Orion claps, which is pretty cute. “Congrats, Valentino! That’s so dope.”
“We can say we knew you when,” Dalma says.
“You absolutely can. What about you both? What are your dreams?”
I’ve stopped asking people where they go to school or what they do for work. I know how bad it was making me feel when people looked down on me for not going to college, or how modeling isn’t seen as a credible profession until you’re being paid millions to smile for the camera. That will be me one day, but I have to start somewhere.
“I’m a short story writer,” Orion says.
“That’s amazing! What kind of stuff?”
“Like genre? Mostly weird fantasy stuff. Some sci-fi. One fairy tale.”
“Will you let me read some of it one day?”
Dalma laughs. “Good luck!”
Orion is the shyest I’ve seen him. “Maybe one day. I kind of keep it close.”
I suspect there’s more to that story, but I don’t want to push him. “No worries, Orion. If you ever change your mind I’d love to read something you’ve written.” I turn to Dalma. “So between the three of us we have a model, writer, and . . .”
“I’m a programmer,” Dalma says.
I honestly would’ve thought she was a model too. This is why you don’t judge a book by its cover.
“I really want to get into apps, but I haven’t cracked that code yet.”
“Is code really hard to learn?”
“Oh, no, I was talking about metaphorical code, not literal code. Literal code is easy.”
“Dalma doesn’t know what kind of app she wants to create,” Orion says.
It’s funny how even though they’re not twins, let alone siblings, Dalma and Orion’s relationship reminds me of my own with Scarlett. There’s bickering, sure, but there’s also speaking on each other’s behalf, as if there’s some magical telepathic link.
“What about a new game?” I suggest. I used to play Snake all the time on my Nokia, but since switching over to an iPhone nothing in the app store has caught my eye.
“Games are fun, but I want to create something game-changing,” Dalma says. “Honestly, I’ve been trying to figure out something from the Death-Cast angle. Something that would be timely and evergreen.”
So she’s not a Green Shirt Person. Noted.
“Uh-oh,” Dalma says.
I look around, nervous. “Uh-oh what?”
“You got silent after she mentioned Death-Cast,” Orion says.
“Do you not believe in Death-Cast?” Dalma asks.
“Let’s put it like this: I don’t think I’m going to be abducted by aliens at midnight.”
Orion laughs, and when he does, he covers his mouth with his hand and leans forward. I wonder why he’s hiding his smile. My guess would be his chipped tooth. It’s not significant, but I’ve developed an eye for noticing these things through my work. After signing with Future Star Model Management, I had my own bottom chipped tooth restored to make me more sellable. Orion could do the same with good dental insurance.
“But you don’t believe in Death-Cast,” Dalma says.
“There’s nothing to believe in,” I say. “The creator hasn’t offered any proof.”
“A lot of theories but no answers,” Dalma says.
“I think it’s some kind of magic—it’s got to be,” Orion says.