Multiplayer (12 page)

“But I was going to study.”

His mom turned off the engine. “You think I’m stupid, don’t you?” Then she growled, “Get out of the car.”

They set up alongside a green field as smooth as carpet and awash in late summer sun. Hector’s mom struck up a conversation with other parents, as Hector looked for somewhere else to go. Another teenager, similarly sentenced to a Saturday of boredom, sat nearby in a folding chair with her legs drawn up. She was thin and had platinum hair bobbed off short. She looked directly at Hector as if she knew him and opened her mouth to speak. But he was in no mood for introductions, not even to a cute girl like this, so he turned away.

The first half looked like two packs of dogs fighting over a rabbit carcass. He hadn’t played soccer in a while but was used to a very high level of play. At halftime, he strode onto the field with a ball where he kicked at the goal and did some juggling tricks, almost wishing he were with Deion. When the second half started, he sat back down on the grass and sulked. His mom’s phone showed the Bayern score was 2-2 with ten minutes left to go. As exciting a game as could be wished for, and he was sentenced to watch this crap.

“You’re pretty good,” said a voice, and Hector spun around. The blonde-haired girl was standing there with the sun shining behind her. He noticed, then, that only the top layer of her hair was blond and that the layers underneath were jet black. “You should play on a team.”

“Too much travel,” Hector stammered, shielding his eyes from the light and thinking that her hair, while a little weird, was kind of… nice.

“But you’re here.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I noticed.”

“You don’t recognize me, do you?”

Now he really felt uncomfortable. “Should I?”

She sat down next to him on the grass and smiled, sending a little tingle through Hector’s gut. He’d remember that smile if he’d ever seen it. And the hair. And the eyes which were deep brown and bottomless. “I’m in your math class,” she said, and Hector wracked his brain. “And your history class.” He squirmed with embarrassment and felt beads of sweat break out on his back. “And your English class.”

“I’m really sorry,” he finally admitted, feeling ten times a fool, but he had never seen this girl. “I haven’t been here that long …” he shrugged. “It’s my first year.”

“Sabrah Moody?” she said, seeming a little embarrassed.

“Sabrah!” he exclaimed, and thought to himself, Sabrah didn’t look this good. At least not the Sabrah he’d seen at school. “I didn’t recognize you without- without the uh –”

“Makeup?”

“And earrings, and… Yeah. And, your hair. It’s –”

“Blonde!” she laughed again. “It’s closer to my natural color anyway.”

“I like it,” he said, strangely warm inside. “Especially the dark, underneath. Very –” He wanted to say sexy but came up instead with, “chic. So what are you doing here?”

“My little sister plays on your little sister’s team.”

“I’ve never seen you at any of the games.”

“You haven’t been to any of the games.”

Hector thought for a moment and a pang of guilt touched him. “I guess you’re right.”

“So how’s algebra?” she asked quickly. “That test was pretty tough. I only got a ninety-two.”

Only a ninety-two, thought Hector dejectedly, and decided to just lay it out there. “I’m flunking.”

“What?” She seemed genuinely surprised. “But you’re smart. And it’s not that hard.”

He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it matters, Hector. If I were flunking, I’d die.”

“I’ll probably just wind up getting killed like my dad, anyway.”

He heard her quick intake of breath and she didn’t say anything for a moment. Then she said quietly, “I heard your dad got killed in Iraq.”

He nodded woodenly. “And I’m going into the Army like him so I’ll probably get killed too.”

“You don’t have to go into the Army. You could do something else.”

“What else is there?” Hector answered, realizing he didn’t even know what else he might do. He’d never thought about it. “You know what they say, ‘like father like son.’”

“I don’t want to be anything like my dad,” she said quietly. Hector looked quickly over at her and saw that her head was hanging down with sheets of silver and black hair framing her ivory face like a manga drawing. “I hate him.”

This was inconceivable to Hector. “How could you hate your dad? My dad was the coolest person I’ve ever known.”

