“Shit,” he said again. “I…” He trailed off, and when he pulled away his cheeks were moist.

  “Let’s just get out of here,” I said.

  “Definitely. Where to?”

  “I don’t know. You name it,” I said, pulling my phone out. I texted my mom to let her know I was leaving with Matt.

  He smiled. “I think I know. Come on.”

  Chapter Three

  Matt had left his car parked in one of the handicap spots just outside. A late model Mustang, he had added modified fenders, tires, and rims plus a chameleon wrap to make the thing really stand out on the street. It got a lot of attention from people who appreciated cars like that, and a lot of attention from the police. Matt had mastered apologetic politeness, his natural charisma often getting him out of tickets.

  I thought he might need to put the charm into high gear when a patrol car pulled up behind the Mustang while we were walking toward it. The officer got out and approached the car, eying the registration tab before searching for a driver.

  “Sorry officer,” Matt said, catching him before he could take any further action. “I just stopped here to pick up my friend.”

  “This is a handicap spot,” the officer replied. “You shouldn’t be parked here.”

  “I know, I know. I was only inside for two minutes.”

  “I am handicapped,” I offered in support.

  “I don’t see a tag,” the officer replied.

  “I know,” I replied. “I haven’t had a chance to apply for one yet. It’s recent.”

  He didn’t believe us. Why would he? To him, we looked like a couple of kids flaunting the rules. “You don’t look handicapped to me.”

  “I lose my balance sometimes. If you don’t believe me, take a look at these meds and then go ask the pharmacist.” I held the bag out in his direction.

  He eyed it, considering taking up the challenge before nodding. “Okay. I hope you wouldn’t pretend to be that sick just to get out of a parking ticket.”

  “Believe me, officer, I’d rather be pretending.”

  He nodded, giving me a sympathetic look.

  “Thank you, officer,” Matt said, opening the passenger door for me. I climbed into the car, exhaling sharply as he circled the front and got in on the driver’s side. The policeman returned to his car, driving off ahead of us. “That was close.”

  “Please, what’s your ratio now?”

  “Seven stops to one ticket,” he answered, starting the engine and pulling away from the hospital.

  We spent the next couple of minutes in silence, as I did my best to ignore the reality of my situation and just let myself exist. I didn’t want to think about cancer right now. Or dying. But as I stared out the windshield, watching the world moving around me, it was almost more than I could take.

  “I can’t even begin to guess how you feel right now, Bennie,” Matt said, breaking the silence at just the right moment. “Shit, I don’t even know how I feel. I just want you to know that I’ve got your back like I always have. Through everything, no matter what. If you want to talk, we can talk. If you want to cry, I totally understand. If you want to just chill and be silent, we can do that too.”

  “Thanks, Matt,” I replied. “Where are we going?”

  “Do you remember that place we drove past a few weeks ago? The VR arcade?”

  I searched my memories for the moment, recalling the futuristic sign, the black tinted windows, and the Coming Soon banner hanging below it. “Yeah. Is it open?”

  “I drove by again a couple of days ago when I dropped Rachel off at her apartment. The banner had changed to Grand Opening. So yeah, I think it is.”

  “Rachel?” I said. “You didn’t tell me about her.”

  He laughed. “There isn’t much to tell. Rachel Portnoy. You met her at one of our gigs a month or two ago. She texted me out of the blue and asked me out.”

  “She asked you out?”

  “Yeah. Nothing wrong with a woman who knows what she wants, in my opinion. Anyway, she’s cute. Very cute. But not really my type. We had dinner and I brought her back to her place.”

  “She didn’t invite you up?”

  “I wouldn’t have accepted if she had, but no. We both knew it wasn’t working. No hard feelings. Anyway, back to the arcade. I looked it up online. They’ve got all kinds of simulators and geeky virtual reality stuff like that. Not really my thing, but I know you’re into all that sci-fi tech. I figured you might like a chance to blow off some steam.”

