Chapter Text
Business card in hand,
Phone in front of me,
Only courage was missing.
Would he answer the phone to a fourteen year old fangirl?
What if I stuttered?
Made a fool of myself?
Wouldn't be the first time.
How would he react to the truth?
It was the right thing to do,
So why was it so difficult?
I picked up the phone and dialled the numbers.
Ring.
What if it goes to his voicemail?
Leave a message?
I hadn't rehearsed one.
Ring.
Maybe I should call tomorrow instead.
Prepare better.
Put some order to my thoughts.
Ring.
Please don't answer.
Give me at least this much.
He picked up.
"Leroy Gibson speaking."
_.—._
\_|_|_/
What should I say?
"I—"
My name— no, he didn't know me.
"Mr. Gib—?"
Don't repeat his name. That sounds too starstruck.
"Um..."
Think of something!
"Who is this?" said Gibson.
He must be thinking I'm just another fan who stumbled onto his phone number.
"Delaney."
"Who?"
"Delaney Morgan."
Couldn't dig myself any deeper.
"You might remember me as Cameron Tucker?"
_.—._
\_|_|_/
I bit my lower lip
Waiting his response.
"From the Grand Prix," I added.
"Ah! The girl."
How did 'the girl' identify me more than my name?
"I have a confession to make," I said.
The words came like a flood.
I held nothing back.
_.—._
\_|_|_/
By the end of my story, I had tear streaks and a trembling voice.
"I can't keep the money," I said.
I knew I'd been rambling.
I didn't care by that point.
"Can I mail it back to the company?
Is that doable?
Maybe I should give them a call first, explain everything."
"Cam— Delaney," said Gibson.
"It's no use being hasty.
You can call them tomorrow or the day after.
They're not going anywhere.
So take a deep breath for me, will you?"
I did.
Wiped my tears.
More came.
His voice was soothing,
Steady,
Reassuring.
"Can you give me his phone number?"
"Cam's?"
Wiped more tears.
"What for?"
"You want him to accept the money?"
Did he have a solution?
"Yes," I said.
"But he doesn't feel he deserves it."
I nodded, even though he couldn't see me.
"I'd like to talk to him in person," said Gibson.
"Can you organize a meeting?
And tell him to bring the same deck he used at the tournament."
I understood where he was going for.
"That won't change his mind."
"That's for him to decide."
_.—._
\_|_|_/
I didn't know Cam's phone number.
Theo did, but I didn't want to involve him in my mistakes.
"Mom," I said that morning before leaving for school.
"Can I borrow your cellphone just for today?"
"Emergencies only," she said.
"It's important."
She must have understood by my tone that I was not joking.
She gave it to me.
"Don't lose it.
And it stays off in class."
_.—._
\_|_|_/
Cam was at his locker.
I wouldn't avoid him today.
"Cam," I said.
"It might sound strange, but are you busy Saturday afternoon?"
He didn't look at me.
"I am," he said.
I didn't believe it.
He shut his locker door.
About to leave.
"Leroy Gibson would like to meet you," I said.
He stopped walking.
"Way to twist the knife, Lanie."
I pulled the business card and my mom's cellphone from my pocket and gave them to him.
"I explained to him what happened.
He'd like to meet you."
He looked at the card.
Looked at me.
At the card.
Me.
Seeming lost.
I took the cell back.
Dialled the number I'd since learned by heart.
Waited for the line to pick up.
"Hey," I said.
"He's next to me.
I'm passing him to you."
I gave the phone to Cam and retrieved my books from my locker to give him some privacy,
_.—._
\_|_|_/
Cam gave me back my phone.
"So?" I asked.
"I'm busy Saturday," he repeated.
Oh.
He refused after all.
"So we agreed on Friday evening," he said.
Hope!
I shuffled on my feet, unsure whether I was allowed to ask.
"Can I come?"
It didn't feel enough of an apology.
I needed to see this through.
He shrugged.
"I'm not your dad.
You can do what you want."
_.—._
\_|_|_/
So he had said,
But he hadn't told me where the meeting would take place.
Nor had he shown up to his locker in a timely manner after school ended.
Passive-agressive.
