“Tater tots?” the bored cashier asked me after Conrad ordered just the hot dog and water.
“Sure.” I figured if nothing else, we could share.
“You want some?” I asked, putting the basket between us at the high-top table we’d snagged. The opposite wall featured a mural of a particularly creepy doll that made me keep my eyes on my food. “They gave me way more than I was expecting.”
“If you’re sure…” Conrad had already downed his hot dog in three bites and was eyeing the tater tots the way I did rare cards.
“Go ahead.” I had to hide a smile as he dug in. “Freegan” indeed. I’d had a feeling he was trying to cut expenses with his minimal order and might actually be hungrier than he was letting on. I made a mental note to try to feed him more. It was a practical thing. A fed Conrad was likely to be a more pleasant traveling companion. Mom and Mimi had often despaired over what they termed my lack of empathy, but I preferred to think of it more as selective caring. It was true that I struggled to see things like school and game losses from others’ perspectives, but other things—like wanting to help Jasper with his sister or Conrad be more comfortable—came easier to me. I wasn’t exactly sure why, but unlike my moms, I didn’t need an explanation for every quirk of my brain.
“Guess I was hungrier than I thought,” Conrad said sheepishly as he polished off the last of the tots. “Sorry.”
“No worries. I wasn’t going to eat them,” I said honestly as my phone buzzed with a message. Conrad scooped up our trash, which gave me an excuse to pull out my phone. I knew even before I clicked Open that it was likely Mimi since I’d texted her earlier that I had to use my emergency card.
Impulsive purchases aren’t like you, so I’ll trust that your friend had a legitimate need. We will work out payment when you return. Also, I saw your adviser at a meeting today. Hope you are thinking about your future. You need to make some decisions when you return.
I groaned aloud before I even realized what I was doing.
“What?” Conrad asked as he returned to the table.
“Nothing. Just my mom.” I stood to follow him to the exit as we made our way back to the car, which fit right in with the decor, looking like we were ready for a funeral procession.
“Oh. Is she pissed about the credit card charge?” Conrad settled himself back in the driver’s seat, but I didn’t argue. We could trade off after the game store.
“Not really. It’s more…” I trailed off because Conrad didn’t need to hear what a loser I truly was.
“Yeah?” Something about the gentle way he prodded made my shoulders loosen up, made it easier to talk about the one thing I usually ran from discussing.
“Mimi and Mom are concerned because I have yet to finalize my plans for the fall.” I chose each word as carefully as I would which card to play to end a game.
“What? You? Haven’t you had your future mapped out for years now? Med school, right? You’re one of those supersmart kids who knew they wanted to be doctors at like three or something.”
“You’re not wrong.” I didn’t look at him as I reset the GPS on my phone. “I mean at three, I wanted to be a preschool teacher like Miss Betsey, my favorite person in the world. But between Mom being a doctor and both sisters heading that direction, it wasn’t long before I wanted to be a doctor too. But with kids, rather than brains like Mom or surgery like my sisters. I liked the idea of pediatrics.”
“You like kids? They don’t irritate you?” Conrad headed back to the highway. “Would have figured kids would annoy you. You always like things just so.”
“I do.” I wasn’t going to try to lie on that one. “But kids are so much easier to understand than adults. They tell you exactly what they are thinking. Not as much guessing. They don’t do fake nice.”
“Huh. Guess that’s true. And you are good at showing newbies the game, which is kind of the same thing. I never have that patience for going over each and every rule, but I’ve seen you. You’re good at that.”
My face heated from the unexpected compliment. I hadn’t been aware of him noticing anything about me, let alone anything positive. “Thanks.”
“But, what changed for you? I thought there was, like, a doctor shortage or something.”
“Ha.” I couldn’t keep the bitterness out of my voice. “Yeah, the country needs more doctors. But tell that to medical-school admission committees.”
“You didn’t get in?” The shock in Conrad’s voice both irritated and validated me at the same time.
