Homerooms and Hall Passes
Page 22
“THEN LET THE REAL CONTEST BEGIN!” said Azathor.
A minute later, another round of Oink Pop had finished. Final score: June Westray, 521,300; Azathor the Devourer, 726.
“HOW DID I SOMEHOW DO WORSE?” said Azathor.
“You’re overthinking it,” said June.
“MY BIG CLAWS MAKE IT HARD FOR ME TO USE THE TOUCH SCREEN,” said Azathor.
June shrugged. “Want to go one more time?”
“Hey, June, come on,” said Albiorix, as the other heroes tried to wave her off.
June merely smiled and shrugged.
“YES, ONE MORE TIME!” said Azathor. “I WILL DEFEAT YOU AND CLAIM YOUR SOULS!”
“Sure you will,” said June.
A minute later, another round had finished. It was June Westray, 601,870 (a personal best); Azathor the Devourer, 3,072.
“WELL, AT LEAST I’M GETTING BETTER,” said Azathor.
“Yeah, you landed a Triple Tickle,” said June. “Not bad.”
“SO YOU GET MORE POINTS FOR DOING THE DIFFERENT COLORS?” said Azathor.
“Yep,” said June.
“GOOD TO KNOW,” said Azathor.
“So we’re done here, right?” said Albiorix.
“UGH. FINE,” said Azathor, who had already started up another game. “THOUGH THE NEXT MORTAL TO CHALLENGE ME TO A GAME OF OINK POP WILL NOT BE SO LUCKY.”
The party regrouped nearby. June grinned as she stuck her phone back in her pocket.
“Wow,” said Devis.
“No big deal,” said June.
“Your bravery and skill are unrivaled!” said Thromdurr.
“Thanks,” said June.
“It wasn’t hopeless,” said Sorrowshade, blinking. “If I can’t believe in hopelessness . . . then what hope is there?”
“That’s a tough one to figure out,” said June. “Not sure I have the answer there.”
“I invoke the Powers of Light,” said Vela, “and hereby dub you an honorary Knight of the Golden Sun!” She touched her sword to June’s shoulders.
“Neat,” said June. “My mom is always harping on me for more extracurriculars.”
Albiorix smiled and shook June’s hand. “I never had any doubt you could do it!”
“Yeah, you did,” said June.
“Okay, but I was ninety percent sure,” said Albiorix. “No . . . ninety-five percent.”
“So what’s our boon?” said June. “We tell ol’ mole head over there to get his spiky tail back to the flaming pits and never come back?”
Azathor was too engrossed in his game of Oink Pop to notice the insult. Albiorix’s smile turned bittersweet.
“Yes, Azathor must go,” said Albiorix. “But . . . he’s not the only one.”
“What do you mean?” said June.
Albiorix looked around. “You know, I’ve been obsessed with Homerooms & Hall Passes for as long as I can remember. This game—this world—is awesome. In fact, sometimes I think I prefer it to my own, but that’s just it . . . it isn’t mine. It’s not any of ours. Not really.”
The other Bríandalörians nodded solemnly.
“Wait,” said June. “Come on. You guys are just hitting your stride. You stopped stealing everything and you passed the algebra test and Vela got through the announcements without going into a coma—”
“I know,” said Albiorix. “But as long as we’re here, we put everyone at risk. Magic spells and walking skeletons? That’s not what Homerooms & Hall Passes is about. We have to go too. It’s the only way you’ll be safe.”
June started to say something, but then she stopped herself. She merely nodded.
“Azathor the Devourer,” said Albiorix, with tears glinting in his eyes, “the boon we ask is this: all who are not of this place—be they demon, warlock, or adventurer—shall return from whence they came.”
“SO BE IT,” said Azathor.
“Hey, uh, can I also have my phone back?” said Devis.
“NO,” said Azathor. “AND SO SHALL AZATHOR THE DEVOURER, LORD OF HUNGER, JAWS OF DESTRUCTION, GRANT YOUR BOON!” The demon began to incant a spell in Fiendish.
“Goodbye, June,” said Albiorix. “I won’t soon forget you.”
“Goodbye,” said June.
And in a puff of impressively colored magical smoke, the adventurers were gone.
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“AND NOW I MUST bid you farewell, heroes!” cackled the man with the eye patch, as he dropped the rusty portcullis between himself and the party with a clang. “The Jewel of Krenqôthoor will be my prize, and the Caves of Thunderbeard will be your tomb!”
“Oh, you betrayed us,” said Sorrowshade, rolling her eyes. “How unexpected.”
Vela shook her head. “’Tis a shame. I really wanted to see the good in you . . . eye patch . . . man?”
His laughter stopped abruptly. “Eye patch man? Eye patch man! You know I have a name, right?”
The party was silent.
“We’ve traveled together for days! You must have heard it a hundred times!” said the man. “Are you all so self-absorbed that you can’t even remember my name?”
“Hey! Easy on the guilt trips, buddy,” said Sorrowshade. “You’re right in the middle of stabbing us in the back.”
“Wait!” said Thromdurr, slapping his forehead. “Of course! I do remember your name! It is . . . Thunderbeard!”
“What? Seriously?” said the man. “The Caves of Thunderbeard is the name of the dungeon!”
“Hmm,” said Thromdurr. “Perhaps your name is Krenqôthoor?”
“No, you oaf! It’s the Jewel of—” Suddenly the man froze and began to frantically pat his pockets and pouches as a look of horror spread across his face.
“Oh, hey,” said Devis. “Looking for this?” The thief held up a yellow sapphire that glimmered in the torchlight.
“That’s right,” said Sorrowshade, “preemptive reverse betrayal. Life’s tough, huh? I think so, anyway.”
Instantly the man’s frown turned into a wheedling smile. “Ha ha ