JUNGLE KING, UNMASKED

I worked three jobs to scrape together $12,480.75 to pay for my online boyfriend's medical treatment.

Then, outside a private dining room at a restaurant, I heard him laugh and admit the medical records were fake. The money had only ever been revenge — because I weighed 240 pounds.

One of his buddies asked him, "You're throwing away a girl who actually meant it.

You're really not afraid you'll regret it?" Donovan sneered. "If I, Donovan Valentine, ever regret this, then the next time I see you I'll get down on my knees and shine your shoes right there in front of everybody." The words were barely out of his mouth when I pushed the door open.

Chapter 1 The laughter in the private dining room stopped dead. I came in with the tray, wearing the restaurant's uniform. "Excuse me.

Food for the table." For one second, every face in the room turned toward mine.

After a short, dead silence, somebody couldn't help muttering, "Damn, a girl that pretty is waiting tables?" Donovan was leaning back in his chair, the sneer still sitting on his mouth.

Then he looked up, met my eyes, and went completely still. He'd been idly playing with a lighter. The lighter had grown hot in his hand by then, and he didn't feel a thing.

Looking at him like that, I knew he hadn't recognized me. When he came to see me in secret I was still sick, and my immune system was so bad I never went out without a mask.

He probably never saw my face at all.

I'd just set down the seafood chowder when someone picked the conversation back up. "So what are you doing about that twelve grand she sent you for the medical bills?" Donovan's eyes kept following me around the room while his mouth said the ugliest thing in it. "Pay it back, obviously.

Otherwise she'll haunt me like a ghost." "But a transfer would be letting her off easy.

Every cent of it is going onto her phone as prepaid minutes." "I want her remembering what a joke she is every single time she makes a call, for the rest of her life." Something went hot and tight behind my eyes.

I pushed it back down. I finished putting the dishes out, walked out of the room, and went straight to the manager. "Grady.

That friend of mine, the one who was really sick." I paused. "He died." "And school starts soon. I'd like to quit." I was only parttime anyway.

He looked at how pale I was, didn't ask questions, and cashed me out for my last few shifts and my tips. From the restaurant I went straight to the carrier store.

Killed the number I'd been using and got a new one. I didn't want Donovan paying me back. Because that money — I'd owed it to him from the start.

My freshman year of high school, if Donovan's mother, Evelyn Pruitt, hadn't paid my way, I would have dropped out. Miss Evelyn was good to me.

Now and then she'd talk about her son, and once she showed me his picture. Then Miss Evelyn died in an accident. And Donovan dropped off the face of the earth with her.

Until my freshman year of college, when I got sick, went on steroids, and shot up to 240 pounds.

Chapter 2 Stuck at home on medical leave, I taught myself to play Wild Rift at a very high level, mostly to have something to do besides hurt.

To cover my expenses, I started streaming. Pure gameplay, no face. And then, in the middle of a ranked game on stream, I ran into Donovan. He used a photo of himself as his avatar.

I recognized him instantly. For Miss Evelyn's sake, I started carrying him up the ladder.

Little by little we went from talking about the game to talking about our lives, from late at night to the early hours of the morning. Then he asked me to date him online.

I looked at the swollen stranger in the mirror and turned him down almost before I'd thought about it. But Donovan wouldn't let it go. He kept at me for a long time.

In the end I gave in. On one condition. "Online only. We never meet." He agreed to that easily, back then. Until a few minutes ago, outside that dining room.

That was when I found out he'd already come to see me in secret.

Because my voice was sweet, he had decided that a girl who weighed 240 pounds was using a cute voice to run a con on him. So he got even.

He ran one on me — told me he was seriously ill and needed money right away to save his life. At the time I'd only just recovered.

All I could think about was that Miss Evelyn had paid my way for three full years, back when things were at their worst. She was gone. I wasn't going to let her son die.

So I worked three jobs and sent Donovan every dollar of it.

And because I ran myself into the ground for months straight, I dropped from 240 pounds back down to 125, and my face came back with it.

Thinking about it, my mouth pulled into a selfmocking twist. I honestly couldn't tell whether to laugh or be sad about it. Never mind.

I'd call it what I owed Miss Evelyn, paid back to her son. From here on out, Donovan and I had nothing to do with each other.

