The Fifteenth Minute (10 page)

A
n hour later
, the house is full of people, and the doorbell is still ringing. I keep opening it, wondering when the cops are going to show. I didn’t used to be a worrier, but my lawyer’s advice to stay out of trouble is ringing in my ears. Though I couldn’t bail on this party, because Lianne is here at my invitation and she’s having a blast.

We set up my gear on a table in the corner beside the sofa. I’ve let Lianne choose all the music, and she’s on a classic rap kick. At the moment, she’s dancing on the coffee table with Pepe, everyone’s favorite tipsy Canadian. I’ve already removed all the hockey magazines and empty cups, so she won’t stumble. And I’ve tucked my brother’s banner around the window more carefully. If that reporter is still out there, I don’t want him capturing this. And every time she sets down a half-empty drink, I take a big gulp of it, because I’m not sure she understands that there’s a pretty hefty dose of vodka in this punch that Orsen whipped up. Lianne must weigh about ninety-eight pounds soaking wet.

Okay—that’s really not the image I need right now.

A few kisses with Lianne and my head is spun around like the records on the turntable. It’s not wise to start something with her. My rational brain knows this. But she’s ridiculously attractive to me. She’s also a natural dancer; my eyes keep drifting to the sway of her hips and the shake of her pert little ass.

It’s been a while since I felt this kind of attraction. A
long
while. Like, I wondered if my dick was broken. I didn’t have a sexual thought all last semester. That’s pretty freaking weird, and if I didn’t have a hundred other problems I’d probably be worried about it.

Lianne though…she just kills me. Up on the coffee table, she and Pepe shake their butts to a funny part in a Public Enemy song, conversing in a language I don’t speak. She’s wearing a silly smile, and I just want to haul her off of there and kiss her again.

She’s having too much fun, though. And why shouldn’t she? Except for me, all the people in this room will still be at Harkness after the midterm break. She should make friends who might actually stick around.

When I look around the room, though, I notice that not everyone is friendly to her. Lianne is clearly a source of curiosity. From some people there are sidelong glances and whispered asides, as if Lianne is an alien species or a zoo animal. One girl is downright nasty, and unfortunately that girl is Amy, my brother’s girlfriend.

At first, I hoped I was imagining it when Amy elbowed her puck bunny friends every time Lianne bent over the turntable. But then I heard her make a snarky comment about Lianne’s powers of sorcery, and I realized Amy really has nothing better to do with her time than to poke fun at someone she doesn’t know.

My brother’s girlfriend is a bitch on wheels, and while I have my theories about Leo’s choices, I still don’t know how he puts up with her. He’s too easygoing to enjoy someone so high maintenance. Every time I hear another insult fall from her carefully made-up face, I can only assume that she’s more fun in bed than out of it. When I cross the room again, I hear Amy say, “If I were her, I’d use my magic powers to increase my cup size to at least a B.”

I give her an ornery glare, but she doesn’t even notice. My opinion doesn’t even register with her because I don’t play for her favorite hockey team.

“DJ,” she says, grabbing my biceps as I walk past. “Play me something from this decade?”

She always speaks to me like I’m the help. Not even a
please
. “You’ll have to talk to Lianne,” I say. “She’s the DJ tonight.” I’m not trying to complicate Lianne’s evening, but I’ll bet Amy is too self-absorbed to actually go and make eye contact with my favorite freshman.

But it turns out I’m wrong about the girl. (This is a theme in my life.) She marches over to Lianne and taps her hand. Lianne hops off the coffee table and cocks her head to hear better. Amy makes her request, and I watch as Lianne gives her a once-over, trying to decide whether or not to give in.

“‘Centuries’ is the team’s win song,” I hear Amy whine. “It’s by Fall Out Boy. The team will expect you to play it.”

This is laughable, because most of the guys she’s referring to are at the other end of the room playing video games. They don’t give a fuck.

“Interesting pick,” Lianne says, hopping off the coffee table. “The riff in the middle almost makes it eligible for the jukebox at Capri’s. That bit by Suzanne Vega.”

“Who?” Amy asks, scrunching up her perfect nose.

Lianne only shakes her head. “They’re just not teaching nineties hits to the kiddies anymore. You can cue it up if you want. Knock yourself out. I’m going to see what they’re playing.” She points at the boys at the other end of the room.

