“Try not to look so … normal,” Wyatt’s voice came through Jalen’s earpiece as he walked underneath the arches of giant palm trees and into the casino.
“You try not to look so freaky,” Jalen said, his mouth closed like a ventriloquist.
As promised, Wyatt was ten feet behind him, in a red military costume with silvery shoulder pads and a service cap. “We can thank Darsie for my outfit,” Wyatt said grumpily. “I’m M. Bison, Norwegian dictator.”
“Or a deranged flight attendant,” Jalen joked.
“Now, we’re kinda cutting it close time-wise, so you’ll need to go straight to your event. Hi Kyto will be sitting beside you, shoulder to shoulder. All you need to do is look like someone who is mildly competent at this game and somehow get her to notice you. Nobody cares about anything else. She never talks to players and she really doesn’t go overboard talking to fans, so just do the best you can.”
“Kinda throwing a lot at me at one time,” Jalen muttered, taking his items from the check-in counter and following the signs to bag check. He gave the man his backpack and took a ticket.
“Stay loose. Keep breathing. Just play.”
“Loose,” Jalen said, trying not to look at the purple casino carpet, the pattern nearly giving him a seizure.
“Go kick some virtual butt,” Wyatt said sarcastically.
Jalen took his place at his computer and tried to appear like someone who was supposed to be there. He took out the joystick Darsie had packed for him. “Good grief,” he muttered to Wyatt. “What the hell is this?”
“A controller. It’ll work, right?” Wyatt said, watching Jalen get set up. “Sorry we didn’t have a custom arcade stick laying around.”
“It’ll work, but I expected more from a billionaire. Your peripheral—your controller—is like another appendage. The stick I have at home is the best there is. This is just … amateur.”
Just then Hi Kyto appeared beside him, standing behind her chair, loud music bleeding from her headphones. She looked over at Jalen like she was looking through him. Then she actually looked at him, right into his eyes.
Jalen suddenly felt a rush of fear thinking what if she recognized him from the video—even with the VR headset on, what if she knew it was him? Her eyes cut away.
“Oh god,” Jalen muttered, somewhat breathless. “I thought she’d recognized me from Encyte’s video.”
“Impossible. Play it cool,” Wyatt coached.
“I’m trying,” Jalen whispered, trying to calm his breath and not stare. The girl was fashionable in a damaged way—dark glasses, ripped T-shirt, and thick leather jewelry. Tough and a little boyish, but cute.
“Now get ready to play,” Wyatt’s voice came in. “Once you switch headsets, I’ll still be able to break in.”
Jalen looked over and spotted Wyatt in the crowd and nodded. “Better act like a true fan if you’re gonna wear that outfit … you know, cheer or something.”
“Woooo,” Wyatt mocked.
Jalen stealthily removed the earbud and slipped on the large gaming headset. He glanced over as Hi Kyto took her seat. Oh my god. He could smell her lip gloss. It was strawberry or something. That should be a violation. She smelled so good. He tried not to stare, but up close, the girl was utterly beautiful. Perfect skin, red lips, long dark eyelashes—a body that belonged not in Gadget, but on the cover of Vogue. The baggy outfits and the surly attitude were pieces of armor to conceal a porcelain doll.
Just as Wyatt had warned him, Hi Kyto stretched her fingers and popped her neck, looking neither right nor left. “How am I supposed to engage with this?” Jalen muttered. He didn’t consider himself an unfriendly person, but flirting definitely wasn’t his strong suit.
“Just think about the game,” Wyatt coached.
“Okay,” Jalen said, closing his eyes. Hi Kyto is playing on the left, so she’ll pick first. She’s comfortable with Guile, but at public events, she usually reps female, so maybe she’ll go with Rose …
Just then, the announcers began to fire up the lights and music. Jalen looked up at the screen where Hi Kyto was choosing her player. Scrolling, scrolling.
“Ahh, Akuma!” one of the announcers said as Hi Kyto stopped on the huge, devil-looking dude with purple pants and red hair that looked like a lion’s mane. “Somewhat unexpected for Hi Kyto, but she likes to keep us on our toes,” he said with the enthusiasm of a football announcer. “Get ready to see some demon flips!”
All around, the fans went wild, but Jalen kept his eyes on his own screen, moving the joystick until he settled on the one he wanted.
“Cammy!” the other announcer bellowed into his microphone. “CV_kyd also making a surprising choice.”
Jalen glanced at Wyatt as his chosen character filled the screen—long braids, a leotard, muscle-y bare limbs. “Okay, dude,” Wyatt said into Jalen’s earpiece. “I’m all for girl power, but this match is shaping up to look like beauty versus the beast.”
