The Gamer's Guide to Getting the Girl Read online

  “I think he’s unconscious!” I say. “Let’s lay him down.”

  Erwin loops his arms through George’s from under his armpits and the three of us gently lower him onto the landing.

  “Check if he’s breathing,” Rory says.

  Erwin lowers his face down to George’s to feel for any air. We study his chest for movement but see nothing.

  Rory checks for a pulse.

  “I’ve got nothing,” he says. The three of us look at each other with horror.

  “I think he’s having a heart attack,” Erwin says. “Go get the defibrillator and the first aid kit.”

  Rory leaps to his feet and runs down the stairs to the main level as Erwin straddles George’s abdomen. “Zach, do you know CPR?”

  “Yeah. I’m training to be a lifeguard.”

  “Okay, I’m going to need you to take turns with me.”

  I nod. I know CPR but I’ve only ever practised on a dummy. I’m about to perform CPR on a human in a real-life situation. This is no simulation. I wish I could give him a chug jug, a shield potion, or some slurp juice to magically heal him, just like in Fortnite: Save the World, but real life isn’t that easy. I take a deep breath and watch intently.

  He’s counting under his breath as he does chest compressions.

  “Zach, I’m going to do ten more compressions and two more rescue breaths and then you’re going to take over.”

  “Okay,” I say. My insides tighten so hard I wonder if I’m going to pass out. I can’t freeze in fear now. I have to do this right. I watch as he finishes and I place my hands together and loop my fingers in order to take over. Erwin nods at me.

  I line up my hands with George’s chest and push down on his sternum. I count out my chest compressions. Erwin’s talking into his radio. “We have a medical emergency here,” he says. “I’ve got a man in his fifties, unconscious, not breathing. Suspected heart attack.”

  “Erwin,” I say, shaky. “It’s almost time for you to take over.” All my training has come rushing back to me; I know it’s important to switch out regularly so neither of us gets too tired.

  He nods. “You’re doing great, Zach.”

  “Okay, last compressions,” I say. I continue with my rescue breathing and then Erwin takes over. Sweat beads on Erwin’s forehead. He’s wheezing with the work. I realize that I’ve been holding my own breath, and when I release it my stomach unclenches just a bit.

  Rory bursts back through the door with a first aid kit and the defibrillator. Flashlights swivel toward him and we shout for them to turn back to us so we can see what we’re doing. He scrambles up the steps to us. Rory unpacks the defibrillator and starts setting it up.

  “Can you unbutton his shirt?” Rory asks. I reach for George’s shirt and try to unbutton it but my fingers fumble with the adrenaline surging through me. “It’s okay, just rip it.”

  I tear open George’s shirt. A few buttons fly off and roll down the steps behind us. His chest hair is dotted with grey; his skin looks pallid.

  “We’re going to have to shave him,” Rory says. He reaches for the razor in the kit and runs it across George’s chest in short, quick strokes. I can see that he’s shaking. His clumsy fingers remove the stickers from the defibrillator pads and place them on George’s chest.

  “We’re ready. Move back.”

  The machine instructs us to move away as well. It beeps loudly and the first shock is delivered. George’s body jerks upright with the force of the charge.

  Erwin resumes the chest compressions. I watch helplessly; George still seems lifeless.

  “Zach,” Erwin says. I take over again.

  “Good job,” he says. My arms are sore from the strain. I feel sweat slide down my back in a persistent stream as I continue the compressions.

  Come on, I think, as I keep up the steady rhythm on his chest.

  George’s body suddenly tightens and he takes a large gasp of air. His eyes open. I take my hands off and we all watch as George sputters back to life.

  “Oh, thank god!” Erwin shakes George with his hands. “You scared me there, buddy.”

  “What happened?” George tries to move but winces.

  “Don’t move. Just rest. We think you had a heart attack.”

  George groans. “I …” He drops his head back onto the landing.

  “It’s okay. Just rest,” I say. I feel such incredible relief at seeing him with his eyes open.

  George reaches out to me. I squeeze his clammy hand.

