LEVEL 4

PLAYER ONE: REMY

My old wooden drumsticks vibrated through my forearms and into my core as I played. I preferred the batter head of a true kit, the noise, the symbols, the heat and sweat of making loud music. My drum kit at my apartment was electronic, and I played with headphones on, my sticks making no audible noise aside from unsatisfying taps outside my earbuds.

This old, thrifted kit shoved into the corner of the tattoo shop, she was my home. Band practice days were my favorite days, and I was thankful the shop let us jam here after hours.

Me, Rollo, Joss, and Lennon.

Drums, electric guitar, bass, and keys.

Look, I wasn’t completely delusional. I knew for the most part we were your typical garage band of fucking misfits. However, we had our moments. This new song was our moment. I could feel it.

Joss chugged a water bottle, her green pixie cut hair sweaty. “My friend who works the lineup for the Hall of Rock is going to let me know if anyone drops. Could be huge if we could debut this new set. But for now, we’re playing the mall arcade again next weekend.”

Rollo reapplied his eyeliner in a hand mirror, guitar hanging at his shirtless middle. “Plot twist: this friend doesn’t exist, and you just say this shit to keep the spark going between us.”

I tossed a sweaty towel at him before straightening my drenched grey sports bra. “You sayin’ we’ve lost the spark, darlin?”

Rollo laughed. “Never, sweetie pie. Hey, my boyfriend will be here in twenty to pick me up. Got enough time for a helix piercing?”

“Another one?” I groaned. “You’re becoming Swiss cheese.”

“You’re one to talk,” Joss teased.

Lennon watched on, smiling. Lennon never spoke; they just sat with their headphones. We knew they liked being near us, so we respected their desire to observe and not speak. I loved Lennon. Lennon was my favorite human. More people should have been like Lennon, in my opinion.

With a groan, I got up from my stool and threw a sheet over the drums. “Get on the table.”

“I love you, Remy. I don’t care what anyone says about you.” Rollo kissed my cheek, leaving a smear of sticky lip gloss behind, and I rolled my eyes.

After washing my hands I pulled out my latex gloves. “You’re lucky I didn’t put my piercing shit away yet. What’s Sebastian going to think of you coming back from practice with new bling every week?”

Rollo leaned back in the leather chair. “He pretends to be annoyed at my antics, but secretly, I know he loves it.”

“Pretends, huh?” I teased, wiping the top of his ear with an alcohol wipe.

Joss clicked her guitar case shut. “Needles creep me out. Come on, Len. Wanna go get tacos? My treat.”

Lennon raised an accusatory eyebrow, and Joss laughed. “Yes, I’ll split guacamole with you this time. Damn.”

I chimed in, readying my needle. “Hey, I never pass on chips and guac either. Lennon’s right to be skeptical.”

The corner of Len’s mouth twitched in a smile as I shot them a wink. My two bandmates waved goodbye, and the tattoo shop door jingled at their exit. Rollo inspected the purple marker dot I drew, marking where the orange diamond stud should go. I complained, but this shit was good practice. Afterwards, I’d take a photo for my portfolio and show the shop owner. It would earn me more cred, getting me closer to being a full-time piercer and, eventually, a tattoo artist.

It wasn’t a college degree or athletic achievements like my twin brother pursued— but it was mine. I built it myself, and I liked it.

Reaching into my drawer, I pulled out a dolphin-shaped stress ball for Rollo to hold. They appreciated it— and it spurred an idea that I should fill my station with more things like that for anxious folks. He loved his new helix adornments, and I snapped a photo before he and his boyfriend left and I closed up shop. When I was outside, securing my helmet for the sidewalk ride home, I checked my phone.

Three missed calls from Mary Jane.

I really needed to stop forgetting she existed unless she was physically in front of me. In fact, I needed to just face the music and break up with her.

Actually, that was exactly what I was going to do. No more waiting. Right then, right there.

I hit call.

She answered. “Hello there. Are you at the shop?”

I ran my hand through my hair. “Yeah, look, we need to talk.”

“Sure. Want to talk on the way to the game?”

“What game?”

“It’s Trevor’s ACC game— if they win, they go on to the college cup. Did you forget?”

“Of course not.” I totally did. “Wait, how do you know about that?”

