Chaotic Good

by Whitney Gardner

  “You know,” Lincoln chimes in, “I don’t know a single girl like that. Now, are you passing on your turn? You’re making me regret giving you that sword.” Lincoln scowls at Brody from behind the partition. I want to reach over Brody’s head to high-five the hell out of Lincoln’s amazing hand.

  “It’s my character. I can play her however I want.”

  “You’re telling me, if you were a chick, this is what you’d want to be like?” I prod.

  “Can we just play? I’ll take my turn. Fine.” Brody rolls his d20, and it lands on eighteen. “Plus my strength bonus, and my sword’s plus four against orcs, so, twenty-five.” Undoubtedly a critical hit. We all look to Lincoln, who clears his throat.

  “The orc reaches for you one last time, and you’ve had it. You smell the stale blood and muck on his leather armor. It turns your stomach. You look out into the room at your companions, who, unable to help you, seem pitiful. What were you thinking, asking two halflings and a wood elf for help? The orc snaps at you; black spit flies from his lips and spatters your cheek. Enough. You tighten your grip on your sword and raise it up above your head. Rage surges through you, and you come down hard, slicing into his skull like a coconut. Spent, and disappointed in your choice of companions, you can’t help but think…” Lincoln pauses. He looks right at me; his light brown eyes sparkle. I feel flush; I want to bite my lip; I want to tuck my hair behind my ears; I want to flirt his face off. “Never send in boys to do a woman’s job.”

  I want him.

  * * *

  Cooper’s phone won’t stop ringing; he holds it in both hands and stares down at the screen. As the color drains from his face, I realize it must be Farrin who keeps calling him.

  “You can take it—we’re at a good stopping point,” Lincoln tells him, but it barely registers.

  “We can’t pack it in now!” Brody begs, but Lincoln’s already cleaning up. Coop’s cell goes quiet for a few seconds and starts right back up again with his ringtone: If you like it, then you should’ve put a ring on it. The irony.

  “Put it on silent; you can call him later,” I offer.

  “Who?” Why asks, picking up the empty cans of Mountain Dew and black-cherry cola. He pitches them, one by one, across the table and into the trash bin.

  “No one.” Coop and I both answer in unison. The phone rings one last time, and he answers.

  “What. What do you want?” Cooper flings his bag over his shoulder and hurries out. Brody folds up our table and hauls it into the storeroom. The silence drags on, and I can tell Why must be feeling left out, watching Cooper pace back and forth in front of the shop.

  “His ex,” I explain, letting him in.

  “Ah.” Why nods, one quick small motion. He understands. Cooper slams his car door and starts the engine. Everyone gathers around the window as he drives off. He’s so damn dramatic. He never should have answered. I pick up the rest of his things and add them to my backpack. I should be pissed that he left without me, but I can walk. I probably would have done the same exact thing if I could drive, and if I had an ex-boyfriend.

  “I’d give you a ride, but I have to make curfew. I’ve got, like, the strictest mom in the universe, you know?” Why is rushing to lock away his stuff under the counter.

  “It’s all good. I live on Clark, not far.”

  “Word.” Why reaches his fist out, and I bump it. We blow it up and laugh. Firmly in friend territory and feeling good. “Later!” he calls out to the rest of the shop.

  “You’re gonna walk all the way to Clark? Past the Butte?” Lincoln stops me before I leave.

  “I take a different road, but it’s just a mile or two. I got it.”

  “I’ll walk with you,” he suggests, and my throat knots up like a poorly wound skein of yarn.

  “Dude. I thought you turned Why down,” Brody says to Lincoln, stepping between us. He’s holding a ring of keys, ready to lock up shop.

  “Excuse me?” Lincoln scrunches his forehead. It’s the first time I’ve seen him angry. Not that I blame him; I guess Brody gets on everyone’s nerves. Gender doesn’t have to enter into it.

  “Gayyyyyy,” he sings, shoving us out of the store.

