Gamer Girl by Mari Mancusi Page B

done? Probably
completely embarrassed him and made him think I wasn't interested.
Which was so not the case. In fact, I had a raging, burning,
out-of-control crush on the guy.
    But what choice
did I have? I tried to rationalize. Even forgetting that whole online
safety thing for a moment, did I really want to meet him in real
life? I mean, he thought I was a beautiful, sexy elf chick. If he met
the real Madeline Starr, he'd probably run screaming in the other
direction.
    I switched off
the computer and got up from my chair. It was better this way, I told
myself. Be online friends and leave it at that.
    So why did that
seem so hard to do?
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    CHAPTER 10
    THE REST of the
weekend passed uneventfully. On Sunday, Emily staged an
anti-video-game protest that threatened to turn violent if we dared
log on for even the slightest moment just to check our in-game mail.
So Dad gave in to her demands, packed up some Cokes, and together we
headed downtown to the cinema.
    "One for
each of you," he explained, pressing the tickets into our palms.
"Just to get past the ushers. Then we can movie-hop all day
long. Oh, and Maddy," he added, "I got you a child's
ticket. If anyone asks, you need to tell them that you're eleven,
okay?"
    "Okay,"
I said reluctantly. "Whatever." Dad was weird like that.
He'd drop a thousand dollars on a souped-up computer without thinking
twice, but totally balk at spending a couple extra dollars on an
adult movie ticket for his teenage daughter. I think he liked the
idea of feeling like he was getting away with something. He winked at
me as we handed over our tickets to a zit-faced, bored usher--who
would have
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    probably let me
in if I'd insisted I was an eighty-three-year-old grandma--and then
high-fived me as I officially entered into the inner sanctum of the
AMC.
    "Nice job,
Maddy," he praised. "Way to stick it to the man."
    I didn't know
who he considered the "man" in this scenario. (It couldn't
be the usher!) But I did reluctantly admit to myself, not for the
first time, that Mom could be onto something with her whole "your
dad never grew up" theory.
    We watched
three movies in a row. I slept through most of the last one, bored
out of my mind. All I wanted to do was to go home and play Fields of
Fantasy with Sir Leo. I wondered if he'd logged on this afternoon. If
he was playing right this very second. If he missed me and wondered
where I was. I hoped he didn't think I was avoiding him after our
convo last night. . . .
    I sighed,
shoveling a handful from my third bag of popcorn in my mouth. "Free
refills!" Dad had said when he bought the large. "Fill
up and we won't have to eat dinner!" I'd just have to log in
the second I got home. Straighten things out between us. After all,
Sir Leo's friendship was about the only good thing happening in my
life right now. The last thing I needed was to screw that up, too.
    Dad dropped us
off around six. Mom had cooked a three course meal that both Emily
and I were too full to eat, thanks
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    to about
fifteen buckets of extra-buttered popcorn, three giant bags of M&M's,
and at least a gallon of Coke. When questioned, Dad swore we had hit
the all-you-can-eat salad bar on the way home and Emily and I were
just too stuffed with wholesome lettucey goodness to eat another
bite.
    I could tell
Mom didn't believe him for one second, even when Emily and I grunted
confirmations to his outrageous lie, just so they wouldn't start
fighting again. Dad made a quick exit out the door and I headed
upstairs, despite pleas from Mom that I come watch the latest and
greatest episode of some random NBC drama or other that she had
become addicted to. Three movies in a row had already put me over my
limit for passive, mindless media. I needed something interactive to
excite my weary brain.
    I needed Fields
of Fantasy.
    Or--because who
was I fooling, really?--I needed Sir Leo.
    I shut my door,
blocking out the real world, and sat down at my computer, ready to
immerse myself in the life I was