The Intuitives(17)

“Seriously? Of all the things to be proud of me for, you choose this? This? Now??? What about the invitational? I can’t go to Wyoming!”

“Really, Ashton, I thought you’d be happy. It’s a prestigious program. You’ll be able to write your own ticket to any college in the country after this summer. And technically it’s with the Department of Homeland Security. Isn’t that what you like to do on those games of yours? Play the hero? Now you’ll get to serve your country in a way that actually matters.”

“Dad, it’s not just playing. I’ve told you that so many times! I have the chance of a lifetime with HRT Alpha. I’m in the top twenty in the world! Out of over four million people! Do you realize what that means? My seat at the competition is a lock. And a spot on the team is a real job. Making real money, like you always say I should! Did you read even one of the articles I sent you?”

Rush had emailed his father countless articles on professional gaming: how it was gaining recognition as a sport, how the top players enjoyed not just national but international recognition, how matches were now televised by the likes of ESPN, and how the best of the best could command salaries that ran into the millions.

“Honestly, Ashton, a job playing video games is hardly a solid career path. Look at Ben, here. He’s going to be a college senior next year, and he already has a summer internship lined up, with a guaranteed job when he graduates. That’s a career path. Not this… this…” James Hunt struggled for the phrase he was looking for, waving his knife around as though he might be able to skewer the word out of mid-air. “This fantasy world you insist on living in.”

Ben looked across the table at Rush apologetically, but he didn’t say a word.

“Mom?” Rush begged, starting to feel desperate.

“Jim,” she tried, “surely it wouldn’t hurt to read one of the articles Ashton sent you. He’s very proud of his accomplishments on that…” She looked to her son for the name of the game, and Ashton’s heart dropped into his stomach.

“HRT Alpha,” he offered, but he already knew it was hopeless. His mother loved him, but she didn’t know enough about his gaming to help—certainly not enough to raise an argument that the great James Hunt might actually listen to.

“I don’t have to read an article to know that video games are games,” his father declared. “They’re fine for children, but it’s time for you to grow up. This is a once in a lifetime chance, Ashton. A summer program like this sets you apart on your college applications.”

“But I won’t need to go to college once I’m on the team, Dad. I’m telling you, guys like that make—”

“I don’t care what they make!” his father shouted. “Not going to college is out of the question! Do you hear me? Out of the question! Another comment like that, and I have half a mind to take away everything my hard-earned money ever bought you!”

“I’ll pay you back every dime of it,” Rush shot back. “Add it all up and send me a bill. Make sure to include interest, too. I don’t want to owe you anything.”

“Enough!” His father slammed the base of his fork against the table, startling Rush’s mother enough to make her jump in her chair. “I’m sorry, Laura,” he said, apologizing to his wife, “but I won’t hear one more word about it. I’m his father. As long as he’s living under my roof, he’ll live by my rules. He’s going to that program this summer, and that, by God, is that!”

“I won’t be living under your roof forever!”

“From your mouth to God’s ear,” his father snapped back.

The two glared at each other for several long moments before Rush finally stood up from the table and threw his napkin into his food.

“Ashton, honey—” his mother tried, but Rush interrupted her.

“Thanks for dinner, Mom, but I’m not hungry.”

“Let him go, Laura,” his father said calmly, a forkful of mashed potatoes poised halfway to his mouth. “He’ll thank me for this one day.”

“Like hell I will,” Rush muttered, but this time there was no reply, and Rush stormed away, his dreams shattering like glass with every step.





8


Kaitlyn



“Kaitlyn, do you have a moment?”

Mr. Hallowell flagged Kaitlyn Wright down before she could make it out the door. The lunch bell had already rung, and as usual, her mouth was watering just thinking about it. But she stopped and smiled at him just the same.

Mr. Hallowell was her chemistry teacher, a portly man with an unfortunate bone structure and a constant air of disappointment. Kaitlyn was one of the few students who had discerned the better qualities that lurked beneath his gloomy exterior. She complimented him on his lectures from time to time, as a purposeful kindness, but only when no one else was listening.

“Sure, Mr. Hallowell. What’s up?”

“Well, as you might have heard, the Video Club needs a new sound technician, so of course we thought of you. Don’t worry, I know summer is upon us, but I was hoping you might take on the position in the fall, for your junior year? After-school activities do look good on college applications.”

Kaitlyn hated to say ‘no,’ and not just because of Mr. Hallowell’s puppy-dog expression. With Tommy Evans graduating, all the other members had approached her individually, begging her to step in. She was starting to wish she could join up just long enough to produce a video declining the position, so she could play it for anyone else who asked.