The applause hasn’t even fully died down before I lean toward Tasha. “Did you see that?” I mutter under my breath when Normality won Best Narrative. “They barely innovated. It’s derivative at best.”
Za keeps clapping, polite, composed. “Frankie.”
“One sec,” I wave her off and continue talking to Tasha. “It’s a reskin with microtransactions. Weactuallybuilt something.”
She turns to me now, brows knitting. “You don’t need to tear them down to validate your work.”
“I’m not tearing them down,” I snap, finally facing her. “I’m discussing the winnings with my co-owner.”
“You’re being mean.”
“I’m being honest.”
“Honest or bitter?” she asks.
“I’m allowed to be frustrated,” I say. “We deserved that category.”
“You can be disappointed without being dismissive. Other people worked hard too.”
“Not like we did.”
She looks at me then—really looks at me. “This is why I worry about you sometimes, you get too defensive.”
I scoff. “Oh, here we go.”
“You forget that this industry isn’t just about merit,” she continues. “It’s timing. Taste. Trends. You can’t take every loss as a personal attack.”
“I didn’t say it was personal.”
“You don’t have to,” she says gently. “You wear it on your face.”
“Girls,” Tasha says through gritted teeth. “Not now. Have you forgotten where we are? What’s wrong with you two?”
“I don’t know Frankie, what’s going on?”
This is the biggest night of my career so far and I’ve only won one award when I’m nominated for seven. Also I think I have feelings for your brother and it’s pissing me off.
That’s what’s wrong.
“Nothing. This is our last nomination.”
I turn back toward the stage just as the presenter clears his throat again.
“And the winner of the Best Debut Indie Game of the Year is…”
I sit up straighter. My pulse kicks. I actually cross my fingers. And…
“…Gotta Stack ’Em All!”
The room explodes.
High-pitched cheers. Someone behind me actually whistles like this is the second coming of Christ.
I don’t clap.
I don’t smile.
I don’t even pretend. I just… give up.
