She glares at Aaron.
“So, this is him?” she asks me.
“This is him,” I say with a small smile. Aaron gives her a little salute and a crooked grin.
“Hmm. I’m not impressed.” She brushes by us, onto the stage, where she starts passing out some remaining patches to the girls up there. Aaron turns to me and laughs.
“She likes you,” I say, grinning.
The door to the hall bursts open with a loud bang, and a familiar-looking guy storms in. I can’t seem to place him, but he immediately sets his eyes on Aaron.
“You!” he shouts, hurrying over. He grabs Aaron, pulling him away, holding him by the collar of his T-shirt. “Where is it? Where the fuck is it?”
“Whoa, whoa!” Two of the police officers jump off the stage and seize the man, who I now recognize as Jason, the ManaPunk games guy. I’ve seen him in plenty of articles, his style and look distinctive enough.
“What’s going on here?” one of the officers asks.
“This guy stole a development computer out of my booth,” Jason says, pointing accusingly at Aaron. “With a demo of a game on it that belongs to me.”
“Is this true?” the officer asks. One of the convention security guards meanders over, saying something into his walkie-talkie.
“Well, yes, most of it,” Aaron says, looking over at me with a shrug. “He had material in the game that he hadn’t paid for, created by me and my friend, with no plans to pay us for it. He had no right to showcase it, so we took it.”
A few people hustle over, their phones out and recording. I notice their press badges and catch glimpses of the websites they’re here for. Polygon. Kotaku. Giant Bomb. Some of the outlets who have covered me in the past. I wonder what sort of piece they’re going to write up about what just unraveled, or what’s already online. What they tweeted, what videos and photos they posted.
And what they’re about to make of this situation.
“I...” Jason looks from Aaron to the officer to me, and then at those press badges, as if one of us is going to magically understand his stance on whatever is happening. “Look, it’s a bit of a misunderstanding, really.” He’s talking more to the press people than he is to anyone else, and I can see it. “How about, um, how about you keep that computer, and we call it even?”
He stares pleadingly at Aaron, who looks completely taken aback. I am, too, honestly. Those things are expensive as hell. But I’m guessing whatever bad press he’s fearing right now outweighs the cost of that PC.
“Um. Are you serious?” Aaron asks.
“Yes. Totally.” Jason nods jerkily. “And I’ll take the writing and art out.” He glances at the press people. “It’s just—It’s not what it looks like.”
The journalists glance at one another, and I can practically see this guy’s career going up in flames right in front of me.
“Sure,” Aaron says cheerfully. “Done.”
“Good, good.” Jason brushes himself off, hands shaking. “We’re not working together ever again, though. Don’t call me.”
“Fine by me,” Aaron retorts.
Jason mutters something under his breath, glancing at the cop and Aaron, then storms off out of the hall. The reporters hustle back to the edge of the room, their eyes set on their phones as they type away. A few of them follow after Jason, and I wonder what kind of follow-up questions this guy is about to get hammered with.
“Hey!” an angry, deep voice shouts.
I turn to see an older guy storming toward us.
“You can’t silence the Vox Populi!” he snarls.
Aaron moves to shield me from the man, and the guy takes a swing at him. Aaron’s plastic poster tube clatters to the ground. My heart pounds as Aaron moves to strike back, two of the police officers bounding back over, but I push Aaron aside, reach down, and swing the poster tube up in an arc at the man’s head.
It connects with the most satisfying thunk I’ve ever heard in my life.
He goes down hard, his body clattering against the folding chairs, and the security guards and police officers quickly surround him.
Aaron looks back at me and smiles.
“That was amazing,” he says, a little breathless.
“I know.” I smile, lifting one shoulder in a half shrug.
“Hey, I’ve got an idea,” he says hesitantly, reaching out to give my hand a squeeze.
“Me, too,” I whisper, dropping the poster tube.
I don’t let him kiss me, though.
I kiss him.
Reclaim the Sun: Chat Application
D1V: Guess who?
AARON: New chat application, who dis?
D1V: Oh, hah hah hah.
AARON: Welcome back.
D1V: How was the trip back to Philadelphia?
AARON: Not bad.
AARON: Ryan says hi. He’s currently trying to put the computer on eBay.
D1V: Wow, can you even do that?
AARON: I think so, but it keeps getting taken down. Not a good enough rank or something.
AARON: Hopefully his dad will do it? I dunno.
AARON: How are you?
D1V: Still shook-up. Got my social account access back.
D1V: But I don’t know.
D1V: I’m not sure I really want any of it anymore.
AARON: I hear you, but isn’t that letting them win?
D1V: Maybe. I’m torn. I might just get off of it altogether.
AARON: Makes sense, I guess? Whatever you’re comfortable with.
D1V: Oh my God, this is the part where you ask for my phone number.
AARON: Oh.
AARON: OH.
D1V: Too late.
D1V: Goodbye forever.
D1V: I hope you have beautiful children someday.
AARON: Nooooooo.
D1V: [D1V has signed off]
D1V: ... Okay, ready? Write it down.
26
AARON
After clearing the hard drive, Ryan’s dad put Jason’s ManaPunk computer up on his eBay account with Buy It Now at $5,000, and even at that price, the bidding started almost immediately. In the end, we wound up netting a glorious $6,000.
It wasn’t nearly as much as Jason had always promised us, but my half will certainly help buy some books on coding and the software I’ll need to create my own games. Maybe I can even build a little website, work on a tiny studio my last year of high school? I could get some of the software at a discount on Humble, maybe? Steam?