Chaotic Good

by Whitney Gardner

  “How? What, were you going to get online and make a post and say this is Cameron’s mommy how dare you?” I understand why they were hurt and that they want to help, but there isn’t really anything they can do. Nothing I haven’t already tried.

  “No, but we could have helped you. Supported you. We want to be there for you,” she argues. “No more of this sneaking around stuff. I don’t like it. If someone gets on your case, I wanna hear about it.”

  “All right.” I give in.

  “You have a lot of work ahead of you today, missy.” Mom puts a new phone on the table. It’s not as cool as my old one, but I’m not about to complain over a gift.

  “You need to change all your passwords, and here’s a list of everywhere you need to check to make sure our new address isn’t online. I already did it for your father and me. Make sure your brother checks all his accounts too.”

  “Mom, this is overboard.”

  “No, it’s not. You’ll feel safer once we do this. And so will I.”

  “Dad?”

  “You better do what she says on this one.”

  “And no more responding to these little rat finks. You focus on your work and everything you need to do for school.”

  “Fine.”

  “Speaking of school—”

  “Can I please, please have coffee first? We can talk about any schools you want later. As many as you want. I just need the coffee,” I beg.

  “You’re your mother’s daughter.” She kisses me on the forehead and drags Dad off into the garden. I check over my list of instructions. She’s right. This feels like taking the slightest bit of control back, and I need it.

  * * *

  Cooper left a note in my coffee mug. He went off to work but wants me to meet up with him and Why at Atomix later. I pour myself one last mugful, and, after finishing it, I figure I shouldn’t stand them up. If Cooper is right, and Why can forgive me, maybe I can get Lincoln to come around. Hell, Gillian Grayson tweeted me. I can do anything.

  I flip through my closet; I need something that says I’m sorry and I feel awful, but don’t I look nice? Let’s make out. I flip through it three times before settling on my only green dress. It’s got long sheer sleeves and is embroidered with little gold Saturns. It’ll have to do.

  “Two sixteen-ounce iced dirty chais, please.” I practice in the mirror, combing the nest out of my hair. I’ll go to the Goat and grab us some drinks to make my apology that much sweeter. I just hope he’s home.

  * * *

  Why is in line at the coffee shop, looking up at the menu and trying to decide what to order. He cracks some joke, and the barista starts laughing. I feel ashamed. I spent all morning getting ready to apologize to Lincoln, and I didn’t give Why a second thought. What kind of friend does that? I don’t deserve him.

  “Whatever he wants is on me,” I chime in at the register.

  “Oh dang, Cam.” He takes a step back. “I didn’t recognize you!”

  “Heh. Yeah. Two iced dirty chais and a…” I pause, waiting for Why to order his choice.

  “Make it three.” He holds up three fingers, and I hand my debit card to the cashier.

  “You don’t have to do that,” Why says, reaching for his own wallet.

  “No. I really do. For starters.”

  Why backs down and lets me pay for the drinks. We grab a table and wait for them together. I break the silence first.

  “Why, I’m so majorly sorry.”

  “I know.”

  “And Cooper told me he explained, but I wanted a chance to tell you—”

  “Yeah, he showed me what happened. And you know, part of me gets it. I see it. I read through some of those comments, and I just—I understand. But at the same time…” He pauses. I can tell he’s turning the words over in his head, not wanting to say the wrong thing.

  “Just say it. I deserve it.”

  “How could you think I would be like that? Like one of them. Why would you assume I would treat you that way?”

  “When I came into Atomix that day, I didn’t expect I would make friends with anyone. The idea of meeting someone cool there, after dealing with Brody, never even crossed my mind. And then we met, and you were funny and dorky and you reminded me of my friends back in Portland.”

  “Okay, so then why couldn’t you have—”

  “Because I thought you would hate me! Not because I’m a girl, but because I lied. I just wanted to keep being your friend as long as I could.”

  “You’re pretty weird. You know that, right?” He laughs.

  “Yes. I’m weird and dramatic, and I make messes out of molehills or whatever.”

  “Senior year is gonna be pretty interesting with you around—I’ll say that much.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Maybe you can help me figure out a way to ask this guy out to fall formal. I think he has a flair for dramatics too.”

  “Are you kidding? Of course! Anything you want, seriously.”

  “Because I’ve thought a lot about all of it. All of this. And I guess I realized…you’re not the right guy for me.” We laugh and pick up our drinks. “You gonna come to Atomix later?”

  “Maybe.”

  “You should.”

