Page 2 of Stops Along the Way
“I don’t know? Do you have any friends who need a ride in this direction?”
“Well, Mom said maybe—”
“I just got here, and I’m a little late, so we can figure it out later.” I hold my bag level, trying to keep the box inside upright. I pick up my pace as the path veers right into a small strip mall with a nail salon, dollar store, Chinese takeout counter, and my beloved board game shop, Roll Again Games. This walk always takes me longer than I expect it to.
“Sure. I don’t call you enough,” Amelia teases, “but when I do, you have to go?”
“You call me when I’m running late to Rivalry!”
“You call me when I’m in class!”
“Who takes a night class?”
“It was the only section of Social Media and Society that was offered this semester.”
“That’s not my fault.” I hop off the sidewalk to save a few seconds cutting across the small parking lot, empty except for a few vehicles parked in front of the shops, but have to jump onto the curb when a stealthily silent car sneaks up behind me. “Ah! I almost died.”
“What?” Amelia is quick to ask.
“Miss you, bye!” I say, hanging up the phone as I push open the heavy glass door to Roll Again, the bell chiming loudly and alerting everyone to my late arrival while my phone buzzes with a text from my sister.
Amelia:You’re not dead, right?
Iris:All good
Amelia:Miss you too!
The shop is cozy, with overhead lamps placed strategically to encourage this mood. I weave around the front displays and low shelves that showcase the newest board game releases, imagining my own creation one day sitting among them. A long shot, but something that inches closer to possible if I place at the Omaha Board Game Expo next month.
I walk along the wall full of used games for resale until I make it around back to the play tables. My bag slips from my shoulder, tilting the box I’ve been carrying, making a mess of all the pieces inside.
Great.
The store owner, Bryce, waves me to the tables, where the usual crowd is already situated, game decks in hand, waitingfor player assignments. He’s in his late thirties and wearing an oversized band tee atop a striped long-sleeved shirt. His glasses have slid to the edge of his nose as he stares me down.
“Don’t worry, Iris. I’ve already got your name queued up.” Bryce taps on the random generator app on his tablet as I slink into a seat at the empty folding card table in the back. “Shit, it just rebooted. It’ll only be a few more seconds.”
Sally, a cheery woman in her sixties and self-proclaimed gamer grandma, turns around to offer me a platter of homemade cookies. I smile a thank-you and grab one, nodding apologetically as she also presses a napkin into my hand. I know better, especially after Declan’s smudgy fingers nearly stuck a chocolate fingerprint on my precious character art last month.
Is Declan here? I don’t see him.
Christopher and Lucas—the father-son duo who is very serious about consulting the rule book—are next to me, and a couple of the other teens my age are up front, but there’s no Declan in sight, which is probably for the best, because I keep getting stuck playing against him lately.
Some random generator that is.
Although I guess we are both here the most often.
I pull my game deck out of my bag and place it on the table in front of me. As expected, the cover of the cardboard box has slid up half an inch, which is all it took for the pieces inside to dislodge from their places. I should buy a travel kit, but the affordable option would be a boring black case, whereas this box has a gorgeous blue-and-gray-tone illustration of theFortune Teller on the cover. Sure, the corners might be getting a little worse for wear, but that just shows how much I love this set.
The reflective shine on the Fortune Teller’s crystal ball. Her wavy gown and chin held high. Her long gray hair. And her sparkling gray eyes, clouded, mysterious, and not particularly focused—suggesting that, while she can see multiple futures, her own vision isn’t clear.
I’m well aware that blind eyes aren’t always so obvious.
“All right,” Bryce says, holding up his tablet and quieting all the side conversations. “We’re up and running. Tonight it’ll be Sally versus Leslie. Christopher versus Mischa. Dakota versus Shakir. Roy versus Lucas.” That seems to be everyone…except me. Wait, we have an odd number tonight? “And Iris versus Declan.”
Again? I’m not surprised, but I am confused.
While the others stand from where they’ve been sitting, shuffling around to new tables to face off against their opponents, I walk over to Bryce. “Um, I don’t think Declan is here.”
