I glance back at the store, still simmering over that obnoxious employee and his glee at D1V’s downfall, his doubt over whether she’s even a real person or not. Which is part of the damn problem—people assume that those behind a screen, or masked with an avatar, aren’t real people. Then there was all that stuff about how he thinks the convention will be really interesting. And he mentioned the Populi...
It’s not the possibility that I might be able to meet her that sends my heart racing and my feet flying back home in a hurry, Ryan half jogging next to me, complaining that I need to slow down. No. It’s the fact that she’ll be there. At that event in New York City. With someone like that, like Chad, someone unwelcoming, waiting for her. And that something is supposed to happen at the convention.
Really interesting... The Populi are gonna put on quite the show.
I have to find a way to stop them.
19
DIVYA
“I don’t care,” I say flatly, closing my laptop. “I’m going.”
As I meet Rebekah’s eyes, I struggle to hide the rising emotions I’m feeling after reading all the comments online. After being forced to ignore my golden rule. The little sign in my room. Don’t Read the Comments.
This time, I read all of them. Every single one.
“Div, you can’t—” Rebekah starts.
“I’m going,” I insist. I reach across the cafeteria table and grab her hands. I feel them shaking a little, and give her fingers a reassuring squeeze. I visited the Women’s Center here on campus with her earlier. To talk. To get all this...awful off my chest.
There was something about talking to someone about everything, all that’s happened, all that I think is going to happen, that felt...good. Right. Particularly with a person who claimed they’ve never played a video game in their life.
It gave me perspective. There’s a whole world outside my bubble. All I have to do is let it pop.
I close my eyes for a moment, soaking in the oddly comforting sounds of the college cafeteria. The never-ending din of voices, conversations that sound friendly and jovial, all around me, pushing back against the welling sadness that keeps trying to envelop me. The food here isn’t that fantastic, but it’s free, thanks to Rebekah. And with everything shutting down, with no access to my channel and social feeds, I’m taking every free thing I can get.
The money isn’t gone. It’s not like it vanished overnight. But I know it’s not going to come back any time soon, not until I restore my channels. And who knows how long that’s going to take.
And if I even want them back.
I open my eyes to see Rebekah shaking her head.
“But you saw what they said they’re going to do,” she presses back, withdrawing her hands from mine.
“It’s a public place, Beks.” The words feel just as hollow and fake as the ones I tried to say in her counseling session. That I’m fine. That it’ll be okay. Because I’m just as worried as she is. About the appearance. About our plan. “They aren’t actually going to do any of that. Besides, I jacked up my speaker fee, and for some crazy reason, the convention folks agreed. It’ll cover what we need for my mom’s last class. I’ll be able to register for a course or two at County. I’ll be free. From all of this.”
I force a smile and sweep my hands around and into the air. “It’ll be my grand public sign-off. The end of the great D1V!”
Rebekah starts crying.
“Aw, come on, everyone in here is going to think I’m breaking up with you,” I tease.
“Sh-shut up,” Rebekah sputters out, a laugh mixing with the tears. She wipes at her face. “Besides, you kinda are. I’ll miss our stream.”
“Yeah, but it’s not like that,” I remind her. “We’ll still stream together for fun and hang out and game all the time.”
“I know. But I’m allowed to be worried about you. I’m allowed to be scared.”
“You are. You absolutely are,” I say, recognizing the words I know she learned in therapy. “But I can’t let these people think they’re in control of me. I won’t let them have this hold over me. I just won’t.”
Rebekah nods.
“Any word from Aaron?” she asks, looking off to the side, like she’s trying not to have this conversation.
“No,” I tell her. “But that’s not entirely unexpected. He doesn’t really have a way to reach me. I kind of want to wait until all this is over to talk to him, anyway. You know?”
“He might be worried about you,” she points out, and I swear, it’s as though the words are physically hurting her to say out loud. She grits her teeth as I give her a look. “Stop it. I care about you, so... I guess...by some weird osmosis... I care about him, too.”
“So it’s just science?”
“Just science.”
I suddenly remember that I do have his email. At least, his game email from Reclaim the Sun. It would be easy, really. A quick, “Hello, I’m okay,” using someone else’s account while mine is down. Maybe make a new one, a guest account. But I want this finished first. I mean, I found his home address all too easily when I wanted to send him the VR headset. Surely the trolls could find him, too.
I want to keep him safe.
I change the subject. “By the way, I talked to Detective Watts, and you don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” I say. Rebekah immediately looks up at me, aghast and glaring.
“Oh hell no,” she says emphatically. “You don’t get to go without me, do this without me, and leave me an anxiety-filled mess at home. I’m there. We are in this. What’s her plan, anyway?”
“Yeah, about that—”
A couple of college kids walk by, blatantly staring. They both have retro video game shirts on, Space Invaders and Centipede. They whisper to each other as they pass our table, glancing back at us over their shoulders.
I pull the sunglasses off.
“Damn it,” I mutter. “Maybe I should dye my hair. Or cut it. I should cut it.”
“Please, that would break your mom’s heart,” Rebekah protests, shaking her head.
“We’re a family used to such things,” I say, staring at Rebekah’s hair.
Blood orange.
That could work.
I pull out my phone and scroll to Detective Watts’s number. I stare at the screen for a beat, taking a deep breath.
“Div?” Rebekah ventures.
“It’s just...” I bite my lip. “Once we do this, there’s no going back, you know?”