Gamer Girl (12 page)

I watched as
she skipped through the library and pushed open the glass doors,
exiting the building. How lucky that I ran into her. A manga fan. And
she said there were others, too. Who would have thought? It would be
great if we could get everyone together. Maybe do a manga club like
Caitlin and I had back in Boston. And this time I could make it
official. Just like we'd always wanted to. I wondered how you started
up something like that. I guess I'd have to ask a teacher. Maybe Ms.
Reilly. She was into manga. . . .

What was I
thinking? I shook my head. This wasn't like Boston. No one at Hannah
Dustin was going to join a club run by Freak Girl. I'd end up sitting
at that first meeting alone in an empty classroom, praying
someone--anyone-- would show up, avoiding the pity in Ms. Reilly's
eyes when she realized no one was coming. It'd be humiliating,
embarrassing, and an utter failure.

Unless it
wasn't,
a small voice inside me encouraged. After all, Matt would
probably join; he liked comics. And maybe Luke, if Matt could tear
him away from his video games. And that girl Sarah I just met would
probably show up. And she might bring some of her friends. She did
say she knew others who liked manga. . . .

I squared my
shoulders and firmed my resolve, deciding to go for it. After all,
what did I have to lose? I already had no friends and no life--if it
didn't work I wouldn't be any worse

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off than I was
now. And if it was successful? I'd have a whole score of potential
new friends.

Excited, I
grabbed my stuff and headed down the hall to Ms. Reilly's classroom,
crossing my fingers she hadn't left for the day. But my luck held.
She was at her desk, working, when I walked in.

"Hey, Ms.
Reilly."

She looked up.
"Maddy!" she said, smiling at me. "You're here late."

"Yeah,
just waiting for the second bus," I said. "Mr. Wilks let me
out of detention early 'cause of some family thing."

Ms. Reilly did
a double take. "Detention?" she asked. "Why would you
have detention?"

I sighed. I
knew I shouldn't have brought it up. But then again, she did say I
could come talk to her. And honestly I was getting pretty sick of
holding everything inside. "I, um, got into a fight with Billy
Henderson." I explained what happened, with him destroying my
painting. "I was so mad," I said, feeling a lump in my
throat as I relived the memory. "I just kind of lost it. Not
very cool, I know."

Ms. Reilly
looked at me with sympathy. "Ugh," she said. "You've
had a rough time since you moved here, haven't you?"

"Yeah, it
hasn't been great," I admitted.

"Believe
me, I know what it's like," she said. She yanked out her hair
elastic and red curls tumbled around her shoulders. It suddenly
dawned on me that she wasn't very much older than the kids she
taught. Twenty-two, twenty-three maybe?

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"Growing
up, I was what they called an army brat," she said, placing her
black-rimmed glasses on the desk. "My dad was in the navy and we
moved around every year. And that meant every year I had to start a
new school in some other city and state. I was shy and bookwormy back
then and wore really thick glasses to correct my nearsightedness.
Let's just say I wasn't exactly the most popular kid in any of my
schools. In fact, it was downright near impossible for me to make
friends. And then if by some miracle I managed to find a kindred
spirit or two at a particular school, Dad would inevitably announce
we were moving again." She shook her head. "I'd try to stay
in contact with my old friends--the ones who were so difficult to
make in the first place--but it was always out of sight, out of mind.
Once I'd moved away, they forgot about me, just like that. It was as
if I never even existed."

"I know
the feeling," I muttered against my will. I thought about the
early mornings before the first bell rang. The lonely lunches by
myself in the back of the cafeteria. It wasn't a pretty picture. "I
used to like high school. Now I'd rather get drilled at the dentist."

Ms. Reilly
laughed appreciatively. Then she turned serious. "Look, I know
it's hard to imagine there's life after high school, Maddy. But trust
me, it gets better," she promised. "For people like me and
you, it really, really gets better."

I wanted to
dismiss her words as teacher talk. As an after-school special gone
bad. But there was something about the way she spoke. The look in her
eyes. She really believed what she was saying.

