Page 69 of Breathing Under Water

When he sees me, he moves the headphones to his neck.

“I don’t like maple syrup because it ends up touching all the foods on the plate,” he says.

“Hello, Leo. It’s so nice to see you after all this time,” I answer pointedly, and to my surprise, he seems to get the message I was trying to send.

“Hello, McKenna,” he mimics back to me. “It’s nice to see you too.”

Not gonna lie. I’m impressed.

Once I’ve said hello to my old boss, Eleni, we settle into a booth. Leo doesn’t want any food because it’s not his usual dinnertime, and I only order coffee. I still have one more container of Cup-a-Soup in my car, and prices here are sort of bougie.

“Okay, let’s hear what’s going on.”

Leo looks around us, like he wants to make sure no one’s listening.

“I got offered a job,” he says, then adds in a whisper, “from Shadow Jet Racing.”

“Awesome. What’s Shadow Jet Racing?” I ask, but he nearly jumps out of his seat.

“Shh, shh!” He looks around in a panic, but nobody’s paying any attention to us.

“Sorry.” I lower my voice to a conspiratorial whisper and repeat the question. “What’s Shadow Jet Racing?”

“They’re an underground drone racing league.”

“Okay, I seriously have no idea what you’re talking about.”

At my words, Leo launches into a lengthy explanation of drone racing leagues. Apparently that’s a thing. There are aboveboard drone racing leagues, like the aptly named Drone Racing League, where pilots race high-tech drones through specific real-world courses. Evidently it’s an emerging sport, and there’s currently a Major League Drone Racing group in development, but there are already strict regulations, standardized courses, large-scale production, and televised broadcasts. People compete for prize money, trophies, and, of course, glory. Now this, the competitive aspect, I can relate to.

Leo then explains the underground drone racing leagues, where people compete at more local levels. The courses can be more difficult because they’re unregulated, and because of this, they pose greater risk of injury to the pilots and spectators. But people like the underground racing because it’s more accessible and amateurs can get involved more easily.

“Okay, so these people want you to race for them?” I’m not surprised. I’m aware of how deeply Leo loves all things aviation and the time he’s spent building and flying his own drones.

“No, they want me to help them win.”

“Please explain.”

“I know how to hack into the software of lots of different drones. Once I’m in, I can adjust the settings to help Shadow Jet know where their competitors are in real time. I can even alter the other drone’s performance mid-flight.”

“Oh my god.”

“I know. It’s actually very interesting how this type of hacking works.” He starts giving me technical details of what he needs to do from his computer in order to infiltrate the software, but I’ve never been techy, and everything he’s saying is gibberish to me.

“Leo, this isn’t the point. You said it’s cheating, what they asked you to do.”

“Yes, it is, but I can do things with the software that no one else can.”

“I’m sure it must feel nice to be so good at something, and you probably want to show it off, but we have to think about more than just how you’d feel in the moment. Wait... How did these people even find you?”

“Through one of the Subreddits I like.”

Of course, because everything goes back to Reddit with these gamers and tech kids.

“Is it just the glory? Is that why you want to do it?” I think I can explain to him how that feeling is fleeting and how each time you win something, your mind automatically starts worrying about the next contest, the next race, the next way to prove you’re good enough.

“They said they’d pay me.”

I don’t like the sound of this at all. I’m about to say as much, but then I hear my name.