Chapter 7 - Chapter 7: Sponsors, Mishaps, and Calming Tea

The buzz of their two back-to-back wins lingered all week, turning Tom's Café into a makeshift Thunderclap headquarters. Old Tom had even hung a crumpled neon sign above their corner table that read "THUNDERCLAP ONLY—NO BLAZE BOYS ALLOWED," which Lena insisted on kissing every time she walked in. But beneath the laughter and candy-fueled excitement, the reality of preparing for the finals started to sink in—they needed more practice, better equipment, and maybe even a sponsor to cover the tournament entry fee."I talked to a sponsor," Sofia said, bursting through the café door on Monday afternoon. She was dressed in a crisp blazer, a stark contrast to the team's casual hoodies and jerseys, and held a folder full of papers. "A small gaming peripheral company—GearUp. They're willing to cover our entry fee and give us new controllers… but there's a catch."Lena, who was mid-bite of a gummy bear, perked up. "A catch? Like… we have to wear neon pink jerseys? I'm in! Or do we have to drink their energy drinks? I can do that! As long as they give me a neon pink sniper rifle—""No neon pink anything," Sofia said, cutting her off with a smile. "They want us to change our team name. 'Thunderclap' is 'too generic,' they said. They want something that ties into their brand—like 'GearUp Warriors' or 'Peripheral Predators.'"The table went quiet. Jesse's smile faded, and he twisted his blue mouse pad nervously. "But… Thunderclap is our name. We picked it. Together." Marcus nodded vigorously, pushing his glasses up. "Yeah! It's perfect. It's loud, it's chaotic, it's us. 'Peripheral Predators' sounds like a team of robots. Or Marcus's lab rats.""Hey!" Marcus protested, but he was smiling. "My lab rats have better names than that. Like Test Subject #7. He's very brave."Olivia crossed her arms, her expression serious. "We don't need a sponsor that makes us change who we are. We can pay the entry fee ourselves. I have savings from my part-time job. It's not much, but—""We're not splitting the fee," Elias said, leaning back in his chair. His wrist was wrapped in a new bandage—Sofia had bought him a professional one, scolding him for using Old Tom's "ancient first-aid kit." "Sofia, tell GearUp we'll keep our name. If they don't like it, we'll find another sponsor. Or we'll figure it out. But we're the Thunderclap. No exceptions."Sofia grinned, closing her folder. "Good. I was hoping you'd say that. I already told them I'd get back to them—but I secretly hated 'Peripheral Predators' too. Okay, plan B: I'll reach out to other small companies. In the meantime, we focus on practice. And Lena? Stop kissing the neon sign. It's covered in dust."Lena pouted, but she stopped leaning toward the sign. "Fine. But if we don't get a sponsor, I'm selling my bike. It's old anyway. And it has a flat tire. Again." That was the first of many small twists and turns that week. On Tuesday, Lena decided to "spice up practice" by signing them up for a last-minute online warm-up match against a team of professional players. They lost 10-1, and Olivia yelled at Lena for 20 minutes straight (Lena responded by singing off-key to annoy her). On Wednesday, Jesse's calming kit went missing—turns out, Old Tom's cat had stolen his stress ball and hidden it under the counter. On Thursday, Marcus accidentally spilled his chamomile tea on his laptop (Jesse insisted on sharing his, even though it tasted like grass), and on Friday, their monitors started glitching, making the in-game characters look like blurry blobs."This is a disaster," Olivia groaned on Friday afternoon, slamming her controller down. The monitor in front of her was flickering, and her defender character was stuck in a loop, spinning in circles. "We're gonna lose the finals because our equipment is broken. And Lena keeps signing us up for stupid warm-up matches. And Jesse's cat-stolen stress ball is probably cursed. And—" Breathe, Olivia," Elias said, trying not to laugh. He'd spent 10 minutes fixing his own monitor, only to have it glitch again. "It's not a disaster. It's… character building. And Old Tom said he'd fix the monitors. He used to fix TVs back in the day. Probably."Old Tom poked his head around the counter, a screwdriver in his hand. "Hey! I fixed TVs for 30 years! These monitors are just fancy TVs with keyboards. I'll have 'em working in 10 minutes. And for the love of God, kid—stop feeding my cat your stress