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"Easy for
me to say, right?" she asked with a small smile. "But hard
to do."

I nodded.
"Right. I mean, it's not like I'm asking to be picked on. I
don't do anything to them."

"Right.
You're just an easy target. Gotta stop that."

I frowned.
"What am I supposed to do?" I growled. "Just run
around and pretend like it doesn't bother me?"

"No.
Pretending isn't enough. You've got to get to the point where it
really
doesn't
bother you. Stop giving them your power."

I cocked my
head. "Huh?"

"By
letting them upset you--by reacting--you're giving away your power.
You're letting
them
and other outside things control your
happiness. You need to figure out a way to be happy in here."
She placed a hand over her heart. "And then what happens out
here"--she waved around the room--"won't bother you so much
anymore."

I nodded
slowly. Okay, so it was total psychobabble, but what she said made
sense, in a weird way. Why should the Haters get to decide if I had a
good day or bad day? They meant nothing in the grand scheme of life.
Just lame-ass kids in a dinky little suburban town. High school would
be the peak of their pathetic lives, whereas I had bigger plans for
mine. Like becoming a famous manga artist for one. Which reminded me
of my reason for coming here to begin with.

"Actually,
I had this idea," I said slowly, crossing my fingers she'd be
receptive to it. "I was wondering how someone would start a
school club."

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She cocked her
head. "What kind of club?"

I took a deep
breath. "A manga club. I was talking to this freshman and she
said there were a lot of people in school that read it here. I
thought we could maybe get them all together. Meet after school and
read books and watch anime."

Ms. Reilly
nodded slowly, thinking it over. "That's not a bad idea,"
she mused. "The principal's been asking me to come up with some
sort of book club for some time now-- they want kids to learn to love
reading, you know. So I really don't see any problems with something
like this getting fast-tracked approval."

"I mean, I
don't know how many people would show up," I hedged. "I
mean, this place is pretty Aberzombie. I'm not sure we've got a lot
of closet cosplayers waiting to embrace their inner InuYasha."

Ms. Reilly
laughed appreciatively. "Sure, I doubt Billy Henderson would
suddenly show up to school sporting dog ears, but I do believe there
are a good number of students who would really appreciate this kind
of thing. After all, there's certainly nothing else like it right
now."

"So how do
we get started?"

"Well, I'd
have to go get permission from the administration before we would be
able to officially announce it. Have to get the official go-ahead,
you know. But I don't see it being a problem."

"Awesome."
I grinned. Suddenly things were looking up. Way up.

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"By the
way," Ms. Reilly said with a smile, "you never did show me
your art."

"Oh."
I felt my face heat. I wasn't sure I wanted to show her. What if she
thought my sketches weren't good? I mean, this wasn't like showing my
family. Ms. Reilly had obviously seen her fair share of real manga.
What if she thought my drawings were totally amateur?

Then again, I
was entering the contest. And I had to get used to showing my work to
people sooner or later. Might as well start with someone nice.

"Okay,"
I agreed, reaching into my book bag and pulling out my sketchbook. I
handed it over to her and she flipped it open. She turned a few
pages, looking at each one closely before moving on to the next. Her
expression was blank. Unreadable. I held my breath.

"Wow,"
she said suddenly, looking up after coming to the last page. "And
here I had thought I was going to have to make up some encouraging
teacherlike compliment. But your stuff is actually good. I love it."

I could feel my
cheeks heat. Was she being serious? I studied her face. She certainly
looked like it. "Thanks," I said shyly. "It's sort of
my passion."

"This is
really great stuff, Maddy. Better than some of the published manga
I've seen," she continued. "Your style and subject matter
reminds me of this game I know. Ever hear of something called Fields
of Fantasy?"

"You play
Fields of Fantasy?" I sputtered.

She laughed.
"No, no," she said, shaking her head. "I'm

119

not that cool.
My boyfriend's addicted to it, though. He plays twenty-four/seven. In
fact, it's impossible to drag him away for a date sometimes."

