And in a flash of green light, the specter floated through the wall and disappeared.
Albiorix grabbed the Malonomicon and struggled to his feet. His mind was still reeling from fighting off the warlock’s attempted possession. He burst out into the gymnasium just in time to see a ghostly green trail disappear through the double doors. Albiorix steadied himself and headed after the specter.
The wizard stumbled through empty halls of JADMS searching for the ghost, stopping every so often to let a wave of freezing nausea pass. The place was eerily quiet, and his boots seemed incredibly loud on the linoleum. It started to dawn on him that he didn’t even know what he would do if he caught Zazirak. He certainly had no way of fighting the ghost, and he wasn’t sure he had it in him to ward off a second attempt at possession. This was bad. This was very bad. At least everyone else had already gone home for the day.
Only . . . they hadn’t. Albiorix rounded a corner to see that the lights were on in the office.
“No,” said Albiorix to himself.
Someone must have decided to work late. Yet when the wizard peered through the window, he saw no one. As quietly as he could, he eased open the door and crept inside. He snuck past the Inspire Leadership poster toward the short hallway beyond.
There he saw the ghastly, translucent form of Zazirak floating in the air. Albiorix heard the muffled sounds of a phone call coming from inside Vice Principal Flanagan’s office.
“Yes, well, the patio furniture rusted almost immediately,” said Flanagan. “I understand . . . I understand! But it is still under warranty. . . . How can the warranty not cover rust? Look, I’m going to need to speak with your supervisor. . . .”
The warlock’s spirit chuckled, and there was a flash of green light as it flew through the door. An instant later there was a horrible scream.
Albiorix turned and ran as fast as his legs would carry him. He had the presence of mind to make a quick detour before bursting out of the school into the pouring rain outside. He kept running until J. A. Dewar Middle School had disappeared behind him.
What had he done? What had he unleashed? How could he have been so stupid? He was supposed to be the smart one!
At this point, he might have sought out his companions—hardened adventurers of Bríandalör, who would have been ready to meet the danger head-on. But he couldn’t bear the shame of facing them after making such a blunder. So instead, the wizard sought another.
The rules outlined in this book are extensive, but they are not meant to be exhaustive. Situations not expressly covered will arise from time to time. For example, what if a player wants their character to start a new school club, dedicated to ironically watching cheesy movies? Or perhaps they want to buy two dozen hermit crabs and attempt to teach them to play video games? The beauty of Homerooms & Hall Passes is that anything is possible. When the unexpected happens, roll with it! A good Hall Master must be familiar with the rules, but also know how to improvise.
—Excerpt from The Hall Master’s Guide
“HONEY, THERE’S A WET KID out here,” called Amy Westray. “He says he’s your friend.”
“What?” yelled June from inside.
“Just come down, sweetie,” said Amy.
June descended to the foot of the staircase. Through the front door she saw Albiorix, soaking wet and shivering on the front porch.
“Nope,” said June. “Not my friend.” She turned and disappeared upstairs again.
Amy looked at Albiorix. She looked back inside. She looked at Albiorix again.
“Well . . . this is awkward,” said Amy. “Can I at least call your parents or something?”
“You can’t, actually,” said Albiorix. “But . . . I’ll be fine, Mrs. Westray.”
Amy took an umbrella from a holder by the door. “Here,” she said. “Keep it.”
“Thank you,” said Albiorix. “Can you please just tell June that Albiorix says he’s sorry?”
“Sure,” said Amy. “Stay warm out there.”
Amy Westray shut the door and Albiorix opened his umbrella and stepped out into the rain once more. He truly didn’t know where he would go, but he started to walk anyway. He had made it to the end of the driveway when someone called out to him.
“Get back in here!” yelled June, who was standing in the front door.
Soon Albiorix was sipping a cup of hot tea in the Westray kitchen. Cheese, a pudgy orange tabby cat, purred and circled his ankles. Amy Westray stood by the doorway eyeing the wizard warily.
“So . . . this kid is your friend now?” said Amy.
“Yeah, Mom,” said June. “I just thought he was someone else. That’s all.”
