Covering for My Brother in a Game Kellan's friend scoffed on the comms: "Blake, how long are you going to keep messing with those jungle creeps?" I winced and finally pressed the push-to-talk. "Sorry. It's his sister. I'm terrible at this." The line went silent for a beat. Then, a low, easy voice, edged with a hint of laughter: "Don't sweat it. You go play. I'll carry the whole match." 1 It was late that evening. I was bringing Blake a snack when I walked into his room. He practically shoved his phone at me. "I need to run to the restroom. Play for me for a minute." I blinked at him. "I can't. I don't know how." "It's easy. Just chuck skills at the little monsters in the jungle, okay?" With that sage advice, my brother was gone. I looked at the character screen. The Shadow Blade. A high-skill assassin. I’d never touched the game, so I did what he said: I focused on the nearby jungle mobs. The brief moment of satisfaction I felt for taking down a particularly nasty-looking beast was immediately shattered. "Blake, are you planning on farming those jungle creeps all night?" "Seriously? You're playing like you're trying to throw the match." The voice was young and sharp, laced with an impatience that was palpable even through the speaker. I instantly regretted entering my brother’s room. This was real, red-hot humiliation. And, naturally, Blake was taking his time. Terrified he'd start up again, I finally pressed the push-to-talk button, feeling guilty as I walked my character away from a newly spawned group of monsters. "Sorry. It's his sister. I'm terrible at this." "Blake will be right back." The comms were silent for several seconds. Then I heard a hiss, like a heavy object had been hit. The enemy marksman's character on the screen suddenly died. When the voice returned, it was low and easy, now fully edged with a familiar, teasing quality. "Don't sweat it. You go play. I'll carry the whole match." It was only after his second comment that I let myself believe it. It was Kellan. My brother’s friend. Someone I hadn't seen in years. I was still in a daze when Blake returned and took his phone back. "Nice. Didn't die. You’ve got talent, June." As I was leaving the room, I overheard Blake talking to Kellan. "How was my sister's gameplay?" "Better than yours." "When did she get back in the country?" "None of your business. Why do you care about your sister so much?" 2 Kellan and I went way back. I was a freshman then, and Blake was a sophomore. At the annual high school track and field meet, Blake was running long distance and made me promise to cheer him on. I was leaning against the railing, bored out of my mind, when my hand brushed against something warm. It was the hand of the guy standing next to me. The crowd was packed in tight, and we were accidentally pressed close. His fingers were long and lean, the knuckles clearly defined, the veins visible like blue rivers under the skin. It was beautiful, like an actual piece of art. I stared for a few seconds longer than was socially acceptable, completely lost in thought. He snapped his fingers, and a clear, melodic voice brought me back to reality: "Hey. What are you thinking about?" I jolted, meeting a pair of eyes that were laughing at me. He had sharp, handsome features, a high nose, and thin lips, and his hair was slightly ruffled by the wind. It was the first time I realized someone could look that effortlessly cool in a generic high school gym tee. My face felt like it was on fire, and I essentially fled. I don't even remember what I stammered out to him. I thought that would be the end of it. But when Blake won his medal and took his friends out to celebrate, dragging me along, I realized how small the world was. Blake clapped his friend on the back and introduced him to me. "This is one of my main guys, Kellan Rowe." Kellan raised an eyebrow at me. "Hey, little sister." The light in his eyes made my heart flutter. Kellan Rowe. I repeated his name silently in my head. 3 Later, lying in bed. For some reason, I was possessed by the impulse to log into my old Messenger app—the one I hadn't touched in three years. I stared at his dormant avatar for a long time. Apart from Blake, this was the only digital link I still had to Kellan. Then my phone vibrated, and the icon lit up. Kellan was online. He sent a message: "Apologies. Wasn't trying to rag on you tonight." And then, direct, no preamble: "When did you get back in the country?" It was abrupt, with no attempt at a greeting. I thought for a moment before replying: "Yesterday." "Hmm." The chat went silent. We were two people whose lines of life had gone parallel years ago. We had no common ground left. I didn't know what to say. I even did a quick search online for "How to talk to an old friend you haven't seen in forever." Like a robot, I typed out a few words: "Long time, no see. How have you been?" Kellan replied immediately. But his message made my heart skip a beat. "Then let's go see each other." "Maybe someday." 