“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.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, smiling apologetically. “I really am. I know clubs and things look good for college, but I just can’t. I work at the G&G after school, and I don’t have time for both.”
‘The G&G’ was the Gears and Gadgets Repair Shop, where Kaitlyn had been working for almost two years, since the day she had turned fourteen. She fixed all manner of small appliances, from blenders to television sets, just barely bringing in enough money to make ends meet. She couldn’t afford to give up the job, but she didn’t want anyone to know how desperately she needed it either.
“Perhaps you could spare us just a day or two after school? And only the occasional weekend?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Hallowell. Truly. I just can’t.” She stared up at him a moment longer, her messy brown hair falling across her soulful brown eyes. She brushed it back off her face out of habit, waiting for him to relent.
“OK, then,” he said, finally admitting defeat. “But if you change your mind before September, you’ll let me know?”
“I promise,” she said, her customary grin lighting up her face. “Thanks, Mr. Hallowell. May I be excused, please? Lunch smells delicious!”
“You may,” he said, chuckling.
She flashed him a grateful smile and rushed out the door, all but skipping down the hallway, the alluring scent of hot dogs pulling her toward the cafeteria.
? ? ?
“Hey, Zack-Attack.”
“Howdy, Kit-Kat.”
“What have you got for me today?” Kaitlyn put down her backpack and slid past the counter into the G&G’s workshop. She ran one hand over the utilitarian shelving—overflowing with wires and switches, rags and rust remover, motors and metal housings. Just walking in the door was enough to make her sigh in relief. The smell of grease and old electrical parts settled her.
“Couple things came in this morning, actually.” Zack frowned. “I don’t know if you’ll be able to do anything with them though.”
“Really? Let me see!”
He laughed at the way her eyes lit up.
“I swear,” he said, “you’d think I was handing you a Christmas present.”
Kaitlyn giggled and then ‘oohed’ and ‘ahed’ as he pulled her new treasures out from under the countertop.
“This—” he said with a flourish, but she yelped and bounced up and down, interrupting him before he could utter more than the first word.
“An RCA color TV!” she exclaimed delightedly.
“Is an RCA color television, yes,” he finished, chuckling at her enthusiasm. “I think the vacuum tube is messed up in it.”
“Oh, we can find you another CRT, you adorable little thing, don’t you worry,” she said, crooning at the television and patting it reassuringly.
“Little? Really? This thing weighs a ton.”
“It’s still small, though,” she said, defending her new charge. “It’s just heavy because of the technology. They used tubes in computer monitors, too, for a long time. We can find one. If that’s what’s wrong with you.” She said this last directly to the television, staring at it in a thoughtful sort of way.
“Yes, well, before you get too caught up with that to notice me, let me show you the other thing, too.”