“Remy, I told you my kids are going to watch him play. All four of us had a big conversation about this in the car on the way to the movies a couple weeks ago. Don’t you remember?”

“Of course I do.” Didn’t remember at all. “Hold up, all four of us?”

I could hear the eye roll through the phone. “You, me, Trevor, and his girlfriend. The very pink girl… What is her name again?—“

“Fauna Belrose,” I answered. “I mean, I think, I don’t know.” I knew. I only thought about her every moment of the goddamn day—so not much.

Mary Jane’s Escalade pulled up outside the shop—silver, so shiny, I could see my reflection. She rolled down the window, her hair still in a bun, dressed in a navy blazer and skirt set. “Hop in.”

Okay, I’d break up with her after the game Fauna would probably be at… I jumped in, and a small voice asked from the back, “What’s your name?”

I turned to see two little faces. I’d seen their photos at Mary Jane’s house but had never met them. Hell, I wasn’t serious enough about her to meet her kids. Internally, I started freaking out. What if she thought this was that serious, and that’s why I was meeting them now? Fuck.

“Hey, I’m Remy,” I answered, balancing my skateboard between my legs. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Chloe, and this is my brother, Max.” The little girl bopped in her seat. “Are you my mom’s girlfriend or boyfriend? Why do you look just like Coach Monroe? What are your pronouns?”

I raised an amused eyebrow to Mary Jane.

She laughed in response. “I told you, Remy is just a friend, their pronouns are she, her, and they, them, and she’s Coach Monroe’s twin.”

“That’s actually not true,” I corrected. Mary Jane gave me a quizzical glance.

I turned and faced the kids. “I’m actually the original, most perfect sibling. Coach Monroe was made in a lab with my DNA. He’s like a less smart, less good-looking clone…but he did get infused with good sports-playing genes.”

The kids eyes got wide as they both said, “Ooooh,” like it all finally made sense. “Is that why he only drinks blue gatorade?”

“Exactly.”

Mary Jane smiled. “You’re cute and funny.”

“That’s why they stole and cloned my DNA. With you, know, minor, unimportant additions.” I cupped my hands over my mouth and whispered, “A penis.”

Max exclaimed. “Mom, Remy said penis !”

And Mary Jane, and all of us in the SUV, lost our minds laughing.

Leaving MJ and kids at the bleachers, I searched for Fauna. Finally, I spotted little miss princess in line for concessions. She was wearing a frilly white corset top and a billowing floral skirt with her hair tied up in space buns. The little pink ribbons tied in her rosy locks fluttered in the wind like butterflies. Fauna Belrose was a real life princess— it was disgusting. And so fucking hot. Fuck, why did I like her so freaking much?

I casually came to sand next to her in line, nudging her shoulder as she tapped at her phone. She looked up, and the skin flushed beneath her metallic star stickers. So damn cute.

“Hi, Remy,” she said sweetly. “Thirsty?”

“Downright parched, actually. Buy you a blue slushy again?”

Her face heated even more, and she nervously fiddled with the frills of her skirt. “Actually, I was thinking I want nachos. Soccer nachos are the best nachos.” She gave me a sideways glance. “Try not to spill them on me this time.”

Was she flirting? I hoped so. “If you don’t think I’d lick nacho cheese sauce off you— try me and see.”

“Shh!” She giggled, punching my arm. “There are people around who could hear you.”

I grinned. “Then let’s go someplace more private.”

“You’re trouble,” she whispered, biting her lip. Her eyes were sparkling now. She was happy to see me, wasn’t she?

We reached the counter, and I ordered. “Hey, we’ll have nachos, a few candy boxes, and a soda, please.” I handed the guy a wad of cash and told him to keep the change.

Fauna fiddled with her butterfly-shaped change purse. “You don’t have to keep paying for my stuff.”

“You’ll never pay for anything with me. I like doing it.”

“I can pay you back.”

“I don’t want your pinkie-pie-princess money. What, is it strawberry scented or some shit? Bedazzled?”

She started laughing, the sweetest freaking sound ever, and put a hand on my arm for balance. My whole body tingled at the contact, and I flexed on instinct.

