I do not own the game that may or may not be mentioned by name, and I am a happy player. No complaints, just writing a story about a girl who plays the game. And I do not own G-Mail or Google or any of those fancy things. This is a realistic fiction with some hard-core facts in there. O3o
“I still don’t understand the difference,” My mother says while picking out the snacks for the annual sleepover that I’m hosting this year. See, my wonderful friends and I, ever since sixth grade, on the Friday before the first day of school host a sleepover. We switch off, and this year, it’s my turn.
“Of course there’s a difference! Okay, like, look N-E-W-B is someone who’s new to the game. N-O-O-B is someone who’s like… a dumb-butt on the game, y’know? Like, they’re the person that everyone hates on the game. The one that gets into arguments for no real reason and says ‘Your mom’ too much,” I respond, reaching for the Doritos.
“Where did you come up with this?”
“I didn’t come up with it. It kind of just spawned somewhere, and everyone uses it. Well… not everyone, because not everyone knows the correct meaning, but most, if not all, gamers use it.”
“I’m sure Diana doesn’t know the meaning.”
“She doesn’t,” I say, my voice sort of turning down, “but that’s because she’s not a gamer. Because she chooses not to be.”
See, at this sleepover of ours, we can each bring one friend, so that it isn’t just three loners, Diana, Matt and I.
Not that we’re loners. Because loners typically don’t have friends and can end up sociopaths, psychopaths, and schizophrenics. And I am fairly sure that none of us are going to become sociopaths, psychopaths, and/ or schizophrenics because we aren’t loners.
But usually we brought the same people, I’d bring a girl named Carla, Matt would bring a guy named Zach, and Diana would bring a girl named Jacqueline. But we stopped being friends with Jacqueline after she became a popular bitch, and Carla pays a lot of attention to swimming now, and Zach moved. So, this is the first time we don’t have the same people at the party.
You can get smarter by watching Criminal Minds, right? Because last year I had an I.Q. of ninety, and now I’m at the safe I.Q. of one-twenty. It was mainly because I watched a lot of Criminal Minds, and then did my research and learned that I indeed do have a photographic memory, and if I didn’t then, I do now because I do picture matching. Picture matching is basically matching a picture to a word and you remember that way.
Be jealous! Green works for you.
“Okay, I think this is good. Mommy, we have to hurry up. I got my teammates on my game waiting for me, and I really need to get back to that so that I can level up and test my Mech!” I twirl around supermarket.
“I’m not even going to ask what that is,” my mother mutters to herself.
After getting home five minutes before, I’m challenged to a chess match by Justin, my older brother.
My mother gets situated with all the food in the kitchen.
“Really? I don’t have time for this,” I say, attempting to rush past him up the stairs.
“Nuh-uh, little girl. I will Blitz you,” he says, blocking my path. I sigh exaggeratedly. See, my brother here plays Football.
He’s a wide-receiver, and now thinks that he can take anyone down easily. He’s only a junior, and he’s not quite as big as the guys he’s played against.
But, hey, they were undefeated last year.
“Fine. But only one game,” I say and follow him to the patio. Already set up is the chest board and timers. I’m already planning out the quickest ways to take him out before I sit down.