“My parents are divorced,” she said reluctantly, picking at blades of grass. “Do we have to talk about this?”

“You brought it up.”

“Well, I wish I hadn’t.”

On the field, one of the girls on the other team caught a ball in her own penalty box and she wasn’t the goalie. A few parents laughed, a few screamed angrily, as the referee blew his whistle and awarded a penalty kick. Sabrah’s sister Caitlynn scored, giving their team the lead. All the little girls jumped up and down like pink bunny-rabbits.

“Did you hear about Sanjar’s dad?” she said.

“Yeah, that was pretty amazing,” he said, but didn’t look at her. “A terrorist. Who’d have thought?”

“He’s no terrorist,” she said solidly. “He owns the
Gas-N-Go
, and he’s really nice. Some racist warmonger probably turned him in. Some dork who thinks anyone with brown skin and a moustache must have an explosives belt strapped around his waist. Lot of people like that around.”

Hector laughed weakly. “Well, we’ll see. I’m sure they’ll investigate.”

They watched the game for a few minutes. The silence was awkward. As attractive as Sabrah was without all the emo-makeup, they weren’t really clicking. Still, Hector liked sitting next to her. There was a gentle breeze and she smelled good. Like… flowers.

“So what do you do for fun?” Sabrah finally asked, with a smile. “If you don’t play soccer anymore. And you don’t care about school. And you hope to die in a war some day.”

Put like that, Hector wondered if maybe his mother wasn’t right. “Have you ever heard of
Omega Wars
?” he asked anyway.

Her eyes lit up. “I play it all the time!”

Hector suddenly felt at ease and gushed about Izaak and Darxhan, Mal-X, Alanya, and the Spartans. Sabrah told him that her favorite character-type was the empath and that she had one named Veyron she was using to try to learn powers – so far unsuccessfully. The empath character-type was supposedly the most powerful in the game, but Hector had never met an empath that could do anything. Still, he agreed that the idea was interesting, even if the sensor headset made you look goofy.

“Can I ask you something?” Hector said, as the referee blew the whistle to end the game. He felt like he could talk to this girl. That she was ridiculously good looking didn’t hurt either. And this was fresh on his mind.

“Okay.”

“What do you think is the worst thing that can happen to you?”

Sabrah frowned in surprise, and Hector suspected she might have been expecting him to ask her on a date. “I guess when your favorite character gets killed and goes to replication.”

Hector laughed. “Sorry. This isn’t
Omega
. I mean in real life. It’s something my mom was telling me last night when she was chewing me out. She said dying isn’t the worst thing that can happen to you. Or flunking algebra.”

Sabrah frowned again. “I guess it would be worse to get some terrible disease. But that probably isn’t what she was talking about. I don’t know. Maybe to be really fat. Like five hundred pounds. Or be blind. Or fat
and
blind.
And
diseased.” She eyed him closely. They were really pretty eyes, thought Hector. “What about you, Hector? What do you think is worst?”

This was an easy one. He’d seen it. “Getting your head cut off and having the video posted on the internet.”

She winced. “Yeah, that’s pretty bad.”

“I’ve seen it,” he said, remembering the screams.

They walked out into the parking lot together, trailing their mothers, and sisters, and grandparents. “It was nice talking to you,” Hector said, then had a thought. “You want to ride home with us? You could help me with my Algebra.”

Her face brightened for an instant then the corners of her mouth drooped. “I can’t.” Her mother called and she frowned. “We’re going shopping on the way back.”

“Well, have fun,” said Hector, surprised at how disappointed he was. “See you at school?”

“Sure,” she said brightly, and turned to follow her family.

“Sabrah,” Hector suddenly called after her. “We’re playing
Omega
tonight. Why don’t you join us? Clan Spartans.”

She smiled. “Sounds like fun.”

Hector felt his guts squirm, but it was a good squirm. He could like this girl.

“You know Hector,” she said, as they parted. “You probably shouldn’t watch stuff like that on the internet. It might not be good for you.”

