Prankster, page 1
Title Page
Prankster
Kids at Play
Find Player Two!
About the Authors
Teaser
Copyright
Some nights Jeremiah felt like he was one of the last cells in a dying body. When he was hired four years ago, straight out of college, the office had been a lively, dynamic place, full of people who were full of ideas. The boss had even shown up regularly back then. The company had produced a couple of moderately successful video games, and everybody felt confident they were on the way up.
Unfortunately, they had a lousy sense of direction.
The past three years had brought an increasing number of layoffs and a decreasing amount of revenue. Jeremiah had been in the process of sending out his résumé to other potential employers when the company was suddenly bought out by Fazbear Entertainment and entrusted with the task of developing their new virtual reality game. Excited about the possibility of working with VR and hopeful that the successful franchise might bring the company new life, Jeremiah had decided to stay.
Besides, he hadn’t really wanted to leave. If he left, he might lose Hope.
Hope, in this case, referred to a person, not a quality, though Jeremiah had to admit he pinned a lot of his hopes on Hope. One of the three employees left in the office, Hope possessed every human quality Jeremiah treasured. She was kind and thoughtful without being a pushover. She was smart and resourceful without being arrogant. She was hardworking but fun-loving, too.
He didn’t love Hope for her looks, but he still had to admit she was lovely to look at. Men who preferred flashier types might find her a little plain, but in Jeremiah’s opinion, these guys were too obvious in their tastes to appreciate Hope’s soft, natural beauty. She had shoulder-length ash-blonde hair that fell in soft waves around her keen-featured face. Her eyes were wide-set, brown, and doe-like. Her lips were delicate-looking pink petals. Jeremiah often wondered if they were as soft as they looked.
Since Jeremiah saw Hope every day, he thought that surely someday she would really see him and realize how he felt. He had tried to confess his feelings to her on two different occasions. The first time, he felt like his mouth had been superglued shut. The second time, he had gotten his mouth open, but then their only other coworker, Parker, had barged in and taken over center stage, as always. Unlike Jeremiah, Parker never had trouble finding words. Sometimes Jeremiah wished he would lose a few of them.
Jeremiah sat at his desk, working on coding the VR game, absorbed in his work. He absentmindedly lifted his thermal mug to take a sip of coffee. As soon as the liquid touched his tongue, he felt like his mouth was turning itself inside out. The taste was unbearably sour, and without even thinking, he spat it out, spraying the computer screen. “What the—”
“Oh, that was too funny!” Parker’s voice boomed from the doorway. He was laughing his usual manic hee-hee-hee. “You did a total spit take! I got you good! Here, I got it on my phone. I’ll show you.”
Jeremiah looked up to see Parker, with his too-styled hair and impeccable suit, convulsed in laughter. To make it worse, Hope was standing beside him, giggling with her hand over her mouth. Her laughter, unlike Parker’s, was gentle and lovely, like the pealing of a bell. Jeremiah wished that she was laughing with him over some private joke they had shared instead of laughing at him, caught in another one of Parker’s stupid pranks.
Jeremiah knew he was blushing. He looked down at the mug. An acrid odor floated up from it and made his nose tingle. “What was that?”
Parker laughed even harder. “Apple cider vinegar! I sneaked it into your cup while you were in the restroom. Stuff’s supposed to be good for you, actually, but it probably helps to know up front that it’s what you’re drinking.”
Hope shook her head, but she was smiling. “Parker, you’re terrible.” Her sweet tone didn’t sound negative, though. It was as though she liked that he was terrible.
“Check this out,” Parker said. He held his phone up to Jeremiah. On the small screen, Jeremiah watched himself working obliviously, then taking in a mouthful of the vile liquid. He watched as his eyes got huge and he spat the vinegar out of his mouth, looking like an ugly stone gargoyle with a spout for a mouth. “Wow,” he said, trying to sound good-natured. “You really got me there.”
“You bet I did!” Parker said, running a hand through his overgelled brown forelock. He showed no signs of stopping his laughter anytime soon. “How long do you think it would take for that video to go viral?”
