Homerooms and Hall Passes

by Tom O'Donnell

  “See?” said Devis.

  “I am no longer a paladin,” said Vela.

  “Well . . . I think that’s a bit overdramatic,” said Albiorix. “Isn’t it?”

  Vela gave no answer. The other adventurers all stared at each other, unsure what to do. Albiorix cleared his throat.

  “Yes, you lied once,” said Albiorix. “But think of all the other times you didn’t lie. In the sport of hockey, which I’ve learned quite a bit about recently, a player is considered really good if they score one out of ten times—”

  “Valerie! What are you doing over here?” said Marie Stumpf-Turner as she approached the adventurers with her husband, Andy, close behind. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Get up—you’re getting your knees all dirty.”

  “I’m not feeling well,” said Vela.

  “I knew it!” said Andy. “I have bandages and cough drops and a neck brace in the car.”

  Vela let out a quiet sob.

  “No need to cry, Valerie,” said Marie. “I spoke to Ms. Peco and you’re first-chair flute again. Anyway, it’s time to go. You’ve got dance lessons at seven.”

  The rest of the adventurers watched as Vela silently followed her parents to their maroon hatchback and drove away.

  Veteran players looking for a change of pace may want to consider switching their character class. Perhaps instead of a stressed-out Overachiever, you’d like to play as a laid-back Jock, or a mischievous Class Clown? This decision should not be taken lightly, however, as all skills and abilities associated with your old character class will no longer be available to you. Still, if you are comfortable starting over from scratch, the possibilities are endless (provided you choose from the ten rigidly defined character classes detailed in Chapter Two).

  —Excerpt from The Hall Master’s Guide

  “IF VALERIE AND BRENT are out, I don’t know who to vote for,” said Chloe Forte.

  “Have you considered Olivia Gorman?” said Albiorix. The wizard put on his best politics smile and pointed to a posterboard with the words “Gorman for Eighth-Grade President: GO-livia!” written in glitter paint.

  “Eh,” said Chloe.

  Albiorix frowned. The GO-livia! slogan had been his brainchild. Should he have gone with GO-rman! instead?

  “You know,” said Albiorix, “Olivia is a longtime honor roll student who truly believes in the—”

  “If she wins, she’s getting rid of earth sciences,” said Devis, nudging his way in front of the wizard. “Instead, it’ll be a free period when we can all just eat candy and look at our phones.”

  “Really?” said Chloe. “That sounds amazing. I didn’t think class president actually had any power to do stuff like that.”

  “Oh, yeah. It’s all in the student handbook,” said Devis. “The hierarchy goes: district superintendent, class president, principal, vice principal, everyone else. Anyway, can Olivia count on your vote on Monday?”

  “Hmm,” said Chloe. “I still might vote for Dave Pittman. He’s my neighbor.”

  “Oh, really?” said Devis, clucking his tongue. “Even though Dave is the one who did all the horrible locker thefts?”

  “That was him?” said Chloe.

  “Yep,” said Devis. “He has no morals.”

  “All right,” said Chloe. “I guess Olivia it is.” She took a lollipop from the bowl they’d set out on their folding table and continued down the hall. The two adventurers watched her go.

  “Wow, that was dishonest, even for you, Devis,” said Albiorix.

  Devis shrugged. “I feel like if even Vela is lying now, then I’m finally off the leash,” said the thief. “Anyway, this is all just a game, right?”

  “I guess,” said Albiorix.

  “Hey, guys,” said June. “How goes the politicking?”

  “Armando stinks at it,” said Devis. “But I’m great. Like you’d expect.”

  “Chloe makes another vote for Olivia,” said Albiorix, tallying on his clipboard. “With the field so split between Pittman, Chambers, and Barrera, I think she might actually be within striking distance of victory.”

  “For what it’s worth, I’m probably just going to write in Cheese,” said June. “That’s my cat’s name.”

  Albiorix and Devis stared at her.

  “Kidding!” said June. “This whole thing is meaningless anyway. GO-livia.”

  At that moment, Thromdurr and Vela arrived. The barbarian carried their clipboard, while the paladin quietly stared out into the middle distance.

  “Were you guys able to wrangle any more Gorman support?” said Albiorix.

