Homerooms and Hall Passes

by Tom O'Donnell

  “You can’t seriously try to pin this on me!” said Albiorix. “I didn’t even go on the stupid quest.”

  “You’re right,” said Devis. “I’m thinking this is more Vela’s fault.”

  “How dare you!” said Vela.

  “Verily, it seems that I am the only one who bears no part of the blame,” said Thromdurr, crossing his arms as he eyed his companions.

  “What?” said Sorrowshade. “I was the one who warned you that there even was a curse in the first place! Remember?”

  “Yeah, but you were so rude about it,” said Devis. “Maybe if you’d had a different tone, we would have taken you a little more seriously.”

  “Unbelievable!” said Sorrowshade, throwing her hands up. “You humans are so greedy and shortsighted and, I’m sorry, but you guys smell weird. Like bacon.”

  “See, that is the tone I’m talking about,” said Devis, shaking his head. “The bard in my old party always used to say, ‘Sometimes how you’re communicating is just as important as what you’re communi—’”

  “I SMELL NOT LIKE BACON!” snarled Thromdurr.

  “Guys, guys. Keep it down,” said Albiorix. “We’re making a scene. Again.”

  Indeed, the children at nearby tables were gawking at them. Albiorix gave an awkward thumbs-up and they looked away.

  Vela took a deep breath. “Companions, we’ve been in dire situations before. Remember when we were trapped in the Mines of Ernath as they slowly filled with lava?”

  “A fond memory,” said Thromdurr, nodding.

  “Or when that wicked cryomancer Val’ghul imprisoned our party in the Dimension of Mirrors?” said Vela.

  “So many reflections of this handsome face,” said Devis with a crooked smile.

  “And we must not forget when the mighty Serpent of Transhoon swallowed our entire vessel, whole, as it crossed the Sea of Vosk,” said Vela. “We spent three whole days stuck in the beast’s gut before we devised a way to make it puke us out.”

  “It would have happened faster if we’d only had some of that pizza,” said Sorrowshade, crinkling her nose at the oily slice on Devis’s tray.

  “Eh, it’s not so bad when you add a little of the special yellow sauce,” said Devis. He squirted a line of mustard onto the slice and took a bite.

  “My point is, it doesn’t matter whose fault it is that we’re here,” said Vela. “Instead of casting blame, we must work together to find a way to get back to Bríandalör, back to the real world.”

  “I have an idea,” said Thromdurr, brightening. “Albiorix can simply cast a spell to magically transport us home!”

  They turned toward Albiorix.

  “Uh, no, I can’t,” said Albiorix.

  “But . . . you are a wizard,” said Thromdurr.

  “I’m an apprentice wizard,” said Albiorix. “Teleportation is a very advanced spell.”

  The other adventurers frowned.

  “Look, my skill set—bending the very fabric of reality by force of will—is maybe a smidge tougher to master than waving a sword around or breaking and entering,” said Albiorix. “Besides, I, uh . . .” Albiorix quietly mumbled something and trailed off.

  “You what?” said Vela.

  “He said he forgot his spellbook!” said Sorrowshade.

  “Wow, you have good hearing,” said Albiorix.

  “Albiorix, how could you possibly forget your spellbook?” said Sorrowshade. “That would be like me forgetting my arrows and assortment of deadly poisons.”

  “Or me forgetting my muscles!” said Thromdurr.

  “Look, it was a long walk and I didn’t have room in my bag for it with all the Homerooms & Hall Passes stuff, okay?” Albiorix held up his heavy satchel, practically bursting at the straps. “I have to cart around twenty-seven of these books, you know.”

  The other four adventurers stared at him now in naked disappointment.

  “Yes, but Homerooms & Hall Passes is just a game, Albiorix,” said Vela. “Perhaps in the future you could choose to carry twenty-six books to leave room for—”

  “I know it’s just a game! Of course I know that,” said Albiorix. “Except now it’s not a game, is it? It’s real. Look over there.”

  He pointed to group of girls at another table, chatting conspiratorially among themselves.

  “That’s Deanna Fernandez, Mary Davis, and Chloe Forte,” said Albiorix. “They’re probably whispering about how much they love Brent Sydlowski.” He nodded toward a handsome boy in a letterman jacket, chomping a taco. “It’s all real.”