I got the location from Gibson:
The board game shop across town.
An hour of bus ride saw me there early.
The weather was warming up.
Every week summer creeped in and the cold receded.
The rocks and salt left behind after the snow had melted had been cleaned from the sidewalks.
The air, dry and fresh.
By the door,
I waited.
_.—._
\_|_|_/
Gibson arrived first.
A greeting,
Formalties,
Awkwardness.
He didn't wait outside with me for Cam.
Just as well.
My thoughts were more than enough to occupy the silence.
When I started wondering if Cam had bailed,
His dad's car pulled into the parking lot.
More greetings.
Still awkward.
_.—._
\_|_|_/
Cam and I sat around the table Gibson had picked.
"Hello Cameron," said Gibson.
Cam hadn't lifted his eyes once since he'd gotten here.
"Do you know why I'm here?" asked Gibson.
"For a revenge match," said Cameron.
"For the money.
Winner takes all, or something like that."
"You watch too many movies."
Gibson reclined in his chair.
"The money is yours.
Staking money on a match outside a tournament is gambling,
And pretty lousy gambling at that since I stand to lose nothing and you everything.
No, it's not about the money.
Tell me,
Have you played Magic since the tournament?"
Cam shook his head.
Neither had I.
Too busy with the end of the school year.
"No deck-building?
Reading articles online?
Bragging of your best matches to your friends?"
Cam shook his head again.
"Do you miss it?" asked Gibson.
Cam didn't answer.
His hand resting on the table,
Gibson lifted a finger to point at Cam.
"That.
That's why I'm here."
_.—._
\_|_|_/
"When I was in high school," started Gibson, going on a tangent,
"I was part of the local hockey team.
Small casual thing that was.
Lots of kids with more dreams than talent
And a coach who knew just enough to push us in the right direction.
“He talked about the nationals constantly.
He had the passion.
We soon caught it as well.
“Our team registered for the regional one year.
Why not? It was just some fun way to motivate ourselves to improve.
To live the dream.
“Improve we did.
“We got serious.
“And the games became serious as well.
“We turned rough, some more than others.
I was one of the tougher ones,
So I made use of my bulk whenever I could.
“One game, I still remember.
“The qualification match to the nationals.
“It was a defensive game, with barely a point on either side.
Mid-game, the opposing team scored their second point.
They were protecting that lead with everything they had.
“Each tick of the clock pushed the dream we'd had a little further out of reach.
Nothing we did had any effect.
“I got restless.
“One opening, I tackled the guy in defence.
“Our skates crossed.
“He screamed;
Didn't get back up"
_.—._
\_|_|_/
Gibson pulled a bottle of cola from his bag.
Took a sip.
“Torn Achilles tendon," he said.
"His foot was dangling behind him as if on a dragline."
I couldn't help a shudder.
Cam looked a bit green.
"I must have made a similar face back then," said Gibson.
"Couldn't take my eyes away.
Didn't want to.
I'd done that.
My failure,
My responsibility,
My punishment."
He took another sip.
"We lost that match.
Then, life caught up to me.
Ordinary things happened.
School, family stuff, friends.
“Hockey fell by the wayside.
“It didn't feel sudden back then,
But looking back everything stopped after that one game."
"You finished the season?" asked Cam.
"Not really," said Gibson.
“I found excuses to skip training.
“I didn't play seriously until five years later, at university."
He shook his head,
Took one more sip,
Then another.
He watched the bottle as though memories lied inside.
"It was a while, but I got back on the ice.
It was fun.
Something I hadn't known I had missed.
“Then, someone tackled someone else.
“And I lost it."
_.—._
\_|_|_/
Gibson pushed his bottle to the corner of the table and looked at the two of us.
"When a hobby turns serious, it changes you.
“It's easy to get stuck on the mistakes,
The failures,
The moments you'd rather forget.
“The worst moments,
You never completely forget.
“You may spend long stretches of time not thinking about them,
But something at some point will make you remember.
“Most often it's the very thing you try to enjoy once more."
Gibson pulled out his card box and a mat, which he left rolled up before him.
"It's your choice, Cameron.
If you don't want to play, I'll take my leave.
Wish you well and be on my way.
