Arena (18 page)

Several broken lamps later, I was relocated to the basement.

“Aren't you mad?” I asked Dad one day, as we sat on the basement floor together.

“No. Why would I be?”

“Mom's mad.”

He chuckled. “As soon as she goes shopping, she'll feel better.”

“I'm not talking about the lamps.” I sighed, and Dad's face grew solemn. “She says I live down here, in my little hole.”

Dad frowned, glancing up at the ceiling where the living room would have been. He reached into his pocket and produced a small box.

“I was waiting for your birthday, but I think you need this now.”

He flipped the box open. Inside, cradled by silk, was a gold taijitu pendant on a chain. Dad placed it around my neck.

“You've learned to appreciate how important balance is, Kali, and I'm proud. You're one of the top students at the martial arts studio, and
you're doing very well in school. Keep it up, and you'll be able to go to whatever college you want.”

I bit my lip at the mention of school and turned my gaze away from his eyes. As a distraction, I studied the necklace. Upside down or right-side up, a yin yang was always the same. Two halves of a whole. Feeling a little closer to Dad in that moment, I asked him, “Can you do something for me?”

“Yes? What is it?”

I held the visor out to him. “Try it.”

Dad looked between my face and the visor a few times and recoiled. I sighed. He wasn't going for it. Then, like he was reaching for a grenade, he took it in his hands.

“Don't tell your mother.”

Dad never played again after that night, but he never scowled at the system anymore, either.

Life became a loop stuck on repeat after that. Mornings at school. Afternoons in the studio. Nights in the basement. Until I graduated high school and left. For this place.

This place.

Oh shit. My alarm. It hadn't gone off.

I bolted up in bed and my gaze snapped to the wall clock—06:43 blinked across the screen. Since when had I woken up before the alarm?

In the kitchen, I grabbed a breakfast tray. Yes, real breakfast. Yes, coffee included. In the cafeteria, I sat alone at the table.

I was halfway through my apple when Hannah sat down across from me and surveyed my tray. I thought she'd be pissed at me for running out of the club the previous night, but instead, she smiled like a proud mama.

“Look at you, eating breakfast.”

She eyed my mug.

“Don't get too excited,” I said, picking it up. “It's still coffee, not water.”

“If it wasn't coffee, I'd be more worried than impressed.”

I laughed.

Eventually, Lily joined us, and I ate the rest of my meal while chatting and laughing with the girls. No one asked about what happened to me in the club the previous night. Regardless, I knew I couldn't hide anymore.

Before starting morning training, I walked down the hall and stood in front of a familiar door for a few minutes before swinging it open.

Dr. Renner looked up from her desk and smiled.

“Hi, Kali.”

I sat down in the chair across from her and said nothing. Silence settled between us.

“Is something wrong?” she finally asked.

“Last time I was here, I told you I thought I had a problem.”

She nodded. “Yes. I remember.”

“Well, now I know I have a problem, and it's gotten much worse.”

She considered that for a moment. “Okay. Why don't you tell me more?”

“It's the virtual world. I feel like I want it too much. Like the second life gets hard, I'm looking to escape instead of owning up to it. I'm using the game to get away from reality, not to have fun. And that's what games are supposed to be. Fun.” I paused for a long time before letting the next sentence through. “I think I'm addicted.”

“I understand what you're saying, and I'm glad you came to me to talk. Based on what you've told me, I'm reluctant to call you an addict—”

Because she didn't know half the truth.

“—But if you feel like you need to change, the most important factor is your motivation to make that change.”

“Oh, I'm motivated,” I said. “And not just for me, but for the team. I thought I was ready before, the last time we talked. But I wasn't really there yet. I am now.”

“That's normal. Sometimes, even when you think you should change, you have to pass a tipping point before you realize just how important it is. In your case, it would be where what's bad about the virtual world outweighs what's good about it.”

I nodded profusely. “I'm past the tipping point.”

“Regardless of the reason, if you want to change, the best thing you can do for yourself is come up with a plan, then share it with people who will support you. It's important to talk to someone about how you feel, too. It doesn't have to be me, but make sure it's someone who will understand without judging. There's a reason why alcoholics meet with each
other in support groups. Staying committed is easier when you have someone else in your life who is going through the same thing. Do you know any other gamers who have struggled like you?”

Nope.

Ugh. Yes, there was. Of course, there was. I bit my lip. Whether the doc knew it or not, there was someone in my life going through the same thing.

I let a slow breath pass through my lips.

“Yes,” I finally admitted. “I do.”

After my meeting with the doc, I stood in the training room, watching my teammates on the treadmills and weight machines. Rooke stood on the other side of the room, working out with Derek. I wasn't going to talk to him. Not yet. Not until I'd had a bit of time to process everything myself. But I wasn't about to go running miles or pumping iron, either. Not while my stomach was still realizing it had more than coffee in it and might rebel.

