11
ICIC
A small, private bus waited for them outside the terminal. Sam wanted to ask whether anyone else saw the irony in the short bus picking up the kid geniuses, but she decided to keep the thought to herself.
Kaitlyn climbed in first, sitting two rows behind the driver. When Daniel stopped to hand over her backpack, she patted the seat next to her. He didn’t have to be asked twice. Roman sat across from them, trying to stay near Miss Williams, and Mackenzie slid in behind him.
“You want something to do?” she asked. “I have a tablet in here if you want to borrow it. I was just gonna mess with my phone.”
Roman looked over curiously. “You have any games?”
She turned it on and flipped to a page full of them.
“Knock yourself out.” She dangled the tablet over the back of his seat. He looked up at her hopefully but still didn’t reach for it.
“Play anything you want,” she said. “For real. There’s nothing you can mess up on there. I promise.”
With a grin, Roman took the tablet and started looking through the games.
Sam wasn’t excited about sitting behind the two love birds, but she didn’t feel like sitting close to Mackenzie either. In the end, she sat two rows behind Kaitlyn, opening her bag and pulling out a tablet of her own.
Rush boarded last, walking all the way to the back. The row behind Sam was a whole row of five seats at the very rear of the bus, and he slid into the seat farthest from Sam’s, farthest from everyone, tossing his backpack on the seat next to him like a barricade, crossing his arms over his chest, leaning into the corner, and closing his eyes.
“That’s everyone,” Miss Williams said to the driver, and she took the front window seat, directly in front of Kaitlyn, who smiled at her warmly.
The driver closed the door, and they were on their way.
• • •
Rush pulled out his phone, tempted to check in with his team, but he didn’t have the heart for it. He knew he couldn’t bear the long pauses, waiting for them to reach a break between games to answer his messages, knowing they were playing without him.
Just a couple of weeks ago, he was ready to grab his future in both hands, and now here he was, watching it slip through his fingers. He wanted to throw the phone as hard as he could against the wall of the bus, to feel the primal satisfaction of watching it shatter into a thousand pieces, but he fought to control the impulse, crossing his arms back across his chest and waiting for the urge to pass.
He must have let the temptation show because the Sam girl glanced up at him as though he had startled her. Their eyes met for a long moment before she turned away, obviously embarrassed. It was too bad, really. She had a cute, gamer girl kind of look about her, with the blue streaks in her hair and her big, bluish-green anime eyes. It was the kind of look he would have been into if he wasn’t dead set against having anything to do with this stupid program.
Besides, if he really let his guard down with anyone they might figure out that he didn’t belong here at all—that he had just filled in the blanks randomly on that stupid test—and if he got sent home, his father would sell his whole gaming setup for real. His only hope was that his mother might still try to interfere for him. Uncrossing his arms, he woke his phone up and sent her a text.
Please talk to Dad. I miss you. I want to come home.
It was only a few moments before he received her reply.
Not tonight. He had a terrible day at the office. Give him a few days to cool down. I’ll talk to him then. Love you.
It was a long shot, but it was the best he could do.
Thanks, Mom. Love you, too.
He slipped the phone back into his backpack, grabbed a spare sweatshirt, stuffed it behind his head, and closed his eyes again. All he could do now was wait.
• • •
When he woke up, the sky outside was dark, and the bus was turning into a long driveway. The building up ahead looked like the five-star resort version of a log cabin, the exterior lights arranged artfully to show off tall windows, timber framing, and a high, steep roofline that soared above them.
“Wow!” Kaitlyn said, stretching and craning her neck around Miss Williams to see it better as they drove up. “Is that for us?”
“It is!” Miss Williams confirmed. “Welcome to the ICIC. Check your seats for your things, but don’t worry if you forget something. The bus belongs to the program, so it will be here on site.”
The students gathered their belongings, Roman returning the tablet to Mackenzie with a shy look of gratitude and Sam packing hers back in her own bag. One by one they filed off the bus, locating the rest of their luggage by the curb and then grouping up by the entrance.
“OK, everyone,” Miss Williams said, “follow me.”