  “A few votes,” said Thromdurr. “Though my companion has perhaps been a less than enthusiastic campaigner. I say, ‘Vote for Olivia,’ and then she says . . .”

  “I am an oath breaker,” said Vela.

  “Not the best pitch,” said Albiorix. “Let’s hope Melissa has had better luck.”

  “Psst.”

  The adventurers turned to see the gloom elf, hiding in a nearby doorway.

  “How does she do that?” said June.

  Sorrowshade glanced around to make sure no one else had seen her, then beckoned them over.

  “Hey,” said Albiorix. “Did you get any of the Populars to cosign onto Olivia’s campaign? An endorsement like that could really give us the boost we need.”

  Sorrowshade took a deep breath. “In truth, I did not try.”

  “What?” said Albiorix. “But this is the last school day before the weekend. The election is on Monday.”

  “The situation has changed,” said Sorrowshade. “With Valerie and Brent out of the way . . . Nicole Davenport has decided to throw her hat into the ring.”

  “Nicole Davenport!” said Albiorix. “But she’s the only kid in school more popular than Brent! You have to stop her!”

  The gloom elf’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t have to do anything you say, wizard,” said Sorrowshade. “Besides, what power have I over Nicole? I came here to warn you—”

  “You don’t get it,” said Albiorix. “Without Olivia’s help, there’s no way we’re passing that algebra test. If we fail that class, we’ve all Blown It!”

  “We’re not going to die,” said Sorrowshade. “That isn’t how the curse works. I know because my soul is closer to the weave of magic than you mortals—”

  “Closer to the weave of magic? Closer to the weave of magic? I am a wizard!” said Albiorix. “I am the resident magical expert guy, okay?”

  “You are an apprentice wizard,” said Sorrowshade, with a tinge of contempt in her voice.

  “Why does everybody keep calling him a wizard?” said June.

  The heroes ignored her.

  “Even if you’re right,” said Albiorix, “the best-case scenario is that we end up stuck in Homerooms & Hall Passes forever.”

  Sorrowshade stared at Albiorix for a long moment. Then she threw up the hood of her sweatshirt. “Yes. So?”

  “What do you mean, so?” said Albiorix. “Before, you said it was a fate worse than death!”

  “Yeah,” said Devis. “Don’t you want to get back to the dungeons and the gold and leave all this make-believe nonsense behind? I mean, look at this.” The thief pointed to a nearby water fountain. “A big metal box that shoots water at your face? What even is that?”

  “He speaks the truth,” said Thromdurr. “This is not our world, elf.”

  “It isn’t,” said Sorrowshade. “It’s better.”

  The other Bríandalörians were stunned.

  “What are you even talking about?” said Albiorix. “Hanging out with Nicole Davenport has changed you. And not for the—”

  “All I’ve ever known is pain and darkness,” said Sorrowshade. “Here, I have friends, yes, and a family. For the first time in forever, I don’t have to devote my entire life to seeking stupid revenge on stupid mintoaurs!”

  “So you really don’t want to go back?” said Albiorix.

  “No,” said Sorrowshade. “And I figured you wouldn’t either.
After all, you’re not really an adventurer. Are you, Albiorix?”

  “Watch your tongue, elf,” said Thromdurr, putting a hand on Albiorix’s shoulder. “He has stood beside us, through thick and thin, against all manner of danger!”

  “Yeah, he loves the dungeon-delving lifestyle: the loot, the traps, the mortal danger,” said Devis. “Don’t you, Magic Man?”

  “I mean,” said Albiorix, “I . . .” The wizard trailed off.

  “Hello?” said June. “Am I the only one who’s having trouble following all of this? What’s an Al-bee-or-ix? Valerie, can you please tell me what’s happening?”

  “I am an oath breaker,” said Vela. “I lied.”

  “Enough of that,” snapped Albiorix. “You’re not special, Vela. All of us have been lying nonstop since we got to this stupid place. The first thing I had to do was produce a pile of fake paperwork to prove I even exist!”

  “Wait,” said June. “That’s what you did with the birth certificate I helped you make in Computer Applications?”

  “Oh,” said Albiorix.

  “Well, I guess you have been lying nonstop,” said June.

