Chris Rogers, Author

Invite the Devil In by Chris Rogers

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We played till nearly dawn, him beating me three out of five.
"You've been practicing" I typed.
"I WAS GOING EASY ON YOU LAST NIGHT. LETTING YOU FEEL YOUR OATS."
"So, what about Judy Segal?"
"ASK HER OUT."
"Will she say yes? I don't want to blow my one chance."
"ASK HER OUT. TRUST ME."

It took me all day to get up the nerve.
"So . . . Judy! Have you seen the new "Wayne's Game?"
"No."
"Uhhhh . . . well, you wanta go Saturday?"
"With you?"
"Uhhh . . . yeah, that's what I was thinking."
"Okay."

Just like that. She said yes!

"YOU DOUBTED ME? AGAIN?"
"So, what do I do now?"
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, WHAT DO YOU DO?"
"I mean, Saturday . . . you know. What do I do?"
"WHAT AM I, A DATING CONSULTANT? GET OUT OF MY FACE."

And he was gone. And no matter what I said, he wouldn't come back, not that night or the next or the next. History class seemed easier, though, and Judy was wearing the white sweater when we went to the movie on Saturday. Afterward, we stopped for a burger.

"You ever play Antigrav?" I said.
"What's that?"
"A computer game. It's cool. You'd like it."
"No, I wouldn't. I hate computer games."
That was the high point of our conversation. "This is going nowhere" I thought. So I was surprised when I asked if she wanted to go to the beach the next day. From our neighborhood, the beach is an easy walk, no hassle with a bus or bikes.
"Okay," she said.
Just like that.

"SO, DID YOU PLAY SLAP AND TICKLE WITH MISS BOOBS?"
"What am I, the National Informer? And where've you been? Sulking?"
"I DON'T SULK. I WAS . . . BUSY. SURELY YOU DON'T THINK YOU'RE THE ONLY ANTIGRAV PLAYER ONLINE."

The way he said it gave me a twinge of . . . I don't know -Jealousy? Fear?

"Who are you, anyway?" I said. "What's your name?"
"ABRA."
Yeah. And your brother's name is Cadabra, right?
"I GET IT, ABRACADABRA. CUTE. DO I MAKE FUN OF YOUR NAME?"

We spent the rest of the night playing Antigrav. I beat him five to three, but I suspected he gave me a few points.

Life was good the next couple weeks. Judy and I got along fine, with no dating lessons required, thank you very much. I made second base and was happy to hang around there indefinitely. I wanted to enjoy the anticipation of third base for a while before actually going for it.
We still didn't have much to say to each other, which didn't stop us from having a good time. She was easy to be with. And that white sweater felt even softer than it looked. My history grade climbed from C+ to B-. Incredible. Mom was so proud of me, she quit sneaking in to see if I was cruising the night highway.

Then one afternoon Mom was home when I got in from school.

"The mug factory shut down," she said. "I lost my job."
"You'll get another job. A better one." She hated the mug factory.
"Have you seen the unemployment rate lately?"
"Most of those people wouldn't take an honest job if they were paid a million dollars and chauffeured to and from in a gold-plated limo. You're good, Mom. You'll get a job in a snap. Maybe even find something in commercial art, like you always wanted." But I didn't really believe it. I knew kids whose parents had been out of work for months. I felt bad for her and wanted to help.

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