Under the Dusty Moon by Suzanne Sutherland Page A

the trip in all my disappointment.
    â€œI’m working as much as I can for Sal just so I can afford my own ticket. I’m really sorry, sweets. I wish you could come. I’d love it if you could. But I’m pretty sure the only way we could afford it is if we bought two one-way tickets.”
    â€œLook out, Tokyo,” I said to the wall, “here we come.”
    â€œYou think they’d let us move into one of those cat cafés?” Mom said, sitting up.
    â€œWhat are you talking about?” I said, turning to face her.
    â€œCome on, Vic, you’ve heard of them, haven’t you? They’re these places where they charge you by the hour and you get to hang out with a whole bunch of cats!”
    â€œWow,” I said, “heaven really is a place on earth, huh?”
    â€œIt’ll be great. We’ll eat sushi and soba all day, and we can get matching koi-fish tattoos!”
    â€œMom, seriously, where did you learn about Japan, Sailor Moon ?”
    â€œWikipedia,” she said proudly.
    â€œNo wonder you’re so wise.”
    â€œOf course. So wise that I’m willing to take my chances on your temporary good mood and tell you that I think you should give this Shaun guy another chance.”
    â€œYeah. Right.”
    â€œI’m serious, hon. It can’t have been that bad. Besides, you’re going to need to work up some juicy gossip for our video-chat dates while I’m away.”
    â€œYou’re terrible,” I said. “This is my life!”
    â€œAnd you owe it to yourself to give it a decent shot. What’s the worst that could happen?”
    â€œYou mean other than accidentally taking him to a beach full of naked old men for our first date?”
    She sat up and leaned back on her hands. “How full of naked old men are we talking exactly?”
    â€œ Full-full ,” I said, sitting up, too. “Neon thongs and beef-jerky skin as far as the eye could see.”
    â€œHa! Oh god, that’s hilarious. You should be writing this stuff down, it’s a great story. Ooh, or a film, a short little movie!”
    â€œMom!” I smacked her leg. “This is real! Not some stupid punchline for your next burst of inspiration.”
    â€œHave it your way,” she said. “But real life always makes the best stories.” She picked up my coffee mug from the floor. “You want any more of this?”
    I shuddered. “Ugh, no. Thanks.”
    â€œSuit yourself,” she said, and was about to leave when she turned back and said, “I really do think you should give that boy another chance. You could use someone to keep you company. Besides Lucy, I mean. And your gran.”
    â€œYou could use someone to keep you quiet.”

    I went over to Lucy’s house later that day so we could start plotting out our game. Lucy comes over to our place more often than I go over to hers because she says she likes how quiet our apartment is — when Mom’s not around, anyway — but I love Lucy’s because it’s the exact opposite, always busy, and that day was no exception. Lucy’s dad was fussing around in the kitchen cooking something that smelled delicious, while her aunt kept watch on a giant pot on the stove and two of her little cousins tore through the place, pretending to be Batman and Bane.
    â€œCome on,” Lucy said, shutting the door behind us to her parents’ small home office, “this is the only place my cousins won’t come looking for us.”
    She moved some stuff off of the big desk on the far side of the room, turned on the computer and opened up Twine, which she’d downloaded, to start our new game fresh from the beginning.
    â€œShouldn’t we make some notes or something first?” I asked.
    â€œThat just means typing stuff out twice,” Lucy said. “Let’s just do it.”
    â€œOkay,” I said, less than convinced that trying to write a game