"I’m so tired, and it’s so early," Ari grumbled as he brushed his teeth quietly so that he didn’t wake Jamie up.

[Stop complaining and freshen up. Especially that mop you call hair.] 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

He had spent most of the night studying chess theory while playing online. Through mindless grinding, his online rating had just hit 800 before he gave up to catch a few hours of sleep.

Compared to the top-ranked chess players, who all had ratings over 2000, with some approaching 3000, Ari was like a toddler who had just learned how to read, so if he wanted to win 10 matches in a row, the only way he would succeed was by playing against a kid who had just learned the ABC song.

Please! Let it be elementary schoolers, so I can win in peace! It would be even better if they were preschoolers who just think it’s a funny game, so I can beat them easily.

As Ari sent his wishes out into the universe, an obnoxious blue screen blocked his view.

[What kind of nonsense are you thinking?]

[Hurry up and get dressed and sneak out before the PD and staff members get here. They’re planning a surprise, and if you’re caught here, you automatically fail!]

"Yeah, yeah. I’m moving. Also, you’re being surprisingly helpful, what gives?"

[I am always helpful when it comes to your future and when you get bullied.]

[After all, the only person who can bully you is me.]

"How about nobody bully me so I can live happily ever after?" Ari grumbled as he began putting on a random t-shirt and sweatpants.

[No.]

[And don’t wear that, it’s so terrible that even your face can’t make that look good, and it makes you look homeless, and we’re long past that point.]

[Try to look good for once.]

"..."

With a sigh, Ari grabbed the suit he had worn to graduation, but-

[What is wrong with you? Are you trying to look like a mobster? No, no, definitely not.]

[Wear something else. Something a little more relaxed.]

"..."

As he tried to grab something else-

[What is wrong with you? Aren’t you French? Where’s your sense of fashion?]

Ari: ಠ_ಠ

Are you planning to do this every time I try to wear something? Didn’t you say that we had to hurry and leave?

Rolling his eyes, Ari just decided to change into his Otterly Adorable Tracksuit, but-

[Hmmmm. That’s not going to work for me either, buddy. Change it.]

"Since you have so much to say and don’t want to tell me what to prepare for, then why don’t you just pick out the clothes yourself?"

[Excellent]

[Don’t mind if I do.]

[Start by popping open that suitcase full of things you got from the modeling job, yes, that one.]

[Grab the chunky boots, the black ones. Good. Grab the black cargo pants with the chains. Next is that white shirt, the long-sleeve one, put it on and let me see it.]

[Hmmm, not bad, not bad. Top it off with a watch, a hat, your headphones, a necklace, and that will do. Grab your hair dye, stuff your bed, and let’s go.]

After putting on the clothing as instructed, Ari made his bed, arranging his tracksuit to make it look like he was still sleeping, tucked a note under the still snoring Jamie’s hand, and quietly walked out the door with the hair dye in one hand and sticky notes with instructions in the other.

Avoiding the main hallways, he quickly exited the building using the door everyone always snuck out of, and ran off.

Even though it was relatively early and school was out for most students, of course, there was still traffic, which he passed as he ran toward a bus stop, barely getting on the right one before it peeled off.

[You really should get a license. This is a very inconvenient way of traveling.]

"And who’s going to pay for the car?" Ari replied aloud since he had his headphones on.

[Well, when you finally debut, you should be getting some money from the production team.]

"You think they’re going to pay up? I’m willing to bet that they do something shady."

[Hmmmm.]

NOVA thought about it for a bit before replying.

[Based on their track record, I’ll pass on that bet.]

[That PD of yours...Her devious talent is so admirable. I need to learn from her.]

You’re devious enough on your own! You don’t need to learn from the devil herself.

As the bus continued its journey, Ari just dozed off until it was time to get off.

The place NOVA wanted him to go to, Pershing Square Park, was in downtown LA. It was like a little plaza surrounded by tall office and apartment buildings with several small grassy rectangles shaded by a variety of trees that could technically be considered parks.

Following NOVA’s directions, Ari walked toward one of the little parks, where it seemed a small crowd had gathered around a wooden table and chairs.

The two people sitting at the table had a chessboard between them, and it seemed there was a game in progress, while the spectators, many of whom had on basketball jerseys, had their phones and professional cameras out, recording the game.