  “Don’t be an idiot, Brody. I just figured—”

  “He doesn’t need a babysitter, Lincoln,” Brody fires back. I want to deck him. Right in the face, lay Brody out flat right here in front of Atomix, not only because he is being the world’s biggest douche, but because he’s right. I don’t need a babysitter. Guy or girl, I can walk home just fine on my own.

  “Grow up.” I slam into Brody’s shoulder, remembering that jerk from the park. I want to leave them all in my wake. I start walking up the road, and I can barely catch my breath. My head is swimming, satisfied that I said anything at all. Even if it was just two words, I didn’t mope away or wait for Lincoln to say something for me.

  I turn back and call out to Lincoln, “You coming or what?” Because yeah, I don’t need a babysitter, but maybe I want one.

  * * *

  “My whole damn life,” Lincoln says as we pass under the last of the streetlamps downtown.

  “We’ve only been here since June. It’s…” I pause, trying to find the right words to describe the small college town that still has a bit of a wasteland vibe.

  “It’s Eugene.” He laughs, pulling out his hair tie and wrapping it around his wrist. He ruffles his hair, and it falls around his face. Bits and pieces all sticking out and wild. I want to run my fingers through it, not to smooth it out, but to add to its madness. “I’m sure it’s a huge letdown, coming from the city.”

  “Sometimes.” I want to say more, but I wasted all my bravery on bodychecking Brody, and I feel myself locking up. It doesn’t help that we somehow managed to take the path around Skinner Butte anyway, and the stars and the trees and the night all seem too sweet. “So you’re at U of O?”

  “Yeah. How’d you know?” Oh no. I really shouldn’t have been eavesdropping at Kozy’s. Not with my big mouth.

  “Isn’t everyone around here?” I try to save it.

  “Good point. I’m just in a summer class. I’ll be a freshman in the fall. Hang on a sec?” Lincoln stops at a bench and pulls a flannel shirt out of his bag. I don’t want to leave yet. We’re inching dangerously close to home, and it feels like we’ve only just started talking. Before he can put his bag back on, I sit on the bench. And wait.

  “I’d get the heck out of here for college if I were you.” He takes my cue and sits next to me while buttoning up his shirt. I can just barely feel the warmth of his thigh next to mine, and it creeps up my leg and into my chest.

  “Why?”

  “There’s no one here. It’s hard to feel like you fit in. Unless you like football or organic urban hemp farming. Which I don’t. For a long time I fancied myself a loner. Now, I’m just…lonely.” Lincoln leans back against the bench, looking up at the navy sky, like he’s trying not to look at me.

  “What about Why and Brody and all them?” I copy his posture and train my eyes on the handle of the Big Dipper.

  “They’re fine.” He pauses. He searches the sky for the right words. “Sometimes I wonder if they’re just friends out of convenience.” He takes a breath and coughs out one little laugh. “Which is so rude. We’re all in this geeky tribe together. I just feel like, like I want someone to know me. And they don’t really. They’ve never even asked about my life outside D and D. You get me?”

  “Yeah, I get you.”

  “You’ve got your brother, though. I’m sure you guys know each other inside and out.”

  “He doesn’t know everything.” I jump to correct him, a little defensively. Yes, Cooper knows me like I know myself. But he doesn’t know about the anons right up there on the other side of the moon. Sitting in front of their screens, waiting for me to check my inbox, waiting to cut me down at any chance
they get. “So why’d you stay? You could have gone to college anywhere.”

  “My nan. She isn’t anywhere—she’s here. And she needs me. I live with her.”

  “She’s great,” I reply, without thinking.

  “What?”

  “I bet she’s great.” I try to cover.

  “She is. She’s taken care of me ever since I was little. Raised me, you know? I can’t just up and leave her now.”

  “I think about that sometimes; my parents are older. I want to leave, but every now and then I really worry that I’ll miss them. Is that stupid?”

  “Not at all.” Lincoln folds his hands behind his head, and I’m ready to call a truce with the moon for all the wonders it’s working. Casting its silvery glow on his skin, his hair. I want to put his face in my hands and press our mouths together and not come up for air until the sun rises.

  “What does your nan think about all of it?”