  The rest of the group erupts in cheers. I look around at them. I was so immersed in trying to save George that I completely forgot everyone around us. Erwin pats me on the back.

  “You did great, Zach.”

  “Thanks; you, too,” I manage. My lips tremble; my throat is thick with emotion. It takes me a moment to realize that I’m crying.

  The rest of the people higher up in the stairwell are all looking down on us. In the semi-darkness, I can make out Cooper and Samara at the top of the crowd. Pretty sure they’re both grinning down at me.

  “Couldn’t have done it without you,” Erwin says. I nod, but the tears fall so fast they blur my vision.

  “It hurts,” George whispers.

  “We know,” Erwin assures him. “You just had the scare of your life. Now we have to wait for medical attention.”

  “Why? I’ve got you guys,” George croaks.

  We all smile ruefully. It’s just sinking in that we’ve saved his life — and I’ve had a hand in it. The thought is almost more than I can process. Of all the things a person could grow up to be, I’ve always wanted to become a doctor. The closer I’ve come to picking a career path, the less sure I’ve been — until possibly now. All of a sudden, the idea of me as a doctor doesn’t seem as crazy. Being able to gain the skills to help someone when they’re hurt or sick — it feels like an amazing privilege.

  But George isn’t out of the woods yet. His eyes flutter between open and closed. He’s clearly very weak.

  “Is there an ambulance on the way?” I whisper to Rory.

  He shrugs. “They said they’d get here when they could. Who knows when that will be.”

  “What do we do until then?”

  “Just keep him as still and as comfortable as we can.”

  My stomach clenches again. George has to be okay.

  I back away from George and make my way down to ground level. I take the empty spot on the bottom step and hold my head in my hands. Cool tears slide down my cheeks. Surges of both gratitude and loneliness make me cry harder. I don’t know what to do with all of these emotions. I’d do anything to be home right now in the safety of my own bedroom. I’d do anything to hear my parents chatting while making breakfast, the familiar clinks of the dishes as one of them sets the table.

  Maybe more than that, I wish for my mom. I wish for her arms around me just like how she held Marshall, calming him during the storm. Maybe I’m not as strong as I think I am.

  A warm hand rubs my forearm. Samara. She’s come to check on me. I don’t know if I want to look up. I don’t want her to see me like this — crying and freaking out like a scared loser. I quickly wipe my face as best I can with my fingers before looking up.

  “Zach?” But it’s not Samara. It’s Valerie. Part of me is relieved that it’s not Samara after all. I glance up at her, her long brown hair framing her face. In this moment she reminds me of my mom. Maybe at this moment any mother is enough. She sits down beside me.

  “Come here,” she says gently.

  She pulls me to her for a hug. Instead of feeling embarrassed or awkward, I squeeze her tight. Choking sobs erupt from me. She holds me close and rubs my back.

  “It’s okay, sweetie,” she says softly. For a moment I imagine she really is my mom. I draw as much comfort from her as I can, my body shuddering. “You did an amazing thing, Zach. I’m so proud of you.”

  “Thanks,” I whisper. I can feel snot running down my face from crying so hard.

  “Seriously.
That was amazing. You saved George’s life.” She continues to hold me until I start to regain my composure. “Are you okay?”

  I nod. She hands me tissues from her purse and I use them to dry my face and blow my nose. My head is pounding from crying so much; my eyes feel puffy and swollen.

  “George is going to be okay,” Valerie assures me.

  “I hope so.” I sniffle.

  “You looked like you needed a hug.”

  “I did.” I look up the stairwell but I only see Nancy — who’s holding Ira for Valerie — Rory, Erwin, and George, plus the others who have resumed their same spots in the stairwell from before George fell over. I’m grateful that it’s dark and that Samara hasn’t seen me cry like this. Whatever kind of hero I might have looked like when I was doing CPR on George has disappeared; now I look like a total wimp.

  TIP #10

  Anger and jealousy are never the answer

  “Stay away from me!” a girl’s voice screams from higher up. Our heads all snap up to try to figure out what’s going on. “Get away!”

