Zach immediately shrank back and wished he hadn’t accepted Caleb’s invitation to join them in the cafeteria.

“Chill, Nathan,” Emma said. “You don’t have to be like that.”

Nathan rolled his eyes to show his disdain for the idea of a squad tactician. But then he changed the subject. “I know the Axis squad isn’t allowed to wear those red T-shirts anymore, but all the pro teams have matching uniforms and logos. You think we should, too?”

Seated beside Zach, Caleb put his elbows on the lunch table and propped his chin in his hands thoughtfully.

“It’ll make us look more professional on the stream,” Nathan went on. “I heard that last week there were kids from other schools watching.”

Zach found that curious. Did Nathan think they were going to get famous by being in a middle school eSports club? Was Zach so sure they wouldn’t?

The match that afternoon was closer than ever. The Allied squad barely managed to win. The Axis played better and was more organized than in previous weeks. After the match, Emma asked her squad to get together online that night to review what had happened.

But that would be later. Right now, Caleb was at Zach’s house again. They were in Zach’s “workshop,” which was actually the carport next to the trailer. It was jammed with scrap wood and tools.

“Where’d you get all this stuff?” Caleb asked, gesturing at some of the larger woodworking machines.

“Bought some of it used,” Zach said. “My uncle gave me the drill press and table saw when he got new ones. He’s the one who taught me woodworking.”

That explained the homemade skateboards and furniture in Zach’s room. Caleb picked up a set of shiny screwdrivers. They didn’t look used. “Even if you got some things for free, the rest of this must’ve cost a lot.”

Zach spun the blade of the table saw with his fingertip. He started making nervous throat-clearing sounds and bit his lip. Suddenly he wouldn’t look Caleb in the eye. By now Caleb had hung around with him long enough to know why.

“I won’t tell anyone, I promise,” he said.

Zach looked out at the woods surrounding the trailer. The leaves had begun to turn yellow and red. “Wager matches.”

Wha…? Caleb almost asked Zach if he was for real, but all the tools in this workshop were proof that he was. Kids played wager matches for ten or twenty bucks at a time. A good player could make a hundred in a night. But you had to be really good because you weren’t playing against your friends, or even against kids your own age. You were playing against randoms, and if they were playing wager matches, it meant they were really, really good. But there was something else Caleb didn’t get. “If you can make money that way, why build your own furniture and skateboards? Why not just buy them?”