They walked through the front doors into a large gathering room, complete with tables and chairs for eating, several couches for lounging, and a huge, round fireplace in the center. An inviting fire leaped cheerfully behind its curved glass.
“I’m sure you’re all tired,” she continued. “Let’s get you up to your rooms, so you can settle in. There will be plenty of time tomorrow to explore.”
They followed her up a wide, curving staircase to the left of the front doors. Both the stairs and the upstairs hallway were covered in a plush, burgundy carpet of which Mackenzie Gray wholeheartedly approved. As they walked down the hall, they passed an ornate wooden door on their right.
“I’ll be staying in this suite if you need anything,” Miss Williams said. “Don’t bother knocking on that first door. Just walk right in. My room is the middle one. The other rooms are empty, so you needn’t worry about disturbing anyone else. You’ll see what I mean in a minute.”
They continued down the hall until they reached another door, also on the right. This time Miss Williams opened it, and she ushered everyone into a kind of living room.
It had a flat-screen television on the wall next to the door, with a console table underneath it and a couch and coffee table across from it. To the left was a small kitchen—differentiated from the living room by a countertop and a pricey tile floor. To the right was a laundry area with sheets, towels, and blankets stacked neatly on the shelves. Three bedrooms opened off the common space: one from the kitchen, one from the laundry, and one from the living room.
“This suite is just like mine. Each of you will have his or her own bedroom, and you’ll share these common spaces. Each bedroom has its own bath. Meals will be downstairs in the main hall, but there are plenty of drinks and snacks here in the suite kitchens. Help yourselves to anything. It’s all free as part of the program. This suite is for the girls. Feel free to settle in while I show the boys to theirs, which is the next one down the hall.”
Miss Williams and the boys all filed out, leaving the girls to unpack.
Kaitlyn immediately started rummaging through the suite, opening all the cabinet doors and looking into every nook and cubbyhole she could find.
“Look! Blu-rays!” she said, opening one of the console table doors. “Hey, there are some good ones in here… mostly rom-coms. They must have known this would be the girls’ suite, right? Oh! And a Blu-ray player! That’s convenient…” She closed the console and headed for the kitchen.
Sam raised an eyebrow and looked at Mackenzie as though to say, “Is this girl for real?” Mackenzie shrugged, holding back an uncharacteristic giggle.
“Oh, sweet! Cereal! Lots of kinds, too. I totally love cereal. Like, you have no idea. I’m a cereal nut. Well, not cereal with nuts, though. I’m not a big fan of nuts. Oh! And instant oatmeal! And coffee? Blech, who likes coffee?”
“I like coffee,” Sam and Mackenzie both volunteered at the same time, each turning to the other in surprise.
“Ugh! You guys can have it,” Kaitlyn said, not breaking stride. “Wait, tell me there’s milk for the cereal… yes! Milk. Good.” She continued listing the contents of the fridge and the cabinets in an unbroken litany.
“It’s like she’s a kitchen announcer,” Sam said to Mackenzie. “You know, like a sports announcer, but for kitchens.”
“Yeah,” Mackenzie agreed. “She should sell groceries on one of those shopping channels.”
“OMG, totally,” Sam replied. “Look at this beautiful cereal, people! I wish you could taste this at home, and smell the cinnamon, and run it through your fingers, just to get the full sensory experience! You simply must have a box for yourself! You haven’t lived until you’ve tried this cereal!”
Mackenzie and Sam both broke down laughing.
“I can hear you, you know,” Kaitlyn said, but it only made them laugh harder because she didn’t otherwise pause at all in her ongoing inventory. After listing all of her food finds, she moved into the bedroom off the kitchen, and they could hear her voice drifting back to them through the open door.
“Hey, there are books in here!” she called out. “Like, some paperbacks. We can trade back and forth, OK? I mean, assuming we have different ones. And notebooks and pens. And a computer desk. No television in the bedroom, but this window is gigantic! Oh, sweet! The bathroom has little soaps and shampoos and stuff! Like a hotel!” Her voice was even more muffled in the bathroom, but suddenly she came running back out into the suite again.