  “I’m not angry.”

  He glanced over at me. “Bullshit.”

  “I’m not,” I insisted.

  “You don’t get told you’re going to die without getting angry at the world. I don’t need to consult a shrink to know that. Maybe it just hasn’t hit you yet, in which case we can front-run the emotions and you can decompress before you do something stupid.”

  “Like hang out with you?”

  “Even if I’m wrong and you aren’t angry, it might take your mind off things for a couple of hours. We can hit McRory’s after, have a few beers and hate on everything.”

  I shook my bag of meds. “I don’t think I can drink with these.”

  “What’s the worst it can do, kill you?” he replied, tensing when I didn’t laugh at the joke. “Sorry. Too soon, maybe.” He quieted down.

  “No, you’re right. I don’t want to spend whatever time I might have being all doom and gloom. Still, beers first, meds later. I’m sure they can wait until morning.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. If my appointment was tomorrow instead of today, I wouldn’t have them yet, right?”

  “Right,” he agreed.

  “So tell me more about this arcade.”

  “I don’t know what more to say. They advertised a few different games. A mech simulator. A starship combat simulator. Some game where you have to walk through a jungle and shoot aliens.”

  “Predator?” I asked.

  “You’re asking the wrong person. I still can’t believe things didn’t work out with you and Caroline. You’re both such nerds.”

  “How can I be a nerd? I play guitar in a rock band.”

  “You can take the guitar out of the nerd, but you can’t take the nerd out of the guitar.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Who gives a shit about sense,” he said. We both laughed. I knew he was happy to force my better mood.

  “Let’s just forget about all of this cancer crap for the rest of the day,” I said. “I’ll deal with my impending doom tomorrow. Right now, I just want to have some fun.”

  Matt hit the gas, sending the Mustang racing through a yellow light. He swerved around a pothole and sped up even more, forcing a different kind of exhilaration through me. “That’s the spirit. Screw cancer. Your wish is my command.”

  Chapter Four

  Matt and I pulled into the parking lot of VR Awesome! ten minutes later. With it being early evening on a Friday, the place had already started attracting a small crowd. Only a few spots remained in the lot, all of them near the back, so Matt pulled into one of the handicapped spots in front.

  “Do you want another shot at a ticket or what?” I asked. “You can’t afford the fine for this.”

  “I can afford more than you think,” Matt replied cryptically. “Besides, nobody wants you getting dizzy before we can even make it inside.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Not open for debate. It’s my ride, and I’m parking her here.” He smiled as he stopped in the spot. “You may not have a tag, but you’re still a cripple. Even before all of this.”

  “Jerk,” I shot back, taking the comment for the joke it was.

  We got out of the car and crossed the sidewalk to the front of the arcade. A group of teenagers waited outside, probably for more of their friends to arrive. The boys eyed Matt’s car. The girls eyed Matt. He barely noticed, accustomed to the attention.

  “You good?” he said, opening the door for me.

  “So far,” I replied, walking in and looking back at him over my shoulder. “I appreciate your concern, but treating me differently isn’t going to help.”

  “Sorry, bro.”

  A small counter sat at the front of the arcade, occupied by a pair of young women who were both in the process of helping other customers. I used the wait to scout out the interior, my eyes dancing from one part of the floor to the next. The square footage was broken up into different segments, separated by a grid of wide aisles marked by dark carpeting. Classic stand-up arcade games like Pac-man and Mortal Kombat were lined up in the middle of the aisles as dividers between directions of traffic. Glass partitions separated the segments from outside interference and accidents like spilled drinks.

  Nearest them, a dozen omni-directional treadmills drew my attention. Their fat fronts hid the electronic guts of the VR machines that displayed the game’s environment on the inside of the light weight, helmet visors that went over each player’s head. Wires snaked out from the glove each player wore, connecting to different parts of their arm, allowing them to manipulate the virtual world. Racks on both sides of each treadmill held props—a sword, a machine gun, a bow and arrow—that a player could use to add to their specific illusion.