I was about to block him everywhere when his voice call came in first. The second I picked up, his voice came through, careless and easy. "Hey, baby.

You get to the coffee shop?" I looked down. "I already—" I was going to tell him I knew everything.

Donovan didn't give me the chance to finish. "Good, you're there." "There's something I need to tell you." "These past few months, I've been playing you." He laughed under his breath. "It's honestly kind of pathetic." "You've never even seen my face, and the second you heard I was sick you wired me everything you had." "Were you expecting me to be really touched?" "Sorry.

I just thought it was funny. Because there's nothing wrong with me. The medical records were something I threw together in Photoshop." Then Donovan went quiet.

Like he was waiting for me to cry. Or scream at him. I didn't say anything at all. After a long silence I just let out a soft breath. "I see." "Take care of yourself, okay?

Stay healthy." On the other end of the line, his breathing snagged. When he spoke again there was something rattled in his voice that he clearly hadn't noticed himself. "Hey!

Are you deaf?" "I said I was playing you!

I lied to you from the first day!" "Do you not understand English?" Listening to him crack and start yelling, I let my mouth tug up a little.

There's an armorpenetration item I love in this game. It's called Last Whisper. A heavy arrow can't punch through the armor around a heart. A whisper in the ear goes straight in.

After a short silence, Donovan said, through his teeth, "Don't think playing the poor little victim is going to make me feel bad for you." "Whatever." Chapter 3 "Send me your Zelle.

I'll give you the $12,480.75 back, plus another $12,500 on top." "Call it charity. I'm buying my way out of ever hearing from you again." The instant he finished, my thumb moved.

Hang up. Block. One clean motion. School started the first week of September. I got lucky with the room assignment and ended up in a double. My roommate's name was Stella.

Same class year as me, technically — except I was back from a year of medical leave, retaking courses, and she was an actual freshman. We didn't talk much those first few days.

She seemed to have a job off campus, out early and back late every day. Then one day I got out of class and pushed open the door with my books in my arms.

I'd expected the room to be empty like always. Instead Stella was curled up on her bed, looking helpless. I set the books down and went over. "Stella?

Are you okay?" She looked up, and her eyes lit up. "Miriam, I'm running a 102degree fever. But I have this gig I absolutely can't miss.

I've asked a bunch of people and nobody's free — could you please help me out?" "What kind of gig?" "You just go over to the basketball courts on South Campus and hand a bottle of water to some upperclassman in CS." I must have frowned, because she rushed on. "It's not like that, I swear.

Some guys pay for that kind of order just so they look popular out on the court." "Honestly, you hand him the water and you're done.

You can leave." Then her voice went small and wobbly. "If you really can't, I'll just have to drag myself over there.

Otherwise I bail on the order, and I'll never get another one out of that group again." I thought about it for a couple of seconds. "What does it pay?" Stella went visibly blank for a beat, then blinked twice, fast. "Oh!

Right, I was just about to tell you. The delivery fee is twenty, plus five for the drink, so twentyfive total. I'll Venmo you all of it, okay?" I ran the numbers in my head.

A Dasani at the campus store was a dollar fifty. Unlocking a scooter was a dollar. Half an hour of my time. Twentytwo fifty, clear profit. Not bad at all.

I nodded without dragging it out. "Fine. Send me the money and I'll go." By the time I got to the courts, the game was into the second half.

I found a spot off to the side, sat down, and opened Stella's message. [His name's Conrad Kellerman. CS major.] Then a photo.

In it, Conrad was in a black jersey, and his face was absurdly good — sharp brow bone, something cold and showy in the line of it. I raised an eyebrow at my phone.

The competition in the looks department was really this brutal now? A guy who looked like that had to pay people for attention?

While I was thinking it, a guy slid over next to me. "Hey.

Can I get your Instagram?" I smiled politely. "Sorry, no." A minute later another one came by. "What's your major?" "Computer science," I said, straight off the top of my head.

He was still working up to something else when I turned my head and looked back at the court. It didn't take long to find Conrad. He was standing outside the arc.

He went up for the shot. Nothing but net.

