Read Online Gamers Con: The First Zak Steepleman Novel by Dave Bakers - Free Book Online
Authors: Dave Bakers
Tags: Fiction
Ads: Link
me, again finding it funny that there were several grown men: men in their twenties or thirties—at least one surely in his forties—and that they were casting those glares of theirs at the two kids who’d managed to beat them.
I wondered if they’d simply go back home now, all angry, or if they’d stay out the rest of the convention just to see who did take the Grand Tournament Trophy.
Steve gave me, James, and the other three winners, a smile-free congratulation then he told us that we would have to come back for the Second Round a little later in the evening.
Eight o’clock.
I felt like I was buzzing inside, like I’d somehow contracted a swarm of bees right in the centre of my chest . . . but in a good way, obviously . . .
Just as I was heading away, making for the stairs which led up to the spectator seats, James spoke up behind me.
“Hey,” James said, “we were thinking of like meeting up in a little while—I mean, just us, the kids who were with Alive Action Games, what do you think?”
I looked back at him. Shrugged. “Okay.”
We exchanged phone numbers, and agreed to meet up in about an hour at the letter T.
I did wonder, as I felt the burn at the backs of my legs as I climbed up those—seemingly unending —stairs to the spectator area that this might perhaps be some clumsy attempt to throw me off my game . . . to maybe have me miss something important in the competition.
But, looking at the time, I saw that it was only five now.
We’d meet at six.
And, after the meeting, we’d probably go straight to the next round which began at eight.
It would be fine.
16
WHEN I GOT UP THERE, to Dad, he was— surprise, surprise! —still tapping away on his chess app. I explained to him about how I was planning on meeting up with some other kids in a little while and he did that rapid-blinking thing of his that told me, instinctively, that he was a bit thrown by these sudden developments in my social life.
I guess this was really the first time that I’d come to Gamers Con as something resembling an individual human being.
The last four years, when I’d come here, I’d had my mum and dad tagging along the whole entire time.
Apart from the tournament itself, they never left my side.
But this year it was different.
Just me and Dad.
And Dad was spending a whole lot of time on his chess.
We had our own things to do.
Dad said it was fine for me to go and meet with the kids, and he sort of mumbled about doing something . . . though I didn’t really care at all, I was fairly certain that he’d be taking another shower.
There were a whole bunch of people at this convention so I guess that he was feeling somewhat dirty.
I let him know where the tournament that night would be taking place, and we agreed, if we didn’t see one another before then, to meet up at that time.
He gave me one of those withered smiles of his as I walked away from him.
And then he turned his attention back to his chess match.
* * *
James was already at the letter T fifteen minutes before we’d agreed to meet.
And, somehow, I got the impression that he’d planned it so that we might have a couple of minutes alone together, to talk in private, before the others got there.
James was leaning up against a railing, the sole of one of his trainers flat against it in that cool way that I’d never— ever —be able to pull off.
He smiled at me with a mouthful of teeth as I drew closer, then he said, “That was some nice play, Zak, back there.”
“You didn’t do so badly yourself,” I said, unable to keep myself from smiling back in return.
James nodded off into the crowd, in the direction I’d just come from.
I looked through the people, saw that Kate was there, among the faces.
James gave a shrug. “I asked all of you along but I don’t know if everybody’ll come.” He rolled his neck about like he’d given himself cramp during the First Round, or something, then said,
I wondered if they’d simply go back home now, all angry, or if they’d stay out the rest of the convention just to see who did take the Grand Tournament Trophy.
Steve gave me, James, and the other three winners, a smile-free congratulation then he told us that we would have to come back for the Second Round a little later in the evening.
Eight o’clock.
I felt like I was buzzing inside, like I’d somehow contracted a swarm of bees right in the centre of my chest . . . but in a good way, obviously . . .
Just as I was heading away, making for the stairs which led up to the spectator seats, James spoke up behind me.
“Hey,” James said, “we were thinking of like meeting up in a little while—I mean, just us, the kids who were with Alive Action Games, what do you think?”
I looked back at him. Shrugged. “Okay.”
We exchanged phone numbers, and agreed to meet up in about an hour at the letter T.
I did wonder, as I felt the burn at the backs of my legs as I climbed up those—seemingly unending —stairs to the spectator area that this might perhaps be some clumsy attempt to throw me off my game . . . to maybe have me miss something important in the competition.
But, looking at the time, I saw that it was only five now.
We’d meet at six.
And, after the meeting, we’d probably go straight to the next round which began at eight.
It would be fine.
16
WHEN I GOT UP THERE, to Dad, he was— surprise, surprise! —still tapping away on his chess app. I explained to him about how I was planning on meeting up with some other kids in a little while and he did that rapid-blinking thing of his that told me, instinctively, that he was a bit thrown by these sudden developments in my social life.
I guess this was really the first time that I’d come to Gamers Con as something resembling an individual human being.
The last four years, when I’d come here, I’d had my mum and dad tagging along the whole entire time.
Apart from the tournament itself, they never left my side.
But this year it was different.
Just me and Dad.
And Dad was spending a whole lot of time on his chess.
We had our own things to do.
Dad said it was fine for me to go and meet with the kids, and he sort of mumbled about doing something . . . though I didn’t really care at all, I was fairly certain that he’d be taking another shower.
There were a whole bunch of people at this convention so I guess that he was feeling somewhat dirty.
I let him know where the tournament that night would be taking place, and we agreed, if we didn’t see one another before then, to meet up at that time.
He gave me one of those withered smiles of his as I walked away from him.
And then he turned his attention back to his chess match.
* * *
James was already at the letter T fifteen minutes before we’d agreed to meet.
And, somehow, I got the impression that he’d planned it so that we might have a couple of minutes alone together, to talk in private, before the others got there.
James was leaning up against a railing, the sole of one of his trainers flat against it in that cool way that I’d never— ever —be able to pull off.
He smiled at me with a mouthful of teeth as I drew closer, then he said, “That was some nice play, Zak, back there.”
“You didn’t do so badly yourself,” I said, unable to keep myself from smiling back in return.
James nodded off into the crowd, in the direction I’d just come from.
I looked through the people, saw that Kate was there, among the faces.
James gave a shrug. “I asked all of you along but I don’t know if everybody’ll come.” He rolled his neck about like he’d given himself cramp during the First Round, or something, then said,
Similar Books