  * * *

  I take our chais and the cloak to Kozy Corner. The bell jingles, but there’s no one at the register. I leave Lincoln’s cup on the counter and wander through the aisles until I see Dotty, trying to fetch some yarn off a shelf just out of her reach.

  “Let me help you!”

  “Ah, Cameron’s here to save the day. I’m almost done with my afghan,” she says. I reach up on my toes and grab the skein she’s after.

  “Is Lincoln here?”

  “You keep missing each other! He’s off doing who knows what today.” I wonder if she can hear the bobbin in my chest stop spinning. I missed my chance. This feels final. We’re just going to keep missing each other.

  “Can you give him this for me?” I hand her the cloak that we worked together to finish.

  “You should be the one—”

  “Please, Dots?”

  “If you insist.”

  I tell her that I do and thank her again for all her help the other day. I want to stay and chat, but it doesn’t feel right. Instead, I walk over the DeFazio Bridge and do laps of Alton Baker Park until it’s time to meet up with Cooper.

  * * *

  “Hello?” The door is open, but the store is empty. Someone moved Dr. Strange so that he’s watching over the cash register. I feel a bit of déjà vu, walking the aisles, looking for Brody or Why. But they’re obviously not here.

  I flip through comics; I sort through some dice. It’s nearing closing time. Should I lock up and leave? Where does Brody keep the keys? Something crashes in the storeroom. I hear voices. I know Brody keeps a MagLite behind the counter. Lincoln used it once in our game. I keep it tight in my fist as I sneak up on the door.

  The voices have stopped.

  “Hello?” I whisper, hoping that I was just imagining things. I open the door a crack and peek inside.

  There’s Jade, in full elven garb, arms wrapped tightly around Wizzy. I’ve never seen an elf and a wizard make out before, but when one of them is your brother, you can’t help but cover your eyes. They don’t even notice that I’m here. I clear my throat, but Cooper just pulls Why closer. I have to break them up when he goes to grab Why’s butt. It’s too much.

  “Excuse me!”

  “Consider the favor returned, Clover.” Wyatt laughs, red-faced.

  “What are you guys wearing? When did you get these?” I can’t believe the costumes fit each of them perfectly; even the little hat I made for Wizzy sits flawlessly on Why’s head.

  “I literally got them out of the literal garbage this morning. Here, put yours on.” Cooper smiles whi
le Why sneaks his hand back into Cooper’s rear pocket. Both of them flush with excitement.

  “Now hurry up before—”

  “I told you it wouldn’t fit!” Brody crashes out of the bathroom decked out in Tiffani’s long blue gown. Underneath he is wearing a #PINZHASAPOSSE shirt. “I can’t get the zipper up!”

  “Oh. My. God.” The three of us say in unison.

  “You made it too small, dude.” Brody keeps trying to reach the zipper. “I look like a fool. I wanted to look hot!”

  “It doesn’t look all that bad, actually.” I try to comfort him. “If you only look at it from the front.”

  “Yeah? Come on, I need a wig,” he announces, and goes to find one in the shop.

  “Should I?” I hold up Clover’s costume.

  “Obvs.” Cooper chuckles. “Hurry up!” He pulls Why along out of the storeroom.

  I change out of my green dress and into Clover’s clothes, careful to keep them from grazing the floor. The pockets are still stuffed with plastic baubles and treasures. It’s soft and comfortable, a ton of cozy layers. I’m missing my crown of clover, but the costume holds up well without it. I feel so lucky I bet I could roll twenties all night long.

  “Well, if it isn’t Miss Clover. Hello.” Lincoln smiles. His cloak is draped over his shoulders and down to the floor.

  “Hi. I see you got my delivery.”

  “Now, where did we leave off?”

  “I was apologizing.”

  “No, you rolled a twenty on a perception check.”

  “No, you, Lincoln. I was telling you how sorry I was for lying, and messing up the whole group.”

  “Cameron, I overreacted. You know, as a DM I think I can control everyone, and sometimes I take it too far. I should have understood what you were going through. I said I would fight the trolls, and I bailed. I’m sorry, not you. So, as I was saying…

  “You were following the glowing staves of some evil drow elves. Trying to find the crown of Valzyr.”

  “Oh, right.” I can’t believe he jumps back into the game so quickly. I try to get into the right headspace. It’s difficult.

  “Every time the drow advance on you, walk near you, swing their staves in your direction, the crystals light up.”

  “My direction?”

  “Yours.”

  “But there was nothing in the floor under me!”

  “Nope. Wait…” Lincoln takes a step back and looks me over. “You’re missing something.”