The sideline exploded. "Kellerman!" "Ahh, Conrad, you're so hot!" Chapter 4 I watched Conrad move up the court, and my eyes drifted to the other side.

The next second my breath stopped. Because of who was standing there. Donovan. It hit me then. He was in the CS program at Sablewood too. Oh, hell. Just my luck.

The whistle blew and the game was over. I picked up the Dasani and headed straight for Conrad.

I hadn't gone five steps before I saw him hemmed in by a circle of girls. "Kellerman, want some water?" "I got you a Gatorade!" "Conrad, this one's cold, take it—" Conrad wiped the sweat off his face.

His voice came out at a distance. "I'm good. Thanks." There was one enormous question mark going around in my head.

This guy paid someone to bring him water so he could turn it down in front of an audience? Was he really doing all that? Make it make sense.

I was about to use the crowd as cover and hand it over when a voice cut in beside me. "Hey. Do you remember me?" I turned my head.

At some point Donovan had come to stand next to me. There was a thin sheen of sweat at his temple, and something nervous and hopeful underneath his eyes.

I let a beat pass. "No." His buddy hurried over to smooth it out. "That night, the private room, you brought our food in — ringing any bells?" I didn't even bother with a polite smile. "Okay.

Did you need something?" Donovan's eyes went from my face down to the Dasani in my hand. "Could I get that wat—" "No," I said, cutting him off flat. His expression locked up.

I didn't have time for it. I went around him and walked up to Conrad. "Conrad Kellerman. You want a Dasani?" The words landed, and the space around us went quiet for a second.

Conrad's hand paused midmotion, and he looked up at me. Up close he hit harder than the photo did. I was braced for him to say no.

The man had paid good money for the untouchable act, after all. Instead he reached out — a hand with sharp, defined knuckles — and took the bottle. I blinked.

My hand pulled back on reflex, faster than my brain. Those deep, upturned eyes lifted a fraction. "Isn't it for me?" I let go, embarrassed. "It is.

It is." "Drink it, drink it." Conrad twisted the cap off and took a swallow. "Thanks." Job done. I turned and left. Behind me, though, someone's eyes stayed on my back a long time.

Hot and oppressive.

Back at the dorm, I'd barely opened the door before Stella stuck her head out from her bed, looking awkward. "Miriam, that twentyfive dollars — I need you to send it back!" I looked at her.

She bit her lip and lowered her voice. "The admin who runs the group just messaged me, and it turns out I mixed up two orders." "The water run was for Tyrell, over in the business school.

Conrad's order was for someone to take the stray cat his roommate found in to get fixed." "The admin's the one making me refund it.

There's nothing I can do." I leaned back in my chair. My voice stayed level. "No refund." "You told me to deliver water.

I delivered water." "Your mistake is yours to eat." Stella stared at me, going red, then white. She was gearing up to say something else when her phone rang again.

She answered it in a huff. "I'm sending the money back right n—" "Don't! Don't send anything back!" On the other end, the admin sounded worked up. Chapter 5 "Stella!

I just called Tyrell to apologize, and guess what?" "Tyrell says one of his boys fell for you on sight!

He wants to know if I can pass along your Instagram." Stella went blank. "Huh?" "And you will never guess who the guy is." "He's a trustfund prince!" Stella's breathing picked up. "Who?" she said, loudly.

The admin drew it out, enjoying himself. "When you went to the courts today with that water — a guy stopped you, didn't he…" That was where Stella's face changed.

She dropped the volume fast, and out of the corner of her eye she snuck a look at me. My back was to her.

I was at the other end of the room, sorting a basket of laundry I'd just brought up from the dryers. I wasn't paying any attention to what they were saying.

By the time I'd finished and turned around, Stella was hugging her phone and smiling like a girl in the first hour of a crush. A few more days of classes went by.

I looked at what was left in my account and decided to go back to my old line of work. Streaming Wild Rift. During my leave I'd streamed for a while, pure gameplay.

No camera, no mic. Single digits in the channel, yearround.

If my mechanics hadn't been good enough to pick up the occasional boosting job, I wouldn't have made back the electricity. This time I decided to try it with the mic on.

My voice runs sweet, and the champs I mained were highmechanics jungle carries, so the contrast did the work for me. A few days in, my viewer count settled in the dozens.

