who’s revolving in place on a platform, shifting his pose every so often so that he’s flexing his biceps, then planting his meaty fists on his hips. He’s wearing a black hood over his face and the whole effect reminds me of Man Ray from SpongeBob. I do not vocalize this.
“That’s my character, Grayson.”
“Grayson? Does that name have special meaning?”
“I named him after a comic book superhero, Dick Grayson.” I snort and he pokes me. “Very mature. Back in the forties, they went around calling people Dick because they didn’t know someday you would laugh at it. Anyway, I have other characters, too, but Grayson has the most experience points so I use him for the more dangerous quests.”
I goggle at him. “Who are you?”
He gives me a lopsided smile, which I return. “A giant nerd.” I think maybe I have a thing for giant nerds. “Show me how to play.”
His eyes light up. “Really?”
“If you wouldn’t mind sharing this with me. I understand if you don’t.” I’m impressed by my own maturity when I add, “If you want to keep it for yourself, as an activity you do alone, I get that.”
“No, I’d love for you to play with me!”
I can tell he means it. It hasn’t been a secret that he uses his computer to escape, but here he is inviting me along on that escape with him. “In that case, I want an avatar with purple hair, three boobs, and a Viking helmet.”
“You got it.” He grins, then takes my seat and settles me across his knees. He starts tapping away at the keyboard, very much in his element while also being painfully aware of me and my reactions, my judgment. This part of him is new to me, but somehow it’s so Nicholas.
“Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”
He rolls one shoulder. “Thought you might make fun of me.”
My heart sinks. “I wouldn’t have. If you’d showed me this is what you were doing, I would’ve joined you. I’d be a level ninety-one, too.”
“We’ll get you caught up in no time. Prepare yourself for an all-nighter, Naomi. This game is seriously addicting—you have no idea. I’m going to come home from work tomorrow and you’ll be at least a level twelve, I guarantee it. There’s a ton to do, aside from the quests. You can wander around the villages and get sidetracked doing a million other mini quests, racking up points. It’s an incredibly detailed, complex universe. They make it hard to get to the prophecy because there are so many distractions.”
He sets me loose with my new character and within the first five minutes, I fall through a portal and randomly find a glowing trident that makes Nicholas gasp so loud I think I’ve done something wrong. He tells me the trident is rare, and when you stab a mythical creature with it you absorb all of its powers. He begs me to stab a dragon, but I gleefully bypass one in favor of stabbing wee mushroom people who give me the ability to bounce really high, like I’m walking on the moon. Ten minutes later, Nicholas is absolutely beside himself and is trying to bribe me with a trip to Sephora if he gets to be alone with the trident for half an hour. I hunch protectively over the keyboard to keep him at bay and moon-bounce into a hot spring.
I also ignore a demigod who can duplicate treasure in favor of chasing gnomes. Gnomes are delightful! Who cares about treasure when you can give yourself a small blue hat. I am amazing at this game and not at all surprised. Nicholas drags his fingernails down his face and groans.
He accidentally minimizes the page, which flashes to his desktop. Before he can click on it again, I cry, “Wait!” and point at an icon of a Microsoft Word document titled Dear Deborah.
I raise an eyebrow at him.
“Oh. Um.” He flushes.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me.”
“No, you can see. It’s, ah, a bit juvenile. Or you may get a kick out of it, I don’t know.”
It’s a series of short letters sent to Deborah’s column at the Beaufort Gazette. He ends each of them with signatures like ANGRY IN WISCONSIN or FED-UP SON. One of them, I see, is mistakenly addressed to Deborah Weiner instead of Deborah Rose.
“That’s her maiden name,” he tells me, biting his thumb to keep his ear-to-ear grin from transforming into a full-fledged laugh. “I thought the typo