“Hey!” she said, making sure she had the attention of both girls, as if there were any chance she might not. “I call dibs on the bedroom off the kitchen!”
“Why?” Sam wanted to know. “What’s so special in there?”
“’Cause it’s closest to the kitchen?” she replied, looking confused. “I thought that was obvious.”
Sam and Mackenzie burst into another fit of laughter.
“It’s yours,” Sam assured her.
“Sweet!” Kaitlyn exclaimed, and she went running back into her bedroom again.
“You want center or laundry?” Mackenzie asked, turning toward Sam.
“You don’t care?”
“Nah,” Mackenzie said, waving the question away. “I sleep like a log. You could blast a movie in here or do laundry in there at 3:00 a.m. It won’t wake me up.”
“Um, middle, I guess?” Sam said. “If you’re sure you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind,” Mackenzie assured her, smiling. Huh. Maybe we can be friends, after all, she thought. And she picked up her bags, carrying them through the laundry room and into the bedroom that would be hers for the rest of the summer.
• • •
Settling the boys into their suite was a much quieter affair, the two older boys letting Roman have the middle room by unspoken agreement, Rush ferreting himself away into the laundry-side bedroom and Daniel taking the kitchen.
“Be sure to be downstairs in the main hall by 9:00 a.m. for breakfast and orientation,” Miss Williams said on her way out. “I’ll tell the girls on my way to bed and make sure they’ve settled in OK.”
“Thank you, Miss Williams,” Roman said politely. “We’ll make sure Rush knows.”
“Thank you, Roman,” she replied. “You remember where my room is? In case you need anything? Please don’t be shy about waking me up. It’s my job to make sure you kids are comfortable here.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he affirmed.
“Well, all right. Good night, then,” she said, casting a moment’s worried glance toward Rush’s bedroom but then smiling warmly at Roman and Daniel, who had reappeared after depositing his guitars and amp safely in his bedroom.
“Good night, ma’am,” Roman replied.
“Good night,” Daniel echoed.
“Oh,” Miss Williams said, obviously just remembering something, “and Roman, the food in the kitchen? That’s budgeted, too, like the airport food. OK?”
“OK!” Roman agreed. The door hadn’t even closed behind her before Roman was rummaging around in the kitchen, just to see what was there, while Daniel slid past him and disappeared into his bedroom for the night.
Once Miss Williams was gone, Rush reappeared in the living area with a gaming console that he set beneath the television. Roman watched from the kitchen as Rush began to run his hands along the edges of the screen and then placed his face as close to the wall as he could, trying to see what was behind it.
“Miss Williams said we have breakfast and orientation downstairs at 9:00.”
“I heard,” Rush said.
“What are you doing?”
“This,” Rush replied, without further explanation, but he centered himself in front of the television and pulled it gently away from the wall, having discovered that the set was on a swiveling wall-mount, as he had hoped.
Roman just stared at him in amazement.
“How’d you know it would do that?” Roman wanted to know, but Rush just shrugged.
He disappeared into his room again and came back with two controllers and a headset. He hooked the headset and the console up to the television and then pushed the screen gently back against the wall. Next, he pivoted the console table and found an electrical outlet. He plugged in the console and then moved the table back again. He turned everything on and fiddled with the remote until the picture from the console appeared on the screen.
He grunted, satisfied, but when he tried to go into the system’s network options, he hit a snag.
“Damn,” he said under his breath.
“What’s wrong?” Roman wanted to know.
“No Internet. What kind of five-star resort doesn’t have Internet?”
Roman just shrugged.
Rush disappeared again and came back this time with a small, flat box. He hit a button on it, and a green light started flashing, but after a few moments Rush frowned and disappeared one more time.
He cursed then, loudly, and he reemerged from the room with a scowl on his face. Roman watched him carefully, but no bees came peeking out of his ears, nor did any of his beautiful silver armor start glowing red, so he decided it was safe enough to try another question.
“What’s that?” he asked, pointing to the box.
“Hot spot,” Rush said, and then, seeing Roman’s hopeful expression and relenting a little, he added, “It takes a cell signal, like for your phone, and turns it into an Internet wi-fi that other things can hook up to.”
