sodas and what looks like a tree limb tucked under his arm. He’s kind of chunky, but he has a nice face. I bet he’s going to be one of those guys that just gets better looking as time goes by. It’s his vocabulary that needs work.
“Can I get some help with this shit?” he yells.
I get out of the car and take one of the cases of sodas. Logan pops the trunk so we can stash them back there. That’s when I realize what the tree limb actually is. Dan props the tip of his gigantor foam sword wrapped in duct tape on the ground. His hand is wrapped around the hilt which is next to his cheek. Dan is only an inch or two shorter than me, so, yeah, that’s a really, really long sword.
When I pull my eyes away from it, I realize he’s looking me up and down.
“Damn, girl,” he says, and I don’t hide my eye roll. “I would get in trouble for saying this if my clan ever found out, but you look freaking fine tonight.”
I cross my arms. “Wait, your clan? What are you?”
“What?” he yells in the deepest voice he can manage. “I take offense to your ignorance, elfling.” He tries to brandish his sword, but it knocks against the car.
“Who are you calling ‘elfling’? I’m over two hundred years old.”
“Bah, that’s a drop in the bucket for a dwarf. You will regret—”
“Hey,” Logan says as he leans over the top of his car. “No gaming outside of the venue without a sanctioned game master. Leave her alone, Dan.”
“Chill out, dude. I was just having some fun,” he says, then turns to me. “Way to stick up for yourself. When you’re a new player at these things, you must prepare to be tested.”
“Thanks,” I say, feeling extremely proud of myself.
“I have just one more thing to say to you, elf.”
“Oh yeah, what’s that, dwarf?”
“Shotgun!” Dan cackles as he clomps around to the front passenger door like a kid wearing his father’s boots. They look like they weigh a ton each and have spikes sticking up from the toes that are obviously just foam as well. He also has shoulder pads that have the same foam spikes pointing in all directions.
“No, dude, I veto your shotgun,” Logan says.
“Aw, come on, why?”
“Because, I’m not having that ridiculous sword knocking my rearview mirror around.”
I open the back door for Dan and give him a grand bow.
Dan gives me an evil stare. “I see what’s going on here. The Trulus sticking together. It’s racist, that’s what it is!”
#13
“I can’t believe everyone has to play with a new character this year. I’ve been playing Craytor for like two years. He’s such a badass now,” Dan says as he leans forward and props his elbows on our seats.
“I think it’s a great idea,” Logan says. “We need some new blood, and people never stick around long if their new characters can’t hang with the more experienced ones. Besides, you’ll be able to bring Craytor back three times over the summer, I think.”
“Why is Craytor such a badass?” I ask.
“Your character gets points for every game session they participate in,” Dan says. “Plus, there’s a chance for bonus points if you do some extra special stuff during a game. You can then use those points to increase attributes or powers or buy items. And Craytor was the man last year. Remember when I took down that chimera all by myself, dude, while all you guys decided to run and—”
“Yes, I remember. I was there. And you’ve told me the story about a million times since then,” Logan says.
“Well, it’s like my dear old grandma always says, ‘If you never get told you’re a wuss, you’ll always be a wuss,’” Dan says.
“I know your grandma, and she would never say that,” Logan says.
“Hey, my MeeMaw is a tough old bird. Don’t underestimate her.”
I swear, these two fight like a married couple. When we get to the gaming venue—which turns out to be just the backyard of the game master’s house—the butterflies that have been building in my stomach turn into a swarm of angry pixies.
Logan and Dan get out of the car to get the sodas from the trunk, but I stay put. There are so many people here we had to park on the side of the road. All types of otherworldly creatures meander around the house.
How could I ever have considered this? I have no idea how to