balls. He's getting fat."Jesse blushed. "Sorry, Mr. Tom. I didn't know he liked them. He looked sad. Like he needed a friend. Or a chew toy."Marcus, who was typing on his (now dry) laptop, looked up. "Good news! I found a study that says chamomile tea actually doesn't help with anxiety. It's just a placebo. But it tastes better than grass if you add honey. Want some? I brought extra."Jesse shook his head. "No thanks. I'll stick to my blue mouse pads. And my stress ball. The one that's not cursed. Old Tom found it under the counter. It has cat teeth marks, but it's okay." He held up the chewed stress ball, looking proud.Lena, who'd been quiet (for once), slid a crumpled piece of paper across the table. "I'm sorry for signing us up for that stupid warm-up match. And for spilling soda on Jesse's mouse pad. And for eating Marcus's gummy bears. I made this." It was a drawing of the Thunderclap team—Lena was in neon pink, Jesse had two mouse pads, Marcus was holding a textbook, Olivia was scowling, Elias was smiling, and Old Tom's cat was sitting on top of the neon sign. At the bottom, in big neon pink letters, it said "THUNDERCLAP FOREVER."Olivia stared at the drawing, her expression softening. "It's… terrible. Your drawing skills are worse than my little cousin's. But… thanks. And I'm sorry for yelling at you. A lot."Marcus grinned, taking the drawing. "I'm gonna tape this to my laptop. Right next to Test Subject #7's photo. It's perfect. Even if Lena's head is bigger than her body."Jesse laughed, high-fiving Lena. "It's awesome! Can you draw me with three mouse pads? And a blue towel? And a cup of chamomile tea? With honey?"Lena nodded, grabbing a pencil. "Sure! But only if you stop bringing two mouse pads to practice. One is enough. Probably."Elias smiled, watching his team. They were messy. They were chaotic. They had broken monitors, missing stress balls, and no sponsor. But they were laughing. They cared about each other. They were a team. More than a team—they were friends. And that, he realized, was more important than any sponsor or perfect practice session.Old Tom walked over, setting down a tray of cold sodas (no energy drinks—he said they were "bad for kids' brains"). Monitors are fixed. For now. Don't break 'em again. And Sofia called—she found a sponsor. A local bakery. They make those chocolate chip cookies you like, Jesse. They'll cover the entry fee and give us free cookies for practice. No name changes. No stupid requirements. Just… cookies."Jesse's eyes lit up. "Cookies? Free cookies? I'm in! Best sponsor ever! Better than GearUp. Better than Marcus's lab rats. Better than—""We get it, Jesse," Lena said, grinning. "Cookies are amazing. Now, can we get back to practice? I wanna beat those professional players next time. And I wanna draw Jesse with three mouse pads. And cookies. Lots of cookies."The monitors flickered to life, clear and bright. Lena launched the game client, singing off-key. Jesse grabbed his chewed stress ball and his blue mouse pad. Marcus poured himself a cup of chamomile tea (with honey). Olivia adjusted her controller, a small smile on her face. Elias rolled up his sleeves, his wrist feeling better than it had in weeks.Practice that afternoon was still messy. Lena charged in too fast (but only once). Jesse panicked (but only for a minute). Marcus forgot to drop a health pack (but he apologized profusely). Olivia yelled (but it was playful, not angry). But they laughed. They encouraged each other. They got better.As the sun set, Old Tom brought over a plate of chocolate chip cookies—courtesy of their new sponsor. The team crowded around, grabbing cookies, talking about the finals, and joking about Jake's scowl. Lena was still drawing Jesse with three mouse pads and a mountain of cookies. Jesse was munching on a cookie, his stress ball in one hand. Marcus was sipping his tea, smiling. Olivia was pretending to be annoyed, but she snuck an extra cookie into her bag.Elias took a bite of his cookie, watching them. The finals were only two days away. The Storm Riders were tough. They might lose. But right now, none of that mattered. Right now, they were the Thunderclap—messy, chaotic, imperfect, but together. And that was all they needed."Ready to beat the Storm Riders?" Lena yelled, holding up her drawing."Ready!" Everyone yelled, mouths full of cookies.Old Tom chuckled, leaning against the counter. "Kids. Gonna be the death of me. But good kids. Real good."