  It was all very, very cool.

  And for a moment, I forgot I was dying.

  “Ben,” Matt said. “Earth to Ben.”

  I looked over at him, finding him in front of the counter. So enthralled by the VR treadmills, I had lost track of everything else.

  “Sorry,” I said, joining him at the counter. “This is just so awesome.”

  “That’s what it says in the marketing too,” one of the girls replied with a big smile. Around my age, she had a pretty face, with big eyes made larger by the thick purple frames of her glasses.

  “Have you tried any of it yet?” I asked.

  “Oh yeah,” she replied, excitedly. “Jungle Invasion is pretty cool, but it’s a lot of exercise for a keyboard jockey. If I had known it was coming, I would have started going to the gym a month ago.”

  “That doesn’t sound like a great fit for you,” Matt said.

  “Keyboard jockey?” the girl asked.

  “Actually, I play guitar,” I replied.

  Her eyebrows went up. “Really?”

  I could feel the heat in my face. “Yeah. I think I’ll try it anyway, even if I only last a minute or two. If I had known about Jungle Invasion a month ago, I would have started going to the gym too.”

  “Maybe we could go together,” she said, causing my face to heat up a lot more. By her expression, I think she was enjoying my embarrassment. I was used to women giving Matt all of the attention.

  “Uh, sure,” I said. “Why not?”

  “Just pass me your number on the way out.”

  My big smile grew even larger. “Okay.”

  It was her turn to blush. “Good.” She paused to take a breath. “It’s forty dollars for an all-access pass,” she continued, getting down to business. “Forty-four fifty, with tax.”

  I reached for my wallet, but of course Matt was already passing her his card. “Two passes,” he said. “It’s on me.”

  “Thanks, Matt,” I replied.

  She ran the card, scanned a couple of bracelets, and handed them over to us. “Each game has different gear, so you’ll be outfitted there before your turn.” She pointed to Jungle Invasion. Following her point, I spotted a group of twelve players on the sidelines, ahead of a counter stocked with helmets, gloves, and the haptic connectors. “Each game is fifteen minutes, if you can last that long. Eight games in total. We’re open until two A.M.”

  “You’ll still be here at closing?” Matt asked.

  “Yup. I’ll be here all night.”

  “Good. I don’t want Ben to miss you.”

  “You won’t,” she assured me.

  “If you get a break, maybe you can join us for a round,” Matt suggested.

  “I would, but they don’t let us play when it’s this busy.”

  “In that case, we’ll see you later.”

  “Great. Have fun.” She looked from Matt to me. “See you later, Ben.”

  “I…” I paused.. “I didn’t catch your name?”

  “Levi,” she replied, pointing to her name badge.

  “Cool name,” I said. “We’ll talk later. Matt, let’s just take a look at everything first.”

  “Sure,” he replied. We left the counter, walking down the right side of the center aisle. “That was a new experience.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “It’s not often that I feel like I don’t exist.”

  “Jealous?”

  He smiled. “Yeah, a little. She really liked you.”

  “I don’t know why.”

  “Come on. You’re a good looking guy. A little nerdy, but you’ve got your own style. So did she. Two peas in a pod, I think. Plus, you’re smart, talented, creative, resourceful.”

  “If you keep going, I might puke.”

  He laughed, stopping in the aisle and turning to me. “I just want you to know what I think of you. I never got to tell my dad what I thought of him before he left.”

  “I hope you aren’t comparing me to your dad.”

  “Inversely,” he answered.

  I bit my lip, trying not to get emotional in such a public space. “Thank you. But just a reminder. Tonight, I’m not dying. I’ll get started with that tomorrow.”

  “You always have been a procrastinator.”

