They come into the store where I work sometimes and they look so damn lost. Of course they want my help learning about comics and shit, and I’m nice, I help them out. I try to be a gentleman and they seem to be into it right up to the point where I ask them out. Then they run for the goddamn hills giggling, looking to ride the next meathead asshole to cross their path. Shows me for being a nice guy right? Stop bitching about this chick and give her the ZERO attention she deserves.
Did Brody seriously not recognize me? I mean, I’m glad he didn’t, but my picture was right there at the top of the thread. Did he see it at all, or did he just rant about me, thinking all of us “cosplay girls” are interchangeable? Cooper wants to believe there’d be no problems at all if I just came forward. Told everyone who I am. But he hasn’t seen this.
I close the laptop and stare at my collection. Maybe Cooper is right. What if I blew it, my big chance to make an artistic statement, and I made stuff you’d wear to a ren faire. Clover’s cloak has some extra thread hanging from the seams. I grab my scissors to trim them away.
“Shit!” I scream, and grab my foot. Certain that I stepped on the needle I lost. Except when I look down, I see it’s a Scrabble tile. The letter W. Four points. A smile spreads across my face as I think about how the tile must have gotten there.
Who says wizard robes can’t be art? I pick the W up off the floor and sneak it into one of Clover’s many pockets. She could use the win. We both could.
* * *
“Lincoln, what the hell?!” Brody breaks character. He flips through some papers and finds his inventory. Carefully he goes through everything on the list. “What are these guys talking about? We haven’t found it yet!” I try not to look directly at Brody. I don’t need to jog his memory, just in case he did see that photo of me dressed as Cloud.
Lincoln shrugs his shoulders. He’s not giving us any hints. And why would he? We’ve been looking for the crown the entire campaign. He isn’t going to just hand it to us.
“I’m rolling a perception check,” I tell Lincoln. Cradling the purple sparkling d20 in my hand, I shake it up before casting it across the gridded mat. On it, I can see the ghosts of erased marker lines from my dad’s campaign. It’s been well used and loved. I imagine all the worlds that have been played on this beige plastic sheet. Link deserves a better one, a beautiful one. I let the d20 fly, and it lands on a three.
“No luck.” Link clicks his tongue.
“Ugh. Come on.” I can feel Brody’s frustration radiating out from his seat next to me. He jiggles his leg and chews his thumbnail. Fuming. Cooper stole my usual seat next to Why. I know he’s the only reason Cooper even bothered showing up. He drove and I walked.
I’ve made up my mind. I’m coming clean to Why the minute we leave tonight. The second Brody is out of earshot. He’s too angry about this battle, and I’m worried his excess anger will spill out onto me.
“This is your last chance, Tiffani,” Lincoln coos in a soft voice. “The drow elves lift their staves; you see that each has a blade discreetly embedded in it. They’re not going to let you go alive,” he explains in his own voice.
“For the last time, I don’t—”
“I attempt to take one down.” Cooper steps in.
“With what?” Lincoln asks, getting ready for the inevitable battle ahead of us.
“My bow, which uses one-d-six for damage, plus my strength bonus,” Cooper rattles off.
“No strength bonus for two-handed range weapons, remember?”
“Oh, right, sorry.”
“You still get your dexterity modifier. So roll it.” Lincoln invites Cooper to start.
“Use mine!” Why offers Cooper his own d6. “It’s never failed me.” Cooper tries to keep his cool taking the die from Why’s hand. I can tell he’s nervous as hell. He looks up and scowls at me. He doesn’t know it’s almost over. I’ll come clean, but there’s no way I’m going to play matchmaker for him. Not after last night. He can grow a pair of his own and tell Why about his crush himself.
“Hurry up and roll!” Brody shouts. His anger is putting me on edge. I hate that whenever he talks I second-guess myself. What if he freaks out? He wouldn’t hit a girl, would he? Cooper tips the die out of his hand. Why was right. It lands on a six.
