Three thousand miles away, the same CNN interview played in the small apartment in San Francisco.
Jalen sat on the couch, ice packs draped across his legs and an aspirin bottle and a glass of water beside him. Wyatt watched from the small kitchen as he dumped two pounds of steaming spaghetti into a strainer. He divided it into salad bowls and dropped a half stick of butter into each, sliding one bowl in front of Jalen. “It’s not Mum’s cooking, but eat up. After your triathlon today, you need the calories.”
Jalen normally might have wisecracked, but he stared at the TV, rapt as the interview wound down. “Pedagogical,” he repeated. “Meaning teaching. Hi Kyto’s not a teacher. She’s a student … it just doesn’t fit.”
“Both of her parents are teachers.” Wyatt swirled his spaghetti and shoved a forkful in his mouth. “They’re professors. The gaming angle, the teaching angle, the tech angle. For me, it’s all adding up.”
Jalen leaned forward to pick up the bowl but stopped. “They keep referring to Encyte as male. He does this, he does that. It’s like they know it’s a guy,” he said hopefully.
“They don’t know. They just assume. And I’m damn sure the SecDef and ninety-nine point nine-nine percent of the population isn’t thinking there’s a fourteen-year-old girl behind this.”
“She’s nearly fifteen. Her birthday’s coming up next week. She’s gonna have a boat party and I’m invited.”
“Dude, let’s hope you won’t be here in a week. You gotta keep your head, okay?”
“You said get close. Darsie said get close. I’m doing my job!” Jalen threw his napkin on the counter. “You focus on yours.”
“Yeah, I am,” Wyatt shot back. “It’s called babysitting you.”