“In the context of mid-to-late adolescence, a ‘third space’ refers to any recreational area (outside of the home and school) that is (1) free to access and (2) primarily marketed to the teen-aged while being available to the general public. Traditional third spaces, such as parks, arcades, and commercial parking lots, have been plentiful as well as wholly acceptable in the eyes of the public for decades, but as the twenty-first century progresses their perception has trended towards the opposite in both respects. The University of Illinois Teen Wellness Study, commissioned by the National Institute of Mental Health and distributed to over eighty thousand thirteen- to seventeen-year-olds over the course of multiple months, found that nearly sixty-three percent of adolescents in the United States do not have regular access to a third space. Move over, thirty-eight percent of adolescents from this study referenced social media, multiplayer video games, or some otherwise online community as ‘the location that best describes a third space [to them]’ (Gattamorta et. al., 36). The survey also revealed that eighty-five percent of parents of teenagers in the survey, all of which identified as Generation X, do not believe that ‘the lack of a third space [for their children] is a noteworthy problem’ (50). The findings of the University of Illinois, alongside interviews conducted by Dr. Heinrich Danzeisen of the Western Virginia University Sociology Lab (see section 3) have given me cause to believe that the transnational disappearance of third spaces in the United States over the last twenty years has, in part, led to the unprecedented rise in online gaming over the same interval.”

Dr. Halie McCombs, The Empty Green

— — — — —

Hunter, Ant, and Cece stayed in call later than their other two teammates most nights, preferring each other’s company to a black screen and deafening quiet, as well as the uneasy sleep of adolescence. After all it was summer, and there was nothing to do tomorrow save for it all again. Too often on those nights the sun would rise and Hunter, the only one without blackout curtains, would chide the others for keeping him up so late— as if playing one more game wasn’t his idea. At the moment, Ant was speaking in shrill whispers about a match three hours earlier that neither Hunter nor Cece remembered.

“All I’m saying, guys, is that they played so strange. They always had some sixth sense for whatever site I was on, and the dumbest setups known to man. Bullshit, but what can you even do?”

Hunter mumbled in agreement, staring at his desktop background as Ant folded his hands behind his head and leaned in his chair. His knee knocked against the bottom of his desk, causing his webcam to shake and unfocus. It refocused, but on a stuffed duck on a nightstand behind him.

“John Mallard’s stealing your spotlight, baby” Cece giggled. Her and Ant could be together one week and broken up the next, but regardless she only referred to him by weird pet names. Hunter knew that baby was tame by her standards and the world’s, but who wanted to be compared to a drooling toddler? It’s the same with the word cute, he thought: reserved for children and small animals. When he got his first girlfriend, he’d call her something sophisticated. Romantic. Not baby.

Cece went on giggling as Ant waved his hand in front of the camera to refocus it. This took several attempts as the lens locked onto his anime posters and stuffed animals before settling on his dark eyes and scowl. Sighing, he wiped his glasses on his shirt and pushed the bridge back onto his upturned nose with his pointer finger.

“Anyways, you guys have any summer plans yet?”

“No” said Hunter.

“Not until move-in at least” said Cece. The advent of college, a word moreso than a place for Hunter, was the only thing that reminded him of the age difference between them. Two years and two months for her and him, two years and five months for her and Ant. Like college, it sat in the background most of the time; they all got along well enough.

“Has it set in yet?” Ant asked, nursing his knee.

“God no,” she crossed her arms theatrically. “And I’m ready to spend the next two months making sure it doesn’t.”

            “I’m telling you guys, we lock in and we’re hitting diamond soon. That’s when we’ll plan the group trip,” Ant said with a triumphant smile.

Hunter’s least favorite aspect of online games were random teammates. They were always loud, or trolls, or racist, or narcissistic, or too drunk or high to properly play, or blasting music into their microphone, or just plain bad. That’s why the five of them being together was so important to him— games were always five versus five, so if even one of them were missing, they’d be replaced by whoever by the system. Of course, queueing as a group of five meant they pretty much always played against other groups of five, who are more coordinated than five people who joined solo being thrown together, but that’s how it is. Ant would say something about how facing stronger opponents inspires them to play better and coordinate more themselves.