Meandering over and finding an open spot, Ari listened to the conversation for a couple of seconds before whispering to the guy standing next to him.

"Hey. What’s going on? Are they famous? Why’s everyone gathered here?"

"What do you mean, ’what’s going on?’ Bro, they’re obviously playing chess, and that’s the Alien. Do you live under a rock?" the guy shot back.

Ari glanced back at the two people playing chess.

One was a young man with golden-brown skin, a small afro peeking out from under his hoodie, and a little goatee. The person sitting across from him was a middle-aged man with a receding hairline.

....they both look human to me?

I guess the old guy’s forehead is kind of big if you look at it carefully, but calling him an alien just because of that is kind of rude.

Maybe he’s an actor who played an alien in a movie I don’t know about?

Still confused, Ari turned back to the guy and whispered again.

"So, is the alien the old guy? What movie is he from?"

"Movie? Dude, Vic is the alien. Everybody knows this. Don’t you follow basketball?"

Not in the slightest. I only follow tennis, football, and F1.

But now that you say it, I guess he does look pretty tall, and he has long legs too.

"And you sound French just like he does. How come you can’t support your own country, man? That’s no bueno," the guy, a blonde teen about Ari’s age, looked disappointed as he shook his head.

"...I’m sorry?"

"You should be, man. He’s carrying your country and our city on his back, and you should support him since he’s an inspiration to us all."

"...I didn’t know that. My apologies?"

"Tsk." As if he couldn’t take Ari bothering him, the teen moved to the other side and kept watching the game, which ended with the old guy groaning but getting up from his seat.

"Am I supposed to play this guy?" Ari whispered quietly with his mouth covered.

[Yes.]

"Would you like to give me any other information?"

[No.]

Lovely.

"Anyone else want to play?"

"Me. I want to play."

When the question was asked, Ari immediately raised his hand and made his way to the front of the crowd.

"Salut, ah, hello. Nice to see you. I’m Victor. You can just call me Vic." The guy who had won glanced at Ari and quickly introduced himself in a heavy French accent while extending extremely long, fingered hands.

"Yo. Quoi de neuf?(What’s up?) I’m Ariel. You can call me Ari. Apparently, you play basketball? What team are you on?" Ari replied casually in French, shaking the extended hand before taking a seat.

"Ah? Vous êtes français." Victor’s eyes widened as he looked Ari over, taking in the handsome face, put-together appearance, the laid-back attitude, and authentic French accent that was rare to find in Los Angeles.

Based on the questions asked, this guy didn’t seem to be a fan of basketball and didn’t look like he recognized him at all, which was nice considering his current circumstances of trying to clear his head before a big game.

"Ouais. Feel free to speak informally. I’m not a stickler for rules, and if you want, we can speak in either language." Ari replied, placing the chess pieces in their proper positions on the board as he stared at Victor expectantly.

"Ah. Then let’s talk in French. I feel like I’ve been getting rusty. I play here in LA. I’m on the Lakers."

"Oh, nice. Professional. You must be very talented then. How’s your season going?" Ari asked casually.

The moment the words left his lips, it was like darkness and depression came over Victor, and he let out a long sigh before explaining.

"We’re currently down 3-0, and game 4 is tonight."

"I’m not sure what that means since I don’t play basketball, but it sounds bad?" Ari posed it as a question since she wasn’t sure of the severity of it.

3-0 in a tennis match was an overcomeable deficit considering a set consisted of 6 games, and you needed to win 3 out of 5 sets.

3-0 in a soccer match was basically death unless a miracle happened.

As for F1, if you were 3 laps behind the other racers, just give up immediately and stop wasting gas.

"It’s the playoffs, so it’s whichever team wins 4 games out of 7. If my team doesn’t win today’s game, we’ll be eliminated, and everything we’ve worked for all year will be wasted. Somehow, we need to overcome this deficit and win 4 games in a row to take the championship."

"Oh. That’s rough."

At Ari’s deadpan response, which had no hint of pity or consolation, Victor laughed before holding out two pawns.

"Yes, it’s a bit rough. But enough talk. Let’s play. Black or white?"

"White. I also need to win several games in a row today, so I need all the advantage I can get." Ari replied before shamelessly picking white, which gave a minuscule advantage by letting him go first.

"Fair enough. Bon chance."

"Bon chance."