  “She wants me gone! She says I’m a pest. Lovingly, of course. She keeps trying to hook me up with girls.”

  “Ha!” I blurt out, nervous. His phone number in my pocket burns a hole straight into my thigh.

  “But they never call,” he shoots back fast, like he’s accusing me, like I’ve personally wronged him. There’s no way he could know. Unless he found my blog, but wouldn’t he have said something? If he knows, he must think I’m the biggest weirdo ever. Who does something like this?

  I look down at my outfit. My perfectly crafted boy costume: the Hawaiian shirt, the slouchy jeans; none of it’s mine. I want him to know the real me. Or at least give him the chance to. I wonder if he would have liked me if we had met the way Dotty had planned. If I had just called him up out of the blue. I reach out for him, but before I make contact, he stands up and starts walking. I catch up to him, and we meander past the butte, past the trees, all the way up to my driveway in silence.

  “Snip!” Cooper yells as we approach the loft. He’s sobbing, eyes red and puffy, covered in tears and sad-slime.

  “What happened?!” I rush to him, taking him into my arms. He whimpers into my shirt.

  “I hate him, I hate him so much.” I look over Coop’s shoulder at Lincoln, frozen in our driveway. He looks surprised and concerned, his hand covering his mouth.

  “I’ve got it. Thanks for the walk,” I call back to him. But Lincoln doesn’t leave. He takes the hair tie off his wrist and pulls his hair back into a ponytail. He clears his throat.

  “Jade! After the battle of the three orcs, you find a vest in a trunk. It’s the most beautiful piece of fabric you’ve ever seen in your life. Intricate and delicate. It weighs almost nothing but feels substantial when you pick it up.” Lincoln starts to smile as Cooper listens to him from his place in my arms. I feel his breathing slow. We’re both entranced. “You put it on, and you can instantly feel its protection. Its buttons fasten perfectly, like it was tailor-made for you. It feels like another limb. Like something you’ve been searching for your whole life has now made its way back to you and you dare not part with it. It gives you plus four to your constitution, plus three charisma, and plus motherfucking eighteen against asshole exes.” Lincoln doesn’t say another word. He gives us a little salute and pivots away, leaving Cooper and me frozen and amazed.

  * * *

  “I’m sorry I left you.” Cooper is laid out on the studio floor, recovering. Normally, I would lie right next to him so we could stare into the void together. But after Lincoln’s incredibly nerdy and lovely speech, all I want to do is make Jade’s vest. And I know exactly what to make it from.

  “You did me a favor.” I retrieve the sheet of green ombré quilt from a cubby. It’s perfect. Well, it will be perfect, once I sew it back together in the right shape, and line it with some rose-colored crushed velvet.

  “He doesn’t even want my notes on his stupid-ass script! I sent them back to him, trying to be nice. Civil. Ugh. Screw him.” He pounds the floor with his fists.

  “Help me with this.” I motion to the fabric. Coop holds up one end to keep it from dragging on the floor as it goes through the machine. But mostly I ask for help to distract him. “That’s it? He pouted about your notes?” I ask as we pass the fabric back and forth.

  “He knows me, so he knows just what to say to get to me. He said I’d never cut it there.”

  “He’s just nervous you’ll show up and knock him down a peg or two.”

  “It’s bullshit! Farrin goes off to NYU for one week and is acting like he’s Charlie Kaufman or something. Said my scripts aren’t deep enough.”

  “You and I both know that’s bull.” My sewing machine hums along, keeping time with the pace of our conversation. My hatred for Farrin only grows stronger. He needs to get a life and leave my brother alone.

  “He met someone. Someone else. Again.”

  “I’m sure he’s a real charmer.” I gently lay out the soon-to-be vest on the floor and grab my heavy silver scissors from their spot on the wall. I trim off the frayed threads and extra fabric from the hems. I save every scrap.

  “He says he’s in love.”

  “Sure he is.”

  “I was supposed to be the one who wins, Snip. He destroyed me! Ripped my heart out for fun and now he’s moved right on. He’s all happy and in love like I should be. He doesn’t deserve any of it!” Cooper starts monologuing.