  “I can explain,” said Albiorix.

  But he didn’t get the chance. Without another word, June turned and left.

  “Wow,” said Devis. “Nice going, Albiorix. You know, you really should try to be more honest with people.”

  “Come on!” said Albiorix. “It was Sorrowshade’s fault. She’s the one who suddenly decided for all of us that we’re staying here forever. This discussion isn’t over!”

  Albiorix turned, but the gloom elf had vanished.

  “You know for a seventy-three-year-old,” said Albiorix to nobody, “you’re really immature.”

  “Well,” said Devis, “the GO-livia! campaign is a bust. We just lost our only friend. Our leader is catatonic. Our assassin has gone rogue. And for separate reasons, Thromdurr and I probably shouldn’t be in charge. What’s the plan, smart one?”

  “I have no idea,” said Albiorix.

  “Perfect,” said Devis. “Then I guess I’ll see you guys in earth sciences class.”

  The thief turned and started to walk away down the hall, eating a burrito he had picked up somewhere. Thromdurr cocked his head and eyed Albiorix appraisingly.

  “You do truly want to be an adventurer,” said Thromdurr. “Do you not, Albiorix?”

  “It’s complicated,” said Albiorix.

  Olivia Gorman approached. She was decked out, head to toe, in GO-livia! campaign gear, carrying a third clipboard.

  “So how are things looking, team?” said Olivia. “I’m starting to feel like I might actually—”

  “I don’t know,” said Albiorix. “I’ve got to go.”

  The bell rang. Albiorix handed Olivia the clipboard and proceeded to class.

  As with any game, in Homerooms & Hall Passes, interpersonal conflicts will sometimes arise between the players. Perhaps one character has asked another character’s secret crush to the school dance, or maybe one was made captain of the basketball team while another lost out, et cetera. As Hall Master, it’s your job to make sure that everyone is getting along. When a disagreement occurs, talk to everyone and make sure they feel heard. Do your best to compromise and then rectify the issue moving forward. The point of the game is to have fun! Still, it’s best to remember that not every player is a good fit for every group. . . .

  —Excerpt from The Hall Master’s Guide

  IT WAS A BLEAK AFTERNOON for the wizard Albiorix. June wouldn’t acknowledge him. Sorrowshade wouldn’t talk to him. Vela would only mumble quiet regrets. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Devis and Thromdurr were giving him sidelong looks now, questioning his motivations and abilities. Albiorix was tired: tired of eating strange foods, and making mistakes, and struggling to understand everything in this world he thought he knew so well. In short, he was tired of J. A. Dewar Middle School, and he cursed the day he had gotten his first Homerooms & Hall Passes book.

  The final bell rang, and the Bríandalörians parted ways without a word to each other. Albiorix sat in the third-floor boys’ bathroom and watched the gray, rainy afternoon darken to evening. Avoiding Mr. Driscoll as he mopped, Albiorix made his way to the gym. It was the start of the weekend, so instead of going home to a family or having fun with friends, he would get two whole days to be alone with his thoughts. Wonderful.

  “I am a wizard,” said Albiorix to himself. He cast his light spell, brightening the other closet. “And I do want to be an adventurer. Of course I want to be an adventurer. Otherwise I wouldn’t be a wizard . . . would I?”

  He plopped down on his makeshift bed and idly began to thumb through the first H&H book he happened to see: The Fulsome Folio of Foods. He’d spent twenty gold pieces on a two-hundred-forty-page book about the fictional foods that only existed within an imaginary game! Useless. Albiorix tossed the Folio across the room, knocking over a bucket of Wiffle balls. He lay back and took a deep breath. A foul, musty tang caught his nose.

  Albiorix sat up. There, amid his pile of H&H books, he spotted the dark red binding of the Malonomicon.

  “I am a wizard,” said Albiorix.

  He opened the spellbook to a random page and began to read. It described a ritual called the Returning. Apart from its title in the Common Tongue, the text itself was written in Shadownese, the primordial language of darkness. Gloom elves spoke the language fluently, but Albiorix wasn’t about to track Sorrowshade down and beg for her help. The wizard’s own shaky grasp of the tongue would have to suffice. He knew enough to read the language phonetically, but his vocabulary was fairly limited. After translating and retranslating for half an hour, he was fairly certain he understood the first two lines of the spell.

