Did u get the code? 

Charles Pakito glanced at his phone screen as he waved his state-of-the-art holographic security card over the entrance sensor one more time.

The red light blinked, as if mocking him. His jaw tightened and his sweaty fingers clenched on the sleek plastic. He should have expected this. June 21st was the worst day of the year for him. Everything went wrong on June 21st.

He glanced at the burnished brass sign next to the door. It read:  Matthew and Jacinta Cinco Student Residence, and a poster below announced: Home of Cinco Gaming and Antipode University’s Pre-College Video Game Design Program.

He sighed in relief. He was in the right place. He hadn’t gotten lost and ended up at the wrong building with a few minutes to go before the biggest event of his short, eight-grade life. For once, he hadn’t been that much of an idiot.

He switched the plastic grocery bag from one hand to another and wiped the security card on his shirt. Maybe that would would help. This wasn’t that complicated. All he had to do was figure out  how to get into the dorm. He’d been in the program almost a week now. He should be able to figure this out. 

The red light blinked again.

He threw up his hands, almost dropping the bag with his precious supplies. The brand-new, high-tech building was named after billionaire Matthew Cinco, the founder of Cinco Computing and Antipode University’s most famous alumni. He topped the World’s Richest list, and his photograph was in all the biggest video game magazines. His impressive piles of moolah had funded both the building and the G&T program.  Apparently the billionaire money didn’t got that far, as they still had a crappy card sensor and a bucketload of tech bugs.

But it didn’t matter. Charles was still excited to be here. He wasn’t sure how he’d gotten an all-paid scholarship to Antipode College’s highly-coveted gifted and talented video game design program—his test scores were high, but his grades left a lot to be desired, to put it mildly—but. somehow, he’d scored an invite. It was a dream-come-true for a game-obsessed kid like him.

Particularly since, yes, he had absolutely gotten the super-secret video game code. His friend Stephen, better known by his gaming handle, Scales, had emailed it to him. He couldn’t wait to try it out.

Who would have thought a quick run to the campus store would be such a hassle? He'd expected to dash in and out and make it back with plenty of supplies for the beta-testing marathon. Instead, he was standing in front of a wall of glass, juggling bags full of potato chips, microwave mac ’n’ cheese, and soft drinks, as he fought the security card deathmatch. The cloudy sky turned the glass into a mirror and his figure-- a skinny boy with dark hair, tan skin, dark eyes and a hoodie pulled over his head, looked downright pathetic.

After a long, seemingly-eternal minute, the speaker on the wall made a crackling sound.

"Come in, son," the security guard said, as he buzzed Charles in.

A human rescue, finally.

"Thanks, Mike" Charles said, almost dropping a bag as he pushed open the heavy glass door. "I owe you one."

The foyer was all metal and glass with futuristic furniture and an abstract, wave-like  sculpture that was titled “Ambitious Advancement” but was widely known among the students as “the exploding toilet.”  The room was cold and stark and the only touch of warmth was an old photo of  donor Matthew Cinco with his wife Jacinta. The picture had been taken many years ago and Mr. Cinco was wearing an ill-fitting blue suit with an oversized tie that matched his wife’s unfashionable floral dress. The vintage photo was decidedly dorky, but sweet, and the bright smiles of the happy couple were a stark contrast to the sharp-edged, reflective surroundings.

The heavy-set African-American man smiled at Charles as he sat in his usual spot behind the gleaming metal guard desk. “Whoa, slow down. You have a good fifteen minutes to go.  And you'll owe me a thousand by the time this program is done. They aren't fixing the card readers until regular classes start in September. Are those Ding Dongs for me?” 

"Of course.” Charles handed the blue and white plastic package over, glad he’d remember Mike’s favorites. "They had the chocolate creme ones today."

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

"Those are the best," Mike said, his grin growing wider. "Thanks, man. I'll need these to get me through the next batch of security patches. Forget the technological mumbo-jumbo. Give me Ding Dongs any time."

Charles glanced at the screen in front of the guard. "The program is still acting up?"

Mike sighed. "Always. I know the new Cinco system is supposed to be the best, but so far it's just bug after bug. There's a rumor they are getting hacked too."

"There's always bugs,” Charles said, heading for the elevators. “And there’s always hackers.”

"You're not wrong about that, dude. By the way, you may want to take the stairs today. If that elevator gets jammed again, I’ll have to call the fire department and then you’ll definitely be late for the log-in time.” 