  Rory scrambles up the steps. Although I’d rather run up the stairs behind Rory, instead I take his place beside George, who seems to be sleeping.

  “I mean it!!” The scream gets louder. I wonder if the young woman’s voice could belong to Samara. Curiosity gets the best of me.

  “I gotta go see,” I tell Erwin. He nods and hands me his flashlight, but he doesn’t look impressed that I’m leaving.

  “What’s going on?” I hear Rory ask. I get up to the top of the stairwell near the entrance to the second floor. It is Samara screaming. She has backed herself into the corner. She’s still wearing Cooper’s hoodie, but the hood has been pulled off. She looks panicked. Cooper’s frozen in the middle of the staircase.

  “Get these people away from me!” Samara yells. I shine the light up toward her and realize she’s referring to the two people from the elevator, Alec and Betty. They’re hovering near her, looking strange and menacing.

  “Sammy!” the woman cries out. She reaches toward her but Samara flinches.

  “No!” Samara yells.

  “You’re Sammy?” Rory asks.

  “MY NAME IS S-A-M-A-R-A.” She enunciates each letter carefully.

  “Sammy, please,” Betty pleads.

  I quickly step past everyone to get to Samara; I approach her with my hands out in front of me.

  “No,” she says to me, too, shrinking back against the wall.

  I feel a sharp sting.

  “Please, leave me alone,” Samara cries.

  “Ma’am, I need you to step back, please,” Rory says to the woman.

  “I don’t have to step back. She’s my daughter.”

  My jaw flops open. The woman from the elevator is Samara’s mom? Why didn’t she say anything?

  “Just grab her already or I will,” Alec says gruffly.

  “You will not touch me.” Samara’s words are like daggers. She slides down the wall to the ground, sobbing.

  “Can you get them away from her?” I ask Rory. I can’t stand seeing Samara so upset.

  “Just grab her and let’s go,” Alec says again to Betty.

  “Sammy. Please. You need to come with us.”

  “Ma’am, you can’t go anywhere right now. This is the safest place for us at the moment.”

  “You can’t tell us what to do,” Alec spits. “She’s coming with us.”

  He steps forward, grabs the front of Samara’s T-shirt with his fist, and pulls Samara up to standing.

  “NO!” she screams. She pummels him but he drags her to the door in one motion.

  “You go,” Rory roars, “but the girl stays here.” He grabs Samara by the shoulders and jerks her away from Alec. I’m impressed. When I first saw his lanky frame, I thought a slight breeze could blow him over. But he isn’t backing down from Alec at all.

  “Good riddance then,” Alec spits. He gives Samara an angry shove and Rory catches her before she falls. Alec leaves the stairwell, and Betty rushes after him.

  “Do we let them go?” I ask. Rory nods.

  “I can’t keep anyone here against their will. In an ideal world, everyone would stick together and listen to my advice, but people rarely do.” Rory continues down the stairs back toward George and Erwin.

  I reach out for Samara but she shoves me away and barrels down the stairs past me into the darkness below. It feels like a punch to the gut. I don’t know what to do. I start to follow her but Cooper puts his arm in front of me.

  “Just let her go,” he says. I hear her splash into the water below and out the stairwell door.

  I look at him, puzzled. “Are you going to go?” I ask him. Can’t he see how much she’s hurting?

  “Do you want me to?” Cooper asks. What kind of question is that? What kind of guy doesn’t comfort his girl when she’s upset? I bat Cooper’s arm away.

  “What is your problem, Zach?” Cooper’s voice rises.

  “What’s my problem? You know what my problem is.” I try to keep my voice down but I know the people around us are listening.

  “No, I don’t!” Cooper shoots back. His dark hair flops in front of his eyes. He shoves it behind his ear and studies me.

  “You went right after her even though you knew that I liked her,” I say.

  “I went after Samara?” Cooper says, incredulous.

  “Don’t play stupid. You’ve been with her since this all happened.”