A few hundred dollars a month looked doable. Then one night I got a quadra on Shaco, and the chat started scrolling. [No way a girl is doing that.] [Give it up.

No female streamer has hands like that.] [Voice changer for the clout, right?] [Everybody report her.] The chat was at war with itself, and my numbers went up instead of down.

I sat with it for a day and decided to turn the camera on. No face. Just a shouldersdown crop of my upper body, plus a handcam in the corner.

The next day I wore a loose, pale hoodie with my hair down my back, and a pair of pale, thin hands appeared in the bottom left corner of the stream. Last fight before their base.

All five of them came in, my teammates went down one after another, and my Yone was on a sliver. Chat was already going. [It's over.] Then I turned on them.

Dashed off the wall, went around and onto their carry, stacked the mark and deleted him the instant it filled, then pulled the ult sideways and dragged everyone who tried to run back onto the blade.

The whole sequence was too fast to follow. When the last one dropped, the announcement detonated across the middle of the screen. [ACE.] Chat completely lost it.

After the stream ended, somebody cut the penta and put it on TikTok. It broke five hundred thousand likes overnight.

My follower count and my viewer count multiplied several times over. The DMs came in one after another after another.

And in among all the compliments and the requests to duo, one brandnew burner account was blowing up my inbox. [You've got the nerve to stream?] [A body filter cranked to eleven, and you think nobody can dig you up?] [Do you have any idea what happens to you when a real photo gets out?

They'll rip you apart.] It took me one second to know exactly who that was. Blocked. Inside of thirty seconds, Donovan was back on another burner. He was typing fast this time.

I could feel him coming apart through the screen. [Who do you think you are, blocking me?] [Number disconnected, blocked on Instagram, and now I can't even DM you!] Chapter 6 [Send me your Zelle right now!

Don't play hard to get with me.

I pay you back and we're square!] I didn't want to be tangled up with him, so I answered on purpose. [We've been square for a while.] [Also, if you keep making new accounts to bother me, I'm going to assume you can't get over me and you're chasing.] That went right where I'd aimed it, into the proud little heart of a trustfund prince.

After I blocked that account, Donovan didn't come back. I thought that was the end of it.

But the next morning, the second I opened my eyes, there was a callout post sitting under my tag on X. It was already going nuclear. I opened it.

The poster had a default avatar, and the headline was pure poison. [Come see what your sweetvoiced, handsofgod Jungle King queen actually looks like off camera!] Under it was a photo taken of me without my knowledge.

I was wearing an old, oversized set of pajamas and picking up a delivery order in a dim hallway. It only caught me from the side, and you couldn't make out my features.

But the body — all 240some pounds of it — came through perfectly clearly. Everything behind my eyes went cold. Donovan really was worse than I'd thought. There really was no floor.

By then the replies had been completely overrun. [Holy shit, a tank?] [Body filters really are unbelievable now, 240 pounds shrunk down to 110, refund me, I'm going to be sick!] [You're that big and you're still doing the cutegirl act?] Some people spoke up for me. [What does one photo prove?] [I'm waiting to hear it from Mimi herself.] The poster fired straight back underneath. [If that photo isn't her, I'll bet my whole family's lives on it.] Once that reply went up, the post climbed even faster.

I could see the whole thing about to slip out of anyone's control. I was getting ready to go live on camera and explain, once and for all. And then I saw a DM sitting in my inbox.

It was an invitation from the organizers of the Wild Rift collegiate invitational. [Hi Miriam,] [One week from now, Ashbury is hosting a collegiate tournament, with the main venue at Sablewood Arena.] [We've been following your recent momentum and your toptier play, and we'd like to formally invite you as a featured captain — you'd assemble your own roster at Sablewood and compete.] [Appearance fee is $6,000, with prize money on top of that if you place.] I counted the zeros on the contract and couldn't help smiling.

I wrote back immediately. [Sounds good. I'm in.] Once I'd sent it, I dropped the idea of going live to clear things up right away.

If I was taking an official appearance fee, the least I could do was help build some heat.

Ten minutes later I logged into my account and posted. [One week from now I'll be playing in the collegiate LAN tournament at Sablewood Arena.] [See you there.] The