  “I am?”

  “Yes.”

  I pat down my pockets; I open up my purple cape and check my vest. Lincoln laughs and pulls my wreath, my crown, out from under his cloak. “This.”

  “N-no,” I stammer in disbelief.

  “Yes.”

  “The whole time?!”

  “The whole damn time.” Lincoln places the crown on my head and bows ever so slightly. The bobbin in my chest kick-starts and spins into overdrive.

  “Lincoln. Does this mean we can…”

  “The crown of Valzyr gives you some bonus modifiers should you find yourself in a position to need them. For instance, let’s say you got caught up in a big misunderstanding. One where you made quite a few people upset. The crown adds plus eighteen to your charisma. So, if you’re wearing it while you try to, let’s say, win back the hearts of a merry band of misfits…”

  “What about just one heart? What if I wanted to convince a certain Dungeon Master to be my boyfriend?”

  “The only way you could fail is if you rolled a one. So, what would you like to do?” He takes a silver d20 out of his pocket and holds it in his palm. I can’t get over how he looks in the cloak. Royal, the king of stories. His hair pulled back off his face, he breathes in the way only Lincoln can breathe. Like a hum, like music. I scoop it up, letting my hand linger on his. Our smiles identical, our hearts pounding.

  “Roll it.”

  You sit in a dimly lit room. Scratching away, scribbling words on a piece of parchment. But everything you write seems forced and cliché. Frustrated, you crumple the paper and throw it onto the ever-growing heap at your feet. You lay out a fresh sheet and try to start again. The blank page taunts you: Really? Another book? Who thought that was a good idea? You pick up your quill, ready to fight back, one word at a time. It’s a challenge. You fight until you’re exhausted, until you’re in tears, until you realize you can’t do it alone.

  Thank goodness you have a merry band of adventurers to help you on your journey.

  Brent Taylor, you fell in love with Chaotic Good before I wrote the first word. This book would not exist without your insight and constant encouragement. Thank you for literally everything, Snap.

  Thanks to my die-hard Dazzler fan and editor, Stephen Brown. I can’t think of a better editor for this uber-geekfest of a book.

  Marisa DiNovis for all of your hard work and ceaseless enthusiasm. I’m thrilled we ended up working together, and I can’t wait to see what the future holds.

  Ray Shappell and Regina Flath designed my perfect cover. You managed to squeeze in more geeky references than I thought possible. And thanks to Kyle Hilton, who captured Cameron’s likeness flawlessly.

  Thanks to Uwe Stender and everyone at Triada US for your support and passion.

  To Kaitlyn Patterson for falling in love with Lincoln before anyone else. Thank you for your notes, optimism, and all the DMs.

  Blair Thornburgh, how did I ever manage to survive in the publishing industry without you? Thank you for the unending pep talks. Summer Heacock, you are a fierce warrior and you inspire me to be one every day.

  To everyone who has my back in fighting off the orcs of my own making—Amy Spalding, Phil Stamper, Jen Gaska, Sarah Gailey, Nita Tindall, Laura Silverman, Jeremy West, Tiffany Jackson, Fredrick Arnold III, Lygia Day Peñaflor, and Sean Klein, who just happens to show up with a smile at all my major life events.

  Brendan Simpson, you were my first, and best-ever, Dungeon Master. Thanks for not only making me feel welcome, but making me feel integral. I was so lucky to be adopted into your little family of misfits and rogues.

  Thanks to Jon Anzalone for the decades of dorkiness and friendship.

  To Joe and Jake Giani, thank you for always letting me play video games with you growing up. Joe, I think Link is still stuck in that water temple from Ocarina. Jake, I’m so glad that you turned into a comic-book-loving super-geek. Getting to live next door to my cousins was the best thing ever.

  To my mother, who didn’t judge her dice-rolling daughter. Thank you for teaching me to march to the beat of my own drum. And to Aunt Linny, who gives incredible advice and throws even more incredible parties.

  Arielle. My sister. Your zeal for life and adventure is an inspiration. I’m so proud of you.

  Brie. My rattlesnake twin. Thank you for believing in me and my work so emphatically. I can’t wait to read every book you ever write. I’m so glad we’re on this journey together.

  Cara. My papergirl. The Taako to my Lup. This book would not be what it is without you. Thank you for being down for literally whatever new nerd hotness crosses our path. Just know, no matter what you do next, you’re going to be amazing.

  I don’t know where I would be without you, Roger. You’re the method to my messiness. Thank you for your patience and your love. When I met you, I rolled a 20.

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