“Okay, I’m going to assume that whatever’s happening is some sort of middle-school drama that moms aren’t meant to understand,” said Amy. “Please make yourself at home. I’ll be in the TV room if you need me.” She disappeared down the hallway.
“So you’re a huge liar,” said June. “Albiorix.”
“Yes,” said Albiorix. “And I am truly sorry. I thought I was doing it for the right reasons, but—
“You need to just stop at sorry,” said June. “That’s how apologies work.”
“Right,” said Albiorix. “Sorry. Full stop.”
“Thank you,” said June. “Now tell me the truth. Where are you really from?”
And so Albiorix told her. He told June Westray all about the real world—the magical Realm of Bríandalör, with its sorcerers and dragons and mighty empires and forgotten dungeons. And he told her of the game of Homerooms & Hall Passes and the mysterious curse that had brought him and his adventuring companions here. After he was done, June was silent for a long time.
“That is a much worse lie,” said June, sipping her tea.
Albiorix shrugged. “Because it isn’t one.”
“You expect me to believe that I, June Annabelle Westray, am merely a nonplayer character inside a weird game you play in some other world that’s full of orcs.”
“It’s not full of orcs,” said Albiorix. “There are some orcs—”
“Well, first off, I refuse to accept that I’m not real,” said June. “So agree to disagree on that one.”
“Agree to disagree,” said Albiorix.
“Second, if you’re a wizard, do some magic and prove it, tough guy,” said June. She crossed her arms.
Albiorix sighed and pulled a coin from an area that was generally adjacent, but not too close, to June’s ear.
“Nope!” said June. “If I’m going to believe you, you have to turn me into a frog or something.”
“It’s at least two years before I learn instant frogification,” said Albiorix. “You must remember I’m still an apprentice. And I forgot my spellbook when we got trapped here.”
“What kind of a wizard forgets his spellbook?” said June.
“A bad one,” said Albiorix. “However, if you require a flashier demonstration of mystical power, please turn off the lights.”
June did.
Albiorix cleared his throat. Then he traced the outline of an arcane sigil with his fingers as he spoke the secret name of the sun. His fingertips started to glow, and the five points of brightness coalesced into a single beautiful orb of pure light in his palm. The orb began to lazily drift toward the ceiling.
June screamed.
“Shhhh!” said Albiorix.
“What’s wrong?” cried Amy Westray from down the hall. “Is everything okay?”
Albiorix flicked the lights back on, and Amy Westray arrived a second later.
June’s eyes looked like saucers. “We’re . . . we’re fine,” said June.
“Really?” said Amy.
“Sorry I screamed,” said June. “My tea was too hot. Burned my tongue.”
“You nearly gave me a heart attack, honey,” said Amy. “You don’t have to drink it right away. Just let it cool for a minute next time.”
“Of course. Lesson learned. Sorry, Mom,” said June. “You can go back to the TV room now.”
Amy nodded and walked back down the hall. Albiorix took a sip of his own tea.
“Who’s the huge liar now?” said Albiorix.
“Shut up,” said June.
“Anyway, I came here tonight because I need your help, June,” said Albiorix. “And not just with a five-paragraph essay this time.”
“For, like, a hero quest?” said June.
“In a manner of speaking,” said Albiorix. “I mentioned before that I’m not the best wizard. To that point, I may have, um, unleashed an ancient evil upon the land.”
“Do tell,” said June.
Albiorix described performing the ritual of the Returning and its catastrophic results.
“And so I am reasonably certain—let’s say sixty-five percent sure—that Vice Principal Flanagan has been possessed by the ghost of an evil warlock.”
“Sounds like an improvement,” said June. “That guy was such a hard case about transferring the credit for my world music studies class from my old school. It’s not my fault if J. A. Dewar is too provincial to offer any cool classes!”
“Well, transfer credits aside,” said Albiorix, “I’m not exactly sure what to do about this warlock situation.”
“Well,” said June, “you said your friends beat Zazzmatazz—”
“Zazirak,” said Albiorix.
“Right,” said June. “They kicked this dude’s butt before, yes?”
“They did,” said Albiorix.