“Wow, all right, then.” Lincoln scribbles something behind the screen. “Before Tiffani can finish her thought, the drow, right here”—he motions to one of the figurines on the mat—“is pierced in the thigh with an arrow. It comes so quickly it almost doesn’t register, until the pain shoots through her leg. Now, roll for initiative.”
We each roll our own twenty-sided die. Whoever rolls highest gets to attack first; we take turns in descending numerical order until everyone, including the enemies, have had their turn. Then it starts over again until the last baddie is vanquished. Why rolls the highest. A fifteen. He goes first.
“Magic missile. This one, right here.” He taps the head of the injured drow figurine. It’s a hit. Cooper goes again, firing another arrow into the same elf. They’re aiming to take her down fast. Smart. The elves attack next.
“Filthy halflings!” Lincoln uses his drow voice. “How dare you?” He rolls behind the screen. “Oof, I’m sorry, Wizzy. The drow to your left swipes at you with her staff. It makes contact with your left arm. You take four points of damage.”
“Dang it.” Why starts tallying his remaining hit points. The drow really have it out for halflings, so things are looking precarious for Clover and Wizzy. He takes two more points of damage, and I get hit for five.
“Brody, your turn,” Cooper pipes in.
“I attack the wounded drow with my long blade. That’s two-d-four piercing damage.” He rolls without any hesitation. “Seven. Plus my strength mod, making it ten. Not great.”
“Good enough!” Lincoln tips the figurine onto its back. “Two more to go.”
“Cameron?”
“Perception check.”
“What?!” Brody, Cooper, and Why say in unison.
“I want to do a perception check, for the crown.”
“Interesting. Roll it.” Lincoln seems amused with my tactic. I roll the purple die on my palm and let it go. Four.
“Sorry, not enough. Okay, Wizzy. Back to you!”
“I cast cone of cold. It should hit both of them from where my character is standing.” Why rolls a sixteen, and the elves take their damage. It’s not enough. They’re tough. Cooper fires three arrows at once, Brody misses, and I do another perception check.
“Are you kidding? Take them out!” Brody looks pissed. “Stop being a little bitch.” He pounds the table. The angrier he gets, the worse I feel about ditching my boy armor. I try to summon up the bravery I had in the garden. But it’s different when the angry, possibly dangerous, jerk is sitting right there next to you. I can’t just ignore him.
I roll my perception check and land on a reasonable ten.
“Sorry, Clover. All you see is your friends getting their butts kicked.” Lincoln scratches something down behind his screen. The elves take their turns. One of them must roll some low numbers and doesn’t deal any damage. The other takes twelve hit points off Tiffani.
“Are you kidding me?! I’m almost dead!” Brody isn’t having it.
“Almost,” Lincoln fires back.
“What happens if Tiffani dies?” Cooper asks.
“That’s it for her. Brody has to start over,” Why answers. “Take it easy, Lincoln! We’re still pretty low level.”
“She’s not dead yet! Go ahead, Jade. It’s your turn.” Lincoln motions for Cooper to roll.
“I’m shooting again,” Coop declares, and rolls a seventeen.
“Well, well,” Lincoln starts. “That’s more like it. Jade, you’re sick of the fighting. The drow are keeping you from getting your payout from Tiffani. She hired you to help track down t
he crown, and that’s just about all you are willing to do for her. You sure as hell didn’t sign up to die for her cause. You pull back and focus. The rest of the room blurs around your target. You inhale, one deep breath. You aren’t stressed, or frightened. You’re at peace—this is what you were born to do. You let the arrow fly, and it pierces the drow right through her eye. She’s out.” Lincoln tips another mini-fig over. “Nicely done.”
Wizzy uses magic missile again, and Tiffani doles out a few points of damage to the remaining drow. She must be on her last legs.
“How do you expect to leave Gelvvin castle alive? The crown belongs to us,” Lincoln coughs in his drow voice. “The time is now.”
“I want to…,” I start.