"Heh. He
sounds like my dad. He's the one who introduced me to the game. Well,
he bought it for me. But he's a lot higher level, so we haven't
played together much."

"Yeah, I
know that song and dance," Ms. Reilly replied. "Tim's
constantly trying to get me to play, but he'd never actually lower
himself to play with me at my piddly level."

"Right."
I nodded.

"Boys,"
she said, sounding amused. "But in any case, those are great
sketches."

"I hope
so. I'm entering a contest." Might as well show her, right? I
pulled out the flyer from my bag, smoothed it out, then handed it to
her. She studied it a moment, then passed it back to me.

"Nice,"
she said. "Cool prizes." She looked down at my sketchbook.
"I bet you have a good chance, too."

"Thanks,"
I said, feeling the blush creep over my cheeks again.

"It's not
a compliment. Simply a fact." I grinned. Another fact? She was
the coolest teacher ever. And things at Hannah Dustin were really
looking up.

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CHAPTER 12

Once home, I
informed Grandma that I wasn't hungry, endured a lecture on the
growing menace of teenage anorexia, then escaped to my room. Once
secured in my sanctuary, I opened up my sketchbook and started
drawing.

I'd settled on
my story line and now was creating the initial scenes. As I was
telling Chad in the auditorium, the premise was pretty simple.
Allora, my gamer girl, gets sucked into her video game for the first
time and is transformed from regular outcast high school student to
popular elfin princess with magical powers to take down enemies with
a mere snap of her fingers and a wave of her wand. (If only she had
these powers back in high school, things would be a lot easier when
facing the bullies.) But though she likes being all-powerful and
enjoys the medieval world where she's loved and adored, she misses
her family back on Earth.

So she consults
with the wise man of her village, who tells her she must go on a
dangerous journey to recover a special potion with the power to send
her home. As she begins her

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quest, she runs
into a handsome knight in shining armor--Sir Leo--who says he will
help her. She doesn't need him. She's very kick-butt all on her own.
But the knight is kind and cute and so she decides to let him tag
along. At least for now.

I was so
engrossed in my art that I didn't even hear the first knock on my
door.

The second, of
course, was louder. And, more annoy-ingly, followed by Mom entering
my room without my permission. I would have objected more strongly to
the parental invasion, except that she was carrying a tray of food.
My growling stomach was ready and willing to be bribed into
forgiveness.

I shoved the
sketchbook under my math book and made like I was working out complex
equations. Skipping dinner for homework was acceptable. Skipping
dinner to draw was most certainly not.

"Lots of
homework?" Mom asked in her best sympathetic voice as she set
the tray on my desk. Mmm, lasagna. "Or are we just doing the
avoiding-your-family thing again?"

Sigh. No such
thing as a guilt-free meal delivery. "Um, a little of each?"

Mom didn't look
all that amused. "I see," she said. "So how was
school?"

"It was
totally awesome!" I cried with cheerleader level enthusiasm. "I
suddenly love it there! I hope that I can stay forever and ever and
ever."

Mom frowned.
"Don't be cute, Maddy. I'm serious."

She wanted
serious? Should I tell her about my onstage

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humiliation?
She'd probably figure out a way to blame me for it.

"If you
must know, I'm still not a big fan of the place."

She gave me her
pitying look. "I'm sorry, sweetie. Do you want to talk about
it?"

I scowled. "Not
unless you've suddenly come up with a plan that lets me return to my
old school," I shot back. "Otherwise, I've got a lot of
homework and should really get to it."

"Fine,"
Mom replied, standing up quickly, trying to mask her hurt, but
failing miserably. "Enjoy your dinner. Yell if you'd like
dessert. Grandma made a terrific banana cream pie. I can have Emily
bring you up a slice so you won't have to deal with my nosing into
your business again."

Stabbed through
the heart with a guilt-coated dagger. Damn, she was good.

"Sorry,
Mom," I apologized. "It's just . . . well, it's
complicated."

She sighed. "I
know, sweetie," she said. "Moving's been rough on all of
us." "Except Emily."