  “Bah!” said Thromdurr. “’Tis but a magical illusion devised by some long-dead magician to mock and anger us. This world is no more substantial than faerie fire! See?”

  Thromdurr grabbed a fork from Devis’s tray and stabbed it into his own arm. There was an instant of silence. Thromdurr gritted his teeth as a trickle of blood dripped down his biceps.

  “Hmm. Perhaps a tad more substantial than faerie fire,” said Thromdurr, as he yanked the fork out and handed it back to Devis.

  “Nah, you can keep it,” said Devis.

  “And please stop doing stuff like that,” said Albiorix. “You’re acting like a barbarian from Bríandalör. You need to act like your character.”

  “Douglas, the 8th level Nerd?” said Thromdurr.

  “Yes, because that’s who everyone here thinks you are,” said Albiorix. “Until we figure out a way out of this place, we all have to just be typical eighth graders at J. A. Dewar Middle School.”

  “Impossible,” said Sorrowshade. “It’s all good fun to play Homeroom & Hall Passes in the back of a tavern once a week. Note passing and pop quizzes. Very amusing. But the Realm of Suburbia is a make-believe fantasy land. It bears precisely no resemblance to reality. They don’t even have elves here. It’s ridiculous.”

  “That reminds me,” said Albiorix. “I’m afraid you need to, ahem, cover up your pointy ears.”

  Sorrowshade’s eyes narrowed. “Albiorix, that is incredibly offensive,” she said. “I have literally poisoned people for less.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Albiorix. “I know it’s not right. But no elves means no elves. You’re Melissa the Loner here. You have to pass for human until we get back to Bríandalör.”

  Sorrowshade glowered. At last she sullenly tucked the tips of her ears into her hair. “I’m not sure how I’m going to achieve the bacon smell,” she said.

  “The curse said, ‘Let thy respite be thy doom,’” said Albiorix. “I think the game itself is our punishment. So I’m guessing the rules of Homerooms & Hall Passes still apply.”

  “That makes sense,” said Vela. “Those who devise ancient curses do seem to have a taste for cruel irony.”

  “You have to admire that,” said Devis.

  “No, I most certainly do not,” said Vela.

  “Well, as you all know,” said Albiorix, “in Homerooms & Hall Passes, if you fail any school subject or you have more than three unexcused absences, your character has Blown It and you’re eliminated from the game.”

  “Okay,” said Devis. “But what does that mean for us? Do we die or disappear or what?”

  “Perhaps our spirits join the Sky Bear in the Great Cave of Clouds?” said Thromdurr.

  “Ew. I hope not,” said Sorrowshade.

  “I don’t know what happens if we Blow It,” said Albiorix. “But I really don’t want to find out.”

  “The point is moot,” said Vela. “Both hazards are easily avoidable. Prioritizing our studies is simply a matter of discipline, which I have in abundance, and truancy is already forbidden by the paladin’s sacred code. We shall prevail, comrades.”

  Albiorix swallowed. “I hope so,” he said, “because if anybody in this cafeteria happens to notice the weapons you’re carrying are real, you’re all going to be immediately expelled.”

  “Game over?” said Devis.

  Albiorix nodded. Thromdurr regarded his war hammer. Vela unstrung her bow. Devis quietly sheathed his dagger as Vela clumsil
y hid her sword and shield behind her back.

  And at that moment the students and teachers eating lunch around them seemed as menacing as any foul creature lurking in the depths of a Bríandalörian dungeon.

  As Hall Master, it is your responsibility to bring the environs of J. A. Dewar Middle School to life! You will describe the sights and sounds of Suburbia—from the dull fluorescent lighting to the interminable ticking of the classroom clock—to your players. It may feel silly at first, but when they encounter the denizens of Suburbia, instead of saying “Hail!” or “Well met, traveler,” consider greeting them with a hearty “Yo!” or “Wazzzzup?”

  —Excerpt from The Hall Master’s Guide

  AND SO THE BOLD adventurers managed to sneak out of the JADMS cafeteria without anyone noticing they were violating Article Fourteen, Section K of the student handbook (“No weapons on school grounds”). Though as they made their way down the first-floor hallway, they encountered unforeseen trouble.

  “Uh, don’t you think you maybe overdid it a little for Dress Like a Pirate Day?” said a boy with a pinched face, leaning against his locker. “If you’re too into something it’s, like, not cool.”

