One Player or Two?

It was here. Fifteen minutes ago, it was here on the desk, next to the controller, beside the N.E.S. There was only the one and he’s sure it isn’t one of the coins in his hand because all he sees there is silver. No gold.

But wait, he thinks, pennies aren’t gold. Even freshly minted, they aren’t. They’re copper, right? Copper.

Where is it? He checks under the rug again, inside his shoes one more time.

If the clerk at the Mickey Dee’s was reasonable, it wouldn’t matter. But the girl who works the Sunday night shift is a meth head, complete with missing teeth and runny nostrils and delusions of grandeur. For her, a penny is a penny is a penny.

On screen, the game he set up to simulate while he was gone is finished. He thinks to pause his quest, find the notebook, and take down the stats, but his stomach roars its disapproval and he keeps on keeping on.

Someone knocks at the door, one of his housemates, probably the ski bum who’s offered him the ride, but maybe the ski bum’s pigtailed girlfriend instead. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t know either of their names, doesn’t know the name of anyone in the house, and how can he ask for a penny without at least being able to ask them by name? “Hey You, could you give me a loan?” No, that won’t fly. It has to be “Hey, Kurt” or “Yo, Tori” or else nothing at all.

“You almost ready?” It’s the girl. Liz? Kim? Courtney?

“Almost,” he says. “Just scrounging up some change.”

“We can loan you some money, Evan.”

Evan. Great. She knows his name. And what was that, the bit about scrounging up change? That was as good as asking, wasn’t it? What would Dad think? asks the meanest of the voices in his head.

Dad’s dead, he whispers to himself.

“What?” asks the girl on the other side of the door.