Just then Tatum begins to climb the stairs that lead up from the beach. He is dripping wet, a boogie board under one arm, dressed only in board shorts. His shoulders gleam in the light like they’re made of liquid metal.
Meer runs down to meet him “My sister’s here,” he says, his voice low.
“I met her.” Tatum speaks low, too, but I can still hear them.
“Won’t you come hang out?”
“I need a shower. Haven’t eaten.” Tatum shakes his head.
“She’s wonderful,” says Meer. “She has this way about her, like she could conquer things. Like her mind is always going. But also, she fainted. It’s like a dream came to life, you know? She’s the sister I used to imagine, when I didn’t have anyone to play with, before you came. Only she’s real.”
“Is she asking a lot of questions?”
“What? No. Well, yes, actually. But I’m not hiding anything from her, so it doesn’t matter.”
“We talked about this. You know what I think. I’m not going over it all again.”
“You’re going to change your mind when you get to know her because you’ll see,” says Meer. “We’re blood relations. That’s not the only kind of family, but it means something. She has my same nose, I think? Like Kingsley’s.”
“Later,” says Tatum.
“But, Tatum,” says Meer. “I want you to—”
“I’m really tired,” says Tatum. He goes past Meer up the rest of the staircase. But he has to pass me, standing near the top of the steps, in order to get to the castle.
“Maybe you should have some ginseng,” I say. “To improve your energy.”
He doesn’t answer.
20
One thing aboutgaming is, you burn through your rage. You’ve angry-birded all those evil pigs to death, or you set up a million killer plants to destroy the disco-loving zombies who are staggering across your lawn. You feel victorious and cleansed of the angry crap inside you—the ex who told lies about you and the friends who turned against you. The father who never wanted to meet you. The mother who prioritized a man and left you. The rude taxi boy with beautiful shoulders who hates you so much on sight he won’t even give you a chance.
You clean out your fury by slaughtering mermaids and pigs and zombies. It’s only later, when you put the game down, that you can think about why you liked it. And what it meant.
InSomething Rotten,the game I was on with Saar before I left, you play as Hamlet. Like, from the Shakespeare play. And you’re basically fighting your way through a castle full of deceivers and merrymakers in order to kill your murderous stepfather (King Claudius) and avenge your father’s death.
Rottenhas really innovative weapons. Not just broadswords, but grenades that explode like fireworks and a tiny flock of ravenous flying dragons, plus these small cubes you roll at your enemies that turn them into hedgehogs.
I have it on my laptop, and I was in the middle of trying to beat the Ophelia boss level. But June has locked up my devices. It’s strange to be without social media, without games, without texts. My mind is buzzing. I pace the Iron Room.
I flip open my sketchbook and make notes about how to beat Ophelia when I get back to the game. Then I draw out an idea for a level that doesn’t exist, a great hall. When Hamlet goes in, it’s all in darkness, so he has to find a light switch. When he does, the green glass chandelier becomes a tentacled monster that comes to life and blocks his way. It shoots Hamlet with toxic slime, then reaches out to capture him by his ankles. Then it eats him by shoving him headfirst into its creepy octopus mouth.
At ten minutes to eleven, I put on sweats and sneakers and go down to meet Meer for our boat ride to Beechwood Island.
—
In front ofthe garage, Tatum stands staring down the driveway. He wears a cotton cable-knit sweater and track pants. His wide shoulders are hunched, his now-dry espresso hair is chaotic, his eyebrows dark and sullen.
He doesn’t turn or acknowledge me.
I don’t want to be alone with him. But I don’t want to miss adventuring with Meer.
Neither one of us speaks. We just stare into the dark.
Glum trots out of the mist and drops a stick at Tatum’s feet. She is looming and gray and shaggy, a really enormous creature, but she wags and woofs like any other playful dog as he picks up the stick. Tatum throws it hard and it arcs down the driveway. Glum scampers off.
After a beat, she’s back, stick in mouth. She drops it and he throws it again.
