My nerves are all
on edge as I set out dishes of tortilla chips and cans of soda on my
living-room table, poking the cans until they form a perfect line.
There's a neat stack of plates next to them along with a pad of paper
and a cup of pencils. At a right angle to the couch is a big
armchair which is going to be my Dungeon Master's "throne."
On the end table next to it, I have all my special secret books and
notes and my set of dice. Sven and Robert both agreed to bring their
own dice so, hopefully, I won't have to share.
Everything is
going insanely well. All three of the other people agreed to come,
although Mike can't be here today because he has a dentist
appointment. Jeff is the first to get here and starts creating an
elven ranger. Soon, Robert arrives and decides to be a human
warrior. This pleases me because warriors are my favorite character
class. I hope that I can persuade Sven to be a priest, so the group
will have healing abilities. But, when he arrives, he says he wants
to be a wizard.
"Please, not
that," I groan. I hate wizards. There are hundreds of spells
in the back of the rule book and I don't know what a quarter of them
are supposed to do. How can I possibly pretend I know how to be a
Dungeon Master while dealing with that. But Sven refuses to back
down. Then, to make matters worse, Robert takes a copy of the
supplemental spell encyclopedia, which I've never even seen,
out of his backpack and passes it to Sven.
"Oh, I also
have two trained rats," Sven announces. "Their names are
Bobby and Tommy and I will keep them in my belt pouch."
"Fine,"
I snap. I don't want to argue and trained rats seem pretty harmless.
Soon, we get
tired of waiting for Linus and begin. The adventure starts in
Robert's hometown. Sven is traveling through and Jeff is hiding out
in the forest nearby.
"You see a
band of scruffy men coming along the road as you are working in your
fields," I tell Robert. "There are about four of them.
They are wearing armor and carrying packs and they seems to be
heading straight for your farm."
"I put down
my hoe and strap on my sword before I go out to meet them," he
replies.
Sven giggles.
"What were you doing with your ho before you put her down?"
Robert glares at
him. "It’s a piece of farm equipment," he snaps.
"Yea, Sven."
Jeff smirks, elbowing him in the ribs. "Don't you know
anything?" Jeff looks like he didn't really know what a
hoe was either. I feel my face grow hot. I hate this kind of sexual
joke because, to me, sex, or the nebulous concept that passes for sex
in my sixteen-year-old mind, is not a joking matter. I do know how
the physical mechanics of sex work, but I choose to ignore them. Who
cares? In terms of physical mechanics, sex isn’t really that
different from sticking a pencil into a pencil sharpener and what’s
so interesting about that? It’s what goes on in the head that
makes it important and they don’t teach you about that part. Thank
god, Robert is pissed, not amused. I decide that I don't really
think much of Kendra's lover and make a mental note to remember the
incident so I can make fun of her about it later.
Predictably, the
men antagonize Robert and he attacks them. Sven "just happens"
to be walking by and joins in. Jeff was already following the men
because they killed his favorite bear. In the middle of the battle,
Linus finally arrives. It takes less than five minutes for the
others to brow beat him into playing a priest and then for him to
create the character and join the battle. They win the fight, but
two of the men escape into the woods. As he is dying, the leader
tells them that Master Garenmoth will make them suffer when he finds
out what they've done. So, now they are trying to track down the
escaped men before they can reach Master Garenmoth, whoever he is.
I'll be honest, I don't really know myself. The name sounded
sufficiently threatening, so I used it, but I never bothered to
decide what Garenmoth actually does that makes him so scary.
I'll make sure they don't actually meet him for a few weeks. I
should have thought of something by then.
By the time the
game breaks up--right after Jeff gets everyone lost in the forest--
I'm exhausted, but I feel so good. Yes, Sven was annoying and Jeff
and I got in a fight about the rules for his tracking skills
(actually I forgot what they were). But, on the whole, everything
went well. Yes. I can do this.
