Video Games

Chapter Seven

The two girls that were slaughtered last night had their faces displayed on these new things that the guys have put into our homes. They look like message boards or whatever you call them – those brown boards that you can pin paper to and stuff. Old school.

Anyway, these boards are more modernised, with the pinned “pictures” actually being virtual. The first two pinned faces belong to two females. One is the replica of that singer in this old band I like called Paramore – they split up eleven years ago but I still like their music – and the other one couldn’t look more stereotypically Japanese if she tried, with pink hair, massive eyes and flawless skin.

I’ve been to a bunch of farms tonight, visiting nearly everyone. The only person I haven’t gotten around to is that Tynoco guy. I’m just too tired to stop by and visit. Tomorrow, we have another challenge to compete in; Temple Run really took away my breath and my energy.

Also, depending on where we finished, we received money. We were taken to the market to pay for any things we wanted, such as food or essential items, and they’ll arrive in our little tray things in about ten minutes.

Corn is nowhere near enough appetising to satisfy my hunger. This time I requested bread, a small turkey and pea seeds. Currently, I’m boiling the corn because it takes like cardboard – and I’ve tasted cardboard before – when it’s raw.

It continues to boil away as the phone rings; I jump off of my bed and scramble to the device. Picking up the phone and nearly dropping it in the process, my heart skips a beat. If I had dropped the phone, I would’ve freaked out and maybe even screamed.  “Hello, this is Ryota,” I pant, trying to catch my breath as I wait for a reply.

“I didn’t know that I took your breath away, Ry.” I can tell that Tynoco is smirking on the other end of the phone; typical. “Anyway, you want me to come to yours? I bet you’re exhausted, having visited half of the people here.”

His exaggeration sounds somewhat sarcastic and almost annoyed, but I don’t correct him for I fear that we’d start an argument. “Sure thing, if you wanna. Well, do you wanna wait until our supplies arrive? That way, we could organise a little trade between us.”

“That sounds like a plan,” he replies. “Well, I’ll see you in a bit then.” With that, Tynoco hangs up; I smile like a fool. I know it sounds terribly cliché, but I’ve had my eye on him since I first time I saw him. Not in an overly sexual way, but he’s just so perfect and if he asked me on a date, I wouldn’t decline his offer.

Wait, what are you doing? You’re about to face death and you’re thinking about boys? Get a grip you stupid asshole.

Boys aren’t the only thing on my mind though. In fact, my main concern is to do with how many records have been broken since we’ve left. Last time I checked, some guy was a couple of seconds off of smashing a Super Mario Galaxy record of some sort.

Also, I wonder if my family saw me on the big screen today. It’s not exactly the kind of thing you ignore; if thirty kids are abducted to play video games, you aren’t going to overlook the story. I wonder if my parents were proud of my performance. Do they approve of the friends I’ve made? Do they worry about my safety? Do they realise that I could die?

Another thing that I’ve been thinking about a lot today is the killings: we only heard their screams; we didn’t see any blood or knives or nooses. Yeah, I’m not sure how they died. Did the public see the executions, or are they left more clueless than us competitors?

This bell sound chimes, causing me to jump. All of this time, I’ve been stood by the phone, despite the call ending a few minutes ago. This thumping noise comes from where the tray is; I dart over, this excitement overtaking my body.