“Roll a perception check. Ugh!” Brody finishes for me. He’s right, though. I’ve been on a bad streak with my purple die, and I remember Why’s advice about switching it up, back when all of this started. I pick up the glow-in-the-dark die and roll it between my palms until the cold plastic is the same temperature as my hands. Until it feels like it’s a part of me. Then I let it fly.
Twenty.
“Oh. Oh, okay. Well. Um.” Lincoln flips through some papers; it’s the first time he’s looked disorganized since we started playing. “How about…Yeah, how about this?” He lifts up a massive die. It must be the size of a tennis ball.
“Oh shit. Large Marge?” Brody asks. “For a perception check?”
“Yep.” Lincoln writes something else down behind the partition; I can tell he circles it.
“How many sides is that?” Cooper asks.
“A hundred.” Why, Brody, and Lincoln all answer.
“What?!”
“Everyone roll a perception check except for Clover,” Lincoln instructs. No one rolls anything remarkable. Lincoln seems pleased by this. He takes Large Marge and rolls it in front of the screen so we all get to see it tumble across the mat and slowly stop on a three.
“Well, fuck me. This is happening sooner than I thought.” Lincoln laughs. “Clover, come with me, please.” He gathers up a few papers and sticks some dice in his pockets. “Give us a minute, guys,” Lincoln says as we vanish behind the staff door.
* * *
“The fight continues around you, Clover, but for some reason you can’t bring yourself to ready your dagger. You know Tiffani doesn’t have the crown, but the drow must know something about its location or else they wouldn’t be here at Gelvvin castle. When you see the crystals on their staves illuminate, you are certain the crown is somewhere in the tower. You know your efforts would be better spent searching.
“But there is nowhere for it to be hidden! No trunks, no tapestries, no sconces. You are in the world’s most sparsely decorated tower. Plain stone walls, windows without sills or boxes. You stomp on the floor—maybe a trapdoor? But it’s solid. Wizzy takes a hit and snaps you back to reality. You know the drow have it out for your kind. You have to find the crown—you need it. You can use it. Bindi, from the lake, was right. If you kept the crown, you could end the magic embargo. Halflings could be wizards. Girl halflings could go on adventures; everything could change. Determined, you closely watch the staves of the drow as they fight. The crystals flashing some sort of pattern as they swing around and change directions.”
Lincoln could weave stories for hours, and I would hang on to every word. I don’t know how he does it. He’s not reading from a piece of paper; he looks right at me as he describes the scene. Making up the details on the spot, never stumbling; it’s remarkable. The room feels warmer than the last time I was back here. I don’t feel lost or alone. I feel relief. This comic store, these guys, have become part of my life, my friends. This is the last night I’ll have to wear Hawaiian shirts and Cooper’s hand-me-downs. The last time I’ll have to lower my voice and shuffle my feet. I can curl my hair and paint my nails and wear my hand-sewn summer dresses. I can roll dice and design costumes for heroes and flip through comic books. All as myself. Finally.
“So what do you want to do?” Lincoln asks, pencil poised and ready. I’m not sure what Clover wants to do, not yet. But I sure as hell know what Cameron wants to do.
“This.”
I take Link’s face into my hands and bring my lips to his. His notebook falls from his lap, sending flurries of papers to the floor. I feel his fingers run down my back. I straddle him in the folding chair.
“I’m a girl,” I tell him, burying my face into his neck.
“No,” he starts, and I pull away. His face is pink from the friction. “You’re the girl.” I sink back down into his arms. He tucks his fingers up under the edge of my hat, and I melt. He’s touching my hair, my neck, but I feel his fingertips everywhere. It’s wonderful and terrible and I want to tell him that he’s the guy but I can’t speak. Just kiss.
“Should we order a pizza?” The door swings open and slams into the wall. Startled, I jump off Lincoln and back away from him. “Wait, what?!” Why stands in the doorway, and I think I can hear his heart cracking in two. “How? How could you?” He looks right at Lincoln. Not at me. He doesn’t spare me a single glance. All his shock and anger is laser-focused on Link. My eyes sting, and I can barely catch my breath. This is not how I wanted Why to find out. Cooper was right: How could I have been so selfish?