***********
Kendra and I are
eating from a large bowl of nachos. "I think we should have put
more cheese on them this time," I say, nibbling the end of one
critically. "More cheese and less beans."
"I don't
know, this cheese is salty," she says as she puts her feet up on
the couch.
"So we
should have used better cheese, not less." For once, we've
agreed on a movie to watch. It has ancient prophecies and sword
fighting, which I like, and lots of shirtless guys, which Kendra
likes. Right now, the hero is in a bath getting waited on by a
couple of harem girls. Kendra is rambling on about the scene so I
assume she's enjoying it. But, gradually, I become aware that she's
relating it to Sven and I politely suppress my gag reflex and am
careful to stop listening.
Sometime later, after the hero's put
his clothes back on, she pokes me. "Penelope, how was your
week?"
"You don't
want to know," I say, not quite sure whether I feel teasing or
resentful.
"I take it
that means you were playing Dungeons and Dragons. I don't need a
detailed summary but I hope you had a good time."
"Pretty
much. But your lover was a massive pain, as usual."
"I'm not
responsible for him," she says, like she's offended but, at the
same time, she gets that look again. "No one can control
him," she murmurs and I quickly register the location of the
bathroom so I can get there fast if I'm about to lose my lunch.
"Robert was
very clever at solving the complicated puzzle I made up," I say,
attempting to save the conversation. Kendra doesn't take the bait
and I become vengeful. "Sven was no help at all. Less
than no help, actually." Kendra pays no attention and starts
launching into one of her moony remembrances about Sven. I tune out.
I've heard them all so many times before. It might be the story
about the time she wrote romantic/suggestive lyrics from a popular
song on piece of paper, folded it up, and told him it was about him.
So, he stole the paper from her during break and they spent a long
time fighting over it. I think she got it back before he read it.
Or, maybe, it’s the one about how they had a phone conversation
while she was in the bath. Or was he in the bath? Or both of them?
Who cares?
And then,
perhaps, she's remembering the Event itself, the time she just
reached out and planted a kiss on him. I think they were behind the
shelves in the back of the library. And then, the next day, they hid
under the stairs and kissed again…for a…long…time. If I paid
better attention, I could tell you exactly how long each kiss lasted
and exactly where their hands were at each moment. I know Kendra's
given me the information on multiple occasions but I can never really
listen. The story upsets me too much.
First of all, I'm
jealous. I know I'm not attractive and if I tried that stunt on
anybody they would push me away. Second of all, it upsets me because
of why I would want to pull a stunt like that in the first place. I
have only one reason, which is to prove someone wouldn't push me
away. I have no desire to kiss for its own sake. Even Robert
doesn't make me want that. I admire his cleverness and his dignity
but the idea of being physical with him is only good as evidence that
he likes me. Hormonally it does nothing. And I'm already sixteen
but I've never felt that kind of desire for anyone. At the end of
eighth grade Kendra was what? Fourteen? Thirteen? God, I'm such a
freak.
Kendra finishes
her story, I think it was the phone-call-in-the-bath story, and asks
me, "What were you saying about Robert?"
"Nothing,"
I say sadly. "There's nothing to tell."
*********
D
and D is still going well. I have decided that Garenmoth is an evil
wizard who made a pact with an evil god so he can't be killed unless
they perform a special ceremony using certain magical items. Having
them try to figure out what those items are and then run around
trying to find should keep them busy for months. Robert extracts a
very watered down version of the above from some frightened peasants.
But, in the meantime, the man they were following escapes.
“You idiot,”
Jeff yells, swatting Robert on the arm. “Look where your time
wasting has gotten us now.”
“What's
the big deal?” Robert fastidiously smooths his shirt sleeve. “That
guy was a nobody. I'd much rather go after the wizard himself.”