“And you weren’t even there to do any of your spells, some of which I’m assuming are more dangerous than the ear-coin thing.” said June. “They didn’t need your help.”
“Somewhat hurtful,” said Albiorix, “but true.”
“So it sounds like you guys are more than a match for Zazirak,” said June.
“I suppose you’re right,” said Albiorix. “Perhaps Zazirak isn’t so strong after all.”
The wizard felt a bit better. He would swallow his pride and enlist the aid of his companions. Together the party would defeat the warlock, just as they had before. His mood lightened, and he was happy to answer June’s countless questions about the Realm of Bríandalör.
Were there unicorns? Yes. Were there dinosaurs? No. How many wizards were there? Impossible to say (a lot). How did one become a wizard? Apprentice to an Archmage. Did wizards have their own crazy sports, where they flew around on broomsticks trying to catch a ball with wings? Absolutely not. Were there elves? Of course. Did they make cookies? Occasionally . . .
Eventually they got back around to the subject of Homerooms & Hall Passes.
“I’m sorry, but that game sounds super nerdy,” said June.
“Well, we don’t have Nerds in Bríandalör, so that’s impossible,” said Albiorix, a tad defensively.
“You know what I mean,” said June.
“Okay, but Thromdurr plays and he’s clearly not a Nerd!”
“Thromdurr?” said June.
“Douglas,” said Albiorix.
“Dude, Douglas is constantly talking about what a nerd he is!”
“I’ll admit that was a confusing example,” said Albiorix. “He is actually a barbarian.”
“Ah. The muscles and the hair make more sense now,” said June. “So you know everything about J. A. Dewar Middle School from playing Homerooms & Hall Passes?”
“Not everything,” said Albiorix. “But there is a lot of useful information in the sourcebooks.”
“Does that mean there’s an entry somewhere that’s all about me?” said June.
“I haven’t checked,” said Albiorix. “But probably so.”
“Well, that’s really weird and I refuse to believe it,” said June.
“Suit yourself,” said Albiorix. “Anyway, it’s getting late, so I should probably go. Thank you for talking this through with me. Please don’t tell anyone else that we’re secretly adventurers and this world is all a game.”
“I can’t imagine bringing that up in casual conversation,” said June.
“And you’re absolutely right,” said Albiorix. “You guys don’t have evil warlocks here, but we’ve faced down plenty back home. Whatever happens with Flanagan and Zazirak, my party and I will be there to handle it.” The wizard stood to go.
“Wait,” said June. “Where do you even live?”
“In a closet in the school gym,” said Albiorix.
“What do you eat?” said June.
“Well, I’m rather fond of the peanut-butter crackers, but the tropical fruit chews are starting to grow on me!” said Albiorix.
“You sleep in an equipment closet and eat vending-machine food for every meal,” said June. “In another context, that would be very, very sad.”
“It’s the life of an adventurer,” said Albiorix. “Farewell, June.”
“Bye, Albiorix,” said June, “I know you’re in a weird situation, but you should still try your best to be honest with people.”
“I promise I will,” said Albiorix. “See you Monday.”
The wizard took his free umbrella and headed out into the rainy night.
“Doug, there’s a wet kid out here,” said Ron Schiller. “He says he’s your friend.”
Thromdurr bounded toward the front door.
“It is Armando Boort!” said Thromdurr. “My boon companion from middle school. Welcome, Armando, to the House of Schiller.”
“Hi, Doug,” said Albiorix. “Sorry, I know it’s late.”
“No worries,” said Ron. “If you haven’t had dinner yet, there’s a bowl of my famous chili with your name on it, Armando!”
“Sure, that’d be great,” said Albiorix
Ron headed for the kitchen as Albiorix stepped inside.
“So what brings you to 45 Crescent Drive?” said Thromdurr, lowering his voice so that his father couldn’t hear. “Is evil afoot?”
Albiorix paused and debated whether or not he should tell Thromdurr what had happened at school.
“Nah,” said Albiorix. “I was just wondering if I could maybe stay here tonight. I’m tired of sleeping on exercise mats.”
