Cure for the Common Universe by Christian McKay Heidicker

chaos as it howled for my death. And I was not half so terrified as when I went to play some casual sports with a few video game addicts.
    My heart was practically hammering out my brains as the Fury Burds trudged the sandy path to the Coliseum. It was the kind of terror I’d felt a thousand times at my high school. Like my body was about to be assaulted—by health.
    In the high desert sky, clouds drifted across the sun, making the sand dull gray one moment, flashing gold the next. Oh God, please let me win that gold.
    â€œOkay, Miles,” Soup said as we walked. “Remember,breathe in harder than you breathe out, solid arms, and keep your chin down.”
    I ignored him and just focused on not throwing up again. Then he tapped me on the shoulder.
    Soup pointed. “The Coliseum.”
    A chain-link fence wrapped around a flat stretch of compact sand holding a few courts and an Astroturf field. It was like a tornado had swept up my least favorite things in the world and dumped them into the middle of the desert.
    God I needed a Red Bull.
    â€œGo warm up, Fury Burds!” Fezzik called.
    Meeki, Aurora, and Soup went off while I tried to get a sense of my surroundings. The Sefiroths were on one half of the basketball court, looking awkward. They slapped at balls, tripped over absolutely nothing, or tried to touch their toes and fell short by a foot or two.
    The Master Cheefs were on the other half of the court, looking valiant. Scarecrow dodged and shimmied around Dorothy with her big shoulders, and around Lion with his swaying mane. He dribbled the ball between Tin Man’s tall legs before performing a perfect layup, as easy as pushing a button.
    In order not to aggro any of the Cheefs, I took the long way around the courts and found the muscly coach and his nipples.
    â€œExcuse me?” I said.
    â€œYeah?” he said, not looking at me.
    â€œUm, could we play something easy today?”
    Now he turned. He glanced at me over the top of his sunglasses, like even in a video game recovery center, this was the most pathetic question I could ask.
    â€œI, uh, need to get a lot of points.”
    He turned his back to me. “Basketball tournament today.”
    Shit. Scarecrow was going to wipe the concrete with me.
    I searched the courts, feeling helpless. Lots of video games have hint systems. Right then I needed a little Navi fairy floating around my head like in Zelda . A winged bouncy orb of light that could flutter to objects and give me clues about what I needed to do next.
    Didiling-ding-ding-ding-ding!
    I imagined my own Navi painting the Coliseum with shiny fairy dust. Which sport would ensure my blistering success? The fairy lit the peeling white paint of a square cross-sectioned with two lines.
    Four Square.
    I may not have been able to throw a ball, but I was pretty confident I could block one with my body.
    â€œCan I play Four Square instead?” I asked the coach.
    â€œNo, you cannot. That’s for players with health troubles.”
    Navi sailed back and twinkled above my shoulder.
    Didiling-ding-ding-ding-ding! Feign an illness, Miles!
    â€œOh, um, I have asthma.”
    â€œThat so?” the coach said, pinching some snot out of his nose.
    I made my breath ragged, so that it had a slight whistle to it. “Yeah. My dad thinks there’s something seriously wrong with me, but he’s a Christian Scientist so he doesn’t believe in medicine. That’s why I couldn’t get a doctor’s note for G-man.”
    The coach stared me down. I could feel his nipples burrowing into my soul. “That true?”
    Half true. I nodded.
    â€œThis facility isn’t about winning, y’know,” the coach said.
    Didiling-ding-ding-ding-ding! Try threatening him!
    â€œI know it isn’t about winning,” I said. “I just don’t want to have an attack all of a sudden and flop around on the court and then for Video Horizons to have a lawsuit on its