Day 1
Let’s face it: I’m nobody. I live by one rule, and one rule only. No lying, no hiding. Them popular kids can have 50 billion rules. Not me.
So it’s no surprise nobody knows my name, even though it’s the first day. I should probably cut everyone some slack. Pinewood High is a gigantic school. Middle school, in G-Max form. But I mean, kids who went to my middle school-and elementary school!- are here, and they don’t know who I am.
I’m Jaimie, BTW. Don’t know if that name means anything to you. But it means something to me-it’s my stupid name. I look like nobody, too. Braces, straight C’s, ratty black hair, acne, glasses and loose jeans. Your average high school dipwad.
I fly below the radar with everyone. I don’t follow trends, but I’m so unpopular, the popular folks couldn’t care less. I was one person, what could I possibly do to upset their regime?
Day 2
Day 1 at high school sucked, but I kind of expected that. School was never stellar for me, and it was easier to have low expectations. It was a lot like middle school, but bigger and meaner.
It took me like 15 minutes to find my locker. And the minute I cracked it open, a jerk (whose name I would later learn was Dorothy) kicked me in the side. Then she hopped back a step, clutching her sparkly-heeled foot in mock pain. Her posse broke into helpless, high-pitched laughter. Seriously. It sounded like one of those screaming goat videos on YouTube.
I, meanwhile, was in actual agony. Why the heck were girls’ shoes so pointy? But I knew that the meanest girls jumped on any sign of weakness. So I simply dumped my crap and stood….
….And banged my head on the locker above me.
“Oh my God, are you okay?!”
I rubbed my head. Nothing nasty. Then I realized the voice was male. While the girls behind me shrieked with laughter, I took the offered hand and got to my feet, collecting scattered notebooks and paper like a deck of cards. I was fairly certain that my face was on fire. Hey, anyone got a fire extinguisher?
“Here, lemme help you out,” said the Unfamiliar High School Dude.
He bent and helped me collect my junk. On closer inspection, he was actually pretty cute…
Nonononono. I shook my head to clear the thought. I was straight, I was straight, I was straight!
The guy gave me a sheepish smile, “Sorry about that, man.”
“No damage done,” I said, letting him off the hook. He blew out a breath, relieved. I had my books in my arms and I probably needed to get to class, but my feet seemed glued to the tiled floor.
“Oh, hey, what’s your name?” said the guy.
“It’s Jaimie.. Why?”
“I wanted to know my victim,” the guy deadpanned. I snickered. “You can call me Denner, BTW,” added the now-identified Denner.
“So that I can know my attacker?”
He pointed at me, “Bingo!”
The warning bell rang over our heads.
“Maybe I’ll see you in class,” said Denner, with a smirk.
“Maybe,” I repeated.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By lunchtime, I was pretty sure my day couldn’t get any worse. Every single one of my teachers put me in the front row, meaning I would have to answer a load of questions and be subject to class demonstrations. Either my grades would sink further or I’d become-horror of horrors!-a teacher’s pet.
And one of those outcomes would get me noticed. In a bad way. By the popular kids.
Gag.
I smelled my parents’ fingers all over this mess. At least the Denner guy was almost always in the class and sitting around me.
We took turns making faces at each other, like save me. He was nice. I decided maybe we could be buddies. Before lunch, I had all my worst classes. Geometry, biology, history, etcetera.
After lunch…well, I’d just have to wait and see.
“Hey, man,” Denner slid next to me at lunch.
I looked up from the enthralling activity of pushing my mashed potatoes around my tray. “You’re alone?”
He chuckled, “Not a whole lot of people want to sit with the kid who plays D&D in his spare time.”
Now I was genuinely interested, “What’s D&D?”
He looked at me in mock horror, “We have much work to do, my young apprentice.”
He really tried to keep a straight face. He stopped trying after like 2 seconds and busted out laughing. I snickered.
“I’m a Pokemon nerd,” I explained. “Not a….whatever-you-called-it nerd.”
This only made him laugh harder, and soon tears pooled in his eyes and he clutched his sides like they were splitting.
After he calmed down. “No pressure, Jaimie, but you really need to hear about D&D. That’s short for Dungeons and Dragons.”
I raised an eyebrow.
He rolled his eyes, “It’s not a video game. It’s called a tabletop, or pen-and-paper game. “
“Okay…”
“It’s kinda like make-believe. There are two types of people you need to play the game. Players, and the DM, or Dungeon master. The DM runs the game. The players just, well, play. “
“Both sound inherently crazy.”
He nodded, “You can’t play D&D without being crazy. And if you’re not?” He leaned forward, and whispered,” Then we’ll teach you.”
I couldn’t stop laughing.
“Next session for D&D is Wednesday. At my place. You’re welcome to drop by.”
“Maybe I will.”
Day 3: Wednesday
I couldn’t believe myself. But here I was, poised to knock on Denner’s door, pencil in hand. But I wasn’t exactly going to do much else with a Wednesday afternoon. And it got me out of homework for a bit.
I sighed and thumped the door with my fist. The door opened immediately. A thin woman, with brown-and-silver braids. She tilted her head.
“Hello, young man.”
“Erm, I’m here for a…D&D session,” I stammered.
A warm smile appeared on her face, “Come on in. Denner’s in the living room.”
She guided me down the hall and to the right.
My jaw hit the floor when I saw the living room.
It was, in short, epic.
The lights were off, and afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows. Posters adorned the walls. A large, cushy couch had its back to the doorway and faced a round mahogany table, strewn with papers. Across from the couch was an ancient recliner. The occupants seemed to be having a heated argument with each other, but mostly with their…DM?