Ch. 11

“Mom! Tell Hector to get out of my bathroom,” Helen called down the stairs.

“Hector,” came his mom’s voice. “Get out of your sisters’ bathroom.”

“You can’t let her!” Hector cried, jogging downstairs. “You need to stop her!”

“Stop what?” Mom asked, as Hector trotted in.

“She’s going on a date with Shah!”

“Shah’s a nice boy.”

“A nice boy?” Hector asked in disbelief. “Mom! Do you hear yourself? His dad’s a terrorist. The FBI arrested him. He’d locked up.”

“Do you ever want to play that game of yours again?” his mother asked sweetly. “Ever in your pitiful life? I don’t care what your doctor said, Hector. Shut up and help me unload the car.”

“What’s this?” his mother suddenly asked. She set the cooler on the table and picked up a large padded envelope.

Helen came around the corner, casually inserting earrings. “That came in the mail today. It’s addressed to the dork.”

“Helen,” his mother snapped.

“Sorry. The putz.”

“
Helen!
”

She handed the package to Hector and he read the label:
WorldSoccerShop.com
. His eyes lit up. “My new Inter jersey!” He ripped the package open and pulled the shirt on.

“You look like a crusader,” Helen said with a frown and a tone to match.

Hector’s smile reached across his face. “Isn’t it awesome?” The jersey was solid white with a huge, red Templar cross that spanned the entire front of the shirt and reached from neckline to hem.

“What is that?” said his mother.

“Inter Milan away jersey,” Hector said proudly, sticking his chest out.

“Italian soccer?” asked his mother. “I thought you were a Bundesliga fan.”

“Oh I still am. I saw them playing on TV the other day and loved the jersey.” Of course, what he really wanted to do was wear it around Sanjar. Now, since his dad had been arrested for terrorism, it was going to be even more fun.

They finished unloading the minivan from the soccer trip and after dinner Hector logged on to
Omega Wars
. He’d sent a message out to some friends asking if they’d join him and Darxhan on a new quest.

“Did you hear about Sanjar’s dad?” was the first thing Darxhan said when he and Izaak linked up in their hidden basement.

“Yes, yes, yes,” bubbled Hector. “There’s been FBI guys over at his house like, all day.”

“Do you think he’s a terrorist?”

“Yes.”

“You do?” Darxhan sounded surprised.

Mistake, thought Hector, not wanting any kind of trail back to himself. “I have no idea. But if he is, isn’t it a good thing he got caught?”

“Man, that would be pretty weird. Your next door neighbor! A terrorist! Who’d have thought?”

“Can we just play the game?” snapped Izaak with a sudden pang of guilt that both surprised and angered him. What he’d done was heroic. So, why did it embarrass him?

After unlocking the basement door in Alanya, Izaak and Darxhan ascended the narrow, concrete steps and studied the deserted debris field that seemed to stretch in every direction.

“So, did you tell everyone about Sabrah?” asked Darxhan. “Your German friends aren’t too fond of empaths. Or newbs. I think an empathic newb would probably –”

The sound of German swearing came from the stairwell and a second later a head and massive shoulders emerged. It was BayernFC. “Could you have made the door smaller, Hector?” The huge body beneath the head barely fit. Right behind him was his brother, L3r0y J3nk1ns, who also commented on the tight squeeze. Both were heavy-duty mercs like Darxhan, except that BayernFC was an enhanced human and L3r0y was a cylork – a cybernetic thork. They were friends of Hector from when he’d lived in Germany. Their father was an American soldier and their mother was German, though they currently lived in the U.S. Both tended to speak with German accents, partly because their mother was German but, Hector suspected, mostly because they liked the way it sounded. When they weren’t fighting each other, they were almost unbeatable in both
Omega Wars
and on the soccer field.

“So, who’s this empath,” asked BayernFC.

“We don’t need no steenkeeng empaths,” echoed L3r0y. They both sounded like miniature Arnold Schwarzeneggers. “And no newbs.”