‘Adam.’
Adam doesn’t answer. He can’t. Not right now. At long last he’s on Level Six. He’s gained access to the last quadrant: Morterain’s hidden trophy room. In just a few seconds, he plans to blast major evil dude Morterain to smithereens. It’s taken weeks for his hero to collect the sickle, the cloak and the bejewelled dagger of the fairy queen, Celestialle. There’s no way he can simply abandon the quest and allow Morterain’s curse to spread through the universe, creating chaos and despair. It can’t be allowed to happen.
‘Adam!’
Mum’s voice blasts into the hidden trophy room. He shuts her out. Aims the magic dagger. Fires. Misses. Morterain vaporises, his gleeful laughter echoing from Adam’s computer speakers. Instantly, the game returns to the portal at the start of Level Six.
Bugger.
‘Adam Creighton, this is the third time I’ve called you. If I have to come up there to speak to you, I’ll be confiscating that computer. Don’t think I won’t.’
Adam grabs his headphones. Bungs them over his ears. Still seated, he rolls his computer chair back and pokes his head around the bedroom door. Mum is standing at the bottom of the stairs holding a plastic milk container. Adam pulls a headphone away from one ear and says, all innocence, ‘Sorry, Mum. Did you call me? I’ve been listening to my French.’
‘Good try, mate. Last time I spoke to your French teacher, she didn’t sound anything like an evil overlord plotting to take over the Empire.’
Mum’s so archaic. She thinks every computer game is something to do with Star Wars, for goodness sake. He smiles sheepishly. One thing is certain though: Mum definitely didn’t come down in the last meteor shower. With both hands, he slips the headphones off his ears and around his neck.
‘Sorry, Mum. I was in the last quadrant before Level Seven.’ He pinches his finger and thumb together, holding them up in front of his face. ‘I was this close to being a Master Warrior.’
‘Well, when you have your Masters in French, then I’ll be impressed. Honestly, Adam, this is your last year. You really have to sort out your priorities and knuckle down, love. Dad has let you off working at the yard these past couple of months and he could really do with the help. This recession’s hit everyone hard. You know how late he’s been coming home. It’s up to you to make the most of the time he’s freed up for you to study and not waste it battling it out somewhere in the twilight zone.’
‘The last quadrant.’
‘Adam!’ She sets her hands on her hips, the milk container still hooked in her fingers.
‘Yeah, yeah, Mum, I know. I’ll study. I promise.’
‘Just so long as you do.’
She throws Adam a stern look. Adam responds automatically by dropping his head down, his bottom lip protruding, brown eyes unashamed under his eyelashes. Mum always says you could sweep the floor with Adam’s lashes.
Mum laughs. ‘Don’t you give me that look, young man.’ Adam’s famous hang-dog look never fails. ‘Look, honey, I’m doing a rice pudding, and we’ve almost run out of milk. Could you pop down to the dairy and grab me some?’
Adam bats his lashes. ‘Well, I could pop down to the dairy, or I could use my time more profitably, for example, by conjugating the subjunctive of the verb se détendre.’ He starts conjugating. ‘Je me détende, tu te détendes...’
Mum smiles. ‘I walked into that one, didn’t I?’
Adam nods, grinning. Mum heaves a sigh, but she’s still smiling.
‘Okay, I’ll go. I could do with a bit of a walk. Blow away the cobwebs. So long as you keep on conjugating whatever that verb was and not subjugating some subversive on the computer.’
‘‘Course, Mum.’ Another hang-dog look.
Mum snorts. ‘I won’t be long. If your father comes in while I’m out, make him a cup of tea, all right?’
‘Yeah, no worries.’
But Adam is already rolling back towards the computer. Morterain awaits.