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The arcade lights and sounds became an overstimulating mess. Bright colors and high-pitched sounds became a disorienting blur.
Twitch was at the tetris machine, trying to beat the highest score. She swirled the last little bit of liquid in her almost empty energy drink can as she played. Robby was looking over her shoulder, holding his breath as he watched.
Focus. You can do this, but you need to concentrate.
Her stomach felt sick. All that was in it was the energy drink and a few pieces of sour candy.
It wasn't long until Mo and Thrash moved from the singular DDR machine to watch as well.
Her stomach lurched. Even as she focused on the game, she knew exactly how many calories she had consumed. The sour candy was 100 calories, the energy drink 10. 110. That number burned in the back of her mind.
She barely processed the world around her. Her head ached.
And it wasn't long until the blocks reached the top and the game over screen showed. Just 10 points below the highest score.
Frag.
She groaned.
“You'll get it next time.”
Twitch inserted another token and started a new round. Mo and Thrash went back to the DDR machine.
The sounds of the arcade cabinets droned on. The lights all around her flickered and flashed like a sickening strobe. Her stomach tied itself in knots. Every muscle and joint in her body ached. Brain fog made the entire arcade a dreamlike haze.
No, more like an overstimulating nightmare. A constant sensory overload that left her feeling as if her head were full of sludge. Her stomach especially ached.
She somehow couldn't feel her heart beating yet knew it was racing.
She couldn't tell if Robby was still looking over her shoulder or not. She couldn't tell how long she was playing this round. Her glazed-over eyes barely processed the neon eyestrainy visuals of the machine. She didn't even know her score. All she saw was enough to move the blocks in the right positions.
She struggled a bit, her hand no longer cooperating like it should. But she managed.
Until she felt her stomach in her throat…
Dropping her empty can, she rushed from the arcade cabinet towards the nearest trash can. She wretched as mostly bile and the acidic liquid that used to be an energy drink and some candy bubbled up her throat. It burned. It tasted like how she thought battery acid might. She choked on it as it came out.
Lifting her head up from the trash can, she saw Robby giving her a concerned look.
“Twitch, you okay? Should we call mom?”
She barely made out his words, drowned out by the noisy arcade's sound amalgamation haze.
“I'll be fine. I think I just need some fresh air.”
She spoke those words without hearing what she was saying.
She drifted out of the arcade into the street outside. It was already dark, but streetlamps illuminated the benches on the sidewalk outside. The cool autumn evening chilled her through her jacket.
It was quiet. The warm glow of the streetlamp was much easier on her than the cold neon chaos of the arcade. The air was fresh rather than reeking of greasy foods, sweat and things she was pretty sure she didn't want to know.
It was especially refreshing after vomiting up what little contents her stomach had.
Her stomach still felt sick. And she felt weak and exhausted. But at least after a few breaths she was mentally present.
As she slumped back on the bench, her body felt too heavy to do much else. Her eyes scanned the area around her.
The streets were empty, but she could see in the windows of nearby businesses people eating at restaurants and merrymaking in bars.
As she watched the various people, she accidentally locked eyes with a man leaving a bar.
His dark eyes were cold, with a gaze that felt sinister.
It was unlike any she had seen before. She thought it almost like skinning someone with his eyes, removing all her outsides and looking deep inside her. If looks could kill, the bench would be a crime scene.
But then the man turned and walked away…
Did she just imagine his glare? Was it a leftover burst of anxiety from the chaotic haze of the arcade?
She noticed he had a prosthetic arm.
She now felt awkward, worried the man thought she was staring at him because of that. She knew well how people liked to stare at those things, her adoptive mother being an amputee as well.
As the man faded into the distance, she leaned her head back and rested. Deep breaths made her feel better, but she still felt heavy.
It was most likely just the fatigue, brain fog from eating so little and caffeine screwing with her. She had been closer to a panic attack this whole time than she had realized until that bout of paranoia.
She closed her eyes and counted the seconds.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five.
Before six, there was a tap on her shoulder.
“Twitch, are you sure you're okay?”
She opened her eyes and Robby was leaning over the top of the bench from the other side.
She did at least feel a bit better.
“Yeah, I'm fine. Let's go back inside.”
The arcade was still cold neon chaos, but much more tolerable after her break. But as soon they walked through the door, her bladder felt all the caffeine catch up to her.
“I need to go use the restroom real quick, I'll catch up with you in a minute.”
The women's restroom by the entrance felt like a liminal space. It smelt of bleach and lemon scented cleaner as she slipped into a stall.
She could hear the muffled sounds from the arcade echo, sounding as if they were coming from another place entirely. The sound having only been interrupted by her footsteps on the tile.
As she slipped down her underwear, she noticed a spot of blood. And then quickly proceeded to pull them back up after stuffing them with toilet paper and rushing to the tampon dispenser.
Oh frag, it's early.
She didn't have a quarter, but it seemed like the machine wasn't operational anyways. She didn't notice someone exiting a stall nearby.
“Hey kid, ya need a pad?”
Twitch turned around and saw an arcade employee with short hot pink hair washing her hands. She nodded to the employee.
“That machine has been out of order since Tuesday, but we won't get the part to fix it until tomorrow.”
After the employee dried her hands, she retrieved a pad from her fanny pack.
“I always keep extra pads with me in case someone needs one. I have some ibuprofen too if that will help.”
She retrieved two capsules of an over the counter pain medication in foil and plastic push packaging.
“Thanks…”
Twitch read her name tag.
“... Elita.”
“No problem, kid. Also do ya need me to call a parent? You're not lookin’ too good.”
The arcade worker placed the pad and pills in her hand.
