I walk to my bedroom and pull a clean outfit out and toss it on the bed. “Where are you?”
“I’m walking from the resort to town. I need to get away from him before things get worse.”
Worse?
“Text me when you get somewhere safe. I’ll be there in about thirty minutes.”
“Thanks, Star,” he says. I hear the relief in his voice.
Hurriedly, I clean up the bathroom and change before scribbling a note for my grandmother. She won’t get back until late—I may even beat her back. I don’t tell her the whole truth, just that I’m going shopping with Claire and that I’ll fill the tank with gas.
The drive doesn’t take long. The roads are virtually empty, being so close to the holidays. The trip is familiar now and as I get closer to town I see signs and banners hanging from street lamps promoting the Woolly Drop on New Year’s Eve.
Charlie texts me his location—the Waffle Shop—and he’s already waiting outside when I pull into the lot. He looks exhausted. Behind his glasses, his eyes are haunted and sad. He gets in the car and leans over the console, immediately giving me a kiss. His lips are cold but I warm them with mine.
“Are you okay?” I ask, rattled by the kiss. It’s forward and not like him.
“I will be,” he says before pulling up the directions. “It’s at the university student center. Something they set up with one of the gaming companies.”
“I’ve never been there.” I pull back out in the street. “If Leelee finds out I’m driving this far, maybe I can tell her I’m on a college visit.”
His eyebrow raises. “What did you tell her?”
“Nothing. She’s in Lake Tahoe. I left a note. A vague note.” A note full of lies, really, and the more time that passes, I don’t like how that feels sitting on my stomach.
Charlie is quiet on the ride down and I want to ask him more about the fight with his dad. It seems like more than just him saying no to him going. There’s a hollowness in him. Hurt in his soulful brown eyes, but he’s closed himself off and I don’t think he wants me to reach him.
Nothing’s particularly easy to get to in this part of the state. Between
the Sierras and the national parks, the roadways are limited. The drive takes a while but as time and the miles pass, Charlie seems to calm down some, his hand resting on my leg as though it’s giving him peace.
Growing up in North Carolina, it’s hard not to live near a University. Several are situated in the area I grew up in and even with the change of landscape the feel becomes evident as we get closer. Fresno is the biggest city I’ve visited in months and just being close to civilization is overwhelming.
“Is it weird that I’m not used to this anymore?”
“What?” he asks, squeezing my knee.
“All the people and lights and buildings.”
“You’re a small-town girl now, Starlee.” He laughs and squeezes my knee. “Through-and-through.”
I suppose he’s right.
School isn’t in session but the parking lot is crowded—and it’s not surprising the overwhelming number of people pouring in from the parking lot are guys of all ages. Some are younger than Charlie, others older. As I park the car near the student center I ask, “So how did you get into this tournament?”
“Anyone can sign up and pay a fee. Others are invited. I got an invitation by earning a spot in a competition online. I think it’s mostly a recruitment tool used by the university to get prospective students up here.”
There are large banners hanging from the building announcing the tournament. Sponsor names including the university, the game makers and other corporations (junk food, soda and energy drinks) have their logos all over. There’s a charged energy in the air and the worried boy with tense shoulders that rode down here with me vanishes. It’s clear he’s in his element.
I’ve never seen Charlie in his element.
While he signs in I look around, taking it all in. There’s a large room off the lobby with long tables stretching across the room. Computer monitors sit on top with an array of other items, each covered in a logo. Headphones, keyboards, and colorful mouse pads. There’s a number on each chair and each computer. A bottle of water. At the front of the room there’s a decorated stage and a huge screen with a graphic spinning across the surface. Loud music pours out of the speakers, clearly hoping to get everyone amped up. It’s working.
I feel a hand on my back and turn, finding Charlie next to me. He has a bag with the tournament logo on it filled with samples and promotions. His eyes are wide as he takes everything in—he looks boyish and happy. Something I haven’t seen in a long time—if ever.
“Ten minutes to start time,” voice calls out over the speakers. A huge clock counts down in the corner of the screen.
“You ready for this?” I ask, feeling a sense of pride. This boy is fighting for his dreams and no one will get in his way. It’s pretty sexy.