I’m a little bummed she gave in. Amy is wealthy and attractive and used to getting people to do her bidding. People should say no to her more often.

But Lianne gives me a little, secret smile and drifts toward the other end of the room.

The front door opens for the millionth time, admitting Bella and her boyfriend Rafe. A cheer goes up among the hockey team. As the former team manager, Bella is very popular. “Nice win tonight, guys!” she calls. Then she does a double take. “Lianne Challice! I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“By ‘all over’ I assume you mean my room?” Lianne asks. She’s squinting at the TV screen, a studious frown on her beautiful face.

“And I texted!” Bella walks over to give her a soft swat on the head. “Thanks for telling me about the party. What kind of a friend are you?”

“Didn’t know about the party until it started,” Lianne mutters. She’s leaning over Orsen’s shoulder now, captivated by whatever game he’s playing.

“Huh,” Bella grunts, her forehead wrinkling. “Then you owe me a few other details.”

“Hey man,” Rafe says, high-fiving me. “How are you?”

“All right. Drinks are in the kitchen. Help yourself to whatever.” Hell, Rafe is underage, too. But what’s one more? This party had better not get busted. I feel like I’m seconds away from turning down the music like somebody’s grandpa.

I decide to watch Lianne some more, because that always takes my blues away.

She’s biting one of her small fingers now, like someone who wants to say something but isn’t sure she should. I watch her eyes go from worried to exasperated. “Gah,” she says. Then she leans on the back of Orsen’s chair. “Okay, NO! Don’t go that way. You
just
saw the troll sweat on the floor, right?”

Four heads swivel around to look at her. “What?” my brother says, which is exactly what the rest of them are thinking. They’re trying to wrap their heads around the idea that a girl knows something about their gory video game.

Lianne rolls her eyes, pointing at the screen. “That shimmer in the corner? A troll passed through here. You need an x-force weapon or you’re toast.”

“Um…” O’Hane chuckles. “Okay, that’s probably why we’re always biting it on this level. Who has an x-force?” He looked from one player to another. “Bueller? Bueller?”

“I could…uh…lend you one,” Lianne says. “I mean, I don’t want to hone in on your game.”

My brother reaches over the back of the big chair he’s sitting on, grabs Lianne’s hand and tugs her around toward him, while Orsen starts laughing. “Come here and teach us more about troll sweat,” he says.

Lianne perches on the generous roll-arm of Leo’s chair. He puts the controller in her hands. Those small fingers fly over the buttons as she logs into the game under her player name—Vindikator. A new avatar leaps onto the screen. It’s a young man with golden hair and impeccable armor.

There’s a chorus of approval. “Nice,” Orsen says.

“Your avatar is a dude!” says someone else.

“Holy shit—you’re Vindikator?” O’Hane yelps.

“Don’t tell
anyone
,” Lianne says sharply. “It’s my little secret.”

“Wow,” O’Hane breathes. “Vindikator is…he’s like…
famous
.”

Messages start popping up on one side of the screen. “VKATOR! Where you been tonight?” And, “You’re back, bro!”

“Oh my God.” Orsen chuckles. “You have a following.”

Without comment, Lianne does something that clears all the messages off the screen. “Okay, who wants the X-grade weapon? You can use a sword or a spear. There are advantages and disadvantages to both.”

In the silence that follows, four hockey players exchange amused glances. It’s clear they have no idea what she’s talking about.

“Um, which one is bigger?” O’Hane asks. “Size matters.” The others chuckle.

“The sword. And mine is
lengthy
.” She taps the buttons until a gleaming sword appears on the screen. “Step right up, boys. Who’s man enough to use this thing?”

My brother raises his hand, so Lianne does something which transfers the sword to Leo.

“Whoa,” he says. “I look fierce.”

“Yes, you’re very intimidating,” Lianne agrees. “Just don’t cut off your feet, okay? I’ve seen that happen and it ain’t pretty.”

“Good to know,” my brother says with a grin, giving Lianne’s knee a friendly squeeze.

I’m surprised at the strength of my inappropriate jealousy when my brother touches her. He didn’t mean anything by it, and Leo would never make a move on a girl I liked. But I hate seeing it nonetheless.

Jesus
. As if I have
any
claim on her. Our friendship is probably toast after Harkness makes a decision about me. At least when I’m gone, and Lianne finds a great guy, I won’t be around to watch it happen.