The others quickly realize that he's right and agree that the wizard
is more likely to have good treasure. As they journey on, they
proceed to divide up the things they're sure
to find in his lair. This makes me sulky and I make a note to
include lots of cursed items. In the next town, Robert goes to the
local church to continue his investigation. With his exceptionally
high charisma score he's able to persuade the monks to grant him an
audience with the head abbot. Said abbot is rather self important
and not particularly pleased about being disturbed.
But Robert knows
how to handle this type—perhaps because they're so similar to
himself. So he takes several minutes to sooth the high priest's
tempter by complimenting him on the town and the rare pieces of art
in his temple. The other players begin to fidget but Robert sees no
reason to hurry for their benefit. He insists on continuing his
monologue until I've rolled the most favorable reaction possible for
the abbot. It only takes five tries. But the tactic pays off
because he's now willing to tell them whatever they want. So Robert
begins explaining about the situation with Garenmoth. This also
takes a long time.
“I want to cast
a spell,” says Sven, unable to contain his impatience any longer.
“There's no need
for that,” Mike objects. “The guy is already helping us.”
“How about a
'know alignment' or 'detect truth' spell?” asks Linus.
“But we don't
have any reason to distrust him. That might just cause trouble.”
“Besides, Sven's
character doesn't know how to cast any of those spells,” I point
out sternly.
“I just want to
cast...”
“Can
we please get back to the important information I
was about to uncover?” asks Robert and I'm only too happy to focus
my attention on him again.
“The abbot tells
you that he has searched the library many times but can find no
mention of Garenmoth's weakness. However, he has found many
references to an item of great power in a nearby swamp and that...”
“I cast
'cantrip' to make...”
“No you don't.”
Robert glares at Sven.
“I have it
written down that I have it memorized and have all the components so
you can't stop me.”
“Just hold on,”
I say, starting to feel the onset of a headache. “One at a time.
Let me resolve Robert's action first.”
“I encourage the
priest to continue his story.”
“He nods and
tells you that there is...”
“But I want to
cast the spell during the conversation.”
“Fine then.”
I'm really starting to lose patience. “Where are you aiming your
spell?”
“I want to make
the priest's robe smell.”
“You moron,”
Robert snarls. “I'm in the midst of getting valuable information
here.”
“It's okay,” I
try to reassure him. “He hasn't noticed yet so he goes on telling
you that the swamp is rumored to be guarded by a giant...”
“Roll to see if
he's noticed it now,” Sven cuts in. “By the way, I make it smell
like rotten meat.”
I throw the dice
on the table. “Yes, he does, in fact, notice that he now smells
like a sausage that's been left out in the sun too long,” I say
with over exaggerated drama. “Are you happy now?”
“Yes. I laugh
at him.”
“I punch Sven,”
says Robert.
“Excellent.
Since he's not expecting it you automatically win initiative. Go
ahead and make your attack roll.” I hand him the dice.
“In response I
prepare to cast...”
“No fighting on
holy ground,” Jeff shrieks at the top of his lungs. Though
everyone's ears (including mine) are ringing from his outburst, the
other players see the wisdom of his point and bring themselves under
control. Then, Robert tries to apologize to the abbot.
“It's too late,”
I say sullenly, holding my aching head with one hand. “He was so
embarrassed that he ran back into the inner sanctuary and refuses to
come out. The rest of the townspeople are highly offended by your
profane actions and are now highly unfriendly.”
“Our what kind
of actions?” ask Jeff and Mike in almost the same instant.
Robert nods
understandingly. “I can't really blame them,” he says. “Come
on. Let's get out of here. We've majorly screwed up for sure.”
“But wait,”
cries Mike, suddenly panicked. “A giant what?”
“Good
luck finding that out now,” I mutter. Never mind. Things aren't
going very well after all.
**********
I'm riding my
bike downtown. It's the brutally hot middle of the summer and I
don't even want to be breathing, much less ridding across a slab of
burning asphalt. The sweat is trickling down my back in a little
stream. I hate sweat. It's smelly and makes my clothes stick to me.