“I'm fine. Thanks, though.”
Twitch pocketed the pills.
“Well, just take care of yourself, kid. Come find me at the prize counter if you need anything.”
Twitch nodded.
And as soon as she was alone in the bathroom again, she noticed her reflection in the mirror under the flickering fluorescent lights. She looked pale and sickly, like she had seen a ghost.
She went back into the stall and did her business. She appreciated Elita giving her the pad, and thankfully there wasn't much blood on her underwear and it didn't seem like there was any on her skirt.
Her stomach lurched again as she was washing her hands. She couldn't tell what was period cramps and what was the result of an energy drink and candies that are nothing but sugar and citric acid on an otherwise empty stomach.
She splashed her face with water.
Get yourself together! This was supposed to be a fun night. Don't ruin it for your siblings, be a good big sis and pull yourself together!
She left the bathroom and Mo was waiting for her outside. She grabbed Twitch's hand and led her to a table.
Robby and Thrash met them there, sitting on either side of Twitch. Mo sat across from them. Thrash put a plate with a slice of pizza in front of her, and Robby handed her a cup from the soft drinks counter.
She took a small and cautious sip, it was orange juice.
Thrash gave her an awkward grin.
“You weren't looking too good, and ya kinda did throw up earlier. We thought maybe if you ate something you'd feel better.”
Twitch fidgeted in her seat.
“Thanks, guys.”
The number 110 was still floating in the back of her mind, even if she did puke it all up. She didn't know how many calories either were.
I can't…
She looked around. Everyone was watching her with a concerned look.
Maybe I can puke this up too?
And she had already sipped the orange juice…
She took a bite of the pizza, and her stomach instantly felt so much better. And then proceeded to eat the rest of the slice so quickly you'd think she'd hadn't had a decent meal in days.
Which wasn't exactly far from the truth…
“Woah, slow down there, sis. You'll choke.”
Thrash patted her back.
“Sorry, just hungry I guess.”
Her stomach still felt a bit sick, and her head still hurt a little. She remembered the ibuprofen Elita had given her. She got it out of her jacket pocket and took it.
“What's that?”
Robby's voice sounded concerned.
Thrash and Mo also looked at her with concern as well.
“Oh, it's just ibuprofen. A lady who gave me a pad gave me some.”
“On the rag?”
“Yeah.”
“Is that why you puked earlier? Must be some wicked cramps this time to do that to ya. I was worried you had gotten sick or something.”
It wasn't, but she was glad to have the excuse. And a very believable one at that, as she does have nausea from period cramps fairly often.
They don't need to know all I had eaten before this was a couple pieces of sour candy.
She took another sip of the orange juice. The arcade felt far less overstimulating now.
Thrash tapped his fingers on the table.
“By the way, you beat the high score. When you left and the game over happened, I input your name for ya.”
Mo placed a large bundle of tickets on the table.
“I saved all your tickets for you. There's like an insane amount. This is the most tickets I've seen someone get in a single day!”
Twitch finished off her pizza.
“It's all skill.”
Her attempt at being cool made Mo laugh.
“Or it's just playing it nonstop for hours.”
“That too.”
She was feeling a lot better. And with that came the mental clarity to decide not to try purge.
Robby checked the time on his phone.
“Mom is gonna pick us up in like 20 minutes. Wanna go hit the prize counter?”
“YES! YES YES!”
Mo slid Twitch her tickets, excited to see what she'd spend so many on.
And thus they all made their way to the prize counter.
And sure enough, that's where Elita was, like she'd said.
“Hi again. Feeling better?”
“Yes, and again thank you.”
“It’s no problem. You were lookin’ pretty rough there. Glad I could help.”
“I appreciate it.”
Twitch's eyes scanned the selection of prizes.
“You here to get some prizes?”
“Yeah.”
Twitch held up her tickets.
“Woah.”
Twitch was especially eyeing the plushies.
“Can I get one of those big plush snakes?”
“Sure thing, which color you want?”
“I want the yellow and black one!”
Elita handed her the snake, and she handed over the ticket amount it costed. She draped the snake around her neck.
“I'm assuming you frequent this arcade?”
“Yeah, those three at the other side of the prize counter are my siblings.”
She pointed to where Robby, Mo and Thrash were arguing about pooling their tickets together to get a better prize.
“Interesting family ya got.”
“We come here every month because a family friend works here. I'm guessing you're new?”
“Yeah, though I'm only a temporary hire. Was new in town and a friend who works here said they needed another summer hire and I tend to just float between jobs. I prefer jobs that have a lot more physical labor, but it is a pretty fun job though. And it's right next to the gym, so when I have morning shifts I can go straight there after.”
“So you'll be here all summer?”
“That's the plan. You got a name, kid?”
“Twitch. Twitch Malto.”
Elita's face was shocked for a moment, and then one of realization.
“Ooh… You're one of the foster kids I heard that Dot adopted.”
“You know mom?”
“Yeah, I used to work with your mom and Megatron. Wait, you know Megatron, right?”
“Yeah! We’re pretty close. Do you know Bumblebee as well?”
“He's the friend who got me this job.”
“He's our family friend who works here.”
They both laughed.
“So what do you wanna do with the rest of your tickets?”
“Oh, uh…”
She looked over at her siblings, still bickering over prizes. After separating three large bundles from the mass, she went over and handed them each a bundle.
After some friendly introductions and more ticket exchanges, it was time for them to be picked up to go home. But not before everyone took Twitch to go see her high score.
“Huh, I did beat the high score. By 110 points.”
During all that happened with getting to know Elita, Twitch had forgotten about the earlier significance of that number to her.