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'10:56,' SAID MY DIGITAL watch.
The ancient device still worked perfectly. It had a ten-year guarantee on the battery, so there were still a couple of years before I had to worry about getting it changed.
I stood at the entrance of the shopping center, staring out into the late morning weekend traffic, otherwise known as ‘no traffic at all’. Gwen had already said she would be at least ten minutes late, a claim I completely believed. Ten years of knowing her had taught me that much, at least. Anna had not sent me anything, and I hadn’t asked either. She had given me a phone number on the game’s chat, so I flicked the screen of my phone on and off, considering whether or not I should call her.
10:58.
How had Anna managed to win yesterday? It was plaguing me from the time I saw the post yesterday, and it had messed with my sleep, leaving me very groggy in the morning. A quick trip to the supermarket for a can of Red Bull had helped, but I was sure I was going to stop feeling the effect of the energy drink soon enough and collapse into a sleeping ball in the middle of the mall’s atrium.
I’d personally seen her play. She was experienced, no doubt, but not anywhere near Gwen. Her movement seemed sluggish at times, almost like taking a step was a hassle for her even in the virtual world. She had a weird obsession with the shotgun, tactical or otherwise, and it often led to her downfall early in the game, when snipers picked off all those with the short-ranged weapons. Also, ignoring all the tips Gwen and I had given her, she had changed her avatar hairstyle to a pink mohawk, with a tank top and fatigues to match. She could have glowed in the dark brightly enough to be seen from space in that outfit. This made it even easier for the long-range gunners to spot her and mow her down easily. Sure, luck played a part, but it was not that significant.
My phone buzzed. A new message. From Anna.
"I’m almost there," I read aloud.
Either she did not maintain a public profile image, or she just hadn’t added me as a contact yet, which was just rude. I wished I’d done the same, but by now, Anna had both seen, and commented on, my ugly selfie.
I searched around instinctively for a pink mohawk for a couple of seconds before I stopped myself. Of course, she’s not going to roam around in public looking like that, is she? Someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned and saw a tall, rather handsome boy looking down at me, smiling innocently. In return, I flashed him my most vicious ‘not-interested-go-away’ look, hoping he’d take the hint. I did not want to use my pepper spray today.
“Um... Wendy?”
I stared at him, my mouth agape.
“How do you...”
“I’m Anna,” he said flatly, smiling more out of embarrassment than anything else.
My lower jaw seemed to drop all the way to the floor. The next few moments passed in a blur, and I don't remember much of it.
When Gwen finally arrived, the tall boy introduced himself as Anna again.
“So let me get this straight,” Gwen was still having trouble processing the load of information he’d just dropped on her. “You’re Anna?”
He had the grace to look embarrassed.
“Yeah,” he replied, sipping his midnight frappe. “Call me Charles, though. I’d much rather not be called Anna here if you know what I mean.”
“Of course, of course,” I jumped in the conversation, suddenly afraid to be left out of it. “Why would you call yourself that?”
Charles ran a hand through his hair, drawing my attention to it. It was sandy, almost like the hue of a sun-kissed beach. Flicking his gaze from a suspicious Gwen to me, he fixed his azure eyes on mine. For such a shy person, he had a fire to his stare that I had never seen before.
“It’s an alias,” he explained. “Quite like FreakShow3298 over here.”
Gwen rolled her eyes. Clearly, she thought her nickname and avatar gender choice were far more meaningful than his.
“All that’s well and good, Charlie,” Gwen snapped, intentionally shortening his name, almost making it sound like an insult. “but riddle me this. How does a complete newbie at Fortnite shoot his own teammate in the back? And then suddenly take #1 when he’s never cracked the top ten?”
“Gwen!” I hissed, noticing the frown on Charles’ face. “Let him explain himself, at least.”
“Ah, well...” he sighed. “For that, I must apologize. My finger twitched, by accident, and pressed the trigger.”
Holding up his right hand, he held it still. Gwen and I peered at it, not realizing what he was showing us.
“What do you mean?” I said, and then I noticed it. His right index finger moved as if it had been shocked by an electrode. It was a violent jerk, one that did not seem voluntary.
“It just happens all the time,” Charles used his other hand to fold his rogue finger back into a fist, taking both his hands below the table. “I have tried to use medication, but it just doesn’t seem to go away.”
“What makes you think we’ll believe you?” Gwen was showing him no mercy.
My sympathies, however, went straight to the poor chastised man, who was clearly trying hard to overcome a medical condition.
“Please.” his eyes were apologetic but resolute. “That one was a mistake, I assure you. It’s also why I usually get killed before the last ten ranks. It was a single round anomaly, I assure you.”
“Let’s stop with this inquisition, please!” I exclaimed.
I was ready to believe him. His voice seemed incredibly earnest, and Gwen was usually unrelenting when someone behaved unlike themselves.
“How did you win it, then?"
“Gwen!”
“It’s okay, Wendy,” Charles flashed me a grimace. “I try to play as well as I can, and when this irritating twitch does not hamper me, I tend to do well. But it happens every single time, unfortunately.”
“Fair enough,” I was not in the mood for more interrogation.
I had been away from my keyboard, or AFK as Gwen used to call it, for nearly an hour.
“Let’s go back now? We’ll meet in the game again, soon.”
“Yeah,” Gwen grabbed me by the shoulder, pulling me away from the mall’s atrium. “Let’s not let this backstabber join us.”