Page 83 of Don't Hate the Player
“Jake and I did this move, a combo. If I can get Byunki out of the force field, you’ll both need to attack at the same time.”
“Okay,” Bob replies, “we can time that. How—”
No time to explain. Byunki and Erik are almost in striking distance. I shoot off the last bolt I need to charge my Shatter and step behind Jake and Bob.
The only way I can think of tricking Byunki into attacking me instead of Bob is to make him do what he almost made me do. Something really, really stupid. He hates Bob for all kinds of personal reasons and needs his checkmate to win. I can’t change that. I can, however, pull Byunki’s devil trigger by reminding him I’m an enormous pain in the ass.
“Get ready,” I call out to Bob and Jake.
This part’s easy. All I have to do is miss. I charge up Pharaoh’s Shatter and aim ever so slightly over Lucafont’s shoulder, just close enough to make it seem like I’ve genuinely mistimed my attack. The impact doesn’t take down Erik’s shield, so to Byunki’s eyes, my attack is entirely wasted.
If I were a narcissistic dickweed who was threatened by a girl’s perfectly timed Pharaoh Shatter three short weeks ago, and I saw that girl mess up the same move in a pathetic attempt to deny me victory, I’d get a little cocky. I’d maybe even deviate from my checkmate priority to take her down first, proving once and for all that she’s a nobody who doesn’t belong in this game. Hell, I wouldn’t even notice that my force field got nudged a half step back from the force of that “failed” Shatter, which would totally leave me exposed to a poison attack on the off chance that Ilunged forwardto humiliate her once and for all.
That’s how it would go if I were the dickweed here. I feel comfortable declaring I am not. Next time you try to bury me, Byunki, dig a deeper hole.
Jake recognizes his moment, nearly identical to the way we stunned Muddy in Crystal Cathedral, and sends his poison field streaming out from us in all directions. Lucafont’s whole body is out of the force field now; I pull out Pharaoh’s bow and shoot an endless stream of bolts to keep Erik from coming in to heal or protect his tank.
The stun reduces Byunki to a two-second window of powerlessness. Jake and Bob do their jobs and make sure he can’t catch a single break. They don’t even need Pharaoh for this part; Byunki’s health is already circling the drain. One fragment left, less than half, Bob lands an attack and chips off a little more—honestly they’re beating his ass like he stole something, and it’s the best thing I’ve seen all day. I can drop or not drop at this point; without magic I’m basically set dressing, but I shoot a quick bolt into Lucafont’s thigh anyway. For old time’s sake. In one final flash of Pythia’s staff, Byunki drops. Checkmate.
TANK KILL: HOOP.
The arena’s screens immediately light up with Jake’s name and face displayed on every monitor. I yank my headphones up and leap from my chair alongside the rest of my teammates, who are all so good and talented and worthy and extremely physically attractive. Ki and Penelope rush around their chairs to glom me, Jake, and Bob as the final three, and whoa—Jake has confetti in his hair. Bright blue confetti.
Jake remembered that silly combo and saved the day. Sure, it was afterIremembered Byunki’s an asshole and also saved the day, but the screens don’t lie. Jake took Byunki out. He had a lot of reasons, like wanting to see our names up in lights as the firstGLOplayers in the Guardians League and winning a bunch of money, but I think he also did it for me.
I can’t hear a thing over the crowd and the announcers declaring our victory. Not everything needs to be said out loud.
“Thank you,” I mouth through the noise. Jake doesn’t bother trying to respond verbally through the noise and puts his arms around me instead. We’re still getting jostled all over from the rest of the team, so it’s a normal-looking friendly type hug. The kind we can definitely pass off as friendly for now.
Heck. No, we can’t. In the heat of the game, I’d forgotten about Muddy’s threat to release the picture he has of me and Jake kissing. That’s still a huge problem. Jake feels me tense up and leans down to yell in my ear.
“You okay?”
“No!” I shout. I hope no one in the audience can read lips. “Muddy’s picture. They’ll know we kissed.”
Jake looks over my head at Fury’s table, where the five horsemen of the dumbpocalypse are jabbing their fingers at one another in a useless argument. I turn my head and catch sight of Muddy staring both of us down. All my excitement drains faster than Byunki’s health in the final phase of our match.
“Kissing’s not that bad,” Jake screams. “Lots of people kiss.”
“I’m wearing my Fury jersey!” I explain. “Red, says KNOX on the back, puts the kiss before the swap.”
Jake leans down to get closer to my ear and screech more intimately. “Em. He took a picture ofsurveillance footage. Black and white. All they’ll see is ‘KNOX.’ ”
Bob had to rush to get the order in, but he did manage to get me a Unity jersey with “KNOX” on the back. If Muddy’s picture really is black and white, no one would be able to tell I’m not wearing my shirt from today.
“Still,” I shout. “Kiss! If he leaks it, he can spin it.”
“Can’t leak what everyone knows. PR 101.”
Now there’s an idea. As I look out into the audience, there’s a sea of shiny silver-and-blue sparkles raining down all over the arena. It’s coating my parents, lucky as they are to be so close to the stage, and if I squint through the lights, I think I see Matt attempting to hold a sweatshirt over Penny’s hair while she bounces up and down with her fists held high. Can’t leak what everyone knows. That’s a tactic Penny would approve of.
“Come here,” I say. I don’t have to yell because Jake knows exactly what I want him to do.
He reaches out to cup my cheek in his warm, no longer sweaty hand. When his lips touch mine, I see stars explode behind my eyes. Or maybe that’s just the confetti.
EPILOGUE
Jake
