Free Endgame Novella #2 by James Frey Page B

dealing with it. After today, there shouldn’t be a problem. There will be nothing left”—she won’t let her voice catch on the words—“nothing left to distract me from what matters.”
    Pravheet takes her hands in his. They are large and calloused and strong, and make her feel very small. “Shari, you know that no two Players are alike, do you not?”
    â€œYou’ve told me many times,” Shari tells him. Pravheet is the only one of her trainers who has been sympathetic to her desire not to kill, at least not until it becomes absolutely necessary. Pravheet himself swore never to kill again, after he lapsed. He defended her choice to the other Harrapan, and has always encouraged her to stand up for what she believes, to Play the way she feels she should.
    â€œThere are some Players who feel they need to purge their lives of everything beyond the game,” Pravheet says.
    â€œOf course,” Shari agrees. “Absolute focus.” That’s what she’s always been taught, and, until recently, it’s what she has always practiced.
    â€œBut you have to find your own way.” Pravheet gives her a strange, kind smile. “Do you see what I’m getting at?”
    â€œHonestly? I’m not sure.”
    His smile widens. “Don’t worry. You will be.”
    She shows up early; Jamal is already seated and waiting for her. He has ordered her a mug of chai, prepared just as she likes, with milk and three spoons of sugar.
    Shari has spent the last two hours meditating. She’s ready for whatever Jamal has to tell her.
    The session with Pravheet has convinced her that she will be better off without Jamal. This relationship has been a distraction from her training, from her duty.
    The fact that she actually let herself think she couldn’t live without him? That was melodrama and weakness that should have been beneath her.
    There’s only one thing she can’t live without, and that’s her responsibility to the Harrapan line.
    She reminds herself of this unshakable truth, then sits down.
    â€œSo,” Jamal says.
    â€œSo.”
    They watch each other.
    Even now, under these circumstances, it’s good to see him. Her eyes have been thirsty; now, in the long silence, they drink.
    She likes to imagine he is doing the same.
    â€œI believe you,” he says.
    â€œOkay.”
    â€œAbout all of it. The things from the stars, the game, the Player, your weird secret superhero life, the thousand-year conspiracy, my . . . my dad, all of it.”
    She sips her tea. “I said okay.”
    â€œYou don’t want to say anything else?”
    â€œLike what?”
    â€œI don’t know, don’t you want to ask me why I believe you? Or what I think? Or what I want to do?”
    She sighs. If he thinks he can sucker her into breaking up with herself , then he doesn’t know her at all. “What do you want from me, Jamal? I told you what was true; I told you why I lied to you before; I told you I was sorry. I told you I loved you. I told you everything I had to tell. I came here because you said you had something to tell me.”
    He shifts uncomfortably in his seat. Shari readies herself. This is it.
    â€œNot tell you, exactly,” he says. Then he puts a small cardboard box on the table and removes its lid. The thing inside sparkles. “Ask you, really.”
    Shari reaches for the box, takes out the sparkly thing.
    â€œWhat . . . what is this?” It’s a stupid question; it’s obvious what the thing is: a ring.
    â€œIt’s not real,” he admits. “I mean, it’s not exactly from a gumball machine, but . . . close enough. Best I could do on short notice.”
    â€œIs this what I think this is?”
    â€œMarry me,” he says. “Please?”
    It’s the last thing she expected, and without thinking, she bursts into laughter.
    Jamal grins. “Not exactly the answer I was