“Though, if you're in the mood for it,
I'd like to recreate the match we never got to play.
No money on the line, no score nor points.
Just a simple game we can both enjoy.
What do you say?"
Cam hesitated for an instant.
He pulled out his cards and mat.
The signed one, with Gibson's autograph in the corner.
"Fifty minutes,” said Cam,
“Best two out of three.”
_.—._
\_|_|_/
I watched their games with the same intensity I reserved for Nicholas's games.
Every play was an opportunity to learn.
Cam didn't play the matchup like I had.
Where I'd been purely reactive,
Anticipating— welcoming even— the long game,
Cam played for tempo.
He threw caution to the wind and forced plays even through counterspells.
He forced Gibson to have the counter, or to suffer setbacks.
It worked.
Cam looped card drawing into card drawing,
Keeping afloat despite the cards he threw away.
His first Goblin Trench bit a Circular Logic.
But the second, Gibson was forced to Memory Lapse,
Only delaying the inevitable.
On his side, Gibson pushed forward with his Psychatog and Nightscape Familiar.
Any mistake from either side would cost them the game on the spot.
_.—._
\_|_|_/
I could see both of their hands,
Both play patterns,
But their thoughts remained a mystery.
More than once they surprised me with plays I hadn't considered.
Cam stole the first game.
However, Gibson won the next two.
The match ended.
Three full games between two control decks.
Yet, fifteen minutes still remained on the clock.
It would make even the best aggro decks proud.
_.—._
\_|_|_/
"How did you sideboard?" asked Gibson after the match.
Cam pulled out a few cards from his deck and placed them in a row.
The cards from his sideboard, he placed underneath.
"Hmm.
You over-sideboarded.
“Here, you removed counters to add different counters.
What's the point?
“And here, you removed burn spells for silver bullets.
Burn might not be ideal against Psychatog, but it helps close the game.
Without them, your Goblin Trenches aren't as deadly.
That cost you the race in game three."
"You had the Upheaval," Cam argued.
"I thought you'd side them out."
"I did,
Then brought one back in, for the surprise factor.
You can never assume."
"What if I'd done it like this?"
They went over the sideboard options.
I listened to everything being said.
_.—._
\_|_|_/
Cam stood from his seat,
Deck and mat still on the table.
He turned to me.
"Lanie, your turn."
"I'm good," I said. "Thanks."
This meeting was for him,
To make him feel better about what happened.
It was not the time for me to compete with him, even by proxy.
"I want to see a match between the two of you," Cam said.
He offered me the chair.
He would compare results.
Analyze my plays to figure how I had won against Gibson the first time around.
Would his pride accept another loss?
Could I risk it?
"Sure," I said, sitting down.
I had several advantages over Cam.
I had played Gibson before.
I'd had the luxury of seeing a whole match from his point of view,
The cards in his hand,
The way he chose certain plays over others.
I could use the sideboard lessons he showed us.
With all this, it wouldn't be surprising if I gave Gibson more trouble than Cam.
So how could I keep my performance from overshadowing his?
_.—._
\_|_|_/
Gibson sighed when another one of his counters resolved.
"You're not as in-the-zone as you were at the tournament."
"If you mean half-asleep and struggling for a draw, no I'm not."
That's not what he meant though.
I knew it.
He probably knew I knew as well.
There was no heart to my plays,
No passion.
I was merely going through the motion,
Choosing the best immediate play over better long-term alternatives.
The two games I lost, I gave the illusion of a fight.
Neither of them were impressed.
"Bad luck," said Gibson.
"It happens."
_.—._
\_|_|_/
"You two should play against one another," said Gibson as he offered his seat.
"The games will be more even that way."
Why did I need to play against Cameron?
Was it safe?
"Would you say your Psychatog is favoured against my Goblin trenches?" Cam asked Gibson.
"Post-sideboard, yes."
"Then I'm sticking with the Trenches."
Giving me the stronger deck.
He was still trying to prove something.
What were you thinking under that blank expression, Cam?
_.—._
\_|_|_/
I tried being serious in game one.
I won handily.
Thus, I pulled back to make things more even.
"Don't go easy on me," Cam said a few turns into our third game.
