Round four was another Amaya clear-cut victory. People were sitting in their seats as if they were getting ready for a sold-out rock concert.

Come on, Amaya, just one more round and we can all go home, we can have fun the rest of the night, celebrate, and then come back tomorrow, and you can take home the crown.

We watched the rest of the round’s matchups; there were some outstanding battles. Some were professional players, and some were trying to make a name for themselves. Even though we didn’t know 75K on a personal level, he suddenly became someone we rooted for, so we watched 75K go toe to toe with some random guy named FoursFire, who ended up putting up a good fight. 75K won the first game, and FoursFire won the second. People were especially coming in droves like angry ocean waves as soon as it went to game 3. Amaya was going to play up next, so people gathered at the station in mass numbers, highly anticipating the next matchup.

“Will 75K be bested in Round 5?!” the commentators were having a field day at the broadcast table. “Are we about to witness the first upset of the day?!”

Darren, Wyatt, and I leaned our heads in closer as the game was being projected on a massive screen. I hated agreeing with the cheesy commentators, but I was on the edge of my seat like an old parent watching the home sports team in a championship game. Was I about to witness history for 75K? Elite Crushers being played at a high level was so entertaining to watch. It didn’t matter who was playing for me to enjoy; I admired the skills alone. But throw in dramatics like a veteran player on the verge of losing to a rookie, and then it becomes must-watch TV.

75K ended up mauling his opponent’s next game as if he was a raging bear out for revenge. His health bar was at 90% while landing two epic 20-hit combos.

Unreal.

Wyatt slapped my knee with excitement. “Wow, that was incredible. That’s why those guys are the pros, huh?”

“Yeah, definitely.” I was shaking with excitement. “God, you are so lucky you’re playing in the tournament on Sunday. I wish I was playing so bad right now. I’m half tempted to see if anyone wants to play friendly matches.”

Wyatt shot me a dirty look. “Naw, dude. We can’t do that. We are here to watch and support Amaya. If she turned around and tried to find us in the crowd and we weren’t there to wave to her, I’d feel like the world’s biggest asshole.”

“He’s got a point, Gordie,” Darren added, not taking his eyes off the stage. 75K was escorted off, Amaya hopped on stage, and the crowd cheered and applauded.

We clapped our hearts out and gave out a few triumphant wails.

“She’s so fun to watch,” Darren said.

“We’re so lucky to be her friend, y’know?” Wyatt put his arm around me and brought me in for a half headlock. When I pushed him off, he just grinned with his usual haze.

When Amaya shook hands with her opponent, and the moderator announced his name, her smile vanished.

“Amaya vs. KitCats,” the moderator said. The two plugged in their controllers and started on the character select screen.

Scanning the premise for Dayzees, I saw him with his two cronies sitting way up close. Front row to the stage.

“You see this bullshit?” I blurted.

Darren and Wyatt both squinted to try and see where I was looking.

“We’re sitting in the stadium seats while they’re on floor chairs,” I said.

“Yeah, but those guys play in the tournament, not to mention they are also part of the Miami team,” Darren said.

“We have every right to be there as much as they do,” I grumbled.

“I disagree. Those three guys are established pros, they are also in the tournament, and that is their Miami team made up there.”

“Look at Darren, always gotta’ be the wise old man, huh?” Wyatt said, grinning the whole time.

Amaya and KitCats started their match, and Amaya won the first one, but it wasn’t convincing. I was sweating the whole time watching. It was neck and neck. We cheered like a pack of wild barbarians after she won the first game, but we settled back into our seats with our nerves going haywire.

“Game two, KitCats,” the moderator announced.

“Holy cow, folks! Are we about to witness the fall of the great Amaya?!” a commentator hastily shouted on the microphone.

“Chill out, Alex,” Tommy Gotobed said. “I’m predicting another 75K meteoric rise. Amaya is pro, and KitCats is making a name for himself, but I think there are many factors here that might be affecting her conscience.”

I hoped with every fiber of my being that Amaya did not hear a word that he said, even though I agreed.

The third match had a rough start. It wasn’t like a 75K situation where he showed no mercy. As soon as it started, Amaya was missing blocks and dodges I could pull off. Her health was at 50%, while KitCats was at 90%.