"Thanks for the tip," Charles, said, turning towards the emergency stairwell.

The last thing he needed was to spend June 21st stuck in an elevator eating sour-cream-and-onion potato chips while everyone else logged on to the system in time. He held on to his bag and pushed open the heavy stairwell door with his shoulder. Today was an unlucky day for him and he was taking no chances.

He reached the fourth floor, breathing hard., kicked open the stairwell door and headed down the long, painfully fluorescent hallway. The corridor was lined by bleached wood doors, each leading to a single-occupancy dorm room and there was a common area at the end of the hallway. He didn’t see his friend, Stephen Smith’s wheelchair—Stephen, or Scales if you went by his gaming handle which Charles often did, was probably already logging in. He could, however, see Grace Chamorro, class rich girl and teacher’s pet extraordinare, holding court in the common area. 

He quickly turned the other way. The last thing he needed was a lecture from Grace. He sneaked by the RA’s room, making sure no one saw him and turned the corner, finally reaching his room. He slumped against the door, mentally high-giving himself. If the resident advisor had seen him, she would have made him join the group. That was the problem with living in the shallow end of the autism spectrum. Everyone kept trying to teach you to play well with others. Luckily, avoiding people was his superpower and he’d reached his room without meeting a soul.

Like all the dorm doors, his entry had a multi-media screen in front. It was currently lit up with congratulatory messages from friends who had also gotten into the program, texts, and greetings from his far-flung family. Being in a  high-tech college dorm was, he had to admit, pretty cool, even if there was the occasional glitch or two. 

His mom was back in the Caribbean with her family and she'd sent a bunch of "miss you, Chavo,“ “TQM,” and "are you okay?” texts and messages. He winced as he saw them. TQM, the text contraction for “the quiero mucho” was such a typical mom move. She’d added “I know you’ll do well. De tal palo tal astilla.” The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. He erased the board, making sure no one was around to see this.

His much less embarrassing sister was in Peru with the Peace Corps and she'd sent various selfies with her team. She seemed to be having fun building latrines in Machu Picchu or something like that. No "are you okay" message from Carla though. His sister seemed completely oblivious to the significance of the date. Maybe she’d forgotten, although that seemed unbelievable to him. 

But he didn’t begrudge Carla her oblivious enjoyment. He wouldn't be in Peru or in Puerto Rico this summer, but he was expecting to have fun too. This year, he wouldn't let June 21st get him down.

An image flashed through his mind. He and  his sister Carla sitting around the neighbor's kitchen table, watching as the police walked in and out of their house. Their mom sat with the neighbor in the living room, trying to hide her tears. The kitchen television was set to cartoons, studiously avoiding the local news. Ben 10 saved the universe in the television, while the police crawled in and out of Charles' house, slowly dismantling his world.

His neighbors had put a bowl of plain potato chips in front of them. He didn't remember eating them, but by the time their mom took them to the airport the chips were gone. He must have eaten them somehow. He remembered licking the crumbs off his fingers as his mother explained that they would not be seeing they father for a while. 

“A while” turned out to be a lot longer than anyone had expected. He still couldn’t eat plain potato chips. The mere thought of them made them nauseous. Sour cream or bust.

He shook the image out of his head. He wouldn't think about that today. This June 21st would be different.

And that was due to the because of the big white box covered with labels that sat in front of his door. The labels said “confidential,” “experimental,” and “must sign NDA before opening.” He wasn’t sure what an NDA was--non-disclosure agreement?--but his mom had signed a bunch of papers when he’d gotten into the program, presumably it had been in there. 

She must have signed it because without it he wouldn’t be able to take part in the highlight of the summer program: a chance to beta test Cinco Gaming’s new product: the Legends of the Universe virtual reality game.

And the chance to use the special code. He didn’t know where Scales had found it, but it was supposed to—do something amazing. Some fantastic upgrade or a new character or something like that. Cinco Gaming was known for its out-of-this-world special content, so it was bound to be special. Just being able to test the new VR system would be awesome, and the super-secret code made it even better.

A flash of light made him look back up. His door screen was now glowing brightly, the words "Did you get it?" scrolling across the screen. The signature read @raptorscales.

Charles smiled. Oh, yes, he'd gotten it.

This June 21st would be different. It would be awesome.