Of course, my jeans are making it worse but I don't own a pair of
shorts. I've forsworn them since seventh grade, when I noticed some
of the guys would whistle at the girls in their gym clothes. But
something is at stake here, far more important than my personal
comfort. Kendra called me about ten minutes ago in great distress.
A true friend, I have no choice but to rush to her, even inside my
personal sauna of jeans, t-shirt, and bike helmet.
I come skidding
to a stop outside the Café Café, and make a dash for the
life-saving air-conditioning within. Inside, I scan the room for
Kendra's dark hair, spot her on the couch in the corner, and come up
behind her. I have to peel my bike helmet off my head and the hair
underneath feels and probably looks like it hasn't been washed in
weeks. God, how I hate sweat. Kendra is bent over, scribbling some
moony song lyrics on a piece of paper.
I feel myself
bristle with resentment. I love Kendra dearly but, right now, her
behavior is pissing me off. I want to point out to her that,
whatever her problem is, she's still had more success with guys than
all her friends put together. But, that would be a rude thing to
say. So I settle for "what's wrong?" instead.
"Sven's not
being nice to me," she says, like she can't decide if she's hurt
or angry.
"Well, in my
experience, he doesn't seem like a very nice person," I say
tartly. "He certainly isn't very smart." Kendra gives me
a "how could you?" look. "So, what did he do?"
"Sometimes
he just ignores me or acts like I'm not worth his time. Today, I
called him and he said he didn't feel like doing anything. Not
couldn't. Didn't feel like."
"Guys are
assholes." I shrug.
"Not, now,
Penelope," she sighs.
"I'm hardly
the person to give you advice on guys, with my zero success record."
"Well, you
have been hanging out with Sven a lot recently."
"Are you
jealous." I feel bad about my spitefulness but I can't help it.
She give me a
hard look. "I'm not your competition." She knows I'm
jealous of the close friendship she has with Robert.
"No, not
you, just Oochie, Smoochie, Poochie, and Hoochie. In other words,
the entire cheer-leading team. And they're winning by saying no and
I'm losing by being nice. What the hell?"
"You should
wear shorts," Kendra suddenly exclaims.
"Are you
implying that would make Robert like me?" I won't do it even
so. I'll stay alone rather than have someone like me for shallow
reasons.
"No. Don't
get so defensive. You just look like you're about to die in the
heat."
"No thank
you. I think I'll stay the way I am."
"Well, I'm
not ashamed of what I've got." Obviously not, since your shorts
are so short I can see your butt hanging out. And, obviously, the
only reason I wouldn't want to do the same is because I think I'm not
hot. I do think that but that's not the point here.
"The only
thing I'm ashamed of is the way it makes other people act," I
say shortly. She looks like she wants to say something else.
"Aren't we supposed to be talking about your problem with Sven?"
I ask quickly, turning the conversation away from Penelope's supposed
flaws.
"And what am
I supposed to do about him?" cries Kendra in exasperation.
"Slap him,"
I suggest. "That's what I want to do most of the time I’m
around him."
She gets a sort
of dreamy, sensual, smile on her face. "He'd like that,"
she says softly. Then, quickly, "and I forbid you to do it."
"Oh, don't
worry. I know you've piss-marked your territory. I wouldn't dream
of stepping into it. Besides, I don't want to. In fact, I wouldn't
take him if you begged me. But, like I said, this is out of my
league. Have you talked to Julia about it?"
"No,"
snaps Kendra. "You know she hates Sven and would just tell me
I'm well rid of him." Correction, she hates Sven and Robert
and pretty much every other member of the male species I
associate with. On the other hand, she and Kendra usually have
similar taste in guys so she has taken care to be extra cruel to her
about this one exception.
"Well, just
remember that I'm none too fond of him myself," I mutter sourly.
"What do you see in him anyway?"
"Energy.
Enthusiasm. I don't know. He's just so much fun to hang around
with."
