Her eyes widen. “You plan on being involved in the next game?”
“Yep,” I say, then check myself. “Yes, ma’am. I want… I don’t know… I want to feel completely free to be me for once. I want to get used to that feeling, too, because there’s no going back for me now. I don’t want to go back. Logan helped me see that, and I want him to know it.”
She smiles. “Then just reading those books isn’t going to help much. You need someone to explain it all, to give you pointers.”
“But I kind of want to surprise Logan.”
“I wasn’t talking about him. I know more about this game than he’ll know after another ten years.” She grins mischievously. “Go up to Logan’s room and get all the Ages books you see. There are about ten or fifteen. Bring them back down here, and we’ll get started.” She claps her hands together, rattling the multitude of bracelets on her wrists. Like mother, like daughter.
“Thank you so much, Mrs. Scott.”
“Call me Martha.”
My smile stays on the whole way up the stairs and down the hall until I’m standing in front of Logan’s door. I push it open slowly and take a look around like he might jump out of a corner. When I’m convinced he isn’t here, I try to take everything in as thoroughly as possible. His posters, his computer desk, his collection of Star Wars bobble heads. I try to burn it all onto my memory just in case this plan of mine doesn’t work.
I’m almost at the bookshelf when I glance at his bedside table. There’s my notebook. On top of it is a green pen. Has he been writing in my book? That has to be a good sign, right? I run over to it, but a voice from the open door stops me from snatching it up.
“Logan is mad at you,” Vera says, arms still crossed.
“I know, but I want to say I’m sorry.” I attempt a small smile.
“Then, why don’t you just tell him?”
“Because I don’t think he’ll talk to me. And I want to do something that might be even better than saying sorry.”
“Do you really like him?” She puts her hands on her hips.
“I really, really like him.”
“Wow, that’s a lot. Okay, I’ll help, but only because Logan still really, really likes you, too.”
“Really? Did he say that?” I know I’m asking a seven-year-old to confirm Logan’s feelings are still there, but I don’t know of anyone more brutally honest than a little kid.
“Yep.”
“Those exact words?”
“Gah, yes! ‘I really, really like her.’ That’s what he said when him and Dan were over here and Logan was being all mopey and Dan asked him why he was even still thinking about you. Now I know what Dan is talking about all the time. High school girls are seriously crazy.”
Happiness seems to rise from my toes, seeping into every cell of my body, all the way up to my brain. “Yep. We’re all bonkers.”
As Vera and I carry the books downstairs, I regret not looking to see what Logan wrote in my book, but I’m not going to push my luck. I got Vera to at least be okay with me. I’m not going to risk that by rifling through her brother’s belongings even if said belonging is technically mine.
We drop the stacks of books on the dining room table. Vera and I sit down and each pick out a book to flip through. I try to read from the beginning of one, but it turns out to be just a story about a fairy and a vampire who are in love. I turn a few more pages to get to the rules and stuff, but there are only descriptions of powers and how they relate to other powers. After only a couple of minutes, I’m just plain confused.
As Martha sets a pitcher of lemonade and some glasses on the table, Vera leans toward me to whisper, “This stuff is weird.”
“I know, totally weird,” I whisper back.
“It won’t be weird when I’m done,” Martha says. “You just have to look at it like an interactive movie or play. The basic plot points are already made up by the game master, and you get to figure things out. Which reminds me, what happened at the last game?”
I tell her everything about the bad things going on in town and that my character’s special knowledge about other races or whatever it’s called told me it’s probably a dark fairy doing all of it.
When I’m finished, she stares at the ceiling for a moment before picking up the phone that’s been resting on the table between us. She dials a number.
“Is Tommy there? Hello, Tommy, this is Martha. I have a player here that needs to know how many experience points she got for participating in the first game.”
Tommy’s answer does not make her happy. “No, two points can’t be right. She’s the one who found out that juicy tidbit about it being a dark fairy. I doubt anyone else had the Race Knowledge skill set.” She pauses, then, “Three? Need I remind you I only order the Grimore and the Infinites comic because you can’t live without it? I think five would be the correct reward for such a studious action.”
