LEVEL 6

PLAYER TWO: FAUNA

Why did I think it was a great idea to replace every square on my keyboard with glowing resin gummy bear keycaps?

Why did I decide to foster three kittens? Two of which were currently climbing my ripped lace curtains with their little knife claws.

Why did I think flirting, slushy thigh-licking, and video game scissoring with my boyfriend’s ridiculously hot sister was a good idea?

While I was at it, why did one of my kittens paw at the computer cord and unplug everything right at the very end of our little microphone sex sesh? “Turnip,” I groaned at the little white ball of fluff bouncing under my computer desk. “You killed the vibe. Now Remy is going to think I ran away like a shy, stupid, stupid face.”

Turnip meowed.

I scooped up the little demon and plugged my computer back in. Not like it mattered; it was such an old system, it would take forever to reboot. Remy would be long asleep and probably not thinking about me at all. Why would she? Her girlfriend was perfection. Mary Jane was everything I wasn’t: polished, put together, rich, powerful, successful. She was that song by Cake as a whole person. You know, Short Skirt, Long Jacket ? That song.

Mary Jane didn’t live in an apartment above the animal shelter where she worked for free room and board.

Mary Jane’s house didn’t smell like catnip and candle wax.

Mary Jane probably knew how to scissor just the right way with Remy. The thought had me wanting climb out my window and run away like one of the dogs when they escaped their crates downstairs. They always came back, though. We were nice to them. But that’s not the point.

What I needed to do was get Remy Monroe out of my brain. Remy and those two silver hoops on either side of their lower lip like vampire fangs, waiting to suck me dry of every thought, emotion, and feeling… Remy, with their good girl praise and clipped tongue that slid up my thighs like they wanted to devour me like some depraved demon…

“Stop it, Fauna. Stop it,” I scolded myself out loud. Turnip wiggled in my arms and flopped onto my bed. Waffle and Pinecone jumped up to join him. I fell into a pile of stuffed animals, blankets, and pillows as the kittens curled up around my feet. Sleep was what I needed, especially after the fiasco at the game.

Why couldn’t my nemesis just leave me alone? Why couldn’t I ever find the right words to say until long after someone was mean to me? I wished I had the nerve to tell Prue and Chet and all of them to just go to hell. But no, I cowered under Trevor like some baby bird.

Remy looked disappointed, like she could tell I was weak, like that made her disgusted by me. Heck, I was disgusted by me. The fact that I was still dealing with this nonsense—and the way I’d made it ten times worse trying to fix it… Ugh, maybe Remy was right. I wasn’t a short skirt, long jacket, hair in a bun business woman. Remy was a stylish, cool, sexy drummer with quick humor and endless charm.

They made sense together.

I was a cat hair on my mismatched clothes, kitty-ear headphones, bright makeup-wearing, spineless crybaby. Remy probably had video game sex with me out of pity. Oh, God. What if she said something to someone? What if she told Trevor? I didn’t think she’d do that, but then again, it felt like there was no one I could trust anymore.

But if Remy hadn’t told anyone about our slushy encounter… I shivered at the memory. God, why did Trevor’s sister have to be so freaking irresistibly hot?

Pinecone and Waffles purred lightly as they slept by my ankles, but little Turnip pawed his way up to my pillow, curling into a little white-furred doughnut by my forehead. Just as he began to purr, I closed my eyes, holding my old ducky stuffed animal, and drifted into a fitful sleep.

Only the sounds of yapping pups greeted me in the morning. My weekly solo shift, and even though all I had to do was walk downstairs, I was still always late. I’d slept in, forgetting to set my alarm on my stupid little flip phone from the early 2000s.

“I’m getting your breakfast, Train Tracks, calm down!” I laughed as the giant boxer mix bounced around his crate. “Always so hungry.” Sitting his food bowl down, I smiled and gave his head a rub. “Walkies later, buddy.”

The dogs were fed, then the cats, before I transferred them all to play rooms and outdoor pens to stretch their legs. I threw a ball with the dogs, played feather wand with the cats—the whole time, my ears were muffled with my headphones as I listened to music and tried not to think about Remy.

Remy’s tattoos.

Remy’s muscular arms.

Remy’s undercut.

Remy’s easy way of making me laugh.

Remy calling me good girl …

This was stupid. Trevor would absolutely freak if he found out I had a crush on his twin. He couldn’t find out—no one could. I scooped a black kitten out of her crate and carried her around with me like a little parrot on my shoulder during my tasks. Her little claws dug into my shirt, but she didn’t meow. “You like the ride, Push Pin?”

After sweeping, I sat at the front desk, thumbing through missing pets posters to hang on the community board. My mind kept drifting to Remy even as Push Pin curled up under my ear and purred as she napped. Remy had a show coming up at the arcade in the mall.

I liked the arcade. It wouldn’t be weird if I was just…there…when her band played. Firing up the shelter’s dusty computer monitor, I checked adoption emails before scanning my personal emails.

One unread message from Trevor.

“Dinner at my parents’ next weekend?”

My heart sank and fluttered at the same time. Meeting the parents was nerve racking, but the possibility of seeing Remy made up for it…

“Ok, I’ll start planning my outfit. Any update on the dragon quest?” I hit send and waited a few moments. Trevor was in class, so I knew he was sitting in front of his laptop, bored, pretending to take notes. A new email pinged in my inbox.

“The red dragon doesn’t have the scroll, so it must be the green or blue one. Took me damn near forever to even catch the red guy. But I’ll keep trying tonight. Party? By the way, they make a thing called texting that you do on modern phones.”

I let out a disappointed sigh. How many hours had I logged trying to get this done? Knowing what was waiting at the end of the game… How many others had found it? If I could make it to the mysterious end of the very not real game, it could solve a lot of my very real problems.

“Emails are more romantic.” I hit send and shut down the monitor before going through my closing duties.

I marched back upstairs once the work day was done, Turnip and Pinecone twisting between my ankles while Waffles batted at the tassels on my couch. They meowed happily as I opened the stinky lid on their wet cat food—turkey delight—and fed them.

My game chair was a thrifted, pink armless piece from the eighties. The wooden bars uncomfortably bruised my lower back. More hours, more missions, and I had to make it to the end of this stupid game to face the hell that awaited me. With a sigh, I lit a candle at my desk. Peony wildflower. I’d made it to keep me and the kittens company while I fought goblins and trolls, searched for dragons, and healed wayward travelers on my endless virtual quest. The smell of flowers slowly drowned out the smell of canned meat and flea collars. The small flicker of the flame another presence in the room, the occasional dog bark downstairs, and the sound of the trash truck outside— all little companions tricking me into feeling less alone. They lied to me, saying if I could beat this, I could pursue friendships again. Remy would never know— and maybe Remy would be my friend…maybe more ? No, that wasn’t possible. No way. Like she’d want me anyway.

Three months ago, I would have clocked out and jumped on my Vesper to get boba with my friends—or who I thought were my friends. I guess they weren’t. We’d stop by the beauty supply store and dye our hair whatever color looked brightest before ordering Chinese food and watching The Princess Bride and Monty Python all night long. Maybe we would play Mario Cart too.

Gaming had always been something fun to do before bed, but now, this RPG had consumed my life—because of her. Because of what I knew they’d done. Shame gripped my throat as my witch avatar bobbed on her broom above the bright green lettering.

CONTINUE GAME?

Did I have a choice?

I clicked yes.

And my second job began.