“There’s this tournament,” Dylan explained. “I want to enter.”
“What kind of tournament? Chess?”
“Not exactly. It is a game—a video game.”
“A video game tournament?” She said the last three words the way you’d say Aliens on Mars? or Cats speaking Italian?
Emma, who was at the sink rinsing out the glass Dylan thought he just saw break, interrupted: “It’s tonight—tickets are mad expensive.”
“Will you shut up?” Dylan said. He turned to the Professor. “I never ask for anything. But I’m good at this game called Xamaica. So that’s why I want to go. I just need to borrow . . .”
“Xamaica? I’ve heard of this game. I know it inspires truancy—and perhaps worse.”
“But . . .”
“Enough,” the Professor gently commanded, and something about her tone let Dylan know it really was. She took off her horn-rimmed glasses, wiped them on her blouse, and put them back on a little smudgier than they were before. She resembled a bird in many ways: she had a beaklike nose, a spindly cranelike figure, and a voice like a squawk.
“I have some news,” the Professor announced after several moments. “And it’s time you both heard it.”
“What kind of news?” Dylan asked.
“You’ve both been strong for so many years. Dylan, I know you wear your ripped jeans and T-shirts because you know we can’t afford more. And Emma, I appreciate that you wear a uniform because it’s less expensive than sporting the latest fashions like the other girls. I’m grateful for your sacrifices. But this tournament is out of the question. We’re out of money and out of time. In fact, we have to move.”
“What? Why?” Emma and Dylan cried out together.
“My work is controversial and the college eliminated my department to save money.”
“What’s controversial about birds?” Dylan asked.
“I have been on the hunt for a rare species—the missing link between dinosaurs and birds. My colleagues say it’s a myth, that I’m crazy—and now I’ve been forced out.”
Dylan was surprised but not shocked. Social services had paid the apartment more than a few visits, saying that there were too many birds and not enough space. The neighbors were always complaining about the Professor’s constant bird-watching because they were totally creeped out when they saw her late at night peering out the window with binoculars. But maybe it was the fact that she wore a bird costume while doing it that made it really seem nuts. Plus, she refused to explain to anyone why she needed heavy rope, tranquilizer darts, and a shark cage to watch birds. It had only been a matter of time before all the weirdness got back to her bosses at the college.
“What I do is for your protection—it’s where most of our money goes,” the Professor explained. “If I could get proof for my theories . . . I could save my funding . . . our home . . .”
“I don’t get it. Why is your research for our protection?” Dylan broke in. “You’re always using those binoculars. How many rare birds are you going to spot in downtown New Rock? And seriously, a shark cage? What are you really looking for?”
All the birds in the apartment began to squawk and tweet and rattle their coops.
“I’ve said all I can say,” the Professor concluded. “We have to leave by Friday.”
“Where are we going to go?” Emma asked. “What are we going to do for money?”
Then Dylan saw the Professor do something he had never seen her do.
She began to cry.
* * *
That night, as usual, Dylan couldn’t sleep. Three thousand windows were open in his head. It was bad enough he didn’t have a family—now, pretty soon, he wouldn’t have a place to live. He flicked on the TV just to get his mind off how his life had become an epic fail.
The Professor hated it when he watched TV because she thought it contributed to his lack of focus. She had stopped paying the cable bill a few months back. Now they only had four channels. Two if it was raining.
All the channels were carrying reports about the Game Changers.
“. . . video game Xamaica. Players take on the role of a mythological beast and explore forty-four different levels. Now game-maker Mee Corp. is picking forty-four children for the Tournament of Xamaica . . .”
“. . . winner will get what’s billed as a Grand Major Triple-Secret Prize. But parents complain the game is already too addictive, and has caused some players to run away from home to spend more time . . .”
“. . . sold out all over the city. Analysts worry that Mee Corp. will not be able to keep up with demand . . .”
Dylan stopped on the last channel where there was a commercial for Mee Corp. The head of Ines Mee, the daughter of the company’s founder, filled the screen. Her face was as pale and perfectly oval as an egg. She had a shadowy gaze and wore her long dark hair swept over her right eye like a black curtain. She was in all of Mee Corp.’s ads, and the company sold a lot of stuff, everything from potato chips to computer chips. She was only thirteen years old but she had her own reality show—Mee2—where she was always having some adventure in some far-off place—partying, skydiving, skiing, partying some more, sarfari-ing (if that’s even a word), auto racing, skydiving again, shopping, and it never ended. In each situation she was using some Mee Corp. product.
“It’s gonna be beyond awesome,” Ines purred. “So come to the Mee Convention Center tonight—and see if you made the list of Game Changers!”
Ping!
What was that?
Ping!
Someone had thrown something against the kitchen window. The cockatoos in the kitchenette began to squawk; Dylan gave them crackers to shut them up before they woke up Emma or the Professor. He looked out the window and spotted Eli, one flight below, in his wheelchair on the sidewalk. He was shivering in his snuglet.
“What’s up?” Eli called. “I’ve been throwing rocks for twenty minutes!”
“Ever heard of a doorbell?” Dylan shot back.
“Ever heard of paying your phone bill? Anyway, I didn’t want to wake the Prof.”
“What’s going on? Are you and Anjali okay?”
“We’re cool. I can’t say the same about Anjali’s French horn.”
“Why are you here?”
“The Xamaica tournament, man! It’s gonna be epic! We gotta go!”
“What do you mean we? I thought you hated Xamaica—and Mee Corp.!”
