Socket 2 - The Training of Socket Greeny Read Online Free Page B

sun came up.
    But then training got for real and those
opportunities got scarce. After awhile, I barely had time to sleep.
At first, days would go by before I could nojakk her. Then weeks.
Now it had been months. It was my fault, really. I was too
exhausted to return her calls. If I was awake, I was training. I
trained so much that I dreamed I was training. I couldn’t escape
it.
    Sometimes, I wasn’t so sure if we’d called it
quits. The whole long-distance relationship thing is hard enough
for two normal people. She had to be having the same thoughts. Is this worth it? Are we just wasting time?
    I was nervous to see her. Nervous that spark
in her eyes would be gone when she saw me. Or maybe I was nervous
of what she saw when she looked at me. Sometimes, I didn’t feel all
that human. I was an outsider. I didn’t want her to see me like
that. I didn’t want to be on the outside while she was inside.
    I’m going to puke.
     
    Cooper River Bridge was gridlocked and the
game had already started. All the major sports were taking a back
seat to tagghet. Paladin-sponsored manufacturers rolled out the
flying jetter discs to anyone who wanted one. People were learning
thought-projection skills at unheard of rates. Virtualmode Internet
accounts reached new levels every day. The technology wave was
turning into a tsunami. Clearly, the Charleston roads weren’t
prepared for the madness of a semi-professional tagghet team.
    Chute called while I looked for every
possible route around the bridge. She promised to save me a seat. I can’t wait to see you, she said. That was a good start,
but then traffic completely stopped and that took care of the good
feelings. Now I was about to rip the steering wheel out of the
dashboard.
    I considered leaving the car in auto-pilot
and abandoning it, but unattended auto-pilot was against the law.
The car would rat me out. They’d call my ass back across the world
if I tried.
    There was nothing to do but watch the ships
pass and smell the low tide. The car slogged along and I counted my
breath. In and out. I settled into the present moment and the
tension inside me, recognizing all the expectations attached to it.
They were stupid thoughts like: Would she really be happy to see
me?
    That was pretty much it.
     
    “Left turn in 100 yards,” the car finally
said.
    I came off the bridge and took the shoulder
to catch my turn. I hit the back roads, hugging corners between
abandoned warehouses.
    “Obey the speed limit,” the car said.
    “I’ve been driving 2 miles per hour for the
last hour! This will average out!”
    The shortcut didn’t last long. The stadium
was still four blocks away when I hit traffic again. I wasn’t
waiting this one out. I yanked the car to the side of the road and
parked in front of a row of broken houses. I sprinted down the
sidewalk and turned the corner and there, two blocks straight
ahead, was Blackbaud Stadium.
    I hardly recognized it. The last time I was
at Blackbaud was for a soccer game just two years earlier. They’d
added on, since. It was twice as tall. I couldn’t see past the
imposing wall at the main entrance, but could hear the crowd
roaring inside. Lightners floated high above the stadium,
illuminating the field and surrounding area.
    The parking lot was stuffed. People were
hanging around grills and tailgates, raising their drinks when I
passed. A red discus tag whizzed over my head, hovering to the
other end of the lot where a kid ran it down and caught it with the
curved end of a long stick. He slung it back a few hundred yards to
someone on the other side. A bumper sticker read, Just like
lacrosse. Only better .
    I stopped outside the main entrance. The line
was out to the curb. My nojakk cheek vibrated. Chute’s voice
bubbled inside my head.
    “ Where are you?”
    I told her where and what I was looking at: a
long, unmoving line. The crowd erupted inside the stadium.
    “ Well, just hurry up!”
    A guy pushed out of the line, throwing