“Why, don’t!” Lincoln calls out to Why. He chases after him, but Why isn’t slowing down; he heads straight for the door.
“I thought you told him!” Lincoln turns on me, puzzled.
“I—I—I was going to!” My voice catches in my throat.
“I have to go.” He chases after Why and doesn’t look back.
“You? You. You’re a chick?” Brody asks. He won’t stop staring, but I don’t care. I’m watching the door, waiting.
“Yes,” I say under my breath, and take off my beanie.
“I don’t get it.”
“I hope all of this was worth it, Cam!” Cooper shouts. I don’t bother responding. He doesn’t really want me to anyway. “Yeah. That’s what I thought. See you at home.” Cooper takes his stuff and leaves me behind.
“I should go,” I say to Brody, without making eye contact.
“Wait, wait. Are you that chick from online? That Pinz girl with the cosplay?” Brody asks, staring at me, piecing it all together.
“Yes.”
“That’s fucked up.”
“It’s all fucked up,” I sigh, and pack up my things.
“This whole time you just…But why?”
“You’ve seen my blog. And I saw what you said.”
“Yeah, but it’s not like I knew that it was you,” he justifies.
“As if that makes any difference.”
“Of course it makes a difference.”
“Do you even hear yourself?” I ask.
“So they all knew? They knew you were a chick this whole time?”
“Except for you and Why.”
“And what, you didn’t tell me because I’m just some jerk?”
“Why would I tell you anything? You scare the shit out of me sometimes.”
“What the fuck did I ever do to you?” He raises his voice, incredulous, and I know I have to leave before it gets worse.
“Nothing, forget it.” I make a break for the door.
“So that’s it? The game’s just over, then?” I don’t answer him. I feel lost. And I have no one to blame but myself. That’s the worst part. Just as I thought I was getting brave, I’m reminded that I’m anything but. I leave without uttering another word and drag myself through the longest walk home ever.
Why did I think this would be a good idea? Why didn’t I call it quits the minute Wyatt started confiding in me? Why didn’t I stop when Cooper asked me to? Why did I smash my stupid phone? I walk by the Wandering Goat, and all I want to do is order a dirty chai and call Lincoln and Why so I can apologize and explain myself.
I hang my head. I know when I get home I’ll be faced with my portfolio, and Cooper, and the reality of this whole damn mess. As long as I’m walking home, I’m in that hazy in-between place. Yeah, I fucked up and everyone is pissed, but I’m not ready to face the fallout. Not yet.
The Willamette is beautiful at night. There are no stars in the sky, but the flickering reflections of streetlights in the river make up for their absence. No one could possibly hear me crying over the sound of the frogs and crickets. Maybe they’re crying too.
The silhouette of the DeFazio Bridge threatens to pluck the moon right out of the sky for me. I walk along the bike path to the center of the bridge.
“I’m such a coward!” I cry, leaning over the railing. I’m glad I can’t see my reflection in the water, because I don’t know if I could stand the sight of myself. My face is cold and wet; if I stay here long enough, I might just flood the river. The water will rise up, and a new salty stream will carry me far away from all the people I’ve misled. And maybe next summer, on a warm day, they will all go swimming there, happy and carefree without me.
I turn back the way I came. Finally ready to go home. I’ll go up to my room and try to sleep it off. Tomorrow I can start my apology tour of Eugene. The collar of my Hawaiian shirt is soaked through after using it like a handkerchief. It doesn’t matter, because I’ll never have to wear it again. It’s better off as a snot-rag.
“ ’Sup.” Two stoners nod at me as I leave the park. I nod back and keep walking. Normally, I’d be a little worried. Worried that they might follow me, or that they might have bad intentions. But I don’t feel nervous walking alone in my boy clothes, and I realize this is why I kept it up so long. This feeling of invisibility, of unquestioned acceptance. It was addicting. Comfortable. Easy. At least I thought it was.
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