“Really?” Roman asked, impressed. “Like for your game?”
“Well, it’s supposed to, yeah. Only, it’s not.”
“Why not?” Roman wanted to know.
“No cell service.” Rush held up his cell phone. “No signal, no Internet. I swear, we must be in freaking Timbuktu.”
“Where’s that?”
Rush chuckled a little. “I don’t know. Someplace really far away.”
“Oh,” Roman said.
“Well, a place like this has to have some kind of Internet,” Rush said, mostly to himself. “I’ll ask them about it tomorrow. Meantime, I’ll have to play offline, I guess.”
Roman just shrugged and kept looking at him, having nothing else to say.
“You want to play?” Rush asked.
“Who, me?”
“Yeah, you. Why not?”
“I don’t really know how to play,” Roman admitted. He had tried it once or twice when his mother had made Marquon share the system, but the bees had been so angry that Roman had handed the controller back as soon as she had stopped paying attention.
“That’s OK. I can teach you.”
“OK,” Roman agreed. “I won’t talk, I promise.”
“What?”
“I won’t talk to you while you’re playing. So I won’t make you die.”
“Kid, listen, not to brag or anything, cause it’s just fact, but there are very few people in the whole world who could kill me just cause you said something during the game.”
“My brother gets mad when I talk. He says I get him killed.”
“Well, nothing against your brother, but if talking gets your brother killed a lot, then he’s not very good.”
“He thinks he’s good.”
“He’s not,” Rush said.
Roman was quiet for a moment, taking this in.
“OK, so you ready?” But the question was apparently rhetorical because he didn’t stop for an answer. “I’ll unplug my headset so we can both hear. We’ll just have to keep the TV down some.”
“Sure,” Roman said, happy to follow Rush’s lead.
“Sweet. OK, so we’re playing HRT Alpha: Year One. It’s not even out yet. Pretty cool, right?”
Roman nodded. That did seem pretty cool.
“The best game mode is called ‘Light It Up.’ I’ll teach you that one.”
Roman nodded again. “OK!” And the grin on his face was suddenly so big that Rush couldn’t help but smile back at him.
• • •
It took Roman several games to get the hang of it, while Rush patiently ran through the weapon choices and helped him learn the maps, showing him some hiding places and helping him understand how players were likely to move on each one. This one had a bottleneck here. That one had a wide-open space with no good cover there. Rush was impressed with how quickly Roman was picking up on things, so he finally suggested that they play one against each other, with some computer-generated bots on each team, just to make it more fun.
“You’ll kill me like every two seconds,” Roman protested.
“I probably could if I was really trying,” Rush admitted, chuckling, “but I’m not going to go all out on you, OK? I just want you to get the feel of playing against someone else, ’cause it’s more exciting than only playing against bots.”
“OK,” Roman agreed.
They started the game, and Roman had to admit that just knowing Rush was out there somewhere, hunting him, was kind of scary, which made the game more exciting already. When Roman found him, Rush let him have a straight-up shoot-out instead of doing anything to protect himself like dropping to the ground or throwing out grenades. Rush still got the kill because Roman’s aim wasn’t that good yet, but it was close, and Rush encouraged him.
“That was good, man! You see that? You almost got me!”
Roman grinned and ran out from the spawn point again, ready for action. Roman got a few kills on the bots while Rush practiced some of his faster moves against the bots on Roman’s team.
“You’re doing great,” Rush said about halfway through the game. “If you ask me, playing bots can be harder than playing real people. Bots are less predictable, you know? The AI is never as good as a human brain, so they do stupid things you don’t expect.”
Just then, Rush ran around a corner and slammed into Roman, who had been standing in the middle of an alley looking at his weapon options. Roman panicked so badly that he dropped a sticky grenade on the ground right on Rush’s foot, completely by accident, and Rush was laughing so hard that it killed him before he could compose himself enough to react.
Roman looked at Rush in wide-eyed terror.