Another pause. “Low blow or not, I still hold the ordering form. Besides, do you want this next game to be mind-blowing or not?” I know he’s given in when she bounces in her seat and smiles. “You won’t be sorry, Tommy. And expect more calls from me. I’ll be needing some plot specifics if I need to run a scene.” She pours some lemonade as Tommy responds. “Yes, I know I haven’t done the game master thing in a while, but my membership is still valid. Don’t worry, I’ll be very conservative with the experience points.” She winks at me then says good-bye to Tommy.
“Did you just blackmail the game master?”
She shrugs. “A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.”
She opens the thickest book out of both stacks and thumbs through the pages, quickly finding the spot she’s looking for. She turns it around and the words “Dark Fae” stare back at me in big, bold gothic letters.
“By the way, there was something else I wanted to talk to you about.” I hope she’s going to like the rest of my plan.
#25
I spend the rest of the week on my bed, devouring the LARP books. I start with every section I can find about elves or the dark fae, but I’m done with those after the first day. I could probably stop there, but I don’t. The whole game world is so intricate and interesting that it sucks me in.
The dwarves hate the elves—of course they do, what fantasy world is complete without that—the dark fairies hate the bright fairies, and the vampires hate the werewolves. Everyone hates the lizardmen, and everyone loves the centaurs which isn’t very fair, in my opinion. Then again, the lizardmen apparently lick their own eyeballs. Whereas the centaurs grant wishes.
I also listen to Logan’s Show of Awesome every night. It gets increasingly clearer he isn’t exactly feeling very awesome right now. Every show is filled with super depressing music. His voice has lost its creamy quality, so he sounds more like my Aunt Sharlene, who smokes a pack a day. He stops asking his listeners to call in with their happy stories. Instead, he requests anecdotes about “The worst girlfriend you ever had” and “What made you be a jerk today?”
Terra and I reclaim our nightly phone call schedule. If I ever push her away again, I’m going to kick my own ass.
“What are you listening to? I love that song.”
“It’s the college station. Logan’s show is on,” I say with more than a smidgen of pride.
“Hold on.”
A second later, Logan’s voice echoes between my radio and hers, which would normally be annoying, but gravelly voice or not, it’s him. “We have a caller. Caller, we’re discussing when was the last time you told someone off. Go ahead.”
“Eek.” I can picture her nose crinkle up. “He does not sound happy.”
The caller’s voice echoes just like Logan’s did, but this person makes me want to clap my hands over my ears. “I know what’s wrong with you, A.L. It’s that girl, isn’t it? The one you had on the show last week. Well, I’m not going to say I told you so.”
“Hold up! I know that voice,” Terra squeals.
“I know, right? It’s been dri
ving me crazy but I can’t—”
Terra cuts me off. “That’s Rayann.”
“No, this girl’s name is Capri.” I pause to listen more.
“There’s nothing wrong with me,” Logan says.
“If you say so,” Capri says, and it feels like a heavenly light of knowledge bursts through my ceiling to shine down while a choir sings in the background. Those words sound exactly as they did a couple of weeks ago when they were spoken to me.
“Oh my good gravy, it is her!” I yell into the phone.
…
Saturday night finally arrives. I glance over my list one more time to make sure I have everything (yes, I’m a list maker: to-do lists, shopping lists, and now, stuff-to-transform-myself-into-a-smoking-hot-elven-princess lists). I’ve already put my bag full of supplies in my car so I don’t look like I’m hitchhiking to Texas when I say bye to Mom and Dad.
I’ve explained my entire plan to Mom, and even though she doesn’t really understand the LARP thing, she understands the purpose of what I’m about to do, which is why she’s letting me go.
