IN REAL LIFE
Published by Tuttle Publishing, an imprint of Periplus Editions (HK) Ltd.
www.tuttlepublishing.com
Copyright © 2014 Lawrence Tabak
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior written permission from the publisher.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data in Process
ISBN: 978-1-4629-1530-9 (ebook)
Distributed by
North America, Latin America & Europe
Tuttle Publishing
364 Innovation Drive
North Clarendon, VT 05759-9436 U.S.A.
Tel: 1 (802) 773-8930
Fax: 1 (802) 773-6993
Asia Pacific
Berkeley Books Pte. Ltd.
61 Tai Seng Avenue #02-12
Singapore 534167
Tel: (65) 6280-1330
Fax: (65) 6280-6290
First edition
17 16 15 14 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 1407RP
Printed in China
TUTTLE PUBLISHING® is a registered trademark of Tuttle Publishing, a division of Periplus Editions (HK) Ltd.
IN REAL LIFE
Lawrence Tabak
TUTTLE Publishing
Tokyo Rutland, Vermont Singapore
Dedication
To my gamers, Josh and Zach
Acknowledgments
This book was inspired and informed by my two gaming sons, Josh and Zach. The story was wisely tightened and the writing consistently improved by the careful editorial work of my agent, Kate Epstein. For help with cultural details and transliterations, as well as mathematical insights, I’m indebted to Professor Ki-Suk Lee, Department of Mathematics Education, Korea National University of Education. Careful and helpful readings were provided by a number of kind souls, including my wife Diane, Josh Tabak, and Stephanie Carmichael. Last, but far from least, to the editorial team at Tuttle, led by Terri Jadick, who guided this project with care, sensitivity and enthusiasm.
CONTENT
Part 1
KANSAS
1.
School called. Again. Unexcused absence, blah, blah, blah. My interception rate on these calls is eighty-four percent (This is Seth’s father, how can I help you?), but they had called Dad while I was at Mom’s. So Dad calls Mom and pretty soon I can hear the screaming right through my headset even though I’m in my bedroom with the door closed. And I have a good headset. She’s getting so worked up that DTerra, my best friend, picks it up over my mic and says, “What the hell is that?”
“Nothing,” I mutter and then hit mute. I love the feeling before a game starts. The buzz of adrenaline, the little turning in the stomach. I’m determined not to let a little parental meltdown break the mood. “I HAVE talked to him! I’ve talked to him until I’m blue in the face! YOU talk to him!”
“Sounded like an orc attack.”
Despite the screaming I laugh. DTerra’s real name is Donald Terrance but I usually just call him DT. He lives five hundred miles away in Moorhead, Minnesota, which he says to think of as a twin city of Fargo, if the twins were deformed dwarfs.
“Don’t you yell at me,” my mom is yelling into the phone. “Friday was your day. It was your responsibility to see that he went to school.”
Actually, I did go to school. I just left at lunch. All I had that afternoon was a study hall, gym and a review session in AP physics, which I already understood. I hadn’t really missed anything.
“OK,” DTerra says. “You ready to make our move?”
I say, “One minute.” I actually like to draw out the pre-game excitement. And making the other team wait a couple minutes. It sets the stage. Shows them who’s in control.
Plus I haven’t looked at Brit Leigh’s Facebook page for maybe twenty minutes. She changes her picture about that often, so it’s always worth checking. If she knew how many times a week I visited her homepage I bet she’d have me arrested for stalking. Last time I looked she had 149 friends, which includes just about our entire sophomore class. It’s easy to remember because 149 happens to be the 35th largest prime number, and we have 35 kids in our English class. Anyway, the point is if I had any balls at all I would at least be one of those 149. But I don’t, and I’m not.
“Seth! Let’s take these guys now!”
We’re scheduled to play a two-man game against a team from Germany with a rating a little higher than ours. We’ve been waiting to play these guys for weeks. If we win, we’ll move up into the top ten on our server.
“One second,” I say.
Brit has added a picture of her, a friend and two senior guys goofing around. The four of them are draped all over each other and leaning into the camera and acting high or drunk. Which is possible. Even goofy she looks pretty amazing. Brit and I have been in the same school since middle school. I think we took geometry together. But I never really noticed her until this year.
It started near the beginning of the year. Our history teacher, Mr. Hobson, has this way of talking to the girls in the class. At least certain girls. I’m not sure if it would be more or less creepy if he was younger or more handsome, but he’s an old guy, at least as old as my dad, and when you get up close to him you can see craters in his cheeks and his breath is pretty awful. Anyway, he’ll call on girls in class and say stuff like, “Brit. I bet you know who the Continental Congress assigned to write the first draft of the Constitution. Because I’m sure you weren’t out carousing like half the girls in this school, dolled up like streetwalkers, doing God-knows-what