The Turing Test

Chapter 4

September

"Just do it."

"No, you do it."

"Via, if you don't walk around that corner right now, we're both dead. This is the farthest we've ever gotten, and if we don't pass this level, I'm going to kill myself."

"Hey, don't make suicide jokes. You know I don't like you even joking about that."

"If anything, it's my right to make suicide jokes. Also, you're changing the subject. Stop stalling and walk around that damn corner."

"The things I do for love..." I grit my teeth. I know the consequences, but I have to make the leap of faith anyways. Without a second thought, I do it. I leap. My character moves around the corner of the building, and just as we'd suspected, an army of gruesome aliens are waiting for me. My screen goes red as bullets rip apart my character in a graphic death. I let my remote fall from my hands, and turn to glare at Wes.

"I hope you're happy."

He giggles, "Exceedingly."

"Please don't use exceedingly in a sentence, ever again. Talk like a normal seventeen year-old."

Wes doesn't respond to my snappy remark, because his eyes are glued on the screen as his character continues alone. I lean back against the coffee table and let my gaze wander around the living room. There's a lot to look at, because my parents think they're art collectors of some sort. Everything from the lamps, to the rugs, to the frames that the paintings are hung in, scream sophistication and boast a knowledge of the fine arts. I guess I'm too young to know if it's all just a facade. What do I know about art? What do I know about anything, really, besides this video game that Wes and I engulf ourselves in every Sunday night.

Behind us suddenly, there's the sound of bare feet thumping down the hall. Josh is in his usual hoodie and basketball shorts, with his hair bouncing up and down on his cute round head. Right behind him is Danielle, who sports the same blonde, highlight-streaked hair as Wes. It's a miracle our siblings get along, otherwise they would spend all their time bugging us instead of keeping each other busy.

I hop up from my spot in front of the TV, and grab Josh by the hood. He squeals in protest but I pinch his cheeks anyways.

"Get off me!" his voice cracks in pre-pubescent teen way. "I told you not to do that!"

"What, this?" I pinch his cute little chubby cheeks again.

He smacks my hand away, "Go play with your boyfriend."

"Go play with your girlfriend."

"She's not my girlfriend."

"That's okay, just be friends now. You have lots of time before marriage."

I always enjoy how this makes Josh and Danielle squirm. It's the same way Wes and I would squirm when our parents would tease us about the same thing.

"I'm telling mom that you're failing English," Josh makes a face, and then dashes into the dining room.

"Hey!" my tone becomes angry, and I chase him through the doorway. He always takes it too far, to the point of blackmail, and now I'm regretting showing him my grades this week. In the dining room, both our sets of parents are crowded around one end of the table with wine glasses in their hands. They stop their conversation when the commotion of Josh bursting in gets their attention.

"Via is failing English!" Josh blurts. "She got an F on her last paper, she showed me."

I shoot my brother with the iciest glare I can fathom. I can't believe that only a moment before, I thought those cute little round cheeks of his were telling of his personality.