After assuring Mom I’ll be back before twelve, I hop in the car and head across town. When I pass The Phoenix, a nervous tension inches its way into my shoulders. My grip tightens on the steering wheel as images of what tonight holds in store flash through my mind. First, my thoughts take the path of triumph, of Logan realizing how much I care for him, of Laowyn doing everything right. But when I park in Logan’s next door neighbor’s driveway—they’re on vacation and even though Logan should be over at Dan’s getting ready for game, Martha said it’s better to be safe than sorry—my thoughts do an about-face. I have to force them to calm down, to stop picturing everyone laughing at me, to stop seeing Laowyn’s life points depleted.
Jonah answers the door. He’s already in his sleep clothes, a T-shirt and sweats with no socks.
“She’s upstairs in her room.” He turns to go into the living room.
I glance in after him as I pass. Vera and Moira are cuddled up on the couch, both in frilly, pink, little-girl nightgowns.
“Hey, Maddie, you want to watch Miss Lovey’s Luminous Leggings with us?” Vera asks.
Dear Lord, yes. Yes, I would love to do anything other than what I’m about to do.
“Sorry, I have plans. Remember?” I wink at her.
“Right, right, right. Have fun storming the castle!” She waves.
At the top of the stairs, I stand in the middle of the hall and stare at Logan’s door. My comic journal seems to call my name. “Maddie, he’s been writing things. Come back.”
“I thought I heard someone at the door,” Martha says from behind me, and I stifle a squeal. “Let’s get you ready. You can use my bathroom, if you want.”
Maybe it’s just me, but being in Martha’s bedroom feels really weird. The walls are painted a deep, hunter green and all the furniture is in a dark wood. On top of a chest of drawers on the wall next to door to the bathroom are about seven or eight large sculptures of wizards and unicorns and other mythical beings. I pause to admire them.
“I’ve gotten one every Christmas for the past seven years from the kids.” She kind of nudges a couple of the sculptures around, repositioning them.
“Martha, how did you and Mr. Scott meet?” I’ve been dying to know the answer to this question ever since the day Logan first introduced me to her.
A wistful, half smile appears on her face. “I was cheering in college, and Steve was in the marching band.”
“Wow, that’s different. It’s normally the cheerleader and the football star who get together, right?”
“I guess, but not all the time. I caught him reading The Fellowship of the Ring during halftime and couldn’t stop myself from starting a discussion. I’m really a hobbit at heart, ya know.” She giggles.
“Was that… I mean, did you guys get any flack for being together?”
“Oh, sure.” She waves her hand. “People made fun of our trips to Renaissance festivals, but we didn’t care. We were ourselves, and we were happy together. Still are, in fact. That’s what matters. You can’t spend your life being afraid of what other people think.”
“That’s so…brave.” I picture Martha and Mr. Scott dressed in period garb. It makes me smile.
“This one’s pretty.” I touch a sculpture of girl that’s playing some type of guitar by a river. Butterflies and birds surround her, listening to her song.
“I’ve dubbed her Katrina. It almost looks like she could charm anyone, doesn’t it? Even the creatures of the forest.”
“Must be nice.” I set my overstuffed bag on the bathroom counter.
“You can’t start thinking like that, Maddie. You can do this, you just need to be charming, like Katrina here. And fearless.” She smiles and nods her head before closing the door.
“Do you really think the bright fairies will be up for this?” I ask as I change into Laowyn-wear.
“Absolutely, you just have to be confident. You need to be a leader.”
I trade my blue jean shorts for a pair of tight black pants that make my legs look great. The blouse I picked out for tonight is silver and silky with a beaded flower on the shoulder. I slick my hair back in a high ponytail.
“Have you checked back in with Mes Amis and Mi Pueblo about tomorrow? Everything still a go?” Her voice is muffled by the door.
“Yep, they have their tents and tables ready to go.” I peek my head out. “Does Logan suspect anything?”
“He knows something’s happening, but I don’t think he has any idea about the enormity of it. He hasn’t really been interested in life here lately. Just goes to the shop, does his show, then comes home and holes up in his room.” She shakes her head.
