Wicked Games (Deadly Cool #3) - Gemma Halliday Page 0,3
pink T-shirt. After a little blow-drying and mousse action on my hair, I looked pretty presentable for a day roaming stalls filled with Nintendo characters and comic books.
When I slipped downstairs to grab a bowl of cereal, Mom was already in the kitchen, reading and nursing a cup of coffee. Water-processed decaf with nonfat soy milk, of course.
"Hey, Hart," she said, looking up from her Kindle. "You're up early."
"Got an assignment for the Homepage," I told her, throwing some cornflakes into a bowl. It would have been nice if they'd been sugar frosted, too, but I was just glad they weren't made of tofu.
"What kind of assignment?" she asked, eyeing me over the rim of her coffee cup.
"A perfectly safe one," I assured her, trying to stave off her SMother mode. Though in her defense, I did have to admit that a couple of my past assignments had ended up a little on the worrisome side. I'd even been in actual danger once or twice. So while her concern might have been a bit warranted, I was 99% sure I was going to be fine. The worst thing that could happen today was that I'd be overcharged for soft pretzels and soda. Which is what I told her as I detailed our outing to Gamer Con.
"Hmm," Mom said when I was done. "This is at the convention center?" she asked.
I nodded.
"Downtown?"
"Sorta," I hedged, spooning flakes into my mouth, hoping Detective Raley hadn't told her about any downtown investigations last night.
Mom pursed her lips together. "I'd give you a ride, but I've got yoga-lattes in twenty minutes."
"The bus service is perfectly safe," I told her. "It's going to be daylight, and I promise I'll be home by dinner."
"And Sam's going with you?" Mom asked, the frown still burrowing between her eyebrows.
I nodded again. "Absolutely. Safety in numbers, right?"
She opened her mouth to protest again, but as if on cue, the front doorbell rang.
"That's Sam," I shouted, popping up from my stool at the kitchen counter. "Gotta go!"
"Be careful!" Mom called after me as I dropped a quick peck on her cheek and bolted for the front door.
Only, as soon as I pulled the door open and saw Sam standing on my front porch, I froze.
And grinned.
And it was all I could do to not burst out laughing.
Sam was dressed in a pair of white tights and a green tunic, with a long sword made out of tinfoil attached to the Abercrombie belt I'd helped her pick out at the mall last week. On her head was a pointy green hat that looked like the kind Peter Pan would wear. And she had what looked like silly putty on the tips of her ears, molded into tiny elfin points.
"Um…what's this?" I asked.
Sam blinked her eyes—rimmed in thick black eyeliner—at me. "What?"
"The outfit?" I prompted, gesturing to her clothes.
"It's my costume. I'm Link." She paused, looking at my jeans. "Where's yours?"
I shook my head. "I'm going as a reporter. Convincing, no?"
Sam shrugged. "Suit yourself, but you're going to look ridiculous going to Gamer Con in that."
* * *
One bus ride (where Sam got looks ranging from amusement to fear that she'd lost it) and thirty minutes later, Sam and I were at the San Jose Convention Center, a large structure in the center of downtown with a facade painted with geometric graphics that looked like they belonged on a skateboard. We bought our passes in the lobby on the lower level, then looped lanyards with our badges around our necks and made our way to the exhibit halls on the upper level.
My first thought as we stepped off the escalators was that I needed to listen to Sam more often. Everywhere I looked were life-sized video game characters. Kid sized ones. Adult sized ones. I even spotted a couple of service dogs dressed as Pokémon. It was like I'd stepped out of the real world and into an actual video game. I blinked, trying to get my bearings in the alternate reality.
To our left was the main hall where tons of booths lined the walkways, selling everything from vintage cartridge games to posters to stuffed animals of game characters. To the right, across the concourse, a food court had been set up where taco booths and burger stands stood, filled with gamers already downing their breakfast in its various fried forms. And everywhere I looked were posters and banners and signage for games—both in English and in Japanese.