I caught my reflection in the mirrors lining the wall beside me. In my early teens, I'd practiced Tai Chi in front of a mirror wall just like this one to monitor my movements and perfect the method. I hadn't done it in ages.

I lifted one leg and guided it to the side until I was in a squatted stance. Then I slowly lifted my arms. In the mirror, I searched for my teammates' reflections. No one had noticed me. Rooke spotted Derek on the bench press. Hannah and Lily jogged beside each other's treadmill, chatting. None of the trainers approached me, either. Poor guys probably drew straws every morning on who had to work with me. The one with the shortest must have run and hid.

I closed my eyes and focused on the sensations around me. My bare feet sinking into the cool padding of the mats. The sounds of my teammates in training, the huffs of their breaths and their feet clacking against the equipment. The voices of the trainers guiding them through with basic commands. With a deep breath, I blocked everything out and zeroed in on my chi, the core of my energy. A swirling-yet-calm vortex orbited my navel, as if the rest of me revolved around it. Stillness settled inside me, a sort of peace I hadn't felt in years, maybe ever.

Then I felt something else. That tugging sensation you get when someone's watching. I opened my eyes to find Rooke standing a foot away, arms crossed.

“Am I interrupting?” he asked.

I smiled and continued through the movements. “Not at all.”

“How did you sleep?”

“Not horribly, but not well.”

He nodded. “It'll get better.” He moved closer and lowered his voice, so the others wouldn't hear. “You aren't in that deep, so the withdrawals shouldn't be too bad. It would probably help if you could avoid plugging in for today. Maybe we could convince the team just to practice in here.”

“Yeah. Sounds good.”

He glanced down at his feet and shifted his weight a few times. “So, uh . . . I was wondering . . .” His voice trailed off, and he rubbed the back of his neck. What was with him?

“What are you planning on doing tonight?” he finally asked.

Clubbing had been my answer for so long, it was like my mouth didn't know how to form other words. Finally, I shrugged. “Don't know. Why?”

“Because I'll be here”—he nodded down at the mats—“if you'd like to join me.”

He turned and walked away, and returned to working out with Derek. He never made eye contact again or said anything further.

Tai Chi was all about fluid, flowing movements. But I stood there, frozen in pose, as I tried to comprehend what had just happened. A strange mix of emotions swelled within. Curiosity. Anticipation. Subtle fear. I pushed through the rest of my routine to the close and held it, concentrating, breathing, trying to ignore the thought screaming through my mind.

Holy shit.

Kali Ling, you have a date.

“D
r. Renner says I should stay in for the night.”

Every teenager masters the art of lying about where they'll be for the night by the age of sixteen. Early on, I'd learned that adding an adult's name to the mix beefs up the authenticity of the excuse. Still, I never thought I'd be doing it myself as an adult, or as an excuse
not
to go out for the night.

“There are some exercises she wants me to try before bed,” I continued. “She says it will help in the virtual world. I figure it's best for the team.”

It was a flat-out lie, but I doubted Clarence would actually check with Dr. Renner to verify. Besides, if he did, I also doubted the good doctor would think it was a bad idea for me to stay in once in a while and focus on my sanity.

Clarence flicked through the tablet on his desk, failing to look up at me. “Fine. Whatever. As long as it's just for tonight.”

“I thought that Rooke should stay in, too. If he goes out without me, it could give the wrong impression.”

He paused as he considered it. “Yes, you're right. I trust you can tell him yourself.”

Since Clarence's attention was solely on his desk, I let a smile creep across my face. “I'm sure I'll see him.”

Clarence said nothing else as he flipped through his tablet. After standing in awkward silence for more than a minute, wondering if the conversation was over, I gave up and left.

Inside the training room, my feet padded along the cool canvas of the training mats and stopped in front of a pair of bo staffs. Rooke stood on the other side of the staffs, dressed in training gear. I considered telling him some guys train without a shirt, but it looked like it wasn't going to be that kind of a date.

“We're covered for the night,” I told him.

“Good.” He nodded at my feet, where the bo staffs lay on the mats. “Pick one up.”

Good evening to you, too.

I knelt to retrieve a staff. The wood felt smooth against my skin and weighed heavy in my hand.

“You got me a stick? I was hoping for flowers.”

He smiled slightly. “You don't seem the type for flowers.”

I spun the staff around in my hands a few times, getting a feel for its movements.

“So, you've trained with a bo before,” he concluded.

“I've studied martial arts for years.” He nodded, like it was nothing new. I narrowed my eyes at him. “You already knew, didn't you?”

“It's in your stats.”

“Checking out my stats, huh? I'm flattered.”

“Don't be. I study everyone's.”

I glowered at him until I gave myself heartburn. Cocky bastard.