Even though most random solo-queuers aren’t great, Hunter couldn’t complain too much because it is how they met Jordan and Trip. They were a random duo that Hunter, Ant and Cece played with once. They won that first game together easily, Ant insisted on sending them friend requests, and Hunter didn’t go to bed until four in the morning. He was glad to have a buffer between him and Ant and Cece, who’s doting-bordering-on-horniness at the time was a lot to handle outside of trying to win a video game. For two weeks all the five of them did was eat, sleep and play, until one day after their fourth win in a row Hunter heard fanfare and saw Congratulations! You are now Platinum rank! across his screen. He temporarily forgot that it was the middle of the night on a Wednesday and woke both of his parents up. A second rank-up in six months would cement them as the greatest teammates ever; the joke was that when it happened, they were going to meet up in-person and have a huge party with streamers and cake. Even though Hunter knew the rank up didn’t mean that much in the long run (Ten Tips to Improve Your Aim In Shooters tip eight, to his dismay, noted that there was no perceivable difference between the best player in one rank and the worst one in the next) he wouldn’t be deterred.

As the night wore on, the three of them chatted for a while about the game, about skills they needed to improve on, the streamers they watched when they weren’t playing themselves, and the cosmetics they’d buy if they became a pro team and got rich (Trip was the only one of them that spent any money on the free-to-play game). After a while Ant got up to use the bathroom, leaving Hunter and Cece alone in a usual semi-awkward silence.

Hunter was not sure how Cece was going to pack for college if the rest of her bedroom was as jam-packed as her webcam background. A wooden cabinet backlit with LEDs took up a majority of the space. Each shelf was filled with various trinkets—figurines, loose keychains, books ranging from manga to psychology textbooks, Legos, colorful rocks—all squished together with no obvious organization. On either side of the cabinet suspended on the wall were records, artists that Hunter didn’t know but that felt recognizable enough that he was always embarrassed to ask about. Under those were neon display signs that matched the LEDs, and under those were piles of clothes. As far as he knew, Cece exclusively wore tank tops and large sweatshirts, so the khaki always sticking out at the bottom came as a surprise the first time he noticed it. The piles never got bigger or smaller, but they periodically changed colors; were there eighteen-year-olds that didn’t do their own laundry? Hunter’s parents were strict about that. He watched Cece kick a pair of sweatpants into the pile, then fumble with the shoelace that got caught under her chair. After a minute or so she looked up at him, he posed a question he’d been thinking about.

“Hey, Cece, can I ask you something personal?”

She blew a strand of hair away from her face. “What’s up?”

He paused for a moment. “When you go to college, are you and Ant gonna break up?”

It took a bit of effort to leave off the word again. He expected her to get mad at him, but she only spun back and forth in her chair for a few moments.

“I’m not sure.” Tentatively, then again. “I’m not sure.”

Even though she didn’t get mad, he still regretted the question. Ant and Cece were both touchy about the on-again-off-again nature of their relationship, but Hunter realized long ago that if he wanted the truth about how they were doing, he’d have to go to Cece. She was the more reasonable, less love-addled one. The older one, he thought. As his mouth opened to form an apology Ant returned, and hearing silence as opportunity he launched into a rant about upcoming patch notes that had just been leaked. He shared the link in the chat, and in opening it Hunter saw that he had a direct message; it was from Cece, who told him not to tell Ant about what she said. “For me,” it ended. He felt a little confused. Nervous, even though nothing had gone wrong. His weariness caught up to him in that moment, and he sat staring at Cece and Ant’s adjacent little squares in which they smiled and nodded at each other. Soon after, the sun peeked in through his blinds and he went to bed.

— — — — —

Chat between Orion91 and S1rAnthony

S1rAnthony: Orion.

Orion91: whats up Ant

S1rAnthony: Are you free tomorrow? Between 1500 and 1700.

Orion91: tomorrow today or tomorrow nonday

Orion91: monday

S1rAnthony: Today, but Monday would also be acceptable should your time be pre-delegated today.

Orion91: also you should hop in vc, trip jordan and i are watching a stream

S1rAnthony: Are you free then Hunter?

