The Candy Shop War, Vol. 2: Arcade Catastrophe by Brandon Mull

kept making shots while it was in motion. He continued to drain one after another for three points each. When the buzzer sounded, he had not missed a single shot. He hadn’t even touched the rim. Chris had scored 92. Roman had earned 109. Nate had 140.
    A siren went off as tickets unspooled from all three basketball machines. After the tickets stopped for Chris and Roman, Nate’s kept coming.
    “I don’t believe it,” Roman said in awe. “Were you scamming me?”
    “How’d you do that?” Chris accused.
    “Didn’t seem hard, daddy,” Nate said, suppressing a smile. “The hoop is close. How’d you miss so many?”
    Chris scowled.
    “I’m not sure ‘daddy’ suits you,” Nate went on. “Maybe granddaddy?”
    “What’s your best all-time score?” Chris asked Roman.
    “A hundred and seventeen. Yours?”
    “One-ten. How’d this joker shoot 140?”
    “Maybe grandmommy?” Nate tried.
    “I was watching,” the girl said. “He was really fast, and he never missed. Not once.”
    “Let me see your hand,” Chris said, stepping close and grabbing Nate by the wrist. He apparently didn’t find what he was looking for, so he checked the other hand. Nate didn’t resist the inspection.
    “Anything?” the girl asked.
    “Nothing,” Chris replied, peering at Nate intently. “Where are you from, Nate?”
    Nate grinned. “My dad owns the company that makes these.”
    “Really?” Roman asked.
    “No,” Nate said. “I was just in the zone at the right time. I live over in Colson.”
    The tickets had stopped unreeling.
    Nate glanced down. “How many tickets were supposed to pay out for breaking the record?”
    “Three hundred,” Roman said.
    “It stopped around 230,” Nate said. He hadn’t been paying direct attention, but his instincts told him he was right. He had learned to trust his instincts while chewing Peak Performance.
    “They’ll refill it,” Chris said. “Risa, see if you can find Todd.”
    “Yes, master,” the girl replied, rolling her eyes.
    “Are you guys going to pay up?” Trevor asked.
    Chris looked reluctant, his lips pressed together. “That’s only fair, I guess. You might have been conning us, Nate, but you definitely won.” Chris handed over his token card.
    “Bad luck for me,” Roman said. “My tickets are yours. More than a thousand. That was incredible.”
    Glancing off to one side, Nate saw Summer and Pigeon approaching. They walked up to Trevor. Pigeon seemed to pay abnormal attention to Chris.
    “Hey, guys,” Summer said brightly. “What are you up to?”
    “Scamming us out of buckets of tokens,” Chris said. “Tell you what, Nate, how about you give me a chance to win my card back, double or nothing. We use the bigger machines with the full-sized balls. I like those better. If I lose, I’ll give you a card with exactly $100 in tokens on it.”
    “What are you, a millionaire?” Nate asked.
    “I made some pretty good money recently,” Chris replied. “What do you say?”
    “My shooting wasn’t a fluke,” Nate said.
    “One-forty can’t be a fluke,” Chris acknowledged. “It’s too high. It’s ridiculous. Still, give me a chance to win my card back on the bigger machines. I want to try.”
    Nate knew the Peak Performance gum would last at least another ten minutes. “Sure, why not?”
    Risa returned with a man who was presumably Todd. In his thirties, he wore black jeans and a dark T-shirt promoting a band Nate had never heard of. He had a wiry build and smelled faintly of cheese puffs. His green hair was styled into a faux hawk. One forearm sported a tattoo of a dark angel holding a pair of swords rendered in blue, purple, and black. Under his other arm he clutched a large wheel of tickets.
    “Whoa!” Todd said. “A hundred and forty? Nobody has put up a score like that since we opened.” He focused on Nate, who still stood in front of the machine. “You did this?”
    “I was in the zone,” Nate said simply.
    “You should be in the