"It's insulting."
No meanness, no resentment.
A remark, nothing more.
Though, if you point it out like that,
I can't win the third game without making it blatant I had been doing just that all along.
Sorry Cam.
I couldn’t stop now.
_.—._
\_|_|_/
The shop closed.
The evening left me unsatisfied.
But my feelings didn't matter tonight.
Cam's did.
Nothing else.
"Cam," I called before he exited through the door.
"You forgot this."
I pulled out his cheque from my bag.
"It's alright," he said.
Little smile at the corner of his lips.
"Next time, I'll win my own fair and square."
He passed the door without waiting for a reply.
_.—._
\_|_|_/
To: Wizard of the Coast customer service
Subject: Cheating at GP Milwaukee
To whom it may concern,
During day two of the Grand Prix, my friend Cameron Tucker got sick and left the tournament in a hurry. As another point would secure him a spot in the top 64, I picked up his deck and played the match in his place, winning against Leroy Gibson.
I would like to apologize for my actions. It was a spur of the moment decision that went against the spirit of the game. I only realized it too late.
As such, I wish to return the prize money to you. Here attached you will find the cheque's number and a copy of the endorsed signature. Please cancel it and give the money to someone more deserving. I apologize for any trouble it might cause you.
Thank you for everything,
Delaney Morgan
_.—._
\_|_|_/
The reply came back in only two days.
An acknowledgement,
A few formalities,
A "Thank you for your honesty".
I expected more.
I would have been satisfied with less.
_.—._
\_|_|_/
That day, the last day of school,
I slipped a printed copy of the message in Cam's locker.
Barely had I taken my lunch box that Cam came next to me,
Opening his locker.
I escaped before he noticed the paper.
Cowardly.
Though I couldn't bring myself to face the issue straight on.
Couldn't bear to see him angry,
Or sad,
Or disappointed, or uncaring.
Couldn't say "I'm sorry".
The words wouldn't come.
_.—._
\_|_|_/
I found a quiet corner,
Away from the boys.
Fork in hand,
Lunch box on one side,
Science homework on the other.
All set for a quiet lunch.
It didn't last.
Cam found me.
He held my letter in one hand.
Angry, disappointed, sad,
I couldn't tell.
Might it be all of the above, I didn't have a clue.
"You didn't have to," he said.
"Sorry," I mumbled.
"You could have used the money,
Bought enough to catch up with the rest of us."
Was that how he saw it?
A gift to the player with the smallest collection?
"Sorry."
"You don't need to apologize."
"Sorry, I'll..."
I was messing up everything.
It wasn't supposed to go like this.
"I'm sorry, it’s just..."
Tears dropped on my hand.
Don't look.
Go away.
I'll make it up,
Just don't look.
Not now, not like this.
_.—._
\_|_|_/
The thump of a backpack dropped.
The steady hold keeping me together despite my sobs.
The tears flowed.
"Hey, it's alright."
I choked back a sound.
What little self-control was left went into keeping the embarrassing noises to a minimum.
I'd long since stopped fighting the shakes, though.
"Shh, it's okay.
I'm not mad.
There's no need to apologize.
It's okay."
It was a long minute before I took a breath.
A little movement that threatened to break the silence I'd maintained.
_.—._
\_|_|_/
When I'd calmed down a bit,
Cam packed my things into my bag.
He grabbed it and my lunch box with one hand,
And my hand with the other.
Without a word, he dragged me to our usual spot.
I resisted, for fear of what Theo and Jerry would say seeing me in such a state.
Neither said anything.
Theo hugged me tight,
And Jerry looked the other way.
Thank you, both of you.
"Everything's alright," repeated Cam before he sat down with his own lunch,
As though nothing was out of the ordinary.
_.—._
\_|_|_/
I woke up to someone tripping into my legs.
I opened an eye to look at the two girls as they walked away.
Some of their comments were directed our way.
They fell on three snoring boys and my uncaring self.
Jerry was the support in the middle of Cam and Theo.
Cam's head rested on Jerry's shoulder,
His soft breathing covered by the latter's open-mouth snores.
I dropped my head back down into Theo's lap.
Closed my eyes.
Sleep at last.
