11Na

“Sucks to suck, now get your ass up!” shouted Peter.
The small crowd of older teenagers assembled around the recently released Street Fighter III: Third Strike cabinet laughed and hollered as they watched the pixel-graphics. The loser slapped the control panel and whipped around as he stood up from the stool. Peter put a hand on his shoulder.
“Hey, don’t get mad dude. You only lost to an Alex player with the best character in the game!” The whoops and jeers gained a new life. The loser pushed Peter’s hand away and headed for the exit out of the arcade and into the shopping mall. “If it was that easy for you to escape a throw you would be so salty!” Peter called after him. He couldn’t tell if the taunt reached its target’s ears, but it landed with the seven or eight guys around him. They jeered and laughed. Every time Peter got a reaction he seemed to swell up, his tall stature making an even larger presence. “All right, who’s playing next against Eduardo?”
“Me!” A girl a few years younger than the rest of the boys shoved her quarter into the machine and plopped down on the empty stool.
“Oh, Krysten’s back.” said Peter. “You know this is a man’s game, but you’re welcome to try again. How many quarters are you throwing away today?”
Krysten said nothing. She scrunched her face and picked Makoto as her character.
“Nice choice! You’ve already improved just on the character selection screen! Tell you what, you’ve earned me as a coach for this match!” said Peter.
“Shut up! I don’t want your help!” said Krysten.
“I think you’ll appreciate it! Guys, do you want me to coach her?” The other onlookers gave enthusiastic approval. Krysten fixed her eyes on the game. “Okay with you, Eduardo?”
“Whatever man.” Eduardo shrugged with a slight smirk.
“That’s what I like to hear!” Peter seemed to have total control of his small audience.
The match began. Eduardo dashed in as Alex towards Krysten’s Makoto.
“Watch out for the throw Krysten!” shouted Peter, a split-second too late for her to react. She was thrown into a knockdown and put on defense. She struggled to stay in the game while Peter continued offering backhanded advice. “Try to anti-air! Not with that button! Shouldn’t have done that! That move sucks, don’t use it anymore unless you want to lose quicker! Why didn’t you punish that! Don’t you know you have the advantage there!” Every time Krysten hit a button she slapped it harder than the time before.
“How’d you learn so much about this game, Pete?” asked one of the spectators.

Peter was sitting at the family computer in the living room when he heard his older brother come in the front door across the house.

“Hello? Mom? Dad?” he called.

No response. Peter dreaded the thought of having to receive his brother by himself. The Third Strike guide page on Gamefaqs finally finished loading. Peter started copying it down in a notebook, trying to keep the scratching of his pencil and the crinkle of the paper as quiet as possible. He heard his brother come towards the living room. He hadn’t been quiet enough.

“Sup retard.” he slapped Peter’s head with his fingertips.

“I’m not retarded, Leonard. I’m just not good at school.” said Peter, just loud enough to be heard. He hunched over and kept his focus on the computer screen.

“That might be the most retarded thing you’ve said.” said Leonard. “Get off the computer. I’m gonna call my girlfriend.”

“I just logged on.” Peter protested.

“So?” Leonard noticed Peter’s notebook.

D+MK -2

D+HK =0

“Are you finally studying after you flunked the SAT?” Leonard looked at the computer screen. “‘Street Fighter’? Are you still playing fucking video games?”

“... I like video games.”

“Yeah well if you - hey, look at me!” Leonard forced Peter’s chair to rotate, scraping the wood floor. Peter slowly brought his eyes up to meet Leonard’s. The tension in his neck and jaw caused his vision to vibrate. “Maybe if you put half the time you spent on games into school, your dumb ass would finally get some respect. Now get off the fucking computer.”

“You might’ve got a round, but you have to be better to win the match!” Peter continued his commentary of Krysten’s gameplay. “I woulda blocked that! Guys! Would any of you been hit by that jump-in!” The audience of older teens riled up more and more, repelling nearby arcade-goers and attracting some nervous looks from the staff. Peter’s voice boomed over the cacophonous soundscape.

