Cure for the Common Universe Read Free Page B

disappointed.
    A fear took me then. What if Serena had just pretended not to have a phone or Facebook?
    No. No. I’d made her laugh.
    Still, this conversation was spinning dangerously into unbelievable territory. I hadn’t had a date since I’d started living under my dad’s roof. Or . . . ever. Serena was the first good thing to come into my life in a long while. She was the great hope, the light at the end of the tunnel, the end game, my Call of Duty . . . . Only, I wasn’t going to shoot her.
    â€œYou always want to discuss things like adults,” I said. “Let’s discuss this.”
    The tank in front of me heard this and rested his foot on the bumper. The Xterra dipped under his weight.
    â€œDon’t let him talk you out of anything!” Casey called from the porch. “Dr. Phil said do not let them negotiate ! You just have to get him down there!”
    My dad glanced back at her, then at me. He may have been a tough old bastard, but he could be reasonable sometimes.
    â€œAll right,” he said to me. “I don’t know how adult you are, hiding in the car, but all right. Let’s discuss this.”
    I gripped the steering wheel, quickly trying to formulate my talking points. We may have had this argument dozens of times before, but this time was different. This time he hadtwo guards the size of refrigerators, and I . . . I had a date on Thursday. My suitcase sat in the driveway. Clearly rehab wouldn’t be an overnight stay.
    My dad stood tall, feet firmly planted. “You gonna tell me you don’t play too many video games?”
    â€œNo,” I said. He had me beat there. He even had a piece of graph paper. “I’m going to ask you what’s wrong with video games.”
    â€œWell,” my dad said, leaning against the Xterra, “you’re not getting any exercise, for one. You never do anything your stepmother or I ask you to. You—”
    â€œDad. Dad. I asked you what’s wrong with video games .”
    He sighed. “Violence,” he said, like it was obvious. “World’s a lot more violent than when I was younger. Now that kids can simulate killing each other, they want to try it in real life.”
    â€œRiiiiiiight,” I said. “’Cause they didn’t have any violence when you were a kid. Except, y’know, Vietnam. Or how about Korea, before that? We can keep going back if you’d like. Hitler never played video games.”
    My dad nodded. “You can’t ignore that kid who ran his dad down with the car.”
    The incident had made national news. But instead of the media focusing on a number of other factors that could have caused the kid’s violent outburst—bad living environment, bullying, depression—they focused on the fact that his dad had just taken away his copy of Halo .
    â€œI was joking about the vehicular manslaughter,” I said, gesturing to the tank in front of the Xterra.
    My dad rubbed the back of his neck. “You might not go out and hurt anyone. But what good are those games doing you?”
    â€œHand-eye coordination,” I said.
    â€œYou seem to have missed the whole back half of the Xterra here.”
    â€œThey’re good for learning how to code.”
    â€œI haven’t seen any Java manuals in your room.”
    â€œThey’re better for the environment than a lot of hobbies.”
    â€œSo is running.”
    â€œI could make millions as an Esports player.”
    â€œWhere’s the check?”
    â€œOnline games help break down international borders.”
    â€œBy fighting?”
    â€œThey help people from different countries understand each other.”
    â€œBy calling each other ‘bitch’?”
    â€œThat’s a term of endearment!”
    I collapsed onto the steering wheel. I had never imagined my romantic future would hang on a single video game debate.
    I sat upright