Super Fake Love Song - David Yoon Page 0,52
write up the hypothesis and conclusion stuff you said was missing,” said Gunner, eyes downcast.
So Gunner had remembered that. What was more, he’d clearly fretted over it. I found myself wanting to lift Gunner’s spirits, which blew my mind.
“Great,” I said. “Let’s look it over.”
It was like magnetic poetry assembled by mice, but worse.
Once again, I found myself replacing 99.998 percent of Gunner’s original work. I saved the file, printed it, and set it down next to the model. Done.
Gunner’s eyes flicked at the door, then back. “So is it turn-in-nable now?” he murmured.
“This, young Padawan, is an A,” I said.
“Really?” said Gunner.
“Really,” I said.
Gunner hissed with triumph. “Yiss, I was hoping we’d finish early. Because I’ve been meaning to ask you about something.”
Ask me about what?
Gunner glanced at the doorway again—coast clear—and motioned toward his desk. The desk was empty but for a heavy oxblood leather blotter.
Gunner lifted the blotter. He kept it propped up like a car hood, using a ruler. Under the blotter were sheets of graph paper taped together. On the graph paper was drawn a map, and on the map were little shapes cut out of paper each no bigger than my pinky fingernail labeled CL and WZ and DW and so on.
“I’m halfway through the Tomb of Horrors,” whispered Gunner, “but I’ve been stuck at the big demon-face statue on the wall. The one with the big huge mouth, right here.”
And Gunner put his big finger on a hand-drawn map.
I was stunned. “Since when the hell do you play D&D?” I blurted.
“I don’t,” said Gunner instantly.
I looked the map. Sure enough, it was still there.
“But you are playing,” I said. “The Tomb of Horrors is widely acknowledged to be the most difficult module ever created by D&D inventor Gary Gygax, and you just asked me for help.”
“I’ve been playing using single-player guides online, which isn’t perfect, but,” said Gunner, “I think it’s pretty fun.”
My mind continued to boggle along all six degrees of freedom. I glanced at the cell model, then at the paper map, then at Gunner.
Gunner hesitated, then spoke. “I heard you guys talking about the Tomb at track.”
My memory fast-rewound four months, five months, almost a year. Jamal had been complaining that the Tomb of Horrors was too hard, and therefore flawed. Milo and I disagreed, and called it a masterpiece.
“You heard that?” I said now. “You remembered that?”
Gunner nodded. “So then last week I was in some nerd shop at some mall, and I saw it on the shelf,” he said. “You and Milo and Jamal are always tight, always laughing and stuff, but then you guys also have these serious discussions, like you’re really into what you’re talking about. You’re like brothers, man.”
I wanted to smile. We were like brothers. But I could only stare at Gunner, to see what he would say next.
“I was all standing in that store in the mall,” murmured Gunner. “I was just like, What is it those guys are always talking about?”
I was confused. “You’ve been mean to me ever since I moved here. Ever since the fifth grade, dude.”
Gunner polished the corner of his desk with a big thumb over and over again. “I’m sorry I was so mean to you,” he said.
My heart was beating strangely fast. I had always fantasized about propelling Gunner with a seventeenth-level Push spell into a fathomless crevice full of lava, but this was somehow much more electrifying:
An apology!
Gunner sniffed and ahem-ed hard. I had no idea what to say. I don’t think he did, either.
“I don’t have any friends I can really talk to,” said Gunner finally. “With the guys, it’s always training, or girls, or cars. Do you know how much we talk about friggin’ training? Or girls? Or cars?”
I was struck by his melancholy. “That sucks,” I found myself saying. I looked at the football trophies on his dresser. I realized they had all been turned to face the wall.
“So anyway, I just wanted to know if I should climb into the mouth, or what,” he said. “I guess I could look it up online.”
I could not believe I was saying this, but here I was. “No fun in that, though, right?”
Gunner smiled. “I figured you’d be the guy to talk to.”
“Huh,” I said.
“I’m really sorry, man,” said Gunner.
I noticed sparse decorations tacked on the opposite wall.
FOOTBALL STAR IN TRAINING!
EXCELLENCE: DRIVEN NOT GIVEN
“Uh,” I said. “Apology accepted.”
IT’S NOT HOW BIG YOU ARE IT’S HOW BIG YOU PLAY
I turned to Gunner’s amateurish game board