Eduardo dashed up and landed another throw to end the match. The in-game announcer called K.O. but was drowned out by Peter.

“Oh! Sorry you can’t escape a throw to save your quarter Krysten! Probably couldn’t do it if your life depended on it either! Eduardo, how dare you almost lose your seat to a little girl!”

Eduardo had won the match, but Peter was the center of attention. He took high fives and back claps all around. Krysten sat rigid. One hand remained clinging to the joystick, the other clenched itself over the attack buttons. Her face was scrunched up and her eyes started to shimmer with water.

“Hey, Krysten.” said Peter. “You lost. Game over. Get off the cabinet!”

“No!” She pounded the control panel. “I want to fight against you!” She stood up and pointed at Peter. He froze for a moment. A hush fell over the rest of the boys.

“Th-that’s not how it works.” Peter said. “Winner stays. Everybody knows that, right? Sucks to suck, but get your ass up!” He glanced around to the rest of the onlookers. His face felt warm.

“Okay, how about this!” She reached into her pocket and retrieved a $20 bill. She held it above her head so everyone could see. “I bet you twenty dollars that I beat you!”

Everyone made an exclamation except Peter.

“When was the last time anyone played against Pete?” one of them wondered.

“All right, just one more question...” said Ms. Mendoza. “Are you shipping off to college in the fall? I’m not hiring just for the summer.”

“No…” Peter shook his head. “No college plans. I’ll be here.”

“Great. Just sign these forms and you’re officially hired at Coming Attractions Theaters.” Ms. Mendoza handed Peter some paperwork. “I have to get ready for the Star Wars II opening tomorrow, but just leave those here and I’ll get you on the schedule for next week.”

She left Peter in her office. He completed the forms and headed out through the theater lobby. On the way he noticed a small arcade off to the side. He strolled over and saw a couple former schoolmates a year younger than him playing Street Fighter III. Orlando had just defeated Brian.

“Dammit!” said Brian. “I would have won if I could remember Akuma’s secret super. It gets you from anywhere and you can’t block it.”

“It’s light punch, light punch, forward, light kick, heavy punch.” said Peter. “And you can avoid it if you jump right when the screen freezes.”

“Oh hey Pete.” said Brian. “Coming in with the knowledge. Hey, will you beat this guy up for me? He’s been stealing all my quarters.”

“Uh, sure.” Peter plopped a quarter into the machine.

“Shit, guess my time is up.” Orlando smiled.

The match began. Peter started out strong, but after the first few exchanges he lost his advantage and became overwhelmed. The pace of the game was too fast for him to keep up with. Every time Orlando went for a jump-in, Peter recognized he could use an anti-air attack, but could get his finger to move in time. He felt paralyzed by all the options he could potentially choose, unable to decide which one was best until it was too late. All his knowledge didn’t translate to his ability to play the game. He lost the match.

“Yo that was weak, Pete. I thought you were good at this.”

“Yeah if you’re so smart how come you can’t even win a round?”

Peter left the theater with hardly another word. Rather than heading home, he decided to take the bus across town to see if anyone was hiring further away from anyone he knew.

He felt the blood rushing to his ears, making them feel hot. He shifted his feet, inching further away from Krysten, but he was cornered by the ring of spectators. He turned to his audience, holding his hand out from his sides, palms out in an attempt to remain aloof. He scrunched his brow and put on a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. He gave a staccato scoff.

“Ha. Uh, a-as if I could take money from a little girl. Right?” His voice wavered. The crowd continued to look at him, waiting. “I um, I have a job, you know? 20 dollars isn’t that big a deal to me. It’s not…”

“My parents gave me 80 dollars for back-to-school shopping!” said Krysten. “And I bet ALL OF IT!” She took three more 20s out of her pocket and slammed them down on the cabinet next to Eduardo. “Or are you too chicken shit to play against me?”