I nearly jumped out of my skin when Denner’s mother hollered, “BOYS AND GIRLS!”
The squabbling immediately quieted.
“Hi,” I raised my hand in greeting. The occupant of the recliner looked up from a notebook. Denner!
“Look who decided to show up!” he cheered. Then, reading the confused looks on his friends’ faces, he introduced us.
“Jaimie, meet Carl-” He pointed at a short African boy in plaid with too-big glasses that kept falling down his nose.
“Moritz-” He gestured to a tall, thin guy in jeans and a faded Space Invaders T-shirt.
“Jenn-” He nodded to a girl built like a tank who had thick black hair and wide almond eyes.
“Ayn-” He tipped his head toward a silent girl with neon yellow leg warmers.
“And can’t forget Pilze!” he grinned at Moritz and added,” Moritz’s dog. He’s German. Pilze means mushrooms in German.”
I couldn’t help but smile at this little group. I entered the room and took a seat on the couch between Carl and Moritz.
“Is he new?” Jenn asked. She turned to me. “Have you made a character yet?”
“Ummmm…..”
“No,” Denner answered. “Guys, go raid the kitchen, I gotta talk to Jaimie.”
They left us alone.
“Hey, man,” said Denner. “Thanks for making an appearance.”
I shrugged.
Denner handed me a few papers. He started to talk me through them.
“This here is called your character sheet. When Jenn asked if you’d made a character, she wanted to know if you’d filled this out.”
He heaved a monstrous book from behind a screen bedecked with snarling creatures. He lowered into his lap, flipped a few pages, and turned the book to face me.
“There are different types, or classes, of characters. Like, Jenn plays a terrifying barbarian, Carl likes his wizard, Ayn has a monster of a rogue, and Mortiz is rocking his cleric. A cleric,” he added, noting my expression,” is someone who can heal people with certain magic.”
“But…Carl’s a wizard.”
“He does defensive and offensive spells, not much else,” Denner explained.
“The next thing to know is that there are different species, and within, different varieties. For example, Mortiz, Jenn, Carl and I are all human. But we come from different places and look different. Jenn’s barbarian is a tiefling. Mortiz’s cleric is a dwarf. Carl has a human wizard. Ayn plays another human.
Then you have specialties, backgrounds, your alignment, and the big 6.
The big six are dexterity, wisdom, intelligence, charisma, strength, and constitution. Different classes specialize in different parts of the big six. Jenn’s character is high on strength, low in intelligence.
Everyone’s good at something in D&D. Except intelligence. No class is exceptional in that, besides wizards. “
I snicker. Then I sobered, “I have to do all this?”
“I can help.”
“Please.”
He grinned, “We’ll aim to get it done before the next session, but, hey, no pressure.”
I watched gameplay for the rest of the afternoon.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At the end of the session, Denner pulled me aside and we sat down. The old, battered recliner complained under his weight. I perched next to him on the couch. I could smell a subtle spice…was that Italian seasoning?!
Aah..I wanted to breathe him in…
No….nonono!
He hauled a different book onto the round table. He turned it to face me. I read the title. The Player’s Handbook.
“Now,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “The real fun begins.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I left Denner’s house around seven, full of his mom’s kielbasa. The character sheet Denner had helped with was clutched in my fingers, the evening chill and the edges biting at my palm. I had his number in my phone. I was all set.
And, okay, I was happy to have the number of a friend who remembered my name and was willing to chill with me after school. I was less happy to face my parents who had blown up my phone with their texts. I didn’t want to face my homework, either.
But I couldn’t avoid it. In my house, not doing your work wasn’t an option. So I climbed up the front steps, and used my R2D2 key to open the door. I’d gotten it when I was five, but it turns out you never get too old for R2. I was met with the Authorities and their fury.
“Where have you been?” demanded my mother. You’d think she would’ve shrieked, but as it turns out, educated parents lay down the law calmly. Or semi-calmly.
“This kind of behavior is unacceptable, and you know it,” added Dad.
I could sense the anger, like you can feel really loud music. So I did my best to speak calmly.
“I apologize for worrying you. I was at a friend’s house,” I said.
That satisfied Mother. Only for a brief moment, though. “You should have texted us!”
Ah, now I knew she was really angry. When you can hear the exclamation point, you know you’re in for it.
“I was, unfortunately, quite busy. Once again, I apologize.”
I learned to talk like a well-educated kid early. I had to.
My dad was fond of saying, “Polished speech makes a polished man.”
Then my mom would flick his wrist and add, “A polished woman, as well.”
I would never use this kind of talk at school. Too many good nerds had been ripped up by the popular kids and humiliated. I wasn’t about to be one of them.
I quickly added, “Next time I will attempt to text you.”
“Don’t just attempt- do!” snapped Mom. Dad placed his hands on her shoulders, a silent message. Calm down.
I walked upstairs, not bothering to ask if I was excused. The hallway at the top of the stairs always seemed longer when I was in trouble. But I was determined to walk calmly. Really, I had basically nothing to be sorry for. I pulled out my phone once I reached the closed door at the end of the hall. I twisted the knob, opened the door, and stepped inside. I closed the door behind me. I texted Denner.
Me: Just got in trouble 4 being @ ur house
Denner: U ok?
Me: Yeah. Too full of ur mom’s sausage 4 them 2 b 2 mad
Denner: I know the feeling
Denner: I’m logging off. See u tomorrow?
Me: Yeah. See u then