How could he have been so stupid? How could he have gotten so caught up in the game that he forgot to keep his head down and stay out of trouble? Now Rush was going to be mad and hate him and never be his friend again.
“I’m sorry!” Roman blurted out.
But no angry red bees flew at his head. No punches flew at his ribs. Rush just sat there, staring at him in confusion.
“For what?”
“For killing you,” Roman said, his voice small and uncertain.
But Rush only laughed. “Dude, that’s the point of the game! You got me! Good job!”
Roman just stared at him, still coming down from the shock of it, and Rush watched him for a few moments in silence.
“OK, I’ll tell you what,” Rush said gently. “It’s getting kind of late. And you’re probably just getting tired. Why don’t you call it for the night? But now that you’ve gotten your first official kill, I can’t let you crash until we give you a tag.”
“A tag?” Roman asked, glad for the distraction, as Rush pulled them out of the game.
“Yeah, a gamer tag. It’s like a nickname. It’s what other gamers call you.”
“Oh,” Roman said. “OK. What should mine be?”
“Well, that’s what we have to figure out. It should kind of capture you, you know? Like who you are. What’s your favorite thing to do? Besides dropping grenades on my foot, I mean.”
Roman laughed and felt a little more of his tension drain away.
“I like drawing,” Roman admitted shyly. “You wanna see?”
“Sure!” Rush said.
So Roman went and got his light sketchpad. Rush started flipping through the pages, expecting nothing more than a little kid’s awkward renditions of houses and cars and trees, but he slowed down almost immediately, amazed at the seamless blending of realism and imagination.
“Who’s this?” he asked, pointing at a young girl standing in a ray of mottled sunshine, with translucent fairy wings growing out of her back. Even drawn in black and white, somehow the feel of summer—of sunshine and forest and green leaves filtering the light through a vibrant, living canopy—came through perfectly.
“That’s my sister, Shaquiya.” He pronounced the middle syllable like the word ‘why’ with a k in front of it: Shuh-KWHY-uh.
“She’s beautiful,” Rush told him.
“She is,” Roman confirmed.
“Yeah, OK, so we definitely have to make it something about drawing. But a gamer tag has to sound cool, too. So we can’t just call you ‘Draw.’ Art… no… pencils… pens… paper…”
As he continued with the word associations, Rush closed the pad in his hands, preparing to hand it back to Roman, and noticed for the first time the lettering on the cover: ‘Sketchpad.’
“Sketch!” Rush crowed triumphantly. “That’s it. That’s totally it. You like it?”
Roman loved it. He had never liked his real name very much anyway, and to have this boy, this young man, really, who was everything his older brother wanted to be but wasn’t, give him this name as a friend, to make him, essentially, part of his own tribe… well, Roman was speechless with joy. He just nodded his head vigorously, grinning from ear to ear.
“Looks like a ‘yes’ to me,” Rush laughed. “Sketch it is!”
Roman just sat there staring up at him, the young man worshipping the accomplished warrior, until Rush started feeling embarrassed enough to try to send him off to bed.
“OK then, Sketch. You about ready to crash out, man?”
“Yeah,” Sketch admitted.
“All right, buddy. I’ll see you in the morning, OK?
“’K,” Sketch said. He got up off the couch and headed back to his room, but he had only been there a few minutes before he knew for an absolute fact that he was not going to be able to sleep somewhere this silent, this lonely—not after sharing a bedroom with an infant in a thin-walled house with five other people besides.
He got up and padded back out to the living room, dragging the blanket from his bed behind him.
“Something wrong, Sketch?” Rush asked.
“It’s too quiet.”
“Oh. Yeah, I gotcha. You want to crash out here a while? I’ll be up playing a bit longer. Maybe it’ll help you sleep.”
Without saying a word, Sketch dragged the blanket onto the couch and curled up beneath it, placing the pillow from the end of the couch up against Rush’s leg, laying his head on top of it, and then promptly passing out from exhaustion.
Rush leaned back and stared at him in surprise, but eventually he just shrugged, letting the little guy sleep there while he practiced HRT Alpha: Year One, keeping his skills sharp and praying that his mother could get him back home before the August invitational.