“Not a one. Two years running,” I admitted. Outside, Dayton’s city center zipped by, giving way to the older, urban neighborhood we were headed for. My brain felt similar—like the last year had whizzed by, and now here I was in an unfamiliar landscape. Unlike us, though, life had yet to give me a GPS for navigating. “And now… They want me to have a plan. But I just…” I let my voice trail off. Even talking about this was exhausting. I’d counted so much on medical school solving a lot of my problems, not the least of which had been getting the moms off my back. They’d be proud and supportive from afar, and I’d be off doing my own thing. But instead, here I was, way too old to be getting lectures about my future, but not really sure how to get out of it.
“Hey, I get you. Plan Bs are hard.” Conrad sounded as frustrated as I felt. It was nice, having someone who got it. Someone else searching for a direction. “Professor Tuttle and Professor Jackson keep getting on me to find a new plan too. Some way of finishing my degree maybe, or a track to a better job. But I’m not even sure what I want at this point. Going back to school… Hell. I don’t know. And that’s why I need this win. I mean, there are so many reasons, but it’s the best plan B I’ve got.”
“Yeah,” I echoed weakly, all that camaraderie giving way to tense muscles and an unhappy gut as I was reminded again of the extent of our rivalry. It was my plan B too. If I could win, I’d get the distance I so desperately needed from all the pressures and questions and doubt. It wasn’t just about the validation of winning or even the money. I’d known, of course, that he wanted to win at the tournament, but that wasn’t quite the same as hearing him say it, hearing the conviction in his voice, knowing deep inside that he wanted this every bit as much as I did.
One of us was bound to lose big, and the last thing I wanted was to feel sorry for Conrad if—when—things didn’t work out for him.
Chapter Thirteen
Conrad
Stopping for zombie hot dogs had been a mistake—both because it pushed us even later getting to the Dayton game store and because all those jalapeños burned a path down my throat that wasn’t helped any by the sour feeling of knowing Alden needed this tournament win. Maybe not as much as me. But still, the guy was in search of a plan B, and I could respect that. Understand it even. And realizing that Alden wasn’t as perfect as I’d thought was also weirdly discomforting—like meeting a movie star and having them be human, not living up to expectations. I’d come to depend on seeing him as an unfeeling academic robot for whom everything came easily. Sympathy was a dangerous emotion—I knew full well the consequences of letting feelings guide my actions.
So, as we unloaded the merch at the game store, I tried to steel myself from unwanted emotions. Feeling sorry for Alden wasn’t going to help anything.
“Here. Let me take something.” Alden held out his hands.
“I’ve got it.” My voice came out far snappier than usual as I shouldered the equipment bag along with the box of T-shirts and books.
“Well, I’ll get the door.” He sounded put out, which I supposed was fair. Rushing ahead, he got the old-fashioned wooden door. This game store was in a neighborhood of older buildings, most of which had a sort of European look—lots of brick and unnecessary gables and trim on the roofs. It gave what would otherwise be a typical strip mall a quaint feel. The game store was on the first floor, tutoring service above it, insurance
agency next door, jeweler on the other side, pub on the corner.
The space inside was bigger than it looked from the street, but rather than taking in the floor plan, I was distracted by the appearance of a large man dressed in full wizard gear—pointy hat, velvet robes, plush frog riding on one shoulder, and even a wand clutched in his meaty hand.
“Welcome, welcome. We’ve been expecting you!” He had a booming voice, and as he stepped forward to offer a handshake, he revealed an equally tall woman in a full-on burgundy Victorian ball gown, complete with fancy hair and skirts wider than the doorway.
“Uh. Thanks.” Alden seemed about as gobsmacked as I was.
“I’m Mage Ulric, wizard to the beast kingdom, and this my lady, the fair Aria, a sorceress of the underworld.”