The only silver lining is that I’m not the most jealous person in the room. Amy has changed the music to Fall Out Boy, like she said she would. Now she’s swinging her hips around, looking for a little attention. And not finding it.

Every dude in the room is staring at the screen, where my brother’s avatar has gone troll hunting. His pals follow him down a corridor, where there are creepy shadows between the torches on the walls. “Come out wherever you are!” Leo taunts the screen. “Imma gonna mow you down for once.” He heads toward a turn at the end of the tunnel.

“Wait.” Lianne grabs his hand, preventing him from advancing. “He’s right around that corner. Let him come to you. Then go for the heart, it’s quicker. It will cost you less energy.”

Amy is standing beside me now, watching Lianne and my brother. She’s stopped shaking her hips and started glaring.

Everyone stares at the screen expectantly. Nothing happens.

“Um, I think…” Leo starts. Then a giant, sweating beast lunges into view, coming for him. “Fuuuuuuck!” my brother says, laughing. On the screen he raises the sword and hits the troll in its gut.

It roars as blood gushes out and onto the floor.

“Ew,” Amy pouts.

“You have to hit the heart,” Lianne repeats just as the troll lifts its arm to club my brother.

Leo maneuvers the controller until his avatar can take another swing. This time he hits higher.

The troll crumples into a disgusting heap on the floor.

“Awesome,” several hockey players say at once.

All at once Lianne’s avatar perks up and begins to moon walk like Michael Jackson. And “Beat It” is playing in the background.

Orsen points at the screen and roars with laughter, and Lianne buries her face in her hands.

Chuckling, my brother puts the controller onto her lap. “What’s the matter?”

“I forgot I wrote that script,” she says, looking up at the screen. “It was just a little joke for whenever a troll bites it.”

“Wait,” Leo stops her. “You wrote a script? Like…you
changed
the game?”

“Sure.” She shrugs. “That’s how I feed my dragons, too. I automate things.”

“You have dragons?” Orsen asks. “Like, plural?”

“Yeah.” Lianne smiles. “A few.”

“How many?” he presses.

“Well, eighty.”

There are sounds of disbelief. “Show us,” Orsen demands. “That’s so cool.”

“Okay.” She presses a button on the controller and the scene dissolves onto a sunny hillside, with a castle in the distance. The viewpoint seems to fly over the rolling terrain, as if in a dream.

“Whoa,” Leo says, reaching over to give Lianne’s elbow a squeeze. “You can
fly?
That’s cool.”

“Trevi!” Amy whines. “Come and dance with me.” She walks over to the other side of his chair, takes his hand and tugs. “I put on a great playlist.”

“In a bit, babe. I want to see Lianne’s dragons.”

“Do you want to play?” Lianne asks sweetly. “I could probably fashion up some designer armor for you so you don’t hurt yourself too badly.”

Amy gives her a sneer, looking quite capable of spitting fire, like one of Lianne’s dragons. “No thanks.” She stomps off, while all the other eyes are focused on the screen. There’s a sound of awe as the camera sweeps over the castle wall and into what looks like a medieval zoo, with a different colorful dragon in every stall.

The beasts lift their heads as Lianne’s avatar floats down on a set of hidden wings, landing among them. “Hi babies! I’m home!” the avatar exclaims.

The Harkness hockey team laughs while Orsen passes around fresh bottles of beer.

W
hile Lianne
and her newest fans talk about DragonFire, I do some tidying up. I carry a bunch of empties into the kitchen. My plan is to take them out the back door to the recycling bin, but when I open the door to the back hall, there are two figures making out in the dark. One of them has the other one pushed up against the wall, wrists trapped by strong hands.

It’s my brother’s teammate Rikker, kissing the hell out of his boyfriend, Graham. The back hall is a small space, and they’re in the way of my errand. So I drop the bag of empties to the floor with a jingle. “Take these out back when you’re done, kids.”

One of them grunts his acknowledgment, and I retreat, leaving them to it.

Just another day with the Harkness Hockey team.

I finally get Lianne back about a half-hour later, after my brother and his friends have taken a few dragons on test drives into battle. She looks flushed and happy.

“That looked fun,” I tell her. “I’m not much for gaming, but I did enjoy watching Amy get all jealous.”