galactic overlord.
“It’s definitely a look,” I said, not daring to offer an opinion.
I pulled an army green tank dress on over my head and turned to look in the mirror. It really was cute. There was a tangerine racing stripe down the side. And the skirt had a flirty little flip to it. I kind of liked it.
“Oh! You should get that! Kid, you look adorable.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty grab, but when would I ever wear it?”
“All . The. Time,” she said enthusiastically.
I scanned the barcode to check the price.
“Ari, I can’t afford this.”
“What do you mean? You can just put it on your Game card.”
Our Game IDs doubled as credit cards inside and outside of the Game, something my mom discovered after the bill came during my first year in the Game. All the swipes to get tokens for the Vending Machine snacks and drinks at the cafes and Culture Shock meals really added up.
“Why can’t you put it on your Game card?” Ari said, zipping up some Dance Riot-inspired pants. The whole right hip area was shredded and discolored like she had been dragged across the floor.
I didn’t really want to explain it to Ari. Her parents were happy to pay the bills on whatever she wanted. She didn’t have to explain to them how important it was to have the right things in a place like the Game—they already knew the price of success.
“My mom would be pissed,” I said, looking in the mirror again.
“Put it on your Game card,” she said, like a command.
I laughed and turned to face her.
“Buy it,” she said seriously.
I rolled my eyes and started to take it off. Ari stepped forward, close, entering my space. “Come on, you have to get it,” she said, her face close to mine. Her face melted into her charming smile. “It looks so prize on you,” she said sweetly. And stepped back into her corner to finish trying on her things.
I felt a little sick handing over my Game card to the lady, and refused to even look at the printout of how much I’d just charged. Thanks to added peer-pressure purchasing, I walked out of there with silver-and-black-striped leggings and red slip-on flats to go with the dress. When Tesla dropped me off, I ran in to hide the shopping bag in my room before Mom got home.
“Kid!” I heard her call through my bedroom door a few minutes later.
“Yeah?”
“Did you feed Lump?”
“Yeah,” I said, even though I hadn’t. I felt bad about lying to my mom, but I didn’t want her to know I’d gone downtown. I felt worse about the hungry dog in the other room and vowed to slip him his food when my mom left the room.
“Look what I got you,” she said, opening my door. “I saw a show the other night that said how popular these are right now. On sale!”
I cringed, waiting to see what it was. She held up a pink plaid sundress that Eva Bloom would wear if that look hadn’t gone out of style seven weeks ago.
“Isn’t it cute? I’m going to have to take a few more shifts at Aunt Gillie’s to pay it off, but I want you to have the best.”
“Yeah. Thanks, Mom,” I mumbled. I wanted to feel grateful, I knew she tried. But she should realize I was not going to get any popularity points from something she got on discount. “I just need to finish up some schoolwork.”
“OK, Kiddie. Play hard.” She kissed the top of my head, then left my room, closing the door behind her.
I scanned the tag with my intouch(r). The pink thing cost a pathetic fraction of what I’d just spent at Trendsetters.
I opened my notebook(r) to check Trendsetters’ return policies, but I got distracted by the little spying eyeball icon in the corner of my Network page. It was the tracker app I had installed in the Illegal Arts Workshop earlier today. I clicked it and scrolled through to see who had been viewing my page.
My privacy settings were friends-only, so I wasn’t surprised to see Mikey and Ari topping the list. My heart started bumping hummingbird style when I saw that Swift had checked me
“It’s definitely a look,” I said, not daring to offer an opinion.
I pulled an army green tank dress on over my head and turned to look in the mirror. It really was cute. There was a tangerine racing stripe down the side. And the skirt had a flirty little flip to it. I kind of liked it.
“Oh! You should get that! Kid, you look adorable.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty grab, but when would I ever wear it?”
“All . The. Time,” she said enthusiastically.
I scanned the barcode to check the price.
“Ari, I can’t afford this.”
“What do you mean? You can just put it on your Game card.”
Our Game IDs doubled as credit cards inside and outside of the Game, something my mom discovered after the bill came during my first year in the Game. All the swipes to get tokens for the Vending Machine snacks and drinks at the cafes and Culture Shock meals really added up.
“Why can’t you put it on your Game card?” Ari said, zipping up some Dance Riot-inspired pants. The whole right hip area was shredded and discolored like she had been dragged across the floor.
I didn’t really want to explain it to Ari. Her parents were happy to pay the bills on whatever she wanted. She didn’t have to explain to them how important it was to have the right things in a place like the Game—they already knew the price of success.
“My mom would be pissed,” I said, looking in the mirror again.
“Put it on your Game card,” she said, like a command.
I laughed and turned to face her.
“Buy it,” she said seriously.
I rolled my eyes and started to take it off. Ari stepped forward, close, entering my space. “Come on, you have to get it,” she said, her face close to mine. Her face melted into her charming smile. “It looks so prize on you,” she said sweetly. And stepped back into her corner to finish trying on her things.
I felt a little sick handing over my Game card to the lady, and refused to even look at the printout of how much I’d just charged. Thanks to added peer-pressure purchasing, I walked out of there with silver-and-black-striped leggings and red slip-on flats to go with the dress. When Tesla dropped me off, I ran in to hide the shopping bag in my room before Mom got home.
“Kid!” I heard her call through my bedroom door a few minutes later.
“Yeah?”
“Did you feed Lump?”
“Yeah,” I said, even though I hadn’t. I felt bad about lying to my mom, but I didn’t want her to know I’d gone downtown. I felt worse about the hungry dog in the other room and vowed to slip him his food when my mom left the room.
“Look what I got you,” she said, opening my door. “I saw a show the other night that said how popular these are right now. On sale!”
I cringed, waiting to see what it was. She held up a pink plaid sundress that Eva Bloom would wear if that look hadn’t gone out of style seven weeks ago.
“Isn’t it cute? I’m going to have to take a few more shifts at Aunt Gillie’s to pay it off, but I want you to have the best.”
“Yeah. Thanks, Mom,” I mumbled. I wanted to feel grateful, I knew she tried. But she should realize I was not going to get any popularity points from something she got on discount. “I just need to finish up some schoolwork.”
“OK, Kiddie. Play hard.” She kissed the top of my head, then left my room, closing the door behind her.
I scanned the tag with my intouch(r). The pink thing cost a pathetic fraction of what I’d just spent at Trendsetters.
I opened my notebook(r) to check Trendsetters’ return policies, but I got distracted by the little spying eyeball icon in the corner of my Network page. It was the tracker app I had installed in the Illegal Arts Workshop earlier today. I clicked it and scrolled through to see who had been viewing my page.
My privacy settings were friends-only, so I wasn’t surprised to see Mikey and Ari topping the list. My heart started bumping hummingbird style when I saw that Swift had checked me
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