Revary

by Abigail Linhardt

  The class was still struck dumb. Probably from fear of that pop quiz he mentioned. But it never came. The professor turned out the lights and ignited the power point projector mounted on the ceiling and pulled down the huge white screen. In an instant, it was filled with a picture of a gold and blue sarcophagus.

  “Young King Tut and his treasure,” the teacher said. “I am Professor Alexander LeGrand from the University of You’ve-never-heard-of-it.” A small trickle of laughter followed that. “I am not here to teach you anything. I am here to show you things, explain events, and theorize my life away with you. I hope you share my enthusiasm. Shall we start with the greats and the gold? What is the biggest mystery surrounding our young king? Anyone?”

  Alice raised her hand.

  After sitting through a tedious hour and fifteen minutes of Ms. Vander and her sleepy voice reading out questions and answers about Romeo and Juliet, Clare was happy to get to science with Al and Stella.

  “Why can’t an English teacher be exciting?” she asked as Al set up their lab for that day. “I mean, she gets to give us books to read. Places and people to explore and she makes it out to be the worst and slowest way to die. How is she not on fire for Juliet? Our new history teacher has more fire for dead teenage kings than she does.”

  “She teaches the same thing every year and all day.” Stella was watching her reflection in the silver tabletop and putting on her safety goggles like a headband, making sure her bangs fell just right on each side. “I would hate that.”

  “She should have picked something she loved to teach then.”

  “Maybe she did,” Al reasoned from behind his armload of supplies. “I want to do something that pays the bills, but is what I love to do. But I understand her. I’d do something I hated if it made enough money.”

  Clare wrinkled her nose. “No way. I just want to do something I love. And I guess something that helps out the human race.” They all smiled at her romantic thought.

  “I want a family though,” Al went on with his thought. “I need to provide, you know?”

  Before they could reply, the teacher was in, Mr. Salvatore, looking more like a gleeful mad scientist than ever.

  “You are all seniors now. Do you know what that means?” He nearly giggled. “More freedom of the mind. Time to explore!”

  “Someone’s excited,” Stella mumbled. “Why is it in our senior year all of our professors are energetic?”

  “Maybe it will make up for all the bad ones we had growing up?” Clare offered. “At least he seems to like his area of study.”

  The rest of the day was just as interesting for Clare. Many of the new senior teachers seemed alive and eager to teach. Everything had changed from her last year. There were also those teachers, like Ms. Vander, who were dull, burned out, and uninteresting. Alexander LeGrand was her favorite by far. She had hoped to explode into literature this year, but that didn’t look like it was going to happen. At first, she was worried because she was enjoying her science courses more than her English and compositions ones. This was not all right in her mind, until her chemistry teacher promised to teach them how to make a robotic arm later and how to make nitro glycerin out of household items. He promised them it included Styrofoam and they needed to collect some if they wanted to make it. But the few great teachers didn’t overshadow the bad ones, who simply wanted you to say back to them in an essay or on a test exactly what they had told you.

  The migration from the school to the buses was the dangerous part. The varsity football and soccer teams were both out throwing and kicking balls around in the park when the group was leaving.

  Clare was liking Alice more and more throughout the day. They had started in on one of Clare’s favorite subjects: Lucid dreaming.

  “I’ve done a lot research with it,” Clare was saying, trying to impress the logic-driven girl. “I’ve done the steps to enhance it as well, like keeping a journal and waking up every hour or so during my experiments, but I can’t seem to ever reach it. I used to not even dream very often, or if I do, I don’t know it.”

  Alice was nodding and looking very thoughtful. “I assume dreams take time. Making things go the way you want in general takes time.”

  “Yeah,” Clare smiled. She had intrigued Alice and that was good enough. “I just want to dream as a first step though.”

  “Yes, the scientific process usually involves steps,” Alice confirmed.

  “Alice, where is this big hunk of black man you were supposed to introduce us to?” Stella asked, primping her clip-in colored hair and interrupting the conversation she would never take part in.

