Chương 2: Chapter 1 — The Worst Kind of Nerd

Chelsea Amber let out a loud groan, dragging the word out like she'd been mortally wounded.

"Seriously, Chels, you're like the worst kind of nerd ever." She stumbled over a crack in the sidewalk, windmilling her arms before recovering with a grin. Chelsea snorted.

"A nerd who got into her school of choice?" She slung her backpack higher on her shoulder.

"Why do you make me babysit your grades?" They walked home under a thinning canopy of oaks, the sidewalk mottled with brown dry leaves that crunched under their shoes. A car rumbled by, sending a faint smell of exhaust drifting in the air.

"No," Amber shot back, ignoring the second question, "the kind who gets none of my references but still gets called a nerd on technicalities." She gave Chelsea a sidelong glance with her good eye, the other cloudy and unblinking. In the cooler air, the scars on her face stood out more sharply, a patchwork of glossy ridges and uneven skin.

"Hey!" Chelsea quickened her pace, darting ahead before pivoting to walk backwards, her hair catching the light of the afternoon sun.

"I get most TV and movie references. And you don't get my Taylor Swift lyric quotes. Sorry I have no interest in video games or anime. I have more productive things to do. Angry Birds and that hero academy show can kick rocks. But, if you want… I think my brother plays that one game. I bet he would..."

"Nope, stop right there." Amber cut her off with a raised finger.

"I want nothing to do with that little psycho. Ever since I caught him doing unspeakable things with my old Barbies." She shuddered dramatically, shoulders rolling like she could shake off the memory. Chelsea laughed, shaking her head. The chain-link fence of her yard came into view.

"How about this," she said slowly, dragging it out like she was offering a sacred oath.

"If you get higher than a ninety on your pre-cal test Friday, I'll give your game a chance." Amber froze mid-step, then jabbed a finger at her triumphantly.

"Deal! You should start the install now. As soon as that grade posts, you better be in character creation." Her good eye lit up, practically glowing with excitement.

"I'll have a spot ready in the guild. We'll get you leveled and geared super-fast." Chelsea smiled despite herself.

"That gives you two days to make it happen. See you tomorrow." She gave a small wave and pushed open the squeaky front gate. Amber lingered on the sidewalk, still grinning to herself, while Chelsea climbed the porch steps. The boards creaked under her feet as she took a deep breath and opened the door.

"Hey, I'm home," she called into the dim hallway. Silence answered her, as usual. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

"Sounds about right," she muttered, toeing off her shoes. She hung her backpack neatly on its hook, her eyes flicking to the corner where her brother's bag lay abandoned in a heap. Of course. In the kitchen, Chelsea was surprised to find groceries on the counter. Not much... just a few plastic bags half-unpacked, a loaf of bread leaning against a pack of hotdog buns, and some bananas already speckled with brown... but enough for her to scrape something together if she felt like playing house.

A glossy Weight Watchers flyer lay on the counter, its smiling model frozen mid-laugh. A sticky note was slapped on top in her mother's rushed handwriting: 'Want to give it a try?' Chelsea's lip curled.

"Wow. Thanks, Mom. Subtle." She crumpled the flyer in her hand and tossed it into the trash, where it landed on an empty wine bottle. The hallway was dim, the carpet worn thin in the middle from years of traffic. She stopped at her little brother's cracked door and leaned in just enough to peek. Steven was exactly where she expected him... slouched at his desk, the glow of his monitor bleaching his face pale blue. His oversized headphones swallowed his ears, bass thumping faintly through the plastic.

"Steven!" she called, raising her voice over the electronic magic spells and swords spilling directly into his head. He slid one side of the headphones off and twisted in his chair, hair sticking up like he'd been running his hands through it all afternoon.

"Hmm?"

"Hey, I'm home. Any word on Mom?" she asked, bracing herself. He turned lazily back to his game, fingers tapping his keyboard, the glow flashing across his lenses.

"She headed down to the husband emporium early," he said flatly. Chelsea rubbed at her temple.

"Of course she did. Any idea which one?" She was not a procrastinator, thus she had a pressing need. Those college registration forms weren't going to sign themselves.

"Baseball playoffs are on, so probably the sports bar." His tone was casual, like he was reading her the weather report. Without waiting for a reply, he tugged his headphone back in place, dismissing her. She closed the door with a quiet click. Through the thin door, she caught his muffled voice a moment later: "No, sorry bro, my fuckin' sister…" Chelsea closed her eyes, and counted to three.

"Fuckin' sister who's expected to make you dinner," she muttered under her breath as she crossed the hall. Her room greeted her with its usual half-neat room: mostly made bed, clothes half-folded in a basket, textbooks stacked like miniature towers on the desk. The sports bar was too far to walk, and Uber wasn't an option with the ten bucks left in her wallet. She'd just have to hope her mom sobered up enough to sign in the morning.

Chelsea tossed her phone on her desk and flopped onto the bed, the springs squeaking in protest. She stared at the ceiling and exhaled dramatically.

"I didn't check for shredded cheese. I could make nachos if she bought shredded cheese." The thought drifted out of her like she was narrating her own life to the plaster above her head. She lay there for a long moment, half-heartedly lifting her arms like she might get up, then letting them drop again.

"Well shoot. Guess I just have to lay here," she sighed to no one in particular. Then it happened. Alert: S-Tier Summoning Has Commenced.