I carried her tray of food, and we walked slowly down the gravel, neither of us in a hurry, the shouts of fans almost an invisible murmur around us. “I like your sports bra.” Fauna took a seat on a small hill in the grass next to the bleachers and put her cat-ear headphones over her ears. “I can still hear you,” she explained. “Just helps reduce noise and keep me from getting over stimulated.”

I nodded. “The cat ears suit you.” I ran a hand through my hair, realizing how gross I probably looked. “I’m sweaty. I worked at the tattoo shop all day, then had band practice, then came straight here.”

“The band you play drums in?” she asked, taking a bite of nacho. “I remember you were drumming on your bag the day we officially met.”

I nodded, marveling at how freaking cute she was.

“What’s your band’s name?”

“Mall Ratz.”

“Why?”

“Because we only play birthday parties at the mall and get paid in pizza.”

She giggled. I could easily get addicted to making her laugh. “What do y’all sound like?”

I shrugged. “Nirvana if they sucked. We’re playing the mall arcade next week. Another thirteen-year-old’s bangin’ birthday bash.” My knuckles brushed her arm as I reached for the soda, taking a sip. It didn’t escape my notice that she didn’t flinch at my touch, nor at us sharing a straw. Fauna was comfortable with me— and that was very important to me. It was my goal to make sure she always felt safe and at peace in my presence.

That’s why I had to make sure she was okay. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

She nodded. “Anything.”

“You okay? You know, after the movie theater…I hope I didn’t?—“

“I’m fine.” She put her soft little hand on my bicep again. She liked that spot. I needed to lift more. “You’re really sweet to check on me. I promise…we’re all good.”

Then why did she say in-game she’d been shaken up? I couldn’t ask, of course, because she thought she was talking to Trevor and not me. But still, I wondered.

I picked at a strand of grass. “You know, I would have texted you, but I don’t have your number…”

“Oh, I don’t have texting on my phone. It’s an old flip phone.” She shrugged. “I just play Tetris on it and sometimes use it to call for food delivery.”

I chuckled. “Fair enough.”

“But…” She bit her lip. “I game. Do you game? I play V for Valin a lot.”

“Never heard of it.” Lie. “But I could be persuaded to look it up.”

“You’re such a liar.” She leveled me with a stare that grabbed my heart in a sputtering death grip.

“Wh-what?”

“I know you play with Trevor. He told me you’re the one who got him into it.”

I ran a relieved hand through my hair. Fauna’s gaze dropped to my shoulders. Hmm, little bubblegum princess liked my arms. “Yeah, well, maybe I don’t want you to know what a nerd I am.”

With a giggle, she took a sip of soda. Same straw. Basically, we were kissing, right? Right. “Oh, trust me, I already know you’re a major nerd, Remy Monroe.”

The sound of my full name on her sweet lips sent shivers of desire down my spine. The crowd stood and cheered, and I looked to Fauna to make sure the noise wasn’t too much. She seemed content to sip her soda and paw at her candy. Good.

“Want me to let you go watch the game?” I asked.

“No,” she answered. “I like it better over here in the grass with you.” Double good. “How’s um… Mary Jane ?”

I chuckled, fighting against her fingers as we both reached into the sour candy box. I didn’t want any candy; I just wanted to touch her again. “Why you gotta say her name like that?” I teased.

Fauna blinked up at me innocently. “What way?”

Oh, what a little brat… My core heated in response.

I cleared my throat. “She’s fine. How’s Trevor ?”

She grinned. “Why you gotta say his name like that? He’s your brother, after all.”

“Debatable. We look nothing alike.”

“You’re practically identical twins.”

“Which means if you’re attracted to him…you’re attracted to me.” I winked, catching the dimples in her beautiful smile.

“That’s an understatement.”

The crowd cheered louder then and stood, shouting. My pulse quickened at her bold statement. She was flirting with me. We were also completely ignoring the game. Whatever; my brother had enough adoring fans to watch him kick a ball around. He could spare two.

A crowd bustled from the bleachers to concessions, and I watched idly—until I caught the gaze of Mary Jane. Crap, I had to stop forgetting she existed like a ginormous asshole.

To make matters even more annoying, my brother spotted us and jogged over, saying hi to Mary Jane as they both approached.

“There you are,” MJ remarked. “The kids went looking for you.”