  The party stopped.

  “We beg safe passage, stranger,” said Vela, who stood ahead of the others.

  “Pretty sure that’s Evan Cunningham,” whispered Albiorix. “If I recall correctly, he’s got an Intelligence of 6 but a Cunning of 19. Makes fun of people because he’s desperate to gain social capital.”

  “Greetings, Evan Cunningham,” said Vela. “We offer you social capital.” She bowed her head and held both her hands out with palms upturned.

  “Huh?” said Evan.

  “Seriously, metal armor? Realistic weapons? I bet they all went to the same dumb costume shop,” said a shorter boy, who had crept up behind them. “It’s sad, is what it is.”

  “Who’s that one and what is he blathering about?” whispered Sorrowshade to Albiorix.

  “Hmm, that must to be Derrick Day. He’s Evan’s lackey. Very insecure, no capacity for independent thought,” said Albiorix. “Anyway, I think our Bríandalörian clothing looks strange to them.”

  “Well, that’s rich,” said Sorrowshade, “considering everyone in this realm has the fashion sense of a nearsighted tropical bird. I mean, just look at the orange laces on Evan’s shoes. Garish.”

  “What did you say about my shoelaces, Melissa?” said Evan.

  Sorrowshade gritted her teeth. “Nothing. They are quite beautiful, Evan Cunningham. It is easy for me to stare directly at them.”

  “Why are you all even hanging out together?” said Evan. “A nerd, a goody-goody, a freak, and this little goofball?”

  “Hi,” said Devis.

  “It doesn’t make sense,” said Evan. “And who’s the new kid supposed to be?” He pointed to Albiorix.

  Before Albiorix could say anything, Derrick piped up again. “Hey, speaking of doesn’t make sense . . . what’s with the big hammer, Dougie? It’s Dress Like a Pirate Day, not Dress Like a Stupid Construction Worker Day.”

  The two boys snickered at what might generously be called “the joke.” Thromdurr frowned.

  “The name of my hammer is Boneshatter,” said Thromdurr. “It belonged to my father and his father before him. When the Blood Elk clan ambushed my tribe at the Battle of Zealot’s Gorge, Skaek Grimjaw used this very hammer to crush the Blood Elk chieftain’s skull to a pulp. He won fame and glory, and his name became legend.”

  Derrick stared at Thromdurr, who stood a full head taller than him, for a long moment.

  “Dude, can you even believe this dork?” said Derrick.

  Evan burst out laughing. Thromdurr frowned. Albiorix grabbed the barbarian by the elbow, and the party traveled on.

  “Well, those guys seemed nice,” said Devis.

  “This world is terrible,” said Sorrowshade. “Unsurprising.”

  “Albiorix,” said Thromdurr, gazing back longingly at the two boys, “at what point may I crush them?”

  “Never,” said Albiorix. “No crushing anybody here.”

  “Hmm,” said Sorrowshade. “What’s the word on discreet poisonings?”

  “Sorrowshade!” said Vela.

  “Afraid that’s no good either,” said Albiorix. “Typical eighth graders at J. A. Dewar Middle School definitely do not poison people. Aha! I think this is it.”

  The five of them ducked through a set of double doors and into an empty auditorium. They headed down the aisle and up onto the stage. Behind the curtain there was another door labeled Prop Closet.

  “Okay, give me all your weapons,” said Albiorix.

  None of the other adventurers moved.

  “Albiorix,” said Vela, “I am aware we’re trapped inside the make-believe world of the game and we’re not allowed to have swords here, but . . .”

  “But what?” said Albiorix.

  “But what if we need them?” asked Vela, with a flash of panic in her eyes.

  “You won’t,” said Albiorix. “People don’t need weapons here.”

  “What if a giant monster attacks?” said Thromdurr. “Or even several smaller monsters?”

  “They don’t have monsters in this world,” said Albiorix.

  “So what do they kill for gold?” said Devis.

  “Nothing,” said Albiorix. “That’s not really how their economy works. And in fact, youths like us aren’t really expected to earn money. The children here are mostly financially dependent upon their parents.”

  “Pshaw. I left childhood behind the day my entire family was tragically eaten by minotaurs,” said Sorrowshade, throwing up the cowl of her cloak.

