leaver gave this to my brother, and he didn’t want it, and I don’t believe in trashing things just because they’re from Stephen-the-Leaver. I mean, why should I deprive myself just because he’s a jerk? Anyway, I was just trying some jumps at the park down the street—it’s got some good benches for it—and I realized I was near your house and I thought I’d see if you were home, because I have this really cool idea for our science thing. You free?”

  “No!” I want to yell at her. “I’m not free. You can’t just show up here and expect me to be available! I have plans. That armory won’t sort itself.”

  I guess our
science project won’t do itself either, though. And she’s voluntarily offering to work on it. That was something my last partner never did.

  “You said you have an idea?” I ask.

  She grins. “Sure do. Just thought of it.”

  It would be nice to have the brainstorming done and not have to worry about that part anymore. Maybe we could have our topic ready to submit to Mr. Carter by Monday—a couple of weeks early. I’d have to change my afternoon plans, though. I hate changing plans.

  I take a deep breath and do my best to smile at her. “I guess now’s fine. I just have something on at five, so I have to make sure we’re done by then.” I kick myself as soon as the words leave my mouth. Five is two entire hours away. I should have lied and said it was at four. Or even in half an hour. Now I have no excuse to evacuate if things get awkward. “Come on in.”

  She steps inside and leans the skateboard against the hallway wall. She’s not wearing a coat, but she strips off her fingerless orange mittens and tosses them onto a nearby chair. Then she follows me into the living room.

  I gesture toward the couch, but she either doesn’t notice or chooses to ignore me, because instead she wanders over to the wall of shelves. This is why I hate spending time with people. It’s like when I started playing The Sims and didn’t realize you could turn off free will. I kept telling my Sim to go to the bathroom, but she kept ignoring me and playing on the computer and dancing and eating until eventually she just peed on the floor.

  I mean, what exactly am I supposed to do now? Sit down on the chair like I had planned? Join her by the shelves? I haven’t even offered her a drink yet, which makes me a terrible host.

  One lemonade . . . two chocolate milk . . .

  Right, just offer her a drink. That’s something I can do. “Do you want—”

  “Okay, so I was thinking about this, and what if we threw cantaloupes off the roof? I mean, not just threw them. My six-year-old brother could do that. He’s technically my half brother. Nolan and Kenzie. I call them the halflings. Of course Nolan never would throw cantaloupe. He’s a goody-goody. Who’s this?”

  “I—um—what?” Is she talking about science?

  She points toward the shelf. I’ve been backing away toward the kitchen to get us drinks, so I have to step toward her and lean to the side to see which picture frame she’s pointing at. “Oh, that’s my brother, Luke.”