“The kids, huh?” Trevor waggled his eyebrows teasing me.

I leaned back, elbows on the grassy hill. “Did you win?”

Trevor scoffed, wiping sweat from his brow. “It’s halftime, idiot.”

Fauna slurped from the empty soda cup, and I was surprised she stayed next to me instead of joining her boyfriend. Surprised, but pleased. Maybe, just maybe, I had a shot with her. Trevor barely noticed her; they hardly even looked at each other. Had they gotten into a fight? Now that I thought about it, I hadn’t noticed them ever be affectionate with each other. This little dastardly scheme of mine may have been easier to pull off than I thought. Hope sprang within my morally grey soul—that is, until Chet and his group of idiots descended upon us.

His arm was around a girl I didn’t recognize. She had short, washed out purple hair, face pressed into a permanent scowl as she loudly chewed gum. Chet shoved Trevor. “Got to tighten it up in the second half.”

“Working on it,” Trevor replied. “How sick would it be to go to finals?”

Fauna stood, leaving me looking like an idiot laying in the grass, and tucked herself under Trevor’s arm. The small gesture was like a punch in the gut.

“Such a cute outfit, Fauna,” the purple haired girl with Chet complimented, though it didn’t sound like one. Ah, so she was one of those bitches who could say nice words but make them sound terrible? Cool, I hated her already.

Fauna looked down at her shoes. “Thanks, Prue.”

Chet flicked the cat ears of Fauna’s headphones. “See? I love that. Women supporting women.”

I sat up, feeling the overwhelming urge for violence. Trevor straightened, holding Fauna closer, and my heart sank further into the ground as she leaned into his touch. Fuck. This sucked.

Two little voices piped up, “Coach Monroe!”

My brother smiled and knelt. “Hey, Chloe and Max. You guys enjoying the game?”

“So much,” Chloe said. “Also,” she whispered, “Remy told us your secret. We won’t tell anybody.”

Trevor shot me an accusatory stare that warmed my broken heart ever so slightly.

“Alright, well, I’m going to get something to drink before I have to head back out onto the field.” Trevor held Fauna’s hand, pulling her away with him.

Max called after him. “Blue gatorade?”

“That’s right. It’s the only good flavor.” Trevor answered. The kids cackled, and so did Mary Jane, leaving my twin with a baffled expression as he and the girl of my dreams walked away.

Purple Hair spoke when they were out of earshot. “I really admire Fauna’s bravery. She dresses like she fell into a kids’ costume bin.”

Chet laughed, and Mary Jane busied herself with the kids, unaware of my growing irritation.

“You’re Remy, right? Trevor’s twin?” Purple Hair clicked her gum and looked me up and down.

I stood, dusting the dirt off my pants and answered with a curt nod. Mary Jane and kids left to get back to their seats, and Chet yelled after another friend group and bounced away. But Purple Hair stayed put, assessing me. “I would be careful,” she said with mock sweetness.

“Excuse me?”

“Fauna acts sweet and innocent, but you should look after your brother and tell him to be careful. I just don’t want him to get hurt.”

A scoff of irritation left my throat. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks.”

The rest of the night was a blur. I didn’t see Fauna again, as I obligatorily sat next to MJ in the stands. My brother won, woo hoo . Now, his ego would be even bigger. No, that wasn’t fair. I loved my brother and wanted him to succeed. I also wanted his girlfriend, but still, that didn’t mean I wished him any harm. Trevor and Fauna’s lack of affection, the fact that she was never over, never slept over, and he never spoke about her, had me living in an alternate reality where they didn’t like each other much.

If they didn’t really like each other, then it was easier to entertain the idea that I could make her mine. Maybe Trevor wouldn’t mind if I dated her after they didn’t work out.

But seeing her jump up and hug him, snuggling into his embrace, watching him pull at her tiny hand… Yeah, it was a knife to the fucking heart.

Maybe I’d just been a creep who’d majorly crossed lines with her. The cyber sex she believed to have with my brother was just that: an encounter with him, not me.

The incident in the movie theater where I licked her thighs clean… She did seem to enjoy that. I’d gotten consent, I’d checked on her after, and she said it was fine. Could it have just been fine? Did masc lesbians lick her thighs every day?