  Gone from the world to another plane

  Who has departed shall return again.

  Albiorix gasped. He and his companions were gone from the world to another plane! And indeed they needed to return again. He couldn’t believe his luck.

  “This is exactly the spell to get us back to Bríandalör!” said Albiorix to no one.

  The wizard leaped to his feet and frantically began to gather the ingredients needed listed in the book: a strand of spider’s silk, an eyelash, a lump of iron, and an unburned candle. He didn’t even have to leave the gymnasium! Once he had everything, Albiorix used a piece of chalk to inscribe the strange mandala, pictured in the Malonomicon, on the floor. He marked key junctures with various Shadownese runes. Then he lit the scented candle he’d snagged from Ms. Dumas’s office, filling the old closet with the overpowering smell of butterscotch. He took a deep breath to clear his mind and began to read the incantation from the book.

  “Garu san su zasss sa i’arasus zsi’aru,” said Albiorix. “Wa i’ar suzi’assus ri’ass susisr i’aphi’auhr . . .”

  The candle flickered and changed. Instead of warm white light, it had shifted to an eerie green. Something was happening.

  “Canu i’ash sa ir san su ruhru ussr,” said Albiorix. “Canu i’ash sa ir san su si’ars a su sui’as . . .”

  A wisp of green smoke floated up from the center point of the mandala as the carefully arranged spider silk, eyelash, and lump of iron started to corrode and crumble. The ritual was working!

  Albiorix intoned the final line of the spell: “. . . Canu i’ash sa ir Zazirak.”

  There was a deafening crack and a blinding flash of green light. It took the wizard a moment to realize he’d been knocked flat on his back. He opened his eyes hoping to see the bright, verdant world of Bríandalör around him.

  Instead he saw a ghastly spectral form floating over the chalk circle. It turned to face the wizard—hollow eyes burning with green fire—and cackled. “As I said before, death means nothing to one such as I!”

  “Who are you?” whispered Albiorix.

  “In life they called me the Scourge of Ta’shinn, Blight of the Shield Coast, Slayer of Hotus the Good,” said the spirit. “But you may know me as Zazirak.”


  “The evil warlock from the Temple of Azathor?”

  “In the flesh or . . . lack thereof,” said the spirit, as it peered through its translucent hands. “What is this place?”

  “That’s not—none of your business, mister,” sputtered Albiorix. Weak. He’d never been good at snappy retorts.

  The ghost paused and almost seemed to sniff the air. Then a horrible grin spread across its face. “Mmm. A realm without magic?” said Zazirak. “It shall burn. Now . . . where is the Malonomicon?”

  The tome lay open on the ground at Albiorix’s feet.

  “Ah,” said the specter. It snatched for the book, but its incorporeal fingers passed through the pages, merely ruffling them like a gentle breeze.

  “Curses!” said Zazirak. “This form is useless to me. I require flesh.”

  Zazirak reached toward the Malonomicon again, but Albiorix threw himself on top of it. If the undead warlock wanted it, he shouldn’t have it. Zazirak merely cocked his head and gave another sickening smile.

  “Yes . . . ,” said Zazirak. “Yours will do.” And with that, he flew into Albiorix.

  Instantly Albiorix’s mind was cold death. He saw good and decent folk brought low and legions of grinning skeletons marching through burning streets and a great mole-headed fiend rising from the flames to eat the entire world.

  But the wizard fought. He fought with everything the Archmage had ever taught him about mental focus and resisting enchantment. He bent every atom of his will toward rejecting the vile alien presence that was currently attempting to possess him. And after what felt like an eternity of war, just when he thought his own spirit would give out and his psyche would shatter, the cold death abruptly ceased.

  Albiorix blinked. Again he was lying on the ground, and the ghost of Zazirak hovered over him, wearing an irritated expression.

  “Why waste the effort? There are plenty of other flesh puppets here,” said Zazirak. “I can smell them.”

  “Leave . . . them . . . alone,” said Albiorix, struggling for breath.

  Zazirak cackled again. “Rest now, little wizard. No need to get up,” he said. “I’ll be right back . . . to destroy you.”