“Nice. I…uh…have your cards.” My brain might be mush, but I did recognize them as important figures in Odyssey. Jasper made a better wizard when he dressed up in my opinion, but this couple deserved major kudos for going all in.
“Excellent. Your reputation precedes you, young Conrad.”
“You know our names?” Alden frowned.
“But of course. We are but humble fans of your show.” The guy kept up the Old English accent, which was starting to get annoying. “And I have gifts!”
However irritating his gimmick, gifts sounded promising. “Awesome. Thank you.”
Mage Ulric bustled to the back of the store, leaving Alden and me to trail behind.
“Don’t thank him until you see what it is,” Alden said in a low whisper. “Better not be anything alive. I remember that Mage Ulric travels with goats as well as frogs in the game lore.”
“Crap.” My hands tightened around the box. Now he had me worried. This guy did seem to take his cosplay pretty seriously, and I wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or horrified when he presented us with a large plush goat wearing a shirt with his store logo emblazoned across the front.
“Thank you.” It was going to take up a fair amount of space in the back seat, but I wasn’t sure how to decline the honor.
“And of course, some packs for our noble warriors.” Ulric had a box filled with older packs of Odyssey cards. Now those I could use, and I swapped boxes with him, giving him the books and Gamer Grandpa swag. We sent a bunch of photos of their costumes and gifts on for Professor Tuttle, then did some filming, having them show us around the store. Unlike a lot of game stores, here the player tables were in front, beneath a sunny window, with the merchandise spread throughout the space, intermingling with more spots to play. Because we were both pressed for time and down a helper, we decided to only play a single game.
“You play the Mage,” Alden demanded in a whisper when we conferred over who would play as we set up the camera at a table in the front corner of the store. “I can’t play people in costume. It’s distracting. Cosplay kind of freaks me out—like Halloween or clowns. Makes it even harder to read people and to know when they’re serious.”
“Huh.” I hadn’t ever thought of it that way before, but Alden did seem to have a harder time picking up on jokes than most, so I supposed it made some sense. “Good luck with that at the tournament. There will probably be a ton of cosplayers all over the place.”
“As legitimate players in the tournament?” He shook his head. “I’m hoping not as many. It’s impossible to take the game seriously with someone wearing a robe.”
“Dude. The game itself is supposed to be fun. We pit reptile armies against underworld beasts and stuff like that. It’s supposed to get crazy.”
“Well, I take it seriously.” He narrowed his eyes, voice firming as if he could make the rest of us jokers fall in line through sheer force of will. “I’ll film you. Try not to get distracted.”
“Yes, sir.” I gave him a mock salute before I sat down across from Mage Ulric. However, it wasn’t the dude in velvet who distracted me. Alden hovering with the camera was far more disconcerting than I would have thought, and I’d been filmed for a couple of years now. It was more his nearness. Which was weird. I wasn’t used to being aware of him, and I wasn’t at all sure I liked it.
He fell into this strange undefined category—he wasn’t a total off-limits straight guy, not a firmly-in-the-friend-zone bro like Jasper, neither too old nor too young, but until recently he’d occupied the same slot where I put most people who annoyed me, and I wasn’t sure I wanted a few nice gestures moving him into some jiggly gray area where I started noticing the way his hair swooped forward or the way he bit his lip when he concentrated. I’d been aware of guys in that way as long as I could remember—at first seeing it as a curse of sorts, then later working hard to view it as simply how I was wired. But accepting that about myself didn’t mean I was going to embrace my body suddenly turning traitor and noticing Alden.
So, I tried to block him out, failed miserably, and lost in short order. To a fake-accented dude in a robe as Alden would say. It was embarrassing.
“You need to stop relying so much on what you top deck late game,” Alden lectured as we returned to the car. “Card draw won’t always save you. Pay more attention to your early board state.”
“Yeah.” I couldn’t disagree with his assessment. But it was his fault I hadn’t spent enough time thinking out my moves at the start of the game, so I wasn’t feeling particularly grateful for the advice.