“Guys, what the hell is happening? Tell me I’m dreaming or something. This isn’t real.” I rubbed my forehead.

“Shhh,” Darren said, but I shot him a dirty look. The stadium reverberated with low-volume chatter, but it wasn’t completely silent as you could still hear cheers and clapping from the large screen projection on the other side of the ground floor.

Amaya backed Star-Power away from the action for a moment, and I saw her take a deep breath. When she returned to the fray, she looked like a different player. One that was reminiscent of the first game… of the day. Deftly ducking, swerving, and retaliating, Amaya unleashed a barrage of perfectly timed defensive maneuvers and counterattacks. Star dust flying all over the place, cutting up Mad-Cat.

“Will you look at that!” the commentator screamed. The audience went into such a sonic frenzy that the ground vibrated. “She came back from a 40% deficit without taking another sliver of damage! Amaya advances to day two of the Madison Square Garden Elite Crushers summer tournament!”

“Staking her flag among the top thirty-two after a long absence. What a glorious display, an unbelievable comeback, and the crowd has gone insane. If you were in doubt before, you aren’t now. Oh, how we missed you so much in Miami, Amaya,” Tommy Gotobed yelled.

Amaya stood up from her chair on stage, shook KitCats’s hand, turned to the crowd, and laughed like she did when she was hanging around the three of us. She put her hands up and waved to the fans, who all whistled and roared.

Later that evening, we left Madison Square Garden and decided to take the subway trains down to Chinatown. It was much like the night before when we wandered into a random restaurant until a place caught our eye. Once again, we sat outside on the restaurant’s patio and ordered various plates that we all shared together.

Darren held up his water glass in the air. “A toast to Amaya with a successful first day at the tournament. Here’s to tomorrow!” The four of us clinked our glasses together and took a swig.

“I just wanted to say I’m really sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t’ve yelled at Dayzees. I’m sorry you guys had to see that side of me, but I was so caught up with emotion, and my nerves were going crazy. In case you couldn’t tell, what he said in his Miami speech bothered me, but I guess I’m an idiot for not seeing entirely what he said.” Amaya shook her head.

Darren patted her back. “You’re not an idiot, remember—“

“No, but I am,” she snapped. Darren retracted his hand. “None of us even looked at what he said. At the beginning of his speech in Miami, he insulted me, and then I turned off the TV. We didn’t hear the full thing! No one from the tournament scene even told me anything, and I should have realized they would’ve said something if Dayzees actually verbally attacked me. Instead...” Amaya pulled out her phone and started reading from it, “Dayzees said,’ I’m just kidding. I have nothing but love and respect for Amaya, she is one of the best players in the world, and I’m fortunate to have had her as a teammate, and I wish she could be on stage with us right now. Sorry, KitCats, you’re good, and I’m glad you’re here, but I do miss Amaya, and I hope she is well, wherever she is. Let’s show her some love, everyone. Give her a round of applause if she’s watching.’ The article says they all cheered and gave me a standing ovation….” Amaya hung her head on the table, silence.

Wyatt and I looked at Darren for guidance. Our faces both asked, ‘Should I say something? Should Wyatt tell a joke?’ but Darren responded with an expression that said, ‘leave it.’

Amaya twitched and her face was wet with tears. Darren put his hand on her back, and I followed.

“It’s OK, we didn’t know either, and we should’ve checked for you,” Darren said.

“Your fans still love you, I mean, you were able to sign a bunch of autographs today, and they all cheered in a frenzy when you won,” I said.

“I don’t think anyone can blame you for not knowing the full transcript. Anyone in their right state of mind would have done the same thing. It’s easier said than done. Try not to worry about it. Focus on having fun and getting the tournament over with,” Darren said.

“A real old, wise-ass sage we got here,” Wyatt said, but Amaya didn’t laugh.

The rest of us were silent for the evening. We finished our meal and had a few bits of small talk.

Check? Paid.

Food? Good.

Train? Found it.

Stop? Got it.

Hotel? Here.

Night? Done.

Except when Amaya went to bed, the three of us stayed up a little later to play Elite Crushers so Wyatt could get some extra practice in before Sunday. Besides, we were jonesing to play after being exposed all day with no chance of touching a controller. Wyatt beat Darren and me, but we were getting close to him. He ended the night doing team battles with him and me against Darren and the vicious computer.