“Oh shit!” said Eduardo, his eyes wide.

All eyes turned to Peter. He stood frozen. The spectators started chanting. “Peeeter, Peeeter, Peeeter!” The heat from his face spread to his armpits and down his back.

“Ah, u-hm,” Peter stammered. “Eduardo, is it okay if I take your spot?”

The crowd cheered.

“Hell yeah man.” said Eduardo. He stood up and took a step back from the cabinet.

“Sorry.” said Peter.

“‘Sorry?’ I’d pay to see this!” said Eduardo.

Peter looked through his wallet. Krysten kept her eyes locked on him. “I only have 40 with me.” he said.

“Fine. Two-to-one odds then!” Krysten whipped around and planted herself back down on the stool.

Peter tried to think of a way out of this situation. Maybe he could pretend his buttons weren’t working, but that was too easy to disprove. He thought about going to the bathroom and not coming back, but it was too obvious. He considered complaining to the arcade staff about the crowd, but they had already seen him being obnoxious himself. He could call it in from a payphone, but who would call in a complaint like an anonymous tipster? He had nothing. He put his $40 on the cabinet and sat down.

The spectators continued cheering for him. “Beat her with Remy!” one of them called out. “Yeah, no one wins with Remy!” added Eduardo.

Peter glanced at Krysten without moving his head. She put her quarter in the machine, and reselected Makoto. Peter leaned down to put his quarter in, and stayed hunched over. He hovered his cursor over Remy for a second, then selected Yun. The spectators booed.

“You’re booing me for picking a strong character?” said Peter.

“That’s no fair man, she's just a girl!” said Eduardo.

Peter felt uncomfortable having to look up at Eduardo and the rest of the spectators. There was sweat on his palms. He wiped them on his pants as the in-game announcer called the match. Round 1 - FIGHT. Krysten dashed in as Makoto towards Peter’s Yun. Peter tried to escape the throw, but Krysten knocked him down with a sweep instead. Peter retaliated. He attacked and attacked and attacked in frenzied aggression. His desperate sprint for victory earned him the first round.

He had just enough time to wipe his hands on his pants again before the second round started. He was winning the game, but he was losing the crowd. Every time Krysten landed a hit, the volume around them increased. When Peter attacked, the crowd grew quiet. Peter tried to think of some quips or taunts to win their favor. He flipped through everything he could possibly say, but everything seemed to be happening so fast he couldn’t bring his mouth to form words. Before he realized it, he lost the second round.

“Hey Krysten, how old did you say you were?” said Eduardo.

“I’m fourteen.” she said.

“Fourteen!? Pete, you’re a man with a job and you’re losing to a girl who can’t even drive yet!”

“This chick is in middle school and she’s coming for your paycheck!”

The laughter hit Peter’s ears like a jackhammer. His vision started to vibrate. He felt beads of nervous sweat dripping down his back under his shirt and into his underwear. Beside him, Krysten was calm.

Peter could see the goal in front of him. All he had to do was win one more round. He maintained his offense, attacking with reckless abandon. Krysten checked his every advance, turning the tide on him. He saw that he was being reckless, but was powerless to stop himself. If he could just land a few more hits he could leave with his head high. Just a few more hits. Just a few more.

His breathing grew shallow as he mashed the attack buttons. He jerked the joystick hard enough he thought for a moment it might break. At the end of the round, Krysten dashed in. Peter was ready to block, but was thrown instead. Krysten won, and he had lost..

The spectators cheered. “Kryyysten! Kryyysten! Kryyysten!” Peter kept his eyes down. He held his arms close, making himself small. He tried to slip away in the excitement, hoping to avoid notice by keeping his head low and slipping between people.

“Sucks to suck!” Krysten called after him. The small crowd of teens laughed and hollered. Peter left without a word or a look.