“You need more power in your decks.” Sliding into the driver’s-side seat, Alden clearly wasn’t done with his pointers.
“My decks are fine, and hey, I don’t mind driving more.”
“It’s my turn.” His stubborn expression reminded me so much of my sister Cassie, making fondness and longing gather in my throat—and making it so that I had to look away as I walked around to the passenger side.
“Yeah, but you hate driving this car. I don’t.” I tried using logic, but his jaw remained firm, eyes straight ahead.
“I’m fine. Set the GPS for Indianapolis.”
“Aye, aye, Captain, but I’ll need your phone to do it.” I did his bidding after he handed over his latest-model smartphone, but I couldn’t help adding in some heavy sighing to convey how insufferable I thought he was being. Also, being irritated about his bossiness was better than being embarrassed that he had the better phone and that I didn’t have enough of a data plan to risk continual GPS without major overage charges. As I studied the map on Alden’s shiny phone, though, some of my bad mood started to fade. “Hey, we’ll be going right by where they have the Indy 500. We should get a picture there for Professor Tuttle.”
“How is car racing related?” Alden’s attention was riveted to the road as we made our way back to the highway. “I thought this trip was all about Odyssey.”
“It can’t be all cards twenty-four seven. My head would explode. Besides, some things are just fun. Live a little.”
“We’re already pressed for time—”
“We’ll make it up. Please. I wanted to stop last time through with my folks, but it was raining hard and no one else wanted to see it.”
Alden didn’t answer right away, mouth pursing like it did when he was considering what move to make next. And when his eyes narrowed, I braced for his refusal…but instead, he shrugged. “All right. If it means that much to you, we can stop. But quickly. Speedway, then on to the next game store by dinner. I don’t know if we’re going to make St. Louis tonight, but we should try. The western states are going to take way longer to get through.”
“Trust me. I know. Just wait until Kansas and Colorado.” I regretted the words almost instantly, back muscles stiffening. Even saying the word Kansas was enough to call up a lifetime of memories of the little town that had been home right up until it wasn’t. But if Alden picked up on my sudden angst, he didn’t show it, concentrating on the road as we followed the signs to merge back onto the correct highway for Indianapolis…muttering under his breath about the goat in the back seat blocki
ng his rear view and the afternoon traffic impeding our efforts to make good time.
Because Alden was so focused on the road, I occupied myself getting nosy about which apps he had on his phone. Oh, I didn’t go snooping through his email or anything like that, but I was curious about what games he had and stuff like that.
“Dude. How is it that the only game you have on here is Odyssey online? You’ve got a brand-new phone. I’d be downloading all sorts of things.”
“Restrain yourself from adding anything, please.” His tone was dry and tight, not joking, and I couldn’t tell whether it was the road or me messing with his phone that he didn’t like. Maybe both. “I don’t like clutter on my phone. And it’s the one game I like. I don’t need others.”
He made it sound so simple, that kind of one-track loyalty, that I envied him his commitment. “Odyssey is my favorite too, but I still play lots of others. Sometimes just to be social, but also sometimes I get bored and need a change.”
“I’ve noticed. I’m surprised you’ve stuck with Odyssey this long, to be honest.”
“Gee. Thanks.” Appreciation for his loyalty went out the window at that.
“How did you even get into the game? I would have figured a guy like you would have been super popular in high school—parties, sports, that sort of thing, with no time for tabletop gaming.”
“I thought we already established that I’m not the party animal you thought I was.” I couldn’t help sounding wounded.
“We did. I meant more…” Alden coughed and his neck turned pink. “Everyone likes you. You look like…you belong more on the varsity baseball team than hanging around with the geeks. You’re not exactly the nerd stereotype.”
I had a feeling that with all his blushing and coughing, Alden was trying to imply that I was better-looking than most Odyssey players. The implied compliment made me shift in my seat.
Conventionally Yours (True Colors) Page 9
