PROLOGUE
“C’mon…. C’mon….” I egged on my car as, out of the corner of my eyes, I watched the speedometer edge past 100… 120…. I edged around a small silver car, similar to mine, without bothering with my turn signal. I suddenly veered to the left, down an alley-like street: a short cut. The little needle on the speedometer was still inching past 140.
“Let’s go!” I muttered to myself. I barely noticed the bright red Volkswagen inching up behind me. I swerved to the right, cutting them off. I was glad I couldn’t see them anymore.
Suddenly, green words flashed.
G A M E O V E R!
I groaned. I’d been so close! I let out a frustrated sigh, standing up out of the uncomfortable plastic chair. I grabbed my black purse, slinging it over my shoulder. I rubbed my last two golden tokens together. What next...
I cursed as I was knocked over.
“Hey, watch it!“ I was cut off as I looked up into a pair of warm brown eyes. I stopped.
“I’m so sorry! I wasn’t watching where I was going, and-“
“It’s alright,” I assured him. His dark brown hair was long and almost surfer-style. His glasses were cute, not nerdy. He smirked at me.
“Need a hand up?” he asked. I grabbed the warm hand that was offered, and pulled myself up.
“Thanks. I’m Katie,” I chirped.
“Blake,” he replied, glancing down at our hands, still twined together.
“Oh! Sorry,” I said, jerking my hand away quickly. He laughed.
“So, beat the game?” he asked.
“Huh? Oh! No… I’ve been trying for the past six months. Nothing.”
“Don’t worry, I’ve been trying for six years. Still haven’t beat it.” I laughed. I brushed a stray strand of my dark brown hair away from my face.
“So… do you work here?” I asked, eyeing his jeans, converse, and t-shirt-over-long-sleeves
“Oh, yeah. Usually behind the counter, but…”
“Kid having problems?”
“Uh… no, I was playing PacMan, honestly. I do it in my free time, when there’s not really anyone…”
“Oh, I see.”
There was an awkward silence.
“So, how long have you been coming here?” he asked, thankfully breaking the silence.
“Umm… a few years. I just got hooked on the Speed Racer, though,” I responded with a smile.
“Stupid name for it.”
“Agreed.”
There was a relapse in the silence.
“So… ready to cash in your tickets?”
“Wah-? Oh! Yeah, probably. There’s nothing to do with two tokens,” I laughed. He nodded, leading me to the front desk. The clear glass displayed candy and cheap plastic toys that wouldn’t last two weeks. He gathered the tickets I’d placed on the counter-top and fed them through a machine.
“Y’know, Chuck-E-Cheese’s has those for gamers to do that,” I told him.
“I know. I’ve been trying to convince the owner to do that for forever, but he’s never listened to me,” he responded with a sigh. I laughed at him, to which he rolled his eyes. He finally finished with the tickets, handing me a receipt-like paper.
“Just enough for…. Pixie Stix!” I shouted. He laughed at me, but I just stuck my tongue out at him. He grabbed a handful and put them on the counter, from where I stuck them in my back pocket. He crumpled up the paper and threw it away, hopping up on the counter.
“So, you go to La Quinta?” he asked. I nodded.
“Senior?” he asked again; I nodded again.
“How’d you know?”
“Because I am too,” he laughed. I rolled my eyes, hopping up on the counter with him.
“Hey! Employees only!” he teased. I rolled my eyes again, laying back. He sighed in mock exasperation.
“Must you be difficult?”
“Force may be required to remove me,” I giggled, pulling out a blue Pixie Stix. He rolled his eyes.
We sat like that for hours, until the arcade closed, talking and laughing.
A few hours later, I stood outside the arcade, shivering. I’d wrapped my rainbow scarf around my neck, and my black peacoat was buttoned, but it was still cold. My dark skinny jeans were thin, though my feet were toasty warm in my black combat boots. I glanced up at the stars, twinkling against the black velvety sky. Tristan’s keys jangled as he locked the door.
“Walking home?” he asked. I nodded. My house was right around the corner.
“I can walk you if you like,” he volunteered.
“Alrighty. Let’s go before my mom flips out on me,” I laughed. He shook his head in mock disappointment. He unlocked his bike, riding next to me as I walked. We were at my front door in less than five minutes.
“So, are you working tomorrow?” I asked. He thought a moment, then nodded. He glanced quickly at his hand, where my number was written in black sharpie.
“Great. I’ll be there,” I told him.
“Fantastic. I have to put up with the brat again,” he teased. I rolled my eyes, but wished him good night. I stepped into the house, the smell of chicken noodle soup filling my nostrils.
“Mmmm… what smells like heaven?” I called with a laugh. I could hear my little sister giggling.
I hung up my coat and scarf, untying my shoes. I walked into the kitchen, seeing my mom at the stove, stirring a red pot.
“My soup,” she reminded me. I rolled my eyes.
“How could I forget?” I said sarcastically. My little sister Sara, with her dark hair just like mine, came bouncing up.
“Hiya!” she giggled.
“What have you been up to, mischief maker?” I asked, picking her up. She shrugged.
“Watching Tangled,” she told me in a "duh" voice. I laughed at her, setting her down on the couch.
My phone buzzed.
“Just a sec, Sar.” I pulled out my phone, opening it to see a text from an unknown number.
Hey, it’s Tristan. Not working tomorrow. Want to do something?