“Douglas the Nerd’s first sleepover!” cried Thromdurr, pounding his chest. “I would be honored to host you, friend. And I have the perfect place for you to sleep. Behold!”
Thromdurr pointed to an overstuffed armchair in front of a gigantic TV.
“Huh,” said Albiorix.
“Worry not,” said Thromdurr, clapping Albiorix on the back. “It reclines!”
FLANAGAN, Myron James
OCCUPATION: Vice principal
ATTRIBUTES: Cunning: 16, Intelligence: 15, Likability: 4, Willpower: 19, Fitness: 15
SKILLS: Administration +8, Computer +5, Cooking +1, Drive +5, Intimidation +10, Public Speaking +2, Trivia (Military History) +6
BIOGRAPHY: Myron Flanagan is the hard-nosed, eagle-eyed disciplinarian of JADMS. Universally loathed (even among faculty), Flanagan has absolutely no tolerance for any of the following: antics, capers, clowning, goofing, horseplay, mischief, nonsense, pranks, silliness, tomfoolery. . . .
—Excerpt from The Album of Academic Administration
THE WIZARD OF BRÍANDALÖR steeled himself for battle. He took a deep breath, and with a wordless battle cry, Albiorix charged through the door of the vice principal’s office, brandishing his umbrella like a club.
“We killed you once, Zazirak,” yelled Albiorix, “but somehow you didn’t get the message!”
The office was empty. It had taken the wizard quite a while to think up that line, and he was slightly miffed that nobody heard it. Still, an empty office was better than trying to defeat a possessed Vice Principal Flanagan with nothing but an umbrella.
It was Saturday morning, and JADMS was deserted (until Mr. Driscoll showed up to run the floor polisher, at least). With no ghostly warlock to fight, Albiorix decided to poke around Flanagan’s office a bit. Everything was disturbingly clean and organized. There didn’t seem to be so much as a sheet of paper out of place. Whatever Zazirak had done hadn’t made much of a mess.
But if Flanagan wasn’t at school, then where was he?
In the wastebasket, Albiorix found a piece of junk mail that listed Myron Flanagan’s home address.
From the rosebushes, amid a set of slightly rusty patio furniture, the wizard peered through the bay window into the living room of 1120 San Antonio Way. There he saw Flanagan, laughing and eating popcorn as he watched a black-and-white movie.
“Huh?” said Albiorix to himself.
Seeing Myron Flanagan relaxed and cheerful would have been disconcerting even if Albiorix didn’t have reason to believe that the dark soul of Zazirak had possessed him. Yet after observing for another forty-five minutes, Albiorix started to wonder if anything had happened to Flanagan at all.
Fighting off the undead warlock’s influence was a matter of mental focus, and Flanagan might have done it, just as Albiorix had. According to his H&H stats, the man had a Willpower of 19. Perhaps, thought Albiorix, Zazirak’s ghost had tried and failed to inhabit his body, and then moved on to a softer target?
Albiorix stayed to watch the end of the movie. In the meantime, Flanagan didn’t cast any spells; his eyes didn’t glow; he didn’t emit a single menacing cackle. He did, however, tear up when the on-screen monochrome couple got married at the end.
That night Albiorix slept over at Devis’s house. Mom Stinky and Dad Stinky were odd, but nice enough. Yet after a dinner of bouillabaisse and a breakfast of bisque, the wizard found himself longing for the solid crunch of some peanut-butter crackers. He had no idea how Devis could possibly consume so much soup.
Olivia Gorman had agreed to meet the entire party at the Hibbettsfield Public Library for more algebra tutoring at three o’clock on Sunday.
“Greetings, Nerd Olivia,” said Thromdurr as he arrived. “I have brought a you a gift!”
The barbarian handed her a brand-new Spinco Seven-Tray Jerky Dehydrator.
“You said you didn’t want a home rotisserie, so I purchased this instead!” said Thromdurr. “According to the sages, it will revolutionize the way you make jerky at home!”
“I . . . don’t eat meat,” said Olivia.
“Well, the gods surely smile upon you, Olivia,” said Thromdurr, “for you can also use it to make fruit leather!”
Homerooms and Hall Passes Page 14