  “So what do the adults do to earn their living?” said Vela.

  “You guys have been playing Homerooms & Hall Passes for two years and you don’t know any of this stuff?” asked Albiorix, who was starting to feel as though he’d failed as Hall Master.

  His companions looked back at him blankly.

  “The books are, well . . . kind of boring,” said Vela.

  Albiorix was about to protest, but the reality was, he spent hours every week (frequently neglecting his actual wizarding duties) to prepare for their weekly H&H game. All his players were expected to do was show up.

  “To earn money,” said Albiorix, “most of the adults either go off and type on a computer all day, or perhaps they work at a chain restaurant.”

  By now the other adventurers were completely baffled.

  “Who would want to eat a chain?” asked Thromdurr.

  “I think I’d choose that over the stuff they serve in the cafeteria,” said Sorrowshade.

  “Ah, that reminds me!” said Devis. The thief pulled two more pizza slices out of his pocket—slices that no one had noticed him obtain—and started to eat.

  “Anyway,” said Albiorix, holding out his hands. “Your weapons?”

  “So you mean for us to hide them inside this ‘prop closet’?” said Vela.

  Albiorix nodded and threw open the door. Beyond it was a small room filled nearly to the ceiling with mounds of random objects—lamps, fake skulls, and what appeared to be a two-person horse costume. In one corner there was a jumbled pile of stage weapons.

  “Occasionally, a school play calls for something like this,” said Alboirix. He picked up a plastic Tommy gun. “But there isn’t another one of those till the spring, so this should be a safe place to stow them until we can break the curse and get back home.”

  “Farewell, Boneshatter,” said Thromdurr to his hammer, as he glanced around the room. “Rest well among these . . . colorful tights and realistic baby dolls.”

  With a sigh, Vela set her sword and shield on the pile. Devis removed the dagger on his belt, the dagger in his boot, the dagger he kept up his sleeve, and the other dagger he kept in his boot. Sorrowshade hesitated the longest. At last she dropped her bow and quiver, and she gave a shudder.

  “I hope you know what you’re doing, wizard,” she said.

  “I
do!” said Albiorix. “I mean, I’m reasonably confident. Let’s say eighty percent sure.”

  “Hey, don’t you have anything to add to the weapon pile, Magic Man?” said Devis.

  “Nope,” said Albiorix, “all I’ve got is my trusty bag full of—hang on just a second!” Albiorix crouched on the floor and threw open his pack. A stack of twenty-seven Homerooms & Hall Passes sourcebooks practically burst out.

  “Carrying that thing around cannot be good for your back,” said Devis.

  “Guys, this is amazing!” said Albiorix, his hands full of books. “The Hall Master’s Guide, The Cyclopedia of Students, The Tome of Teachers, The Complete Dictionary of Middle-School Slang! We might be stuck here, but we have all the information we could possibly want about this world. Right here at our fingertips.”

  “Perhaps next time you could leave The Fulsome Folio of Foods at home,” said Vela, “which brings me to a somewhat delicate point: Albiorix, without access to your spellbook, are you capable of any magic? Do you have any spells, for lack of a better term, memorized?”

  “Well, yes, of course. I am a fully trained apprentice wizard, after all,” said Albiorix. “I can cast a simple light spell from memory!”

  Albiorix’s fingers began to trace an arcane pattern through the air. He had parted his lips to speak a mystical word of power when—

  Devis flicked the prop closet light switch on. A bulb glowed brightly overhead.

  “Eh, this whole world seems pretty well lit,” said Devis. “Anything else?”

  Albiorix blushed. “Absolutely,” he said. “For example, I can do this!”

  He reached toward Vela’s ear, and suddenly a coin appeared in his fingers. There was a long silence from the other adventurers.

  “Hmm,” said Vela.

  “I pulled this coin from a tiny pocket dimension that I created with my mind!” said Albiorix. “I’m also capable of limited acts of clairvoyance. For example, if you were to draw a playing card from a deck without letting me see it, I would likely be able to guess which card you—”

  “Okay,” said Devis, cutting him off. “So no useful magic without a spellbook. Great.”

  “Hang on,” said Sorrowshade. “We do have a spellbook.”

  A musty stench filled the tiny room as Sorrowshade reached into Vela’s pack and pulled out the Malonomicon.