Chapter 4: One Versus One

Betsy read the note over my shoulder.

"Sharing? Sharing what? You don't even share fries."

"It means they think somebody else plays my account."

I pulled the list off the glass, tape and all.

Then I pushed the doors open.

Satterfield Arena used to be a lecture hall.

The seats still sloped down in rows.

Now they faced a stage with ten gaming stations, five on each side, and a screen.

About sixty people were scattered in the seats.

Some of the guild, in the back row, who started oinking softly when they saw me.

Varsity was on the stage.

Sutton in her cropped jersey, hair glossy under the stage lights.

Carver beside her, spinning in his chair.

Beck at the far station, in the gray hoodie, not spinning.

He looked up when the doors banged.

Then he looked at the list in my hand, and his face went flat and hard.

The coach was a guy in his thirties with a clipboard and a lanyard.

He came down the steps toward me.

"Miss Swann. I'm sorry, you saw the note."

"Who reported me?"

"I can't share that."

"How many?"

He hesitated.

"Thirty-eight reports since Sunday. Account sharing is automatic review. It's with the league integrity office. It's not my call."

"Thirty-eight," I said. "That's a lot of people who've never played with me."

Somebody in the back row laughed.

Carver called down from the stage, "Maybe they just don't believe a girl like you got to two hundred by herself."

Sutton snorted.

I held up the list.

"Then let me show them."

I walked down the aisle.

My legs were shaking, so I made them walk slower.

At the bottom I looked up at Sutton.

"One versus one," I said. "You and me. Mid lane, first to a kill or a tower."

"On that stage, on those machines, right now. If I'm a shared account, you'll beat me in a minute."

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