"When
he's nice to you," I point out. I don't really want to be
having this conversation. It makes me think about scary things.
Because, in some ways, I know the answer to my question better than
Kendra does. That plain truth is that Kendra is a hard core flirt.
And if you had to pick a trait that described me that would be the
one furthest from. Therefore, I have a bit of a sick fascination
with the pastime, like the way you can't help picking at a scab.
Kendra likes Sven because he flirts back at her with total abandon.
I've seen them together, like at the movie. Plus, I've heard all
Kendra's stories about when they met in eight grade, how they spent
the entire year circling each other, striking and dodging like
opponents in an elaborate fencing match (not that she describes it
that way) gradually stepping closer and closer until The Event at the
end of the year. Watching them makes me sick. Sick with disgust and
sick with jealousy at the exact same moment.
I'm not sure how
or why Sven does it. It could just be him being an idiot. After
all, he acts pretty much the same to me, except much less because I
refuse to respond. On the other hand, the line between obnoxious
juvenile behavior and flirting seems to be very thin to non-existent:
Exhibit A of why I hate it. Or, Sven could be doing it on purpose.
From our limited association, I can already tell he likes to feel
important and when Kendra gets that look in her eyes it would
inflate anyone's ego. But however well he plays the "fun"
(in Kendra's opinion) side of flirting, he plays the dark side of it
just as well. Whether it's unconscious or deliberate, he always
seems to manage to step away at exactly the right time and in exactly
the right way so that he'll be followed and Kendra always does. Much
as she loves the fun side, this dark side is what causes her terrible
pain, like what she's feeling right now. This kind of behavior is
exhibit B of why I hate flirting.
While all this is
going through my head, Kendra is babbling something about her moony
song lyrics. Then, she says something that makes me snap out of my
private thoughts and pay attention. "I think the best idea is
to tell him the truth and then I'll know what he really feels about
me."
"No, no,
no," I say quickly. "You would feel so horrible if he
turned you down."
"I feel
pretty horrible now. Besides," she lifts her head proudly, "I'm
in love."
"With a guy
who has cotton candy for brains. Kendra, listen to yourself for a
second."
"Yea, and
Robert is a pompous ass who will only buy clothes from Europe."
"But you're
friends with him so it can't be that bad. And don't say I'm friends
with Sven too because I'm not. He's just convenient for me."
In the end, nothing is solved, except that I feel I have even more
reason to dislike Sven now. I seriously hope Kendra won't say
anything to him because he will either say no or yes and I don't like
either of those options. Yes, I don't want Kendra getting her heart
broken but, much as I love her, I don't want her parading her
boyfriend around while I have to watch Robert drool over Oochie,
Smoochie, Poochie and Hoochie.
************
"I'm sorry,"
I tell Jeff as his elven ranger tries to chase a dire rat through the
Swamps of Oolug. "You just can't go that fast through the mud."
"I could
have sworn the movement penalty for marsh was around thirty percent."
"Roll for
initiative,' I say shortly, pointing to the dice. Jeff looks
displeased but is about to take the dice and drop the argument when
Sven pulls out his copy of the rule book.
"Jeff's
right," he says. "It clearly says on page sixty-three,
the penalty for walking in marsh is thirty four percent."
I challenge him
with a look that says, "I'm not a no-life like you who memorizes
rules for fun." Aloud, I say, "This is not 'marsh.' This
is deep swamp." I'm in no mood to be trifled with. I ran in to
Oochie and Poochie having a vapid conversation at the mall earlier
today. And proud, dignified Robert, who is right now admiring one of
his new Italian cuff links, prefers that kind of stupidity to someone
who is in all advanced classes, like he is. It is not fair
and it makes me so mad. But my feelings don't really matter. Sven
loves to trifle and the less you want to be trifled with, the more he
loves it. He actually grins as he says, "There's a rule about
that too. Page 108 says…"
"The DM says
you need to shut up." Linus, a gawky boy with glasses and
almost white curls titters behind his hand and Robert looks superior.