Orion91: yeah

S1rAnthony: Perfect. See you soon, then.

S1rAnthony: Also, don’t mention this conversation to 3d or ace. It’s a surprise.

Orion91 reacted [Thumbs Up] to a message from S1rAnthony.

— — — — —

On the way out of the house, Hunter passed by his mother in the kitchen wearing her “One Chef to Rule Them All” apron that he got her for her birthday. Something was sizzling on the stove, and there were eggs on a plate on the counter. One of the yolks ran. The microwave was tilted open towards him, and the clock read two thirty.

“Hi sweetie!” Her voice had that chipper, post-coffee quality to it. There was bacon in the pan that she showed off before grabbing tongs from the side of the drying rack. “I’m making bacon egg and cheese. Do you want one?”

As tempting as it was Ant would probably be at the park by now. He had a thing about punctuality. "No thanks, I'm about to head out."

"Oh? Where to? Certainly not to go see one of your internet friends again.” Bacon sizzled.

Internet friends to her were indistinguishable; Cece and random ranked teammates alike were just names on a screen. However, she was talking about a time when Hunter was in middle school and an online friend told him about a gaming convention that was taking place in the next town over. He begged his mom to let him go, clasped his hands together for a full week, did every chore he perpetually avoided until she relented and spent half and hour driving to what was very clearly an abandoned warehouse. His “friend” blocked him, and even though he had the wherewithal to apologize and leave the warehouse right away, she held it over him, he thought, any time he wanted to enjoy himself. Last week Fat Jack’s, the local comic book store, was having a sale on manga and he asked her to go. “And I bet Fat Jack was gonna be waiting for you at that warehouse. You have enough comics,” were her exact words.

“Ant and I are gonna hang out.” She didn’t particularly like Ant either, but was she going to tear away his only real friend?

“Alright then. Drink water! And be back for dinner!” she said.

“And watch your step” his dad added from the couch, rolling his eyes at the TV. Two bearded men were walking around a dense forest with guns, blowing some type of whistle. “This town’s going to shit” he added under his breath. Hunter didn’t respond, just walked down the two flights of stairs to the front door. As he closed it, the stove turned off with a tick.

Hunter forgot how much he hated being outside in summer. Opening the door hit him with a wave of muck that felt like a physical wall, and as if by instinct his hand reached to his pocket. I can’t believe Ant’s coming out in this, he thought, but as he brought his phone to eye level to unlock it he got a message.

S1rAnthony: Heat provides cover— on my way. See you in ten.

He stood on the front steps for a second, considering what they could possibly need cover from, but just shrugged and started walking. After all, Ant said and did a lot of strange things, such as texting like he’s writing an essay and being unnecessarily mysterious about meeting up. Was it really too important to be DMed? What was even important to Ant? A video game boss theme blasted in his earbuds.

 — — — — —

The heat only intensified the smell of garbage that permeated the neighborhood, a growing problem as of late. Every single trash can was packed with sacks and scraps and boxes and pieces of things, and every curb was collecting flies. Walking in the middle of the street helped somewhat. In February, the garbage people went on strike in protest of low wages and the city refused to do anything about it. Some families, like Hunter’s, drove their trash to the collection site themselves once a week, but most didn’t care enough to make the hour-long round trip. Or couldn’t, as the dump was only open during regular working hours, and even that was only because the owner of the site worked three four-hour shifts a week himself with his daughter-in-law. The strike was the only thing his family and neighbors and teachers talked about, but nothing would truly alleviate the smell. Hunter thought of Cece, away at college in some far-off place.

It took about ten minutes for him to reach the local park, where Ant had requested they meet. Rather, Ant DMed him a set of coordinates that took him to the local park, but there wasn’t any other place in town that wasn’t knee-deep in trash or no loitering. Hunter looked around and spotted Ant staring him down at a bench by the dog water fountain. He made a peace sign with his right hand and Hunter reciprocated by making his own, then bending fingers as if making air quotes, before sitting down beside him. That was their secret symbol, a greeting they came up with in fourth grade to determine if they were the friends they’d always been. Secretly, Hunter thought that if he’d truly been cloned, the hand signal wouldn’t do anything because in the movies and TV, clones usually retained your memories and would know what to do. But then, if a clone shares your physical body and lived experience, is it really any different than you? Trip and him had spent an exhaustive two hours discussing this scenario after binge-watching old cartoons on call, and decided that should they be cloned and have to kill one copies of themselves, they’d accept death and live life as the real one. Whatever real means at that point.