  We resumed our exploration of the different games. Half of them were based on the treadmills like Jungle Invasion. There was also a car racing simulator, something that involved riding a horse, and a flight simulator where it appeared each person could choose their own style of play.

  Reaching the end, my eyes lit up at the final two sections. Mech War and Star Squadron.

  “I see you just spotted your utopia,” Matt said.

  “I read about these on Engadget,” I replied, mentioning one of my favorite blogs. “I hoped they were here when I saw Jungle Invasion.” I scouted the prep areas for both. “Star Squadron has a couple of openings. We can jump into the next round.”

  Matt didn’t look too thrilled about actually playing the games. I knew he would have preferred the more physically challenging sims, but even that was a stretch for him. Sure, he liked to mess around with stuff like Smash Bros. or Mario Kart, but that was the extent of his level of interest. Sometimes it amazed me how we had managed to remain so close despite such different hobbies. But then, we had grown up together, and we both still shared our love of making music.

  It was enough.

  “Just go easy on me, okay?” he said.

  I smirked back at him. “We’ll see.”

  “Let’s do it.”

  Chapter Five

  We passed through the entrance to Star Squadron, my gaze immediately fixing on the monitors displaying the current action. With five minutes left in the match, only a few of the combatants remained, each side clearly marked by colored outlines around their starfighters. Each ship had a different skin—swept wing, delta wing, x-wing, long and sleek, a little more round—but were all close to the same overall shape and size and likely used the same algorithmic boundaries to determine hits.

  They shot back and forth through space in a tense dogfight through what appeared to be the debris field from an earlier battle involving larger starships. The graphics were impressive, not the blocky renders I was accustomed to seeing in larger-scale virtual reality displays. Even standing outside looking in on the world, I could almost feel the tension of the battle as if I were looking through the viewport of an outlying corvette.

  Matt laughed when I told him as much. “You’re such a nerd. The graphics are pretty cool, though.”

  The older man in charge of the prep area smiled at us as we approached. They had gone all out with the props, putting him in a silver flight suit and helmet with a yellowed visor, his beginnings of a dad-gut pressing against the zippered front. “Did you come to enlist in the squadron?” he asked.

  “Uh, sure,” Matt replied, hesitant to buy into role-play.

  The man pulled a green laser pistol from a holster on his waist and pointed it at us. “I need to make sure you aren’t spies for the Axon.”

  “What?” Matt said, confused.

  “We aren’t spies,” I answered, holding out my wristband. “Here are our credentials, sir.”

  The man pointed the pistol at my band, scanning it. He did the same for Matt. “Congratulations! You’ve both been accepted into the Centurion Space Force.” Head to the barracks to pick up your gear. You’ll each need a flight suit and helmet.”

  “Yes, sir,” I snapped, offering a salute. A geeky thing to do, but it drew a laugh from the other players waiting near the so-called barracks.

  “Have fun!” the man said.

  We made the short walk to the equipment rack. The flight suits were all the same size, big enough to fit over the clothes of all but the heaviest participant, who probably wouldn’t fit inside the simulator anyway. Only two suits remained, one red, the other green.

  “I think this means we can’t play on the same side,” Matt said.

  “Then you can forget about me going easy on you,” I replied.

  “Fair enough. I suck at these things anyway. Which color do you want?”

  Being the last two players, I had the benefit of scouting the rest of the lineup before choosing a side. It was hard to judge starfighter simulator aptitude from a glance, but the red team definitely had a more geeky tilt. Probably because of Star Wars. Who doesn’t want to say, Red-5 standing by?

  All of that in mind, I decided to go with green, under the assumption it would give Matt a better chance at victory. I liked games, but I wasn’t as competitive as much as cooperative despite what I had said about not going easy on him. It didn’t matter if we were on different sides.

  “I guess I’m red, then,” Matt said as I took the green flight suit off the hangar and pulled it on. Of course it hung off my slender shoulders like a tent, but I was still excited to wear it.