Little Squid

Chapter 3

Dear Rory McCaine, we have recently-

Our team just became aware of your arena footage-

Yo, we have donuts and coffee on Sunday and would really love to kick some ass with y-

Delete, delete, delete.

I pressed my body farther into the alcove just beneath the cafe counter, cringing as Claire gave a chipper greeting to another customer, her body sway slightly as she took in the crowd hunched around our little area with ravenous delight.

"Is-"

Claire cut her off, her grin growing brighter. "Little squid, right? Nope, she had to go to the bathroom. Apparently, anxiety really makes her bowels-"

I slammed my palm into her calf ending whatever foul thing she was about to say with a squeal. Her eyes darted to me murderously. If there was one thing that made Claire interesting, it was the general hunger with which she viewed the world around her. The ashy hue of her eyes seemed to take in every small interaction like a child viewing something for the first time. Her energy was infectious. And also exhausting.

"Ma'am?" Her head whipped back to the couple at the counter, tearing away from the silent tug-of-war we were having.

She had been handling all of the curious guests like a bouncer checking I.D.s. Except, in this case, every one of them was fake.

My eyes skidded to the entryway of the kitchen, close but completely in view of anyone who was tall enough to see above the pastry case. Which was most everyone. I gulped, shifting to my knees in the cramped space. Anyone even an inch taller wouldn't have been able to fit into the alcove.

"We'll be back in five!" Claire declared brightly, slamming our hot pink sign down across the register with a finality that was both intimidating and manic. Someone groaned but I shut my eyes, slamming my head against the partition to my left, relief rippling up my spine. I needed a break - and Claire most definitely needed one.

Angry murmurs turned mixed with the sound of shoes shuffling away and then silence. Blissful silence.

Moments after we had opened, people had come rushing in. I had barely had time to check my email before the front area was bombarded. Claire had quickly taken over, allowing me just enough time to duck beneath the counter before anyone had seen me.

Ravin's head popped over the delivery window, her eyes zipping to me before her lips were pulling into a delighted smirk.

There was a perverse fascination that had taken over both of my coworkers - a giddiness that came with being in on a secret.

"You know they won't go away just because we close for a few minutes, right?" The idea didn't seem to phase Claire, her voice going low as she crouched down beside me.

"This is crazy," I breathed, running a hand through the matted mess of my curls. I winced, staring down at the open emails currently spamming my gaming inbox. Too many to count. Too many to ever be able to read. I drew a hand across the screen, flipping to the video that Dalisay had posted. It had been shared over 5 million times - how was that even possible? I gulped, trying to force away some of the dryness.

"You know," Ravin sauntered out of the kitchen, a lollipop held daintily between her teeth. "If you stay hidden down there forever, maybe we can use your mummified remains as a tourist attraction for the Garden. One hit wonder fizzles out in a fit of anxiety and cowardice."

Ouch. That one stung. But that would definitely take care of my eulogy for the day...

I let out a long breath, eyeing the kitchen entry once more. There was a door that exited into the alley. It was an emergency exit but...

"You're right," I muttered, pulling up my hood and stuffing my wallet and phone into my pockets. "Clock out for me?"

"Ro-" I dashed for it, cutting around the kitchen corner and through the racks of bakery doughs until my hands slammed into the panic hardware protecting the exit door.

Alarms blared, shrieking into the still evening like a child that had been woken from sleep.

-----------------------------------

"What did you do?" I groaned, slumping back into my best friend's couch, a headache starting to beat at my skull. Going anywhere but Dalisay's apartment when my world felt so upside down seemed like an act of treason, a federal offense. Like dragging someone in for a crime and taking them in front of a circus performer instead of a judge.

The lanky brunette drifted from one plant to the next, pushing aside vines and foliage and poking a finger into the soft soil beneath. After getting a top-floor apartment in the heart of Seattle, she had quickly filled it with plants, pressing them up against the floor-to-ceiling windows and the balcony that they released to. Coils of green roped across her ceiling, making her living room seem somehow sleek and modern in an oddly eccentric way.

Daintily, she pressed a finger along the sheet mask that she had plastered to her face, smoothing out the edges. "Well, today I woke up and went to get a coffee - They hired this delightful new barista who makes the best-"

"Day," I snarled, whipping around to glare. She gently set her watering can aside, peeling off the face mask with a sigh.

Everything always seemed to run on a set schedule around Dalisay. While everyone else sprinted to get through a day, she lingered, drawing out normal tasks to an extent that drove me crazy sometimes. She made even the small act of walking around in a bathrobe, watering her plants seem like a magazine cover. It was part of her appeal - part of why she had so many social media followers and modeling agencies offering her contracts and shoots. She took it all in with the coolness of a chilled drink, waiting for the ice to thaw before she decided on any which way to take her career.

Currently, she was embarking on a stint in commentary, jumping from podcasts to newsrooms like an ant finding new picnics to feast on.

"I posted your clip," she said slowly, rubbing some sort of lip treatment into her lips before strolling over to me and - batting away my fragile attempts to ward her off - rubbed it on mine as well. My lips tingled, sighing at the sudden burst of moisture. Concentration pursed her lips as she got out some sort of clay mask from a desk across the room and came back to rub it along my face. "Then... somewhere along the way, one of your little streaming channels picked it up and shared it. And then a bigger channel... and then a bigger one... until finally one of the professional e-sports channels got ahold of it. It was really rather wonderful to see."

Her phone lit up as she tabbed through a couple of sites and then went to her email. I watched with growing anxiety as she pushed it into my hands, gesturing at a few of her recent emails. "They think I'm your manager. I've had messages out the ass trying to get ahold of you. Offers to join teams. Most of them are smaller league sardines but..." She opened up one with a demure greeting. "Recognize the name?"

Y.U.G. Air whooshed out of my lungs. The letters blurred in front of me.

"This...this has to be...wrong. This is spam."My words were shaky as they left my lips

"Mm." Her lips curled in delight, running over my face in anticipation. "That's what I thought too. Until..." She flipped to her private email and pulled up a message from just that week. The name at the bottom along with the official logo burst across the page - Medusa with a sensual smile, snakes withering in outraged defiance around her pretty face. "I'm going to be MCing their trial game with Spade this week. Look familiar?"

I wanted to throw up. This was too good to be true. Everything went fuzzy, dreamy at the edges. Maybe other people got this lucky - not me. I was just... just a girl who made Little Squid her username because I thought it was cute when I was 15. I blinked, trying to focus on what Dalisay was trying to say to me.

"They want you to play for them - not immediately. They have another guy who's been their midlaner's backup for a year or so but they want to see what you can do." The dark shadows of her eyes swam in front of me, piercing in their intensity. "They've invited you to their trial. They want to meet you."