  “Woah there,” Alice said, facing Stella. “I did not say anything about a black man, white girl. I said I had a fellow barbarian who wanted to meet you all. He wants in on the council too and he can offer a bit of protection.”

  “Wait!” Clare called a halt to the group’s progress to the buses. “Where’s Max?”

  They all looked around, but Al spotted him first.

  “Running for his life behind the bleachers,” he said, pointing.

  There was Max, a black cascade of disheveled hoodie and backpack, dashing to save his skin from a herd of ravenous varsity guys.

  “He looks okay,” Al said. “Let’s go.” He put his arm around Clare’s shoulders and tried to steer the group away.

  “Are you insane? No, he’s not okay. We have to help him.” She pushed his arm off and ran, with Alice on her tail, toward Max.

  Somewhere along the way, Alice’s glasses fell off and Clare hoped she didn’t step on them. When they were halfway to Max and he was halfway across the football field, Alice called out toward the team.

  “Slave escapes!”

  Quickly, the team’s runner did a U-turn on the field and dashed toward Max, making it to him in record time. He weaved in front of the running boy and caught him with one arm, stopping his retreat.

  “Oh great!” Clare panted as she and Alice slowed down. “Now he’s dead.”

  “No, not really.” Alice smiled.

  When they caught up to the pair, Max was panting and clutching his chest. The runner had his hand on his shoulder and was talking to him like some kind of coach. The soccer guys who had been chasing him caught up too. One made a grab at Max’s arm, but the runner pulled him away.

  “Sorry, bro, this one’s mine. He’s my slave for the semester. Just business, you know. He writes me papers and I make sure he doesn’t get a beating every day. But if you want to go ahead, I’m sure my team won’t stand a chance against your soccer fairies.”

  The soccer players looked like they were actually contemplating the situation for a minute before they shrugged and started back to their side of the field.

  “He spilled my sports drink!” one called back. “Make sure he replaces it by the end of the week.”

  With the others gone, Alice led Clare to the football player and Max who was still shaking and flushed with running. Clare took Max’s backpack and slung it over her back alongside hers and patted him on the shoulder.

  “Glad you’re alive.” She smiled in relief.

  “Slave?” Max coughed, looking up at the football player.

  “Nah,” he laughed. He reached up and took off his helmet. A cascade of blond hair showered out from the helmet and tumbled over his shoulders. Radiant green eyes looked down at the shorter people. “That’s just to get them to leave you alone. Anything for Alice.”

  “Holy Galahad,” Clare breathed, her eyes captivated by the face above her.

  “Uh, no, Lance,” the player said, shaking her hand. What a gentleman. “These are your friends, Alice?”

  “Lancelot,” Clare sighed.

  “Just Lance,” Alice corrected her, patting her shoulder. “Well, when Clare here revisits planet Earth, we can invite you to the shindig this weekend. I think she is totally fine with you being on the council.”

  Clare suddenly blinked and looked at Alice. “Yes, the council.” Then back to Lance, “You’re a
barbarian? You, like, dress like Conan the Barbarian and, like, stuff?”

  “Okay,” Max practically yelled, his face set with annoyance, “we’ll see you tomorrow or on chat tonight.” He grabbed Clare’s hand and marched her back to Al and Stella.

  “Oh my Ra,” Stella droned when they were all walking to the buses again. “Did you see that guy? I have never seen so much sex crammed inside one football jersey before.”

  “Ugh, you girls are worse than most boys,” Max gagged. “Clare was thunderstruck for sure.”

  “Why, Clare?” Al groaned. “He’s a jock. Our kind doesn’t mix.”

  Clare faced her friends, walking backwards and smiling. “At least I was just looking. And I can stop myself mid fantasy, unlike some people. How many Mediaeval Skanks magazines do you have under your bed that you look at every night? Talk about unreal expectations. No girl looks like that. At least Lance is real.”