            Ant fit the stereotype of chronically online gamer to a tee. He always had some type of crumb stuck to his chin, where there was a stubble that he insisted would grow into a luscious (his word) beard with time. He wore a graphic tee, cargo shorts and his thick circle-rimmed glasses that he loved to push up with two fingers for effect, to seem smart. It wasn’t obnoxious, though, because he was smart: he got great grades, had a girlfriend and was always playing at the strategist in online games. Hunter respected him for it, for the pride he had in his interests. Still, he was different in public than behind a computer screen. His voice was always a little too quiet or too loud, and even in a town that stank to high heaven he stood out just a little bit.

“So, Orion, I must first inform you that Cece and I are once again e-boyfriend and e-girlfriend.”

Not a surprise, considering how they were whispering sweet nothings in the VC the other night. Hunter began to voice obligatory congratulations, but Ant cut him off. “In addition, we are celebrating our anniversary at the end of the summer. The fifteenth of August. Summer transforms into fall, as does my love ever grow. I was thinking that no gift would be more apt than my presence, especially right before she departs.” A pleased smile curled on the ends of his lips.

“Like a cardboard cutout of you? That’s silly but she might want a real gift too.”

Ant just kept staring at him.

“What like you’re gonna drive there? That’s...” he took out his phone and plugged Springfield, Illinois into his map, let it load while Ant still didn’t move, then put the screen up. “...thirteen hours. That’s not going to happen.” What he meant to say was, there’s no way your parents would let that happen. His wouldn’t— they don’t want him to get a license, let alone a car. Though if any parents would, it would be his. “And flights are too expensive in addition to not happening,” he added.

“Well I was thinking,” now Ant pulled out his phone, which was opened to their group’s private server. He had made a group chat, accessible only to two of them, titled Group Trip Secret Plans. He must’ve made it while he was waiting for him to show up, Hunter thought. He was suddenly aware of his body, as if it came into existence at that moment, and sat up straight. He felt vaguely insulted, but at least Ant knew him enough to propose this in person, where he can’t hang up. Hunter knew enough about him to know that this was serious.

“You heard what I said right? And you want to just fly Jordan and Trip out, too?”

“Whether or not 3D or Ace want to join isn’t as important. That why it’s our plan. I know it’s a long shot, but you said it yourself— you don’t have a lot to do this summer. Let’s make some money and maybe we can plan something for August.”

For a full minute Hunter listed off reasons why it wouldn’t work, why it’s something they joke about and why Ant was stupid. Ant sat and listened. Nodded a lot. He’d thought about this a lot, clearly, and stayed silent as Hunter got a bit meaner than he’d meant to be. That his eyes didn’t leave Hunter’s was somewhat inspiring. Ant talked about luggage and parents and time and food and finally asked “Why bother? Your dad would probably bring you out there if you asked him. He’d make it a father-son bonding trip.” A twinge of jealousy. He could do that.

“It has be with everyone, or at least with you, because that’s what makes it such a great gift. Plus,” Ant raised his eyebrows. “Plussss...” He tilted his head forward and down, burning a hole through his eyelids looking up. “You look constipated” Hunter replied, but he understood. Not even Hunter’s dad would let his sixteen-year-old son fly three states over to hook up with an online girlfriend he’s never even met in person. An image of the abandoned warehouse flashed in his mind. But Ant was committed as always, and Hunter knew that when he got like this, things usually worked out for him. Things usually worked out for him in general. Friend to friend, man to man, he decided to play along. When the trip didn’t work out, they’d have some money to spend.

“You’re a perv, and I’m not helping you so you can live out your weird sex fantasies in some Illinois hotel room, and I have no doubt in my mind I will never step foot out of this neighborhood, but clearly you have some plan to convince me because you wouldn’t be squirming in your seat if you didn’t. Go ahead.”