Page 11 of How We Play the Game
Now it’s Ivan’s turn to bark out a laugh. He doesn’t mind when it echoes off everything, and the sound simply lands as a brief high note before melting into the rest of the noise without notice. After a beat he breaks eye contact with me and nods along with whatever Brian is saying, as if he’s been paying attention the whole time. Something Brian says makes him smile, and when he flashes that bone-white grin, he catches the tip of his tongue between his teeth for the fastest of seconds.
It’s for me, or at least I think it is. And now my ears are burning hot with what I can 100 percent correctly identify as pure, unadulterated loathing.
“Cool hooks,” Cassius says, looking as impressed as he gets (not very, but we’re both the “conceal, don’t feel” type). “But, uh, I don’t think I have one.”
“Me either,” I add, happy to break Ivan’s eye contact and return to the present. “I just likeGLR.”
“We all likeGLR, babe,” Trieu says, not unkindly. “But what else do you do?”
That’s the worst question I’ve ever been asked. Cue internal crisis, cue five-alarm fire in my head right now. Somehow I have accidentally wandered into a place I’ve never been before and never even considered could exist: an entire roomful ofGLRplayers who have one up on me.
“Can’t my hook just be being really frickin’ good at battle royale!” I splutter out.
“Apparently not,” Trieu says.
“I mean, hey,” Kavi says. “We all thought this was just going to be, like, a focus group combined with battle royale camp.”
“Academy,” I correct her quietly.
“But it kind of seems like Brian is looking for people to be the face ofGuardians League Royale: 1v1.Well, two faces. Who doesn’t want that?”
“Me!” I respond. “Kavi, I barely want to be the face of myself.”
“It’s true,” Cass adds. “She doesn’t.”
“If I wanted an online fanbase,” I continue, “why would I have put all my skill points into being good at video games? Nothing on this earth is more invisible than a Black girl with a Steam account. Nothing.”
“Not anymore,” Trieu says. “Team Unity saw to that. It’s anyone’s game now, and I, for one, am grateful. Growing up,I never felt like I fit in with other gamers because I’m gorgeous and charismatic.”
“Don’t forget ‘humble,’” Kavi adds dryly.
“And now there’s a place for hot gamers of color right at the heart of Wizzard’s strategy,” Trieu continues, ignoring her. I have a feeling the two of them knew each other long before this orientation. Their rapport reminds me of me and Cassius, but considerably perkier. “As long as we kick ass, don’t age, and work a jillion times harder to get half the recognition white boys get just by showing up. No offense,” he directs at Cassius.
“A little bit taken,” he responds. “But we’re cool.”
“And hey,” Kavi says with incredible kindness, “we already figured out something you guys can do to carve your niche. IRL besties fighting side by side …”
Trieu picks up where Kavi trails off. “Maybe there’s a little spark between you, get things going with a will they, won’t they …”
“I’m in a nightmare,” I think out loud. “I’m sleeping right now, or I’m in hell, or it’s both and I’m literally having a nightmare while taking a hell nap.”
“Come on.” Kavi yanks her sentence back like a star quarterback plucking a ball from the air. “It’ll be fun, we can help you.”
“How would you feel about a makeover?” Trieu asks.
“Terrible,” I say, too quickly to be polite. I should try that again. My gaze sweeps over Kavi’s and Trieu’s objectively lovely faces. They’re both the kind of cool that could easily add up to “you can’t sit with us” energy, but instead of gatekeeping they’ve patiently opened my eyes to what exactly I’vegotten myself into. They didn’t have to do that. “But I don’t think I’d hate hanging out with y’all, like, normally.”
“That means she loves you,” jokes Cassius. “You kind of have to think of her like fostering a cat.”
“You sure you want to antagonize someone who knows all of your embarrassing stories?” I ask as I try to gracefully take my seat in the rolling chair beside the last empty computer. I fail, and the chair rolls a few inches behind me. I grab it in time before I sit, but these pro gaming chairs are way slipperier than I’m used to. “Shit—” The backslide of my chair misses hitting someone standing behind me by a hair.
“Watch it!” a hatefully familiar voice calls out. “Caught ya.”
I turn around and see Ivan again. “Oh my god,” I say as I stomp a foot down to stop my chair from moving any farther. It’s bad enough that Ivan’s close enough that I can smell his spicy-clean body wash and the slightest waft of citrusy conditioner again, but to have him this close while I almost slide butt-first off this chair would be too much for me for one day. I would have to go back to sleep right now and start again tomorrow, and that would throw off my whole first week in the academy.
“What? What is it? Why are you here? What do you want?” I ask, rapid-fire. “Are you lost? Can I help you? What’s the deal, Ivan? Can you tell me now so we can end this conversation a little faster?”
It’s not very civilized of me, I know. But a girl has her limits, and he busted through the last of mine long ago. I don’t know how much more unpleasant I have to be before Ivan takes a hint, and I’m running out of ways to escalate. And theworst part, the part that really grinds my gears, is that none of it seems to have worked at all. Most people, if I don’t want them around I can crack them like a nut and keep it moving. Ivan … I can’t even tell what kind of nut he is. It’s vibranium or something. Adamantium walnut–ass man. Something has to get under his skin, and I will go to the ends of the earth trying to find it. Later.