“You took a little of everything,” he continued. “Why the variation?”

“Every martial art has something different to teach,” I explained. “I wanted to learn them all.”

“Any favorites?”

“Tae kwon do. I know it's Korean, and I'm half-Chinese, but I liked the combination of strength, speed, flexibility, and balance.” I paused. “Tai Chi, too. But I think that reason is obvious.”

He nodded. “The Taoist martial art. Yeah, I got that.”

He stepped forward on the mat, going for the remaining staff. But
instead of picking it up, he rolled it under his toes, catapulted it horizontally four feet in the air, and caught it with one hand.

So not impressed.

If he'd been shirtless, maybe.

I took a defensive stance opposite him. He mirrored me. For a fleeting moment, his eyes looked soft and warm as they weaved their way up my form. Then they turned to hardened steel as he met my stare. Statue mood. Posed with the staff, the muscles in his arms flexed, and his jaw set hard. Only the shallow breaths expanding and contracting his chest revealed he hadn't actually turned to stone. But replace the staff with a blade, and he was a gladiator. A real gladiator. Christ, this guy even looked like a warrior in the real world, even without a sword or armor to match.

So it would be that much sweeter when I made him cry.

I took a breath and waited for his attack. The gap between us was no-man's-land, where no soul ventured. With a breath, I sprinted and swung the staff, aiming for his midsection. He blocked, knocked me sideways, and smacked the back of my hand. Pain shot up my arm. I dropped the staff and ground my teeth together to stifle a hiss.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Fine,” I grunted, and knelt to retrieve my weapon.

Still kneeling, I spun and lashed out with the staff. Rooke parried my surprise attack and clipped my shin, wood snapping against bone. Holy Mother. I hopped around on one leg until the sting of the impact lessened.

“What martial art did you study?” I asked. “Karate?”

He nodded.

“I'm going to assume you're a black belt,” I said, and he didn't argue. “At least second degree.”

“Third, but close enough.”

A grin touched his lips. Super cocky bastard. I was starting to like that look. Hoping he was off guard, I lunged. He deflected.

Rooke took a step back and shook his head. “Stop trying to hit me so hard. Even just a tap with these things will hurt enough.” He held up his staff for emphasis.

“You have to understand,” I began, “my target is you.”

He blinked but didn't frown. Looks like he was becoming immune to my sarcasm. “Aren't you noticing a pattern here?”

“Yes. You're continuously pissing me off.”

“I'm not attacking. You are.” He closed the gap between us. “I've watched your fights, Kali. You never attack first. Not unless you have the perfect opportunity. So why are you being so aggressive now?”

I opened my mouth to let loose another smart-ass remark, but he moved even closer, and the words caught in my throat.

“We're not here to see who wins.” He gripped my hand where it wrapped around the staff. “We're here to focus on the real.”

I glanced down at his hand resting over mine. Heat emanated from him and brushed against my skin. He'd long made his point and still held on.

Finally, he released my hand and backed up several feet.

I took a breath, absorbed his advice, and focused on my surroundings, inside and out. Steady breaths expanded my lungs. The scent of canvas and leather filled the room, wafting off the mats and training gear. The breeze of the air-conditioning brushed my skin again, refreshing and cool. I smiled. Kneeling low, I held the staff along my arm, so it was a part of me. A new limb.

I met Rooke's eyes and swear I saw him grin, but he pressed his lips together to hide the evidence. He spread his feet shoulder width apart, balanced. Silence settled between us again. I closed my eyes and focused, waiting for the sound of his attack. Seconds passed. Then, his footsteps padded along the mat toward me. Eyes closed, I moved. Without thinking, without trying, I just moved.

I deflected Rooke to the side and, as he passed, snapped the staff down and caught the back of his thigh. He jumped but recovered quickly.

“That's better,” he said, though I noticed a slight limp in his walk as he circled back to me.

We continued the pattern, attacking and breaking, occasionally getting a solid hit in. After a while, I actually felt a grin tugging at my lips when a wave of sickness washed over me. I pulled back from the fight and doubled over, gripping my stomach. Rooke paused and waited as I leaned on my staff for support.

“That's the start of the withdrawals,” he finally said.

“You think?” I spat.

He said nothing else, giving me some space. I tried standing up straight, but my knees instantly gave out, and I slumped down on the mat. The staff landed with a
thunk
beside me.

“Damn it.”

“Kali, why don't you take a second? There aren't any cameras here.”

“You never know.” Grunting, I used the staff to push myself up. My stomach roiled, and I slid back down the staff to my knees. “Just so you know, I'm taking a second.”

I stared down at the mat, breathing through my mouth, trying to convince my stomach not to revisit any previous meals of the day. Rooke crossed the mat and knelt beside me.

“It gets better,” he said. I glanced up and met his face, only inches from mine. His expression was soft, understanding. “It really does. I swear.”