“What I like about Cammy—” the announcer said to the roaring crowd.
“Aside from the fact that she gets buffer every season?” the other announcer interrupted with a chuckle.
“Exactly, but aside from great movement speed, she’s got good pressure with throws…”
“Just trust me,” Jalen muttered to Wyatt, pushing past the chatter around him.
“I do, buddy,” Wyatt said. “Good luck.”
In the distinguished history of the EVO championship, few head-to-heads had been over so quickly. Jalen did his part, wielding Cammy with a flurry of scissor kicks and lightning bolts as Hi Kyto’s lion-demon man throttled CV_kyd in front of the bloodthirsty audience. In the corner of his eye, Jalen could see Hi Kyto, one hand toggling the joystick and the other hovering, working the half dozen buttons with more precision than a concert pianist.
The first round was over in a matter of seconds, the screen flashing the letters K.O. as his character lay dead. For the second round, there was little improvement. Jalen got a couple of good hits in, but the truth of the matter was Hi Kyto was playing much better than she did in the YouTube videos Darsie had shown him on the train. It didn’t matter what character Jalen chose, his fighting avatar, Cammy, was a sitting duck.
“Oh my god! Full-meter burn!” The first announcer laughed. “Hi Kyto is brutal!”
“I know, I know,” the second announcer chimed in. “My goodness. How many times can one man’s heart break?”
After the game, Hi Kyto stepped up on stage for the medal ceremony. She received the clear glass championship trophy and promptly hugged it to her chest.
“Hi Kyto, congrats on another successful tournament,” a moderator said. “Anything you’d like to say?”
“Well, there were some good rounds.” Hi Kyto raised up on her tiptoes to speak into the microphone. “Aside from CV_kyd, which was a total waste of time.”
Ohhhhh, the crowd said in unison, swamping Jalen with a tidal wave of boos. From the side of the stage, he felt his face burning with their stares.
“All right, everyone,” the announcer said as the music began blaring and the heavy TV cameras panned the stage. “Why don’t we give Capcom a hand and our competitors a hand. Thank you all for a wonderful event, and we look forward to seeing you next year!” he said as the fireworks rocketed on stage and the heavy metal band took their place again.
Jalen, still reeling from his public burn, forgot for an instant his one objective and caught the girl’s arm as she stepped off stage.
“What was that for?” he blurted. “You know what, you’re full of it. Maybe you’re a queen in this weird little world, but I know a place where girls half your size would eat you alive in real life, not on this silly virtual one.” He motioned to the screen that took up the wall behind them, where Hi Kyto’s face loomed.
She stared a moment, stunned behind her glasses. “If it’s so silly,” she said slowly, “then why are you here?”
“Because I thought it was fun, until I had the misfortune of playing with you.” Jalen turned and stormed toward the exit, furious at the girl, at the game, at Wyatt for getting him into this mess.
“Woah, dude,” Wyatt’s voice popped in Jalen’s headset. “Not cool. Can you slow down?”
Jalen turned around and saw Wyatt bumping through the crowd behind him, his red service cap askew, but Jalen kept walking toward the exit. “I tried. It didn’t work. I need a minute.”
“Jalen—” Wyatt said, but Jalen pulled the hidden earpiece from his ear and did not look back. He found the baggage check and threw the ticket at the man. “I’m sorry,” he said, quickly realizing what he had done. He paid for his backpack and gave the guy an extra five bucks.
“It’s okay,” the guy said. “It’s hard to lose.”
“Yeah. No kidding.”
Unsure what to do, Jalen charged out of the casino and into the bright sunshine. He tilted his face, already feeling free of the cavernous space, the pulse of the casino. He walked off the Strip, looking to get away from the action—thinking, fuming, until he found a rare park in Vegas. There was an abandoned basketball by a picnic table, and he went over and picked it up and began dribbling around the court. Beyond the tables and the hoop, he noticed a painted brick building. The brick wall was actually a colorful mural, a love offering from a couple of artistic EVO superfans. It was several minutes of free throws before Jalen realized that the backdrop of his shooting—the mural—contained the faces of several professional gamers, and there, right in the middle of them—the thick glasses, intelligent eyes looking out through the lens—was Hi Kyto herself.
He began throwing up the ball with more fervor than before. Over and over, he fired—the more he shot, the slower his breathing became; his frustration started to subside and an almost meditative calm dropped over him.
It was nearly dusk when he heard a girl’s voice behind him. “Can I try?”