  “Do I need to set the timer?” I look up at him from the floor.

  “No. Sorry.” I get him to crack a smile. “What is that for? It’s beautiful.” He leans down and runs his fingers across the fabric. “It looks like a landscape. You know, when you look down from an airplane?” We both stand over it and squint.

  “Kind of. It’s your vest, look…” I whip the fabric up off the floor and wave it around his shoulders with a flourish. He sticks his arms through the holes.

  “You’re so gonna get into CalArts. It’s stupid good.” He looks like himself again. I run my hands down his shoulders.

  “Don’t let Farrin get to you like that. You don’t have to let him win.”

  “Did you tell Why? He barely looked at me tonight.” He takes off the vest and adds it to the dress form with the rest of his costume. I’m just about ready to move on to the halfling outfits. There’s still a lot of work left. Maybe I should have taken dinner upstairs the other night.

  “I tried, he wasn’t really ready to—”

  “What do you mean, wasn’t ready? Cam. You can’t keep doing this.” He pulls on the hem of my oversized men’s shirt. “You don’t need it.”

  “Sure. I know. Right.”

  “I’m serious—you’re leading Why on.”

  “No I’m not! I’m his friend.”

  “That’s what you think.”

  “Because it’s true. I’m allowed to have a friend that isn’t you.”

  “Easy there, Snip. I just think it’s time to nip all this madness in the bud.” He’s right, but he doesn’t get to make that decision for me. I rummage through the cubbies, looking for suitable buttons for Jade’s vest.

  “I gotta keep working, okay?” My voice breaks a bit, and I turn away from him. This happens with us sometimes. I’ll get sad or pissed and vent it to Coop, and he’ll end up absorbing it as soon as I feel better. This time he feels better, and now I’m bummed.

  “Got it.” He taps my shoulder and leaves me to it.

  I dump out my tin of stray buttons, and it reminds me of Why spilling the dice across the counter at Atomix. I’m not leading him on; I made it clear that I just want a friend. But I don’t know why I’m so afraid of telling him the truth. Once I do, there’s no going back. And even if he wouldn’t care that I am, in fact, a girl, he probably would care that I’ve been lying since day one. I need a better exit strategy; the only outcome I can see now is scorched earth.

  I find four mismatched buttons, but for some reason they fee
l like they belong together. I start stitching them on, and I fall into a rhythm. My mood evens out. I run through Link’s little narrative about the vest over and over as I put on the finishing touches. Hearing Lincoln’s voice in my head makes me feel even better.

  Ignoring the fact that it doesn’t have a lining yet, I point a lamp at the vest. The metallic stitching and the quilted material take my breath away. This is mine, from top to bottom, my very own design, and it’s glorious. I take some pictures on my phone and immediately post them.

  There are fifty-two messages in my inbox. All ranting and raving and angry after Liv’s reply. I don’t bother reading them, not tonight. Tonight I’m going to work straight through until morning, sewing robes for my wizard best friend, and thinking about the boy who takes care of his nan and weaves stories out of thin air.

  * * *

  I look even more exhausted than I feel, wearing the long black wizard robes I finished at seven a.m. The dark circles under my eyes and my tumbleweed of hair actually fit the part. I look like I could conjure up something dark and sinister. I twirl in front of the mirror, and the black strips swing out and expand, as if floating. Each piece sewn carefully together with invisible fishing line. I look like a tornado.

  With every spin my exhaustion is whisked away and replaced with excitement. I’ll go to Kozy Corner today and pick up my velvet, then I’ll have two costumes finished and ready to photograph for my portfolio. I doubt anyone else will have considered what their designs will look like in motion. It’s a new level for me, and I’m proud. Goodbye, Eugene; hello, Hollywood.

  I shrug out of the robes and hang them up next to Jade’s costume. They look even better next to each other. My head is screaming for a cup of coffee, but I want to finish the hem on Wizzy’s robe before I take a real break. I thread a needle and lie on the floor as I hand-stitch along the bottom edge. My phone starts ringing.