Sven just grins even more, then launches into a long monologue of
D&D jargon, supposedly the explanation of the rule on 108 but I
suspect that he's making a lot of it up just to be annoying. This is
too much and I do the thing Kendra told me not to do: I slap him.
Well, okay, not exactly slap. I pick up my copy of the rule book
with both hands and whack him hard in the shoulder with it. But this
is Sven's element. Too fast for me to react, he reaches out and
grabs my right wrist with his right hand and twists it off the book.
His other arm is across my shoulder, holding me away, while he bends
my right arm down across his body.
No guy has ever
made free with my body like this before. Actually, I'm almost
seventeen and no guy has ever actually touched me beyond accidental
jostling in a crowd. The effect is instantaneous and electric. I'm
not pissed anymore. I'm fighting for my life. He has dared
to lay hands on me and he will pay for it. I will get free now,
if I have to claw him to the bone to do it. And once I am free…then
I will punish him. But Robert interferes before I can do anything.
Probably a good thing since his blood would have completely ruined
the carpet.
"Sven, cut
it out," says Robert severely, as if he's disciplining a little
boy.
Sven responds in
kind. "She hit me first," he whines, refusing to release
his hold.
"Yea, well,
you antagonized her." Robert stands up and forcibly bends
Sven's fingers off of my arms, and in the process, accidentally
brushes against my skin. His fingers are cool and hard, almost like
stone. He is magnificently calm. Nothing phases him.
The same cannot
be said of myself. As soon as my hands are free, I stagger back to
my chair, my heart racing like mad. I can feel my face burning, I’m
so angry. I'm in a killing mood. I've never felt so violated in my
life. And Kendra would welcome this disrespect? On top of
everything else, he's gotten me so upset that I didn't even get to
enjoy the brief contact with Robert.
"Now, sit
down and keep quiet," Robert says to Sven. "How do you
expect to get anything done when you argue with her every few
seconds?" Sven subsides but still looks pleased with himself.
Jeff, Mike, and Linus say nothing but they exchange looks and it's
obvious that they side with Sven, not with me and Robert.
Eventually,
despite the "deep swamp" movement penalty, they catch up to
the giant rat and kill it. Then, they go on in search of the
mysterious golden idol in the legendary ruined and booby-trapped
temple. Yea, I was watching Indiana Jones last night. How
could you tell? When they finally reach the temple, they can't
figure out how to open the doors.
"Of
course we don't have anyone who can climb walls," says Jeff
sourly, glaring at Mike, as if this was his fault. Mike defends his
decision to play a second fighter by pointing out that the wizard
should be able to levitate. "Yea, in three more levels,"
says Jeff sarcastically.
"Why do we
want to get up on the roof any way?" asks Mike defensively.
"Because
maybe there's a hole, or some loose tiles we can pry up," says
Robert, like it’s a brilliant idea that only he is clever enough to
have thought up. "Besides, we might pass some windows or holes
on the way up."
“Well, whatever
you do, don't forget about the giant 'what' that's waiting inside.”
This conversation
does not interest Sven. Probably because it greatly exceeds his
mental ability, I reflect, fingering my sore wrist vengefully.
Suddenly, he puts his legs apart, looks down at his crotch and yells,
"Bobby, Tommy, what are you doing?" In shock, I take too
large a swallow of my pop and start gagging. Probably not because of
the pop.
"No, what
are you doing?" asks Mike suspiciously.
"I'm talking
to Bobby and Tommy. You know, my trained rats which I keep in my
belt pouch?"
While I'm fuming
over this, Robert--he really is a genius--decides to send Sven's rats
up to look for a way in. I briefly consider making the rats have an
"accident" up on the roof so Sven can't do anything else
funny with them. But I love animals, even imaginary ones, and don't
have the heart to punish them just because their owner is a crude
lump.
©Amanda RR Hamlin 2017