Startled, he dropped the ball and it bounced, then rolled to the grass at the side of the court.
He turned, surprised to find Hi Kyto herself, standing shyly in the shadow of her own giant image. Everything about her—even her voice—had softened. “I guess.” Jalen shrugged.
She picked up the ball that had stopped at her feet.
Jalen watched as she walked to the white line, her eyes squinting first at the ball, then back at Jalen, then at the net. Her determined tongue resting in the corner of her mouth as she aimed and heaved the ball from her shoulders, and the ball went sailing into the chain-link fence.
It was all Jalen could do not to laugh. It was truly the worst shot he had ever seen. With the greatest amount of effort.
“Gotta try that again.” She awkwardly scooped up the ball and again shot with so much force that she knocked her glasses off her face. The next time, instead of shooting from her shoulders, she shot from her chest. The ball went slightly higher, but bricked off the backboard and nearly hit her in the nose.
She picked up her glasses and turned to Jalen. “Well, how the heck do you do this?”
Jalen laughed. “Lemme show you.” He picked up the ball and dribbled around her. “Okay, first thing you need is a shooting position.”
Her right eyebrow arched and her nose crinkled. “Like this?” She shifted. Her feet side by side, shoulders slumped.
“Never mind, let’s start with the basics. How ’bout this … Stand like you’re going to throw a baseball.”
She shot another incredulous look.
“Never played baseball, either?”
Hi Kyto shook her head. “One time I was asked to throw a pitch at a Giants game,” she offered.
“How’d it go?”
“I declined.”
“So you’re not a sports person.”
“Not the ones in the real world,” she said in a mocking tone.
“Yeah, sorry about that. Guess I was a little harsh.”
“I asked for it.” She looked up at the mural. The sunlight was almost completely gone behind the wall. “Gaming is a very male-dominated world, you know.”
“I saw some girls today.”
“Sure, but all of us have had to fight hard for it. Those dorks you see, they’re more macho than most frat boys. If you don’t have an attitude, they’ll run you right over.”
“What about the guys who just wanna be nice to you?”
Again Hi Kyto crinkled her nose incredulously.
“You know,” Jalen said. “Someone just trying to make conversation.”
“You mean flirting with me?”
Jalen could feel himself blushing. “Whatever. Don’t worry about it.” He shook his head. “Now, stance. Here we go. Bend your knees slightly, put your right foot forward and your left foot back.” Jalen stepped toward her. “Are you right-handed?”
“Ambidextrous when I play video games and when I write—” she said.
“Okay.” Jalen tucked the ball under his arm and stepped away from the goal. “Come over here. First I want to show you how to make contact with the ball.”
Hi Kyto stood in front of the wall and Jalen stood behind her. “When you shoot, your right hand is going to do the work and your left hand is going to guide. You see, you were shooting from your core, but you want to have some give in your legs…” Jalen said, bending his knees like he was on a springboard.
“Are you, like, a sports star or something?”
“No.” Jalen laughed. “But both of my parents were…” Jalen thought about how much he wanted to reveal. He and Wyatt had worked on a backstory for this cover that was close to his real life but without details that would reveal who he was … “Pretty athletic.”
“Like college level?”
“Yeah. For a bit. They always wanted to make it to the pros. Still do.”
“What sports?”
“Football and tennis.”
“And you didn’t play either of them?”
“Nah.” Jalen passed the ball from hand to hand. “But I always liked basketball. Never told my dad, though. If he knew I had any interest, he’d have me in camps night and day. He’d hire a private coach and be stressing about my play all the time.”
“I get it. I mean, the Chens, we are more mental athletes…”
Jalen raised his eyebrows.
“I just mean,” she stammered, “both of my parents are genius professors … It’s part of why I started playing games. To escape their expectations … the pressure … Okay, so show me.”
Jalen smiled. She was nervous, suddenly vulnerable. “So put your right foot slightly forward.” He stopped her. “Don’t look at your hand. Look where you’re going. Right at the net.”
“Okay,” Hi Kyto said, and again the concentration dropped over her face and she stuck her tongue in the corner of her mouth. She shot, and the ball arched perfectly through the net.
“Yes! Oh my gosh,” Hi Kyto beamed. “I’ve never done that before. You just made me an athlete.”
“You know.” Jalen grinned. “You’re kinda strange.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you just won a hundred thousand dollars in the EVO championship and didn’t seem half as excited as you did for one little shot.”
“A hundred and fifty thousand dollars,” she corrected. “Want me to buy you dinner?”