  “Are you kidding me right now?” Cooper’s eyebrows knit together. My flashlight shines up at him, casting murky shadows across his face.

  “You’ve practically been following her around like a puppy dog. Panting after her. At least try to make it a little less obvious. Plus, she’s wearing your clothes now. How do you explain that?”

  Cooper seethes. “Take it back, Zach.”

  “Take what back?”

  “Do you really think I’d try to steal your girl from you?”

  I remain silent.

  “Do you?!” Cooper’s voice rises. “You tell me you’ve met the girl of your dreams. Then you spend most of your time with other people and you’re going to get mad at me?”

  “Well, it worked out for you, didn’t it? Gave you the perfect opportunity to swoop in.”

  “You’re kidding. Unbelievable, Zach.” Cooper shakes his head vehemently.

  “You’re going to say you haven’t?” I challenge him.

  “I figure if you met someone that special, that you’re going gaga over, I had to check her out. Make sure she was good enough for you. And you know what?!” Cooper yells. “She’s great. She’s everything you hoped she’d be. But here’s the thing, now I’m not sure if you’re good enough for her.” Cooper turns on his heels and storms up the stairs, headed for the same door that Alec and Betty exited from.

  Cooper’s words stab me raw. I reel from what he says. How could I have misinterpreted things so badly?

  I go after him. Luckily, I’m faster and I throw my body in front of him before he can reach the top.

  “I’m sorry!”

  “Sorry isn’t good enough, Zach. Not this time.”

  “Coop, I’m serious. I messed up. With you, with her …”

  “Yeah, you did.”

  “You guys just looked so cozy with each other —”

  “Don’t!” Cooper cuts me off. “What kind of friend do you think I am?”

  “The best. My best friend.”

  “Maybe,” Cooper says. “Or at least I thought so.”

  “She doesn’t want me anyhow. I think she likes you more.”

  “Oh God, Zach. How blind can you be?”

  This time I really don’t understand. Samara has barely shown an interest in me. Am I this bad at reading people?

  “She didn’t want me a few minutes ago.”

  “Why do you think she wants to get away? She’s embarrassed. And the hoodie — it was to try to disguise her. She had a feeling her mom was still in the mall and she was worried that she was t
he one stuck in the elevator. She didn’t want you to know the truth. Clearly the woman wasn’t at home cooking a turkey dinner.”

  “Who cares about that?” My frustration mounts.

  “We’re not all blessed with a perfect family life like you, Zach,” Cooper points out. “Even me. You know that. My parents don’t have time for me so they make up for it by throwing money at me to keep me happy. Your family is the closest thing I know to perfect. You guys are like a freakin’ sitcom. Complete with laugh track and the cheesy hugs to make everything better. The rest of us might feel a little jealous and might not want to share our less-than-stellar family legacies.”

  I think of Cooper’s parents, his home, his room, how he gets anything he wants. He’s right. His parents are rarely home. They don’t have dinner together. They rarely check in to see where Cooper is. He can practically do whatever he wants and they don’t even realize he’s gone. I’ve spent a lot of time being jealous of him and everything he has, but maybe I’ve always been the lucky one. Guilt and regret creep over me.

  “Coop — I know I messed up.”

  “Big time.” Cooper shakes his head at me. Other than spats over food or games, we’ve never really fought much. Our biggest fights up until this point have been over trolling each other, stealing kills playing Fortnite, or taking out the Nexus in League of Legends and bragging about it. Hardly material for serious friendship wars.

  Cooper turns his back to me and stomps up the stairs.

  “Where’s he going?” Rory asks as the steel door slams behind Cooper.

  “Just give him a few minutes,” I say. “Just let him cool off.”

  No one says anything. There’s no way they didn’t hear our conversation.

  I want to follow Cooper and keep apologizing, but I know better. He needs some time. I get it. I messed up huge. How would I feel if Cooper was accusing me of the same thing? I’d never do that to him — not for any girl — and yet I made myself believe that he’d do it to me. What is wrong with me?