The Gradebook

Chapter 14: Trivial Pursuit

Crazy, colourful lights lit up on the rickety old sign that now glowed with the name of the game, and animal sounds rung out. The game suddenly came to life.

Cody turned at me and looked me in the eye. “I am so beating you at this.”

I smirked at him and picked up a hammer. “Oh, you wish!”

A high-pitched chipmunk-style voice counted down from ten. “Ten... Nine...” Cody picked up his hammer and took a warrior stance. “Three... Two... One, go!”

Little googly-eyed moles started shooting up in the air and bobbling their heads, only to pop back under right when my hammer was situated half an inch from their tiny faces. Cody kept smashing them and getting point after point while I helplessly searched around, wasting time.

Then I thought of something. I took the rubber hammer and flung it down.

“Ouch! What was that for?!” Cody looked at me insanely, clutching his hand to his chest.

Meanwhile, I was hitting the moles like mad. Cody finally snapped out of it, but it was too late. With only a few seconds left in the game, I was winning by a couple points.

“Five. Four. Three,” the high voice was chiming. I hit a few more moles mercilessly. Cody was moving swiftly as if he’d been electrocuted. “Two. One!”

Exhausted, I panted and looked up at the scoreboard.

“Twenty-six each? No way,” Cody muttered, eyes wide. He fixed his skeptic gaze on me. “You totally cheated.”

I stuck my lip out, pouting. “My hand slipped.”

Cody hung his fingers in the air. “If you cheat again, I promise I’ll tickle you.”

My hands covered my mouth. “You wouldn’t.” Cody nodded. “Fine, fine. Just don’t be too overwhelmed if I beat you at Pac-Man.”

“Game on,” Cody said. We walked over to the Pac-Man game. Cody had an air of warmth around him; strange that I had never noticed.

What did I just say? Tsk, tsk, Mia. Control yourself.

This time, Cody slipped in a few tickets. In several minutes we were already onto our second game, the little Pac-Man munching on the trail of yellow circles, myself trembling from two subsequent close-calls from the ghosts. Cody won two games in a row. I asked for a rematch, and beat him, but only once.

“I wish I could do this more often. Video games aren’t something I do too often, but it’s a stress reliever for sure.” Cody patted down his t-shirt, avoiding looking at me.

He looked tired, and worn-out, and most definitely not from the intense game-playing he’d done. It was that kind of anxious mood that settled over his features; first his mouth drooping, and then his eyes wandering. I knew better than to ask, though. If I would’ve, I could doubly assure myself the awkwardness factor would fly right through the roof.