Heat blossomed against the small of my back as he rubbed his palm in small circles. Then he halted suddenly and pulled back, as if he'd just realized what he was doing. We locked eyes. My stomach curled in on itself, and not just because of the nausea. Despite the sounds of the facility humming around us, silence settled between us as thick and heavy as humidity in the Amazon.

“Can you talk about something?” I looked down and gripped my stomach, swallowing thick. “To get my mind off the nausea.”

He thought for a second. “You never told me your favorite passage.”

“What?”

“From the
Tao Te Ching
.”

The
Tao Te Ching
. Right. Words and passages flowed through my mind, but I didn't need to reread the book to know which spoke the most to me.

“Mastering others is strength. Mastering self is true power.”

Rooke considered it, then smiled and nodded.

“Nice choice.”

“Are you two planning on eating dinner tonight, or just beating each other up?”

In the doorway, Hannah stood hand on her hip, in a barely there dress and heels that could have doubled as stilts. Weeks ago, I'd never seen her in heels. Guess that was part of her image now. I glanced at the clock above the doors. It was 21:32. Party time.

She waved me over.

Rooke leaned toward me and lowered his voice. “Can you stand?”

I took a deep breath and nodded. “It's not so bad now.”

I pushed myself up slowly, and when my body didn't protest, crossed the training room to Hannah's side.

“If we would have known you two were still training,” she said quietly, “we would have joined you.”

“Would you want to?”

She shrugged.

“We worked our asses off all day,” I said. “This should be your time to do what you want. If you want to train, train. If you want to go out, go. But the nights should be ours to do whatever.”

She laughed. “Yeah, right. That'll be the day.”

“I think it's reasonable. Sometimes we need time apart. Sometimes we need time alone.”

Hannah glanced at Rooke in the background. “Oh. Time alone. I see.” She winked. “Have fun.”

“It's not like that.”

“Yeah, right.” She leaned toward me. “I might not know much about men, but make sure he wears a rubber and holds you afterwards.”

I chuckled. “Fuck you. Get out of here.”

She left with a smile. I listened to her heels clicking along the hallway. Once she was out of earshot, I turned back to Rooke and grinned.

“One more round.”

It was actually three more rounds and several fresh bruises later when we finally called it quits. My stomach held off for the rest of the night, and my love of competing and drive to make Rooke cry pushed me on until I couldn't hold the staff anymore. In the women's locker room, I showered and planned on bed. Another early night wouldn't have been a bad thing. So how I ended up alone with Rooke in a darkened hallway was another story.

I huddled near the exit door, hugging myself.

“I can't believe I let you talk me into this,” I told him. I squinted at his outline in the shadows. “I'm leaving.”

He grabbed my arm. “It'll be great. I promise.” He spoke in soft, soothing tones, the type men use to coax women into trouble. “You won't regret it.”

I glanced at the hallway corners, looking for the red light of a camera. “What if we get caught?”

“We won't.”

“I don't think you realize how much Clarence watches us.”

He stepped up to me and his face appeared in the darkness. “I don't think you realize how much I want this.”

He looked down at me with pleading eyes, and when I saw the hunger within them, I believed it.

I sighed. “All right. Fine. How much longer?”

On cue, several loud knocks pounded on the door beside us, followed by a gruff voice.

“Pizza delivery!”

Rooke grinned and yanked the door open. The sweet smell of dough and mozzarella wafted in, curling through the sterile air of the facility. My stomach rumbled. Maybe this was a good idea.

I poked my head out the door as Rooke took the pizza box in his hands. The delivery guy's mouth fell open.

“Holy shit, you're Kali Ling.”

That's me, baby. Loud and proud. I signed for the pizza and started entering a tip. He waved me off. “Hey. No tip required.”

“Why not?”

“Geez, you know how much your autograph is worth? You never sign things for the fans.”

A chill ran through me. I glanced between him and my signature on the digital receipt. And I thought my mother was good at inadvertent guilt trips. I nodded, though my head didn't feel quite attached to my body.

“Yeah. Right.”

He beamed. “Wait until I tell my friends. They're never going to believe this.”

He walked away, shaking his head. As I watched him leave, my conscience did a tap dance at my heart. I sighed, and pursued him.

“Hey, wait.”

He turned around.

“What's your name?” I asked.

“Mike.”

I nodded at his tablet. “You got a camera on that thing, Mike?”

“Uh . . . yeah.”

I looped an arm around his waist. “Well, take a pic already. My food is getting cold.”

He froze for a second, then fumbled with the tablet. I kissed his cheek just as the camera clicked, and could have sworn I felt his knees buckle. He stuttered out a word that sounded like “thanks” and stumbled back to his car, grinning in a way I'd only seen on Cheshire cats.

Rooke's eyes narrowed as he watched the delivery guy float away.