Wicked Games (Hartley Grace Featherstone Mysteries Book 3)

my best innocent impression.
"The second one! U, C, A," I finally settled on.
Mrs. Perry glanced at the board, frowned again, and did some more eye narrowing. "That's correct, Ms. Featherstone."
I let out a sigh of relief that I was sure the people all the way in the last row heard.
Mrs. Perry turned her back on me to scribble more sequences just as my phone buzzed between my knees, making me jump in my seat.
I quickly glanced down to check the screen.
cool. got an assignment for ya. I'll pm you details
I felt my shoulders slump. An assignment. Right. Of course that was why Chase wanted to know what my plans were. I texted back, I'm on it, before shutting my phone off and slipping it into my backpack.
Well, at least an assignment beat the 90 day fiancés.
*  *  *
"Ohmigod, I thought I'd never get out of Calc!" Sam said, flopping onto my bed later that afternoon.
Samantha Kramer had been my best friend since 5th grade. She and I shared the same blonde hair and blue eyes, but I was pretty sure her IQ had me beat by a good 20 points. Sam's father had been a Stanford man, as had his father, and his father. Which left Samantha with two choices in life: be the next Stanford "man" in her family or move to Timbuktu to live the rest of her days in utter shame.
Which meant that, unlike yours truly, she was already taking AP classes this year as a junior.
"Homework this weekend?" I asked.
Sam shook her head. "Nope. Got it done during study hall. You?"
I nodded. "A couple of trig things, but they're quick." At least I hoped. Trig was another class where my grade was hovering on the borders of almost-college-material and almost-flipping-burgers-for-a-living. "I have an assignment for the Homepage, though," I told her.
Sam raised her eyebrows at me as I logged into my laptop. "Assignment, huh? This wouldn't have anything to do with one tall, dark, and hot-tamale editor would it?"
I threw a pillow at her. "No. I mean, yes, but you know, that's kind of his job to assign me stuff."
"Right," Sam said, though she was still grinning at me as if the word assignment was somehow code for hooking up.
"So, what does he want you to cover?" she asked.
I clicked open a window on my laptop and saw that, true to his word, Chase had sent me a PM with all the details of the story he wanted from me this weekend.
I groaned as I read it.
"What?" Sam asked, popping over my shoulder.
"Gamer Con?"
Sam wrinkled her nose up. "I've never heard of it."
"Me neither," I confessed as I scanned the rest of the message.
Apparently this weekend was the first annual Gamer Con, a convention sponsored by a host of Silicon Valley tech companies that was meant to celebrate video gaming from its start in the Atari days to the current crazes. Chase wanted me to cover the convention for the paper, taking photos and reporting the highlights. It was a three day con, spanning from Saturday through Monday, and he said he'd meet me there tomorrow to help get the scoop on all of the events.
"Click the link," Sam directed, pointing to the info Chase had included.
I did, watching as it took me to the official Gamer Con site.
The front page was filled with images from iconic games like Zelda, Mario, Pac-Man, and Donkey Kong, mixed in with more modern images from Steam's latest PC game franchises. The juxtaposition was oddly comical, like little cartoon characters were suddenly at war with futuristic soldiers.
"Ohmigod, they're going to have a TF2 virtual reality simulation!" Sam squealed, reading the schedule posted on the left-hand side of the screen. "How cool is that?"
I turned to her. "I didn't know you were into this gaming stuff."
She shrugged. "I'm not a total fangirl, but my brother plays all those games."
Sam's brother, Kevin, was four years older than us, still lived at home, and drove a 1986 Volvo sedan that ran on vegetable oil and a prayer. He'd dropped out of business school to join Citizens for a Greener Earth, and when he wasn't urging shoppers outside Whole Food to sign petitions to save a Narwhal, he could be found holding down the Kramer's sofa and consuming copious amounts of cheese puffs. I could totally picture him spending countless quality hours with an Xbox.
"Well, I guess this looks kinda interesting," I said, clicking through the various links on the site to events, signings, and the grand finale of the convention, the Pixel Ball.
"Knock, knock." I heard Mom at my bedroom door, saying the actual words before entering. "Hey, girls, I thought you could use a snack."
"Thanks!" Sam piped up.
"Nachos."
"Sweet!"
"Vegan style."
"Oh. I mean…thanks?" Sam amended, though it came out more of a question than a statement as she eyed the plate in Mom's hands.
It held what looked like crackers with a spread and some shredded stuff on top.
"What is it?" I asked, sniffing.
"Yummy quinoa chips with vegan tofu cheese and organic lentil purée."
Sam made a gagging motion behind my mom's back.
"Sounds…great," I said, giving Mom what I hoped didn't look like too fake of a smile. Hey, she tried. Unfortunately her idea of "yummy" was my idea of dog food. Luckily we lived within walking distance of Taco Bell, so I wasn't in danger of starving.
"I'm going out in a few minutes," Mom said, a goofy grin taking over her features, "so you ladies are going to be on your own tonight.
I cringed. "Going out" was code for "I have a hot date." Mom had recently begun dating David Raley, a homicide detective in the San Jose police department. Much to my dismay.
Mom and Dad had