Zombie Bear was currently sitting next to the laptop, waiting for their latest after-school adventures. Under Zombie Bear’s steady gaze, Jesse finally got the old computer booted up and launched the AthleteAnimalz website.
Jesse was only allowed to go to three websites on the computer. His mother had checked out each one before giving her approval. He was not allowed to deviate from the list, and once, when he’d accidentally typed in the wrong Internet address, she’d known and asked him about it the next morning. Jesse had heard a TV commercial talk about spyware. He figured his mother had some.
Jesse liked AthleteAnimalz. He liked the games, especially baseball. Course, in the world of AthleteAnimalz, it was never Jesse online, it was Homerun aka Zombie Bear. So Jesse would log in and magically become his bear. As Homerun Bear, he could then move around the site—make friends, join games, compete to collect the most points.
Jesse wanted a million points. But he was only seven, and some of the games confused him. So far, he had 121 points. Not bad, he thought. When he hit 150, he’d get a trophy. He wanted that trophy. So lately, every day after school, he logged onto AthleteAnimalz.com and played baseball. He got to join a team with other AthleteAnimalz, including some pink poodle with a soccer ball that was the best homerun hitter Jesse had ever seen. He wasn’t sure a pink poodle should be the best one at baseball, but there you had it. The world of AthleteAnimalz.
Today, he found a baseball game already in play. Each team had enough members, but you could “sit on the bench” and wait for a team to draft you. Generally, you were picked based on points. Animals with lots of points got drafted quickly. Animals with fewer points, the “rookies,” had to wait longer.
Jesse checked out both teams. Their rosters revealed a long list of monkeys, dogs, cats, bunnies, two snakes, and one hippo, with a wide range of points. Not too bad then; he’d get drafted sooner versus later, he thought. And if his team won, they’d all score ten bonus points, plus one point for every fifteen minutes they spent online. In two hours, Jesse would get that much closer to his 150-point trophy.
A box opened on the screen. A hippo with a batter’s helmet wanted to know if Jesse would join his team. Staring at the computer screen, Jesse’s eyes widened. Helmet Hippo had like a gazillion points. Like, the grandmaster of AthleteAnimalz. Jesse had played with him a couple of times before. Helmet Hippo knew all the moves. Helmet Hippo never lost.
Jesse couldn’t believe his luck.
He quickly accepted the invitation, and on screen, a little icon of his bear appeared on the baseball field. His team was currently fielding. Homerun Bear appeared in center field. Jesse could “catch” the ball by clicking on the mouse once, and throw it by using the directional arrows to aim, then click again. Catching wasn’t so bad, but throwing was more challenging for him—he had a hard time lining up his throw using the arrows. But for Helmet Hippo, he would do his best.
For Helmet Hippo, Jesse was determined to be a winner.
SOMETIME AFTER FOUR, Jesse’s mother got off the phone. She wandered into the room, but he barely noticed. Pink Poodle had appeared and immediately been drafted by the rival team. She’d already hit two home runs, and now, in the final inning, Jesse’s team was behind, six to seven, and coming up to bat. By virtue of points, Helmet Hippo was their team leader. He was urging them to be strong. They could do this!
Jesse’s mother paused behind him. “AthleteAnimalz?” she asked.
Jesse nodded absently, eyes glued to the screen. Almost his turn to hit. He was nervous. Didn’t want to let his team down.
His mother nodded at the approved website and made her way toward the kitchen. “Dinner in fifteen, Jesse.”