Fuck, I was majorly in my head.

I declined going out for ice cream with MJ, Trevor, and the kids after the game. They didn’t seem to mind at all. Dropping me off at the apartment, Trevor took my spot in the passenger seat, and they all went without me. At least Fauna wasn’t with him. Or maybe she was going to meet them there. Honestly, I didn’t want to know.

Coach Monroe won! Coach Monroe is so great! they chanted.

Trevor, Trevor, Trevor, the crowd cheered at his winning goal.

I slumped into my gaming chair, cutting the overhead lights and illuminating the LED strips to a low purple, my preferred gaming setup. I pulled on my headphone and clicked the monitor to life, the keyboard glowing like a command station on a spaceship. My controller plugged in and resting in my lap, I scrolled through my games, trying to find something to immerse my mind into.

Trevor, Trevor, Trevor. The phantom crowd reverberated in my mind.

I loved my brother. But did he have to be so fucking perfect?

“You look and sound just like Trevor,” Fauna had said. “But, like, the night mode version.”

He was the good twin.

The one my parents loved. The one kids adored. The one fans cheered for. The one who got the girl at the end of the coming-of-age movie. You know, the one where the uplifting music plays in the distance, the girl kisses him, and he lifts his trophy while every claps?

I was the bad twin.

The one my parents never acknowledged. The drummer in the band no one noticed. The one paid in pizza, piercing holes in ears and sweeping floors in exchange for more tattoos on skin that was running out of room. I was the loser in the movie, the one you kind of feel sorry for but also kind of hate. The end credits would roll past a black and white photo of me, saying some bullshit like, “Remy would go on to play video games alone in dark rooms for the rest of their days. She would never find love, instead finding companionship in turning her body into Swiss cheese for novice piercers and band practice space.” Something like that.

Green online now icons dotted over V for Valin, indicating my friends were playing. My chest felt hallow at the sight of that game. Fauna loved that colorful little RPG, but I wasn’t Trevor, not even virtually, not tonight. Tonight, I was just plain old Remy. I could have bopped into any number of my other games and been alone, shooting zombies or slinging superhero web, but I guessed I was weak and didn’t feel like being totally alone. So, I clicked into the RPG.

Rollo, Joss, and Lennon were all playing.

Joss’s chat bubble popped up. “REMY! Wanna fuck up some goblins?”

“Sure,” I replied. “Killing shit sounds good right about now.”

Rollo buzzed into my headset. “What’s wrong, sweet-baby-Remy?”

I shrugged, annoyed that my throat got tight. “Got dangerously close to breaking my own rule of never catching feelings,” I answered, joining their group and pulling out my sword. “Won’t make that mistake again.” I stabbed a goblin.

Joss asked over the headset. “Trouble with Mary Jane?”

I scoffed. “No, but fucking hell, I keep forgetting to break up with her.”

Lennon typed into the chat, a bubble of text appearing over their green-haired avatar’s head. “That could be a cool song name.”

Everyone laughed into their mics, and I even cracked a small smile.

“I’m adding it to the set list right meow,” Joss announced.

Lennon axed a red goblin and wrote in the chat bubble, “Sounds purrrrfect.” Len always came alive in game-land. I loved that about video games. We could be anyone, anywhere, and just play and hang out.

I quirked a smile. My bandmates were my best friends. We were a merry band of misfits, but we worked. I loved Rollo’s over-the-top humor, Joss’ way of keeping us in line, and Lennon’s sensible nature.

We killed a crew of goblins and retreated to a village market to sell the spoils of our victory. Lennon peaced out first, then Joss. Rollo stayed a while, and we chatted, but he dipped out at two in the morning. That left me and my blue mohawk avatar, sitting on a tree stump near the fair, watching the virtual shooting stars twinkle past. Alright, this game was kind of pretty and kind of calming.

I’d almost forgotten about her . Who was I kidding; I hadn’t forgotten at all.

Suddenly, something pink flew past me and landed with a small thud that set off the vibration in my controller. The long, curvaceous, pink-haired witch sauntered over and sat down next to me.

My heart was beating out of my chest when Fauna’s voice wove through my earphones. “Hi, Remy. Want to have cyber-sex?”