And if all that fails, I can always get some silver body paint and try and get on as a robot in a manufacturing plant. Just gotta study some old breakdancing videos to get the movements right.
The bell suspended over the front door rings. I check the mirror to see who it is, and I’m instantly disappointed. I feel my mouth curl into a frown as I see someone who doesn’t need money because his daddy pays for everything.
Carter McMorgan is the typical rich kid. He cares little for others unless they can do something for him. He’s proved it time and time again. We had a few classes together, until I was summarily asked to leave.
Though I’d seen the jerk, around town, McNasty, as I called him (I know, original right?), had never paid me much attention. Today, though, he’s got a small entourage, and knowing him, he’ll show off for them. One is a hot blond wearing yoga pants to maximum effect. The other is named Jimmy, I think. He’s a little guy who seems to be in the same economic class as Carter, but I’ve never seen him being douchey to anyone.
My mood threatening to sour more than I’d like it to, I turn my focus back to my workout, spray it down with a squirt bottle that has zero antiseptic qualities beyond the disinfecting power of tap water, wipe off the machine I just used with my hand because of course there are no towels today, and move to the next station to work my biceps. It’s probably leg day but I’ve lost track. I’ll get back on a regular schedule next time, but for now you can never go wrong with arms. Who doesn’t love the big guns? And I’m shooting with at least a .22 caliber here, ladies. Oh, yes.
Actually, as I do my first rep on the preacher’s bench, I’m not looking half-bad in the mirror. I’m looking—dare I say it—shredded. Or at least my arms are. The secret is, kids, to not have enough money to feed yourself properly. Blast away the body fat with starvation rations. I should do an infomercial…
Jimmy lets out a big horse-laugh at some joke McNasty makes about the gym. The old man didn’t hear it, or if he did, pretends not to notice.
I hate that guy. McNasty should’ve been kicked out of the college at least a dozen times from what I’ve heard. Cheating on exams for sure. Breaking dorm rules with his non-stop parties. But his dad is a big-time donor. Money keeps a college in business, so anything short of a felony or three will likely be ignored. Carter will graduate, even if he doesn’t learn anything or pass any tests. It’s not fair, but in today’s economy as ever, money talks.
The pretty girl under his arm stares at me for a moment. I can see her out of my peripheral vision thanks to the mirror. Yeah. She’s definitely staring. Oh, no. Do I have a snot bubble or some other grotesquely freaking thing happening right now? I check myself out. No. All is good. I’m getting some good vein definition in my arms, even.
Can it be that she… likes what she sees?
The thought sends me into a dreamland. A very common destination for the perpetually overweight and unhip. A habit that never really leaves from what I can tell, even when you’ve stopped permanently cosplaying as John Candy.
That’s right, I think. Your skinny five-and-a-half-foot boyfriend doesn’t have biceps like this, does he? All he has is a ready-made job and an inheritance of millions waiting for him. Heh. Loser.
It’s nothing I’d say aloud, but her lingering gaze makes it clear she’s noticed. Unfortunately, so has McNasty, and I groan inwardly as he heads my direction.
Jim notices the hard look McNasty gives his girl and looks around the room to see what caused it. When his eyes settle on me, his face slackens. It looks like he expects trouble but wants no part of it.
Carter usually ignores me. He knows I’m friends with Brian, and Brian has a cool factor that Carter wants to stay in the good graces of. But due to the look by his lady, he’s got to make a show, it seems. He walks over and I see a cheese-eating smile spread across his thin lips. I notice he’s got a lot of wrinkles for someone a year or two older than me.
“Why are you even bothering?” McNasty asks once he’s about a foot away. “You know you’re never getting back into Western, right?”
I ignore him to finish my last rep, and then set the dumbbell down.
“I’ll have you know, Carter, that several community colleges are interested in yours truly.”
This elicits a laugh in the girl. The amused kind, not the scoffing, “what-EVER” kind I usually get. Jim gives a fractional shake of his head as if to tell me that’s not helping things right now.
I decide to let it lie there. If that’s the last word, so be it. If not: fine. I pick up the bar and focus on my form, thinking about my new in-game helmet.
The armor didn’t have any bonuses to experience listed directly in the description, but I earned level two the moment I put it on. So either it granted an immediate level up, which kind of sucks given how easy it is to get those first five levels or it applied an XP multiplier when I killed the werewolf. I try to think back on my experience level before that encounter. Leveling up wasn’t even a thought. So what is it? One-time bonus or a serious XP multiplier? Either way, for such a powerful item, you’d think the perk would be written out, but then again, it wouldn’t be the first item to have a hidden stat boost or secret bonus.
Sometimes game developers forgot to add little details like that, though this one certainly wasn’t what I’d call little. Last-minute Mendozas and abandoned quest lines sometimes had leftover prompts that wouldn’t take a player anywhere, or they resulted in a piece of gear that just didn’t make any sense. If you believed the rumors, developers added stuff to the game to give players something to talk about. Mysteries are fun, after all, and they give a certain group of players something to theorize about.
There were a few rare items that players had identified as having unlisted powers. Some allow characters to cast spells a little faster, swing a sword a little harder, or dodge incoming arrows automatically. They’re slight bonuses that can add up over time, once you get enough of them together, but none, even when you get an entire armor set, were as useful as the ability to multiply your experience the way this helmet seemed to do. And that’s not even getting into the stats reveal which is…
Oh, great. He’s talking again.
McNasty had let go of his lady and was standing next to me with his fists planted firmly on his hips. “Seriously? You think this is funny. Gonna tell some lame joke and then sit there and ignore me? Do you understand how insulting that is, you plebe?”
The word probably means a lot more to him than it does to me. I knew it was an insult, but for me it was more funny than anything. I keep curling and he starts to pick up his feet uneasily. I like seeing the guy get all worked up because I’m not responding. I’m an ass, what can I say?
“I said, do you think you’re actually going to get back into Western?”
“I dunno, Carter. I asked my Dad for a few million to get a new residency hall under construction. That’s how you get the school to overlook your indiscretions, right? I’m new at this failing upwards thing.”
“Oh, screw you, asshole. No. You’re not getting back in Western. And hey, you did analytics for the football team right? Well if I had to make some predictions, I have to assume you’re working out before you eventually end up in prison. Given what got you thrown out. Well, the good news is, they’ll have gym equipment there for you. So you can keep training to make Bubba a happy cellmate. My tax dollars pay for it, after all, so you can thank me later.”