I would say “good” since he doesn’t suspect anything, but it’s not good he’s been so depressed for these past two weeks. Although, I know how he feels. Luckily, I’ve had tonight’s events and tomorrow’s festivities to pour all my energy into.
Just as I finish applying the blue face paint, I hear Martha say, “Crap! Maddie, be quiet. Logan’s home.”
Crap, indeed!
I hear the front door slam, followed by angry stomps on the stairs. I open the bathroom door just as Martha goes into the hall. Thankfully, she leaves her door cracked. I tiptoe over and watch.
“Hey, honey, what are you doing home? I thought you had the game tonight?” she asks, the whole time wringing her hands behind her back.
“I’m not going.” He looks disheveled, sneakers untied, dark circles under his eyes. I just want to give him a hug.
“Why not? I think you should go. It’ll do you some good, get you out of this funk, maybe.”
“I just don’t want to, okay?” His voice rises a notch on the last word.
She follows him to his room, and the conversation gets too quiet. I press my ear to the opening and strain to hear. She says something about knowing how “it” feels. He mumbles something back. There’s a long pause, and he says something else. She responds with a loud, “Good, good, you won’t regret it!”
She closes his door behind her and scurries back.
“Crisis averted,” she says quietly when she comes back in. Then, she lays her eyes on me, and they widen with a quick intake of breath. “You look perfect.”
“Thank you.”
She smiles softly. “Come on, I’ll help you with the eyeliner.”
“Really, I mean it, thank you. For everything. After what happened, I was surprised you wanted to help me. You’d known me for just a little while, and I hadn’t exactly been the type of girl a mom wants her son involved with.” I hop up on the bathroom counter.
“Honey, I’ve known you’re a good kid since you were in ninth grade when Logan came home with that picture of his English Honors class and tacked it up on his wall. You were the cutest girl in the bunch. Then, he started moaning about how he wasn’t popular, that he was gangly and goofy. We’ve always been close, he’s always confided in me. He confided in me about you. Yo
u two took different paths, but I always knew he hadn’t given up on you.”
I stare at the ceiling as she draws the swirlies around my eyes and over my cheeks. Tears try to form in my eyes, but I fight them back. To think of all the time I’ve wasted being so secretive. I could’ve been so much happier.
“There, you’re ready to go. Just one more thing.”
After I gather up all my random costume-creating things, I follow her back into her room. She hands me a beautiful, white velvet drawstring bag. It’s tied with a shiny, silver rope. Rainbow reflecting crystals dangle from the rope’s ends.
“It’s so pretty,” I say. Understatement of the millennium. I tug it open, and it’s full of silver spray-painted ping-pong balls (for all the spells I might have to hurl tonight) and a set of seven multisided dice (for all the other spells that are based on chance). Each die is embedded with a different color glitter. I immediately name them Roy G. Biv like the old anagram they taught us in grade school to help us remember all the colors of the rainbow.
“That’s a new set of dice. I ordered them last week when you first came to me with this plan. I would give you my set, but everyone knows dice are fickle things. Just because they’re lucky for me doesn’t mean they’ll work for you. Treat those right, and they’ll be loyal to you forever.” She grins from ear to ear as I roll the dice around in my hand, letting them catch the light and sparkle.
#26
There’s an encouraging text from Terra on my phone when I park behind the last car in front of Tommy’s, a.k.a. game master Sorenson’s, house.
Terra: Good luck! I know you’re gonna kick that evil fairy’s AZZ!
I explained everything to Terra at the aquarium, and she’s totally excited about the whole thing. Her text makes me feel just a tiny bit bolder. Which means my boldness level is…a tiny bit.
For a full week, almost everything I’ve done has been in preparation for this moment; all those sessions with Martha, all those late nights spent reading about LARP of Ages or as those in the know call it, LoA. Now I just have to put it all to use. So, why can’t I bring myself to get out of this stupid car?
The Summer I Became a Nerd Page 17