“Don’t post it,” Jeremiah said, sounding weaker and more desperate than he meant to. He was already embarrassed enough with only two people witnessing the prank.
“Here,” Hope said. She took the phone out of Parker’s hand and tapped the screen. “Deleted. Nobody else needs to see that but us.” Her voice was soft, comforting.
Jeremiah was touched. “Thanks, Hope.”
Parker nudged Hope with his elbow. “Aww, you’re no fun.”
“And you’re very naughty.” Hope dug through her purse, then walked toward Jeremiah’s desk. She held a wrapped peppermint in her outstretched hand. “Here, this will get the nasty taste out of your mouth.”
Jeremiah took the peppermint, letting his fingers graze the palm of Hope’s hand, which was soft and smooth. Her favorite ring—an aquamarine, for her birthstone—winked in the light as she retracted her hand. He would rather take her hand than the mint, but he knew that wasn’t what she was offering. “Thanks,” he said again. He popped the mint into his mouth. It was sweet. Like Hope.
Parker clapped him on the back. “I got you good,” he said again, chuckling. “But no hard feelings, right, buddy?”
Jeremiah looked at Parker’s grinning face, his large, almost unbelievably white teeth. There was something childlike about him, mischievous but not malevolent. He couldn’t stay mad at Parker. “Of course not,” Jeremiah said. “But watch out. I might get you next.”
“You think so?” Parker said with one of his hee-hee-hee laughs. “That’s some big talk, buddy. Catch me if you can. Many have tried, but all have failed!” He backed out of the office as if he were reluctant to turn his back on Jeremiah.
Hope shook her head, smiling. “He’s such a little boy.”
“I was just thinking that exact thing,” Jeremiah said. This fact made him feel strangely happy. He and Hope were so compatible, they even thought alike.
“I mean, he’s good at his job and everything, but emotionally … I’d say about eight years old.” Hope sighed. There was an awkward silence that Jeremiah failed to fill, and then Hope said, “Well, I guess I’d better get back to work.”
“And whose job are you doing today?” Jeremiah asked. This question was a running joke of sorts. Three years ago, Hope had been hired to work the front desk at the office, but as the number of employees decreased, she ended up doing the jobs of several other people. For no additional compensation, of course.
“Mostly the PR director’s,” Hope said. “Though later I think I get promoted to pretend boss for a while.”
Jeremiah sat up straighter. “I’d better look out, then and try to act extra busy.”
“You’d better,” Hope said, flashing her lovely little smile. “You wouldn’t want the pretend boss to have to pretend fire you.”
Jeremiah smiled back, wishing he could think of a witty response.
“Well …” Hope lifted her hand in a little wave. “I’ll see you, Jeremiah.”
“I’m sure you will,” Jeremiah said. How could Hope not see him? There were only three people on the whole floor.
But at the same time, he knew that Hope didn’t actually see him. Not the way he wanted her to, anyway. And yet every time she was in the room, his feelings for her seemed so obvious. Whenever she approached, he felt like one of those old cartoon characters whose eyes pop out of their sockets and heart visibly beats out of their chest. But apparently she didn’t see him like that. Or like much of anything at all.
Jeremiah sighed. It was time to get back to work.
* * *
Jeremiah lived in a plain, one-bedroom apartment in walking distance of the office. He had lived in much worse places when he was a student—basement apartments with ancient stained carpets and faucets that leaked more than they ran. Everything in this apartment was clean and new and in working order, but it was boring and bland and entirely devoid of character. It was a neat little box with eggshell-colored walls and beige carpet, everything designed to be as neutral and inoffensive as possible. Jeremiah knew that hanging some pictures on the wall and adding some plants or colorful cushions would help matters, but he could never gather the motivation to decorate. Something about the apartment felt temporary, like a hotel room he was staying in for a few nights, even though he had signed a one-year lease.
