Page 53 of A Hexcellent Chance to Fall in Love

Until the Store Closes

Christina

When trying to locate college-age boys in the town of Clover Creek, one only has to understand the inner workings of a college boy to know exactly where he’d be.

That’s why Gamer’s Galaxy is the first on my list of places to hit up in the small moment of time that I have during my prep period before getting to the haunted house for our final night.

Did I try several other places in days past?

Yes. I went back to Brain Freeze, then I tried the bookstore (and of course he wasn’t there, but I did get a new book about a girl named Amanda Dean on her wedding day), and I took a walk down Orange Street (also known as the busiest street in town)—but nothing.

I then tried the grocery store to kill two birds with one stone—and because college kids eat, don’t they?

(Apparently not.) I finally wised up and asked my students.

Which was what I should’ve done in the first place, but live and learn, I suppose.

Now that I’m here with the neon lights, bells ringing all around, the pool tables, and even a bar with a line of beers on tap, I realize I should’ve known to try this place first. It’s basically Vegas for kids who can’t gamble the real way, only by swiping their card in exchange for the hope to win tickets instead of cash.

It’s also the closest to gambling in Clover Creek.

I weave my way through the standup arcade games, and by the ones with plastic motorcycles you “ride” to play. There are basketball hoops, spinning wheels with flashing lights, and a whole little store where people can exchange those precision tickets for cheap junk—like giant stuffed monkeys.

With most of the schools still in session—high school the first to get out in the next thirty minutes, followed by elementary, then middle school—the place is pretty empty except for some older men at the bar, the people who are working, and the college kids. Bingo.

A group of four boys are hanging around Mario Kart —two of them playing while the other two watch.

Their bodies move left and right while the two who are seated turn the wheels this way and that, and they all yell at the screen.

One of the drivers hits something in the road and goes spinning.

By matter of deduction, two of them could be Kevin—they are both white, have shaggy blondish-brownish hair, and are wearing cargo pants.

One of them is playing the game, and the other is standing behind.

“Look out for the Spike Bomb,” one boy standing behind the players—the one who is definitely not Kevin—says.

“Banana peel. Banana peel!” The other points and jumps.

“Did you know that a banana is scientifically a berry, but a strawberry isn’t?” One boy who’s playing jerks the wheel to avoid the hazard. That’s got to be him. Even from the brief interactions at the Halloween store and the ice cream shop, it seems the most likely.

Though I prepared ideas of what to say to him, I probably should’ve thought a little more about how to approach him before I walked through the door.

Now I’m just awkwardly watching a group of young guys playing a video game.

Does this count as stalking? I make a mental note to look it up later to be safe, but for the time being, I’m going to embrace it.

There’s a flash on the screen, and the guy playing who isn’t Kevin punches the air while Congratulations is illuminated in big bright letters.

“GG,” he says to Kevin, and the two slap hands—front to back and then fist bump.

The winner stays seated, but Kevin gets up and one of the other guys slides into the seat he’s just left vacant.

As he comes around to the back of the seats to presumably watch the next racers, he catches my eye, and I wave.

Here goes nothing.

He smiles and scrunches his brows, likely trying to figure out where he knows me from as he walks my way. “Hey,” he says. “Do I know you?”

“Not really. But you know my girlfriend, Pepper.”

“That’s it. Brain Freeze.” He hits his hand on his leg. “She didn’t send you to come looking for me, did she?”

“No. Why? Are you supposed to be at work?”

He shrugs. “It’s possible. So why are you here?”

This is my chance. “You seem like the kind of guy that doesn’t like to do menial tasks.

I know we don’t know each other, but you give off the vibes of ‘upper management.’?” I spread my hands out to make a show of the title—to make it seem much grander than what it actually is. I’ve got to sell this.

“Totally,” he agrees.

“So what would you say if I knew how you could get the most important job The Dead of Night has to offer?” I try to keep my voice casual, but my adrenaline is racing.

He narrows his eyes. “I’m listening.”

I look around like I’m pretending I don’t want anyone to overhear me, but what I’m really worried about is that he’ll hear my heart ricocheting in my chest, or maybe be able to tell—even in this low lighting—that I’m starting to sweat.

Focus, Christina. You can do this. “I’m ready for Pepper to do something else, but in order for that to happen, she needs to find someone willing to take her place. ”

Kevin rubs his chin—either to try and look smart or maybe he has an itch. “Her job does seem pretty cush. She’s not even ever on the schedule—comes and goes as she pleases.”

“Exactly,” I say. “Which is perfect for you so you can do all your other company research, am I right?” Okay, it should not be this easy, should it? Maybe I need to tone it down.

“Does it come with benefits?”

“So many.” It just depends on one’s definition of “benefit.” Eternal life might be exactly what he’s looking for—who am I to judge?

“What’s the catch?” he asks, and I’m glad that before I walked in the door, I’d practiced ten different ways this conversation could have gone, even if I didn’t know how I was going to start it.

“See, I knew you were a smart guy.” Everyone loves to be complimented—especially guys like Kevin. “The catch is you have to come and say you want the job before midnight at the store on November second.”

“Midnight?”

“Yep.” I nod like this is more than logical. “Corporate policy.” I wink. “They need to make sure the person is truly dedicated, and what better way than to see if they’ll show up at that specific day and time.”

He bobs his head up and down. “Okay. Yeah. Makes sense.”

“So you’ll take the job?”

He rubs his chin again—maybe he has a rash. “Can you even offer me her position? Doesn’t there have to be, like, interviews or something?”

Well, shit. Maybe this kid isn’t as gullible as I thought. “Nope, she just has to pick her replacement. And she picks you.”

“Why isn’t she telling me this, then?”

That’s a really great question, and although she said she would talk to him, I wanted to get to him first—I wanted to sell it, whereas I’m sure she wants to be ethical about the whole thing.

Oh, how I love her. “She didn’t want you to feel pressured.

Look, she’s going to downplay it, and tell you a bunch of weird things to make sure you really want the job. ”

“Like a test?”

“Exactly like a test. See, I knew you’d get it,” I say. “So when she talks to you, no matter what she says, just tell her you want the job.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.” My heart stops as he stares at me. He has to say yes. He just has to.

He holds out a fist, and it takes me a second to realize he wants me to bump it, so I do. “Thanks for the heads-up. Wait. Why are you helping me?”

“No. That’s where you’re wrong. You’re helping me . I need her to get a different job, so really this is all just selfish of me.” Sometimes the truth is stranger than fiction.

“Yeah. Cool. Well, you’re welcome, then.” He laughs.

I laugh with him. “Yeah, thank you. And don’t forget you have to be there before midnight on the second for her to hand the position over to you; otherwise, they won’t let you take the job.” Literally.

“I got it.” He taps the side of his head. His friends hoot in the background, and he swivels in that direction. “I should—”

“Go.” I practically shoo him away.

He turns and heads back to the game without even saying goodbye, but I don’t care.

I rush out of the arcade, hop into my car, and head for the haunted house.

I did it. I actually did it. And now we have a chance to finally break this dumb curse, and maybe I wasn’t completely forthcoming about what would happen, maybe it’s selfish of me, but I could argue that Pepper hasn’t been selfish enough.

Sometimes you have to do things you don’t like for the person you love—and I love Pepper.

She’s done her time; now someone else can deal with the curse.