want to be pushed into this. Telling her family was one of those make or break things, and this? How could she ruin it like that?
"I'd love one," she decided.
So her dad carried over a pair, passing one to her. Tyler took one end of the couch. Dad dropped into his recliner. That left the other side of the couch for her. Popping the cap off, she sat down, waiting for something horrible to happen. If it did, if either of them asked the wrong thing, then she'd just say it. That would be easiest, right?
"So," Dad started, "sounds like you're a lot more serious about this gaming thing than we realized."
"And better than we expected," Tyler added. "I mean, he makes it sound like you're one of the big names."
"No, nothing like that," she promised. "I'm ok, but there are a lot of people just as good. I've gotten a couple of lucky breaks, though, because I'm friends with the right people."
"How does that work in a tournament?" Dad asked.
She paused to take a swallow of her beer. "Um, it's not like a one on one fight. They have rounds. The first few are timed. If you can survive past the cut off, you move to the next, right?"
"Ok." Dad nodded to show he was keeping up.
"And the last few get harder. The rules change depending on how many people are still playing. Usually there are four rounds. Sometimes five, but that's pretty rare. So, in the third round, there's both a timer and rankings. Anyone dead before the timer ends doesn't advance to the next round. And if there's too many people who survive that long, then they'll give awards to only the top ten places, as well as allowing them all to move on. If there's less than ten, then everyone who lives long enough gets both an award and entry to the final round."
"And in the final round?" Tyler asked.
"No timer," she explained. "It's just ranked on who dies last. So, if there are ten people in that round, the first to die is in tenth place, and so on."
"So, how does having the right friends help?" Dad wanted to know.
"Ok," she said, leaning over her knees. "See, there's no rule against working together. Sure, going on your own makes it easier to get fans, and fans mean sponsors, but there's nothing saying you can't. And, um, the friends I've met at these things? They're the ones who win. So, in the chaos of the early rounds, they don't shoot me. Not even when they could. In the later rounds, they'll ignore me until the timer's out. If there's an asshole, they'll all gang up on him and then pick off the rest of us."
"Are they that good?" Tyler asked.
She nodded. "There's this girl, QQ. She's insane. And her boyfriend? He's kinda the measuring stick. He works for the company, so beating him gets a payout. I've never done it. Void is crazy good."
"He's the one on the game you told me about, right?" Tyler asked.
"And QQ, and one of the guys from my outfit, Murder. He's almost as good, but they're faster. Considering that Q and Void live together and play against each other all night long? Yeah, they're scary good. Thing is, if I want to get a contract, I have to be better."
"Which is why you're always in your room on that computer?" Dad asked.
She nodded. "I'm not depressed, guys. I swear. It's just that I have a real chance of doing this. And this weekend is my best bet."
"Why?" Dad asked.
She sighed. "Um, it's all about knowing your opponent, right? Well, QQ's sister, Kitty? Yeah, she lives with QQ and Void. She's pregnant with Murder's baby, and due any day. For all I know, she's in the hospital right now. So, that's the top three gamers that are either not going to be there or they'll be distracted and waiting for a phone call."
"Which means you can take them out, get the big check, and come home as a pro, right?" Tyler asked.
She lifted her hand and tilted it from side to side. "Have a chance at a contract," she corrected. "In the past few months, the high table - that's what we call the group of paid gamers - has filled up. I'm not sure they have a contract to hand out, but if I can win, then I might get sponsored. And that's still a lot of money. They'd pay