  “Talking about mixing,” Alice joked, falling into a Southern accent. “I best be taking my place at the back of the bus now.”

  Everyone laughed, except Max, who stuffed his hands into his pockets and brooded the whole way home. For some of the kids that year, the school had changed in some very good ways. Clare knew being friends with anyone who looked like a real life version of Sir Galahad couldn’t be that bad. And neither could a history teacher who was weird and awesome at the same time, making you love a subject you once hated.

  “I may read my history chapter twice,” she said to Alice, the only one who wouldn’t laugh at her for saying such a thing. “What do you guys think of this year’s history teacher?” she asked.

  “He’s alright,” Al said. “I think he looks a little too far into the fun of it. Not that fun is bad,” he quickly corrected when the others shouted in argument. “Just that I’m not sure how much learning I’m going to get from a guy who thinks it’s all fun and games to theorize and tell stories.”

  Alice tilted her head. “But we love stories. And this Egyptian stuff is amazing.”

  “I agree with Al,” Stella said. “He does seem a little distracted.”

  They all turned to Max who was hunched up with his knees pulled up to his chest.

  “He’s ok. I liked the bit about embalming he showed us on those slides. It’s like culture, you know? History and other places.”

  Clare put her arm around her miserable friend. “You would like the bit about the dead people, wouldn’t you?”

  A shy smile broke out across Max’s face that no one but Alice noticed.

  “Lance will be with us this weekend,” she said. “I’m sorry to bring him up again,” she said when Max’s face fell. But Clare’s arm didn’t move.

  As they drove past the fields of cows just outside of the city, Clare watched outside and imagined Lance galloping through the fields on a white horse. She sighed and fogged up the window.

  Chapter 3

  The Nether Plane

  The sun had been snide in its time spent above the woods all weekend. It was late August and still insisted on beaming down heat and enlivening the screech of grasshoppers, that were no doubt cheering on the mosquitos and other biting bugs that had found their way into Clare’s clothing and eyes. Just ahead, glaring in the heat, was the start to a long row of plastic orange fence caging in Sun Age. The road they had used was now covered in mud from tractors and huge machinery for digging and trucks bringing in building supplies. Next to her, Al swung his head back and forth, surveying the landscape. He pulled his hood up.

  “I don’t know what we can do. They said last weekend it was going to close.” There was a kind of finality in his voice, as if he wouldn’t even consider trying to find a way around it.

  Clare stepped forward in her female Robin Hood costume, complete with bow and knife, and pulled on the makeshift fence.

  “We could easily sneak in,” she said.

  “Oh no,” Al laughed and took a few steps back toward his car. “I am not breaking and entering. Not now I’m an adult and can get a record. Future plans?” He had meant for her to nod in agreement, saying they should not jeopardize their future with such a silly misdemeanor.

  “I don’t see a ‘keep out’ sign,” she pointed out. “And the fence isn’t even complete. It’s not entirely lost.”

  Al didn’t reply. He knew she would never give up until they were inside setting up the tents and other equipment he had in his trailer hitched to his truck. He wanted to say “Why can’t you understand that it’s time to move on?” but knew her wrath would follow and he wanted her in a good mood for later.

  Behind them, Stella’s car pulled up with Max in the front seat and Alice, Jeff, and Lance in the back. Clare turned around fast, her eyes straining to see into the backseat. She needed little convincing for letting Lance, the barbarian prince, onto her council.

  Al watched her, rolled his eyes, and started to handle the fence again, hoping to gain her attention back.

  Max was wearing his dark elf robes and had taken the extra time to finally wear his professional wig. It was silky, white, and hung all the way down his back. The contrast with his dark eye makeup and black robes was a great touch. Stella had put on her extra revealing purple sorceress dress with the plunging neck line and gauzy side panels that revealed her waist. Her hair was curled and piled up elegantly on her head. Then Lance got out, pulling from the backseat a broad sword that would have made Conan jealous. His leather boots looked soft and came up to his knees with all kinds of animal remnants as decorations. His muscular legs were bare and apart from a kind of leather skirt-loincloth-thing, he only had a heavy black cape with large, round, bronze clasps. His hair was down to his shoulders and he wore a braided leather headband. He heaved his sword onto his shoulder and Clare sighed.