4 I didn't expect "someday" to come so quickly. The next morning at breakfast, I was sipping my coffee when Blake casually brought up his birthday. "I was thinking of having my party at the old lake house in Willow Creek this year." "If you hate the noise, we can go out instead." I nodded, then the words slipped out: "Is Kellan going to be there?" Blake's internal alarm went off immediately. His voice shot up. "How do you two know each other well enough for him to ask about you yesterday and for you to ask about him today?" I kept my head down, focusing on my breakfast to hide my expression. "We don't. I just remembered him from the game last night." Blake nodded, though he still looked suspicious. I couldn't tell if he believed me. In the end, he did hold the party at the Willow Creek lake house. It was a proper bash on the back deck and patio. I didn't go down immediately. I stayed on the second-floor balcony, getting some air. My gaze fell, and I immediately saw Kellan below, on the phone. He was tall and lean, his shoulders sharp and clean in a black sweater. He had completely shed the youthful awkwardness I remembered. As if sensing my stare, Kellan slid his phone into his pocket. Across the din of the party, he didn't speak, but his eyes found mine. His thin lips moved, silently forming the words: "Long time no see." The moment felt like a feather scratching at my soul, again and again. I realized Kellan had changed so much. 5 I finally went downstairs when Sasha, my best friend, came up and dragged me down. She threw her arm around my neck and whispered in my ear: "You don't love me anymore, do you? Hiding up here like a ghost." I patted her arm. "I love you. I love you." "I just got back, and I don't really know all these people anymore. I don't want to be awkward." Blake truly was a social butterfly. The back deck was packed. The clinking of glasses, loud laughs, and music all mixed together, making my ears ring. Blake’s friends were loud when they saw me. "Whoa, look at little June Hollis! You got so pretty!" Another voice yelled, "She's even taller!" Someone nudged Blake with an elbow. "Remember me, little sister? You seeing anyone these days?" Blake immediately smacked the back of the guy's head. "Beat it. Go on." "Don't pollute my sister's eyes." Blake made me sit in the chair on his left. Kellan was on his right. Feeling self-conscious, I looked for Sasha, only to find her on the lawn, singing her heart out into a microphone. Blake went over to join her, singing along. Hesitantly, I reached for a glass of something they'd just mixed. Before the rim touched my lips, a hand clamped around my wrist. Kellan's voice dropped. "You don't want that. Trust me." I tried to pull my hand away. "Just a little. It's fine." "It's nasty. And too strong." Kellan took my glass and stood up, walking over to the nearby outdoor bar. He rolled up his sleeve, revealing a clean, pale wrist. He looked down, pouring liquids into a new glass without hesitation. He looked serious, but in reality, he only added a few drops of liquor. The rest was all juice and soda water. It looked even less appealing. I instinctively recoiled from the glass he handed me. Kellan looked at me, a hopeful expression in his eyes. He seemed genuinely curious when I only took a small sip. "Afraid I poisoned it?" I forced myself to drink a few more sips. It was bitter. Actually really awful. But I didn't want to hurt his feelings. I smiled. "It's great." Kellan took the glass away, leaning in slightly, looking amused. "It's mostly soda water. And you think it's 'great'?" "Years abroad, and still afraid to take a sip of bad booze," he teased. I turned my head, ignoring him. Kellan’s gaze lingered on my profile, but his smile slowly faded. His voice dropped several degrees, carrying a distinct note of melancholy. "Why did you tell everyone you were leaving... but not me?"
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