“Nope.” Professor Tuttle offered a wide smile. “I’ve had a bunch of midwestern local game stores ask for signed books. And they’ve been clamoring for something of a tour. So my idea is to drive with whomever wishes to join me. We can share time behind the wheel, stop at my favorite local game stores along the way, play a few hands of Odyssey with their regulars, see the sights… It’ll be fun.”
That was easy for him to say. He had friends all across the country thanks to his storied career as a mathematics professor as well as the reputation he’d built with his vlog. He loved travel, but I knew full well that he was only proposing driving because he thought that was the best way to get us there. He’d been friends with my family long enough to know about my issues with flying. Also, Jasper was perennially short of funds, and I was never quite sure what was up with Conrad lately. He’d had to drop out of school for reasons he was cagey about, and I could never tell whether he was as broke as Jasper, or just didn’t care, or possibly a mixture of both. For all his bravado, he was tough to read—something that irritated me even more than his swagger and constant needling.
“Can it be the sort of fun that I hear all about when I see you guys at the con? Road trips are so not my style, and I’ve got plane tickets already up on my phone.” Payton waved their phone, managing to sound dismissive without outright knocking the professor’s plan. I desperately wanted to learn their trick for always managing to seem above the fray without being rude about it. They were never emotionally invested in anything, whether it was grades or relationships or even the game itself. Me? My adrenaline was still thrumming from the win, my stomach yet to settle from that sick feeling when I’d thought Conrad might be about to best me. Holding back his soldier tokens had been a stroke of genius.
Not that I’d ever tell him that. He didn’t need the ego boost.
“The convention is right after the term ends for summer break.” Professor Tuttle still taught part-time, despite devoting most of his retirement to his vlog. “I say we take two weeks—five or six days there, three days for the convention, five or six days coming home. It’ll be a grand adventure. Who’s in?”
I expected Conrad to agree first, because no way would he turn down a chance to go party with Payton and be a minor celebrity with Gamer Grandpa’s following. I’d been forced to overhear too many stories of their wild antics over the years to think otherwise.
In the end, though, it was Jasper who nodded first. “I’m up for it. I’ll have to talk to my folks and Arthur, though, make sure I can be spared.”
“Excellent. Conrad?” Professor Tuttle prompted. Relief rushed through me that he hadn’t asked me next. I still hadn’t sorted out my reaction to this turn of events. Unlike the others, I wasn’t the best at reading situations and never coped well with sudden change. I wanted to go. That wasn’t the issue, but there was a ton of other mental clatter going around in my head that was making it hard to focus.
“Uh…” Conrad still sat across from me, still holding his duffel like a shield. “Work, you know? Might need to rearrange some things…”
That was typically vague. I wasn’t entirely sure what job Conrad currently had. He seemed to have an endless supply of side hustles and part-time gigs that never lasted long. Rumor was, he got fired almost as often as he went out and partied. I’d once tried to help him see that the two probably were related, but he’d almost bitten my head off, so I tried not to get involved anymore. It wasn’t my business anyway.
“That’s fine. How about you guys think about it? The tickets are yours, but you can tell me your decision about the road trip when we play Sunday afternoon.”
“Time to think is good.” That gave us a little under forty-eight hours, but it was better than being put on the spot. I nodded along with Conrad.
“The tickets are ours?” Conrad licked his lower lip as he took one from the stack. I couldn’t shake the feeling he was mentally working out what his ticket might fetch on a reseller site. And see, this was why I needed to go. I was the only one of us who truly cared about the game and the tournament.
I grabbed mine before anyone else could think about taking it.
“So, you think you’re going?” Conrad nodded at the ticket in my hand. His midwestern flat affect took a turn for the country with you sounding more like ya when he was agitated. I’d never figured out exactly where he was from—some corn-fed rural state where they grew their guys naturally athletic and tall as water towers. Conrad always looked like he’d escaped some minor league baseball team to come slum with us nerds at the game store.