Tonight as soon as he got “home,” if that’s what this place was, he stripped off his business-casual khakis and button-down and changed into a T-shirt and a ratty but comfy pair of sweatpants. He went to the kitchen, opened the refrigerator door, and surveyed his options. He figured he should probably eat the leftover Chinese takeout before it went bad. He grabbed the white paper box, a soda, and a fork, and made his way to the couch. He reached for the remote and channel-surfed while he slurped his noodles cold out of the box.
There was an action movie that looked promising, one he had meant to see when it was in the theater, but he hadn’t gotten around to it. He polished off his noodles and watched the hero, in an expensive black suit, run and jump and beat up bad guys. He briefly p
When the movie was over, Jeremiah changed over to a late-night talk show, but he soon dozed off. He dreamed, as he often did, about Hope. He and Hope were at a fancy restaurant with dim lighting and crisp white tablecloths. She was wearing a rose-colored dress with a scoop neck that showed off her lovely collarbones. He was wearing the same black suit as the guy in the action movie. They were eating frou-frou French desserts, pot au chocolat for her and crème brûlée for him, and they reached across the table, feeding each other sweet spoonfuls. They didn’t talk because they didn’t need to. Even without making a sound, they were in perfect harmony.
When the alarm on his phone went off, Jeremiah started and looked around, disoriented. He had slept in an awkward position on the couch all night. His neck hurt, and he had drooled on the upholstery. And now, like almost every other morning, it was time to make the coffee, to dutifully crunch his way through a bowl of cereal, to shower and put on clean khakis and a polo, all in preparation for another long day of work.
The dream he had enjoyed last night was definitely over.
In the shower, Jeremiah gave himself a pep talk. Okay, so Hope is completely oblivious to your feelings, and she thinks Parker is hilarious. But you know what? You’re a nice guy, and Parker, deep down, is a jerk. Didn’t Mom always say that niceness counts? So maybe if you just keep on showing Hope how nice you are, she’ll eventually realize she can’t live without you.
The pep talk helped a surprising amount. Jeremiah whistled as he dressed with a little more care than usual. He shaved off a three-day growth of beard and even put a little “product”—though he couldn’t remember when or why he’d bought it—in his hair. He regarded himself in the mirror. Not bad. He was no action hero, but he looked nice. And he was nice. Nice was key.
He walked to the office with a spring in his step and took the elevator up to the fifth floor. As soon as the doors slid open, he heard the sound of Hope’s laughter.
Parker was sitting at his desk showing Hope something on his computer. They were both laughing. Hope was standing right behind him looking at the screen. If either of them adjusted their positions by an inch, they would be touching.
“Hi, guys,” Jeremiah said.
Neither of them turned away from whatever was on the screen.
“Hi, guys,” Jeremiah said, louder this time.
“Oh, hi, Jeremiah,” Hope said, favoring him with a smile. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
Nobody can hear much of anything if Parker’s around, Jeremiah thought. But he didn’t say the words. Nice. That was what he was going to be.
“Hey, Jeremiah, my man,” Parker said, smiling his most disingenuous smile. “Have you had your morning cup of vinegar, or should I hook you up?”
Hope gave Parker a little play slap on the shoulder. “Now you stop that.” She turned to look at Jeremiah with her big, lovely eyes. “Jeremiah, I just want you to know that I’ve talked to Parker, and he’s promised to be on his best behavior today.”
“I did make that promise.” Parker gave a wicked grin. “The trouble is, my best behavior still isn’t that good.” He waggled his eyebrows theatrically.
“Well, then you’re going to have to be better than your best,” Hope said, though her voice still tinkled with laughter. “I mean, look at poor Jeremiah there. His nerves are shot.”
At least she’s looking at me, Jeremiah thought, though he wished she weren’t looking at him with pity.
When Jeremiah filled his mug at the coffee station, he sniffed it to make sure it was really coffee. Even with Parker supposedly on his best behavior, you couldn’t be too careful.
Jeremiah sat at his desk and started working on the game. He fell into the screen, and for a few hours, the combination of creativity and problem solving distracted him from thinking about the slim distance that separated Hope and Parker at his desk this morning.
