11
I perform a combo attack, which consists of my best strategies. Bombs, boomerangs, sword thrusts—all go in desperation at the little Japanese creature on the screen in front of me.
The need to win is very strong, and I wonder if it’s some primal part of my brain wanting me to be the victor in front of a female.
Whatever the reason, I throw all I have into this next attack.
It’s futile, though. It seems like the prospect of playing with a real girl is a stronger motivator for Bert than for me. Plus, he’s already better at this than I am.
He blocks my onslaught, and then, in mere moments, manages to wipe the game floor with my poor character.
He ignores the sour expression on my face as I hand him the Gameboy.
Mira and Bert begin the game, and Bert is practically beaming with excit