  Alice stepped out in her similar female barbarian guard, her soft, but slightly toned stomach shimmered with almond oil she had applied on the way over to give her a rough and tough look. She put herself between Clare and Lance, who seemed oblivious to her gawking as he helped Max unload the water coolers.

  “What are we doing on this side of the fence?” Alice asked. “Al seems to have gotten us through.”

  They all looked and saw he had taken out his Swiss Army knife and cut through that part of the fence.

  “Could have gone around,” Max grumbled, parting his new wig so his long ears could poke through.

  Al sighed and started to heave the water and food into his trailer. “But then we couldn’t just drive right up,” he smiled.

  The boys moved the heavy boxes of food and water into the trailer while the girls moved the tents and rugs from the various cars into the trailer as well.

  “My mom is coming to act as moderator this time,” Jeff informed them. “She’s got her camper and will be about half a mile from that one hill.”

  “Rangers Peak,” Clare corrected him. “I think that’s where we should set up any way. I was feeling ranger-ish.”

  “I like the Robin Hood look on you,” Lance said as they finished loading up.

  Clare tripped as she finished loading the last of the tech equipment.

  “Let’s park and get going,” Jeff said. “Looks like it may rain and we need to get the boards down and the tarps up.”

  Jeff had invented amazing collapsible slabs of wood that could be joined together to make elevated floors in case of rain. That had won him into the council instantly. They were big and the reason the kids had had to save up and buy a trailer, but they were worth it. To have solid wood under your medieval boots to stomp as you paced moodily back and forth in a tent was more than an awesome effect. It helped make it real.

  Stella and Clare parked their cars in the lot then piled into Al’s truck and set off up the hills into the woods. Clare sat in the front with Al driving, Stella, Max, and Alice sat in the back with Lance and Jeff in the truck’s bed with some of the supplies. Clare had her elbow resting on the arm of her chair.

  Al saw this and casually let his rest on his side, allowing it slide
closer to her as they bumped up the unpaved road that had been made rougher buy the builders and machines. Thank goodness none of them were in sight.

  He was about to take Clare’s hand when she said, “I’ll take the blame if we get caught. Don’t worry about that.”

  Snapping his hand back to his hair, he ran fingers through his tassel-like strands nervously. “Nah, I can’t let you do that. How about we just don’t get caught?”

  When they got the top of Ranger Peak, Max shrugged Stella off and helped Lance unload the cargo. The Human Clan was already there, setting up their tents. They had a blacksmith near the huge fire pit who was actually repairing a sword. Clare hopped out of the car.

  “Hey, guys, what gives? This is the Dark Elves’ spot. Max’s spot. You guys are on down the hill with me.” She pointed west.

  One of the Humans walked up to her. “We tried to phone Jeff, but he didn’t answer,” he said.

  “Oh, sorry,” Jeff panted, setting down the water cooler. “It’s a council thing. None of us are using our phones or internet right now. Except for gaming, of course. We can chat there. In honor of our grounded founder,” he clarified when the Human looked dumbfounded.

  “Oh yeah, I heard about that. Sorry,” he said to Clare. “Well, I’ll tell you now. That whole area back there,” he pointed west, “is all dug up already. The trees are gone and the river is dammed.”

  “We’re damned,” Clare sighed. “All of it?”

  “The Barbarian’s area too?” Alice gasped. “Why did no one send us a message on the game?”

  She and Lance looked at each other.

  “Some of your people are arriving,” the Human said. “I’ll send them up to you.”

  They were all constructing the councilor’s tent where Jeff would be with his tech room and a walky-talky to his mom when some of the Dark Elves arrived with the Barbarians close behind them.