There was a knock on his half-open door. He jumped a little even though the knock had been so light it was barely there. When he was immersed in work, returning to reality was always a little startling.
Fortunately, it was a pleasant reality to return to. Hope was standing in the doorway, smiling at him. “Sorry to break your concentration,” she said. “Parker’s running out for sandwiches. You want one?”
“Sure, thanks,” Jeremiah said.
“Corned beef on rye with extra mustard, tortilla chips and pickle on the side?” Hope asked.
Was it pathetic how his heart leaped, hearing that she knew his sandwich order? “You know me too well,” he said, smiling at her.
“It’s the only kind of sandwich I’ve ever seen you eat,” Hope said.
“Sorry I’m so predictable.” Jeremiah felt suddenly sure that he was the most boring person in the world. No wonder Hope preferred the loose cannon that was Parker.
“Hey, predictable can be nice sometimes,” Hope said. “In an unpredictable world, it’s nice to know that a corned beef sandwich will always make you happy.”
You’re what would make me happy, Parker thought. But of course he didn’t say it. He just thanked Hope for taking his lunch order, then chided himself for his weakness, for being a boring, predictable, corned-beef-on-rye-eating coward who never had the courage to speak his true feelings.
He turned to his computer and fell back into the virtual world. He was having a lot more success there than he was in the real one.
Half an hour later, Hope appeared in his doorway again. “Hey, Parker and I are going to have lunch in the break room. You want to join us?”
“Sure,” Jeremiah said. He couldn’t help but feel he was being invited as an afterthought, but he couldn’t say no to any gathering that included Hope.
They sat around the table in the break room. Jeremiah opened his plastic takeout box. Corned beef sandwich, tortilla chips, and a pickle. His predictable favorite.
“Hey, did anybody watch Kingdom of Bones last night?” Parker asked, tearing off a chunk of his roast beef sandwich with his gigantic teeth. Jeremiah was reminded of a nature documentary he saw with lions tearing off big chunks of zebra with their huge fangs. He feared that Parker was the lion here, and he was the zebra.
“It’s on my DVR. I haven’t watched it yet, so no spoilers,” Jeremiah said.
“I don’t watch that show. It’s too violent for me,” Hope said, delicately nibbling at a corner of her veggie wrap. She was a vegetarian because she said animals were friends, not food. Jeremiah admired her kind heart, not to mention her conviction and self-discipline. “There’s already too much violence in the world. I don’t like to watch it simulated for entertainment.”
That was the thing about Hope, Jeremiah thought. She was a good person. She had principles.
“You’re such a girl,” Parker said in a tone that implied being a girl was a bad thing. “I bet you watch romantic comedies instead.”
Hope gave a small, embarrassed-looking smile. “Sometimes, yeah.”
Parker shook his head. “I would rather have my eyes burned out with a hot poker than watch a single romantic comedy.”
“Well, fortunately that’s probably a choice that will never come up in your life,” Jeremiah said.
“Unless you date a girl who’s super forceful about wanting you to watch romantic comedies,” Hope said, laughing her burbling little laugh.
Jeremiah felt a little tingle of happiness. Right now it felt like he and Hope were sharing a little joke at Parker’s expense. Enjoying Hope’s smiling face, he absentmindedly popped a chip into his mouth.
And he was on fire. Or at least, his mouth was. It felt like someone had filled his mouth with boiling lava. His lips, his cheeks, his tongue burned with an intensity that made fat tears spring to his eyes and spill down his cheeks.
“Jeremiah, what’s wrong? You’ve turned all red!” Hope said, getting up from the table to get closer to him.
He wanted to say “hot,” but his mouth was too much of an inferno to form words. Instead he made a fanning gesture in front of his mouth, hoping it would explain his problem. He jumped up from the table, ran over to the sink, and spat out whatever it was that had turned his mouth into a volcano. He turned on the faucet, stuck his head under it, and let the cold water flow into his scalded mouth. When he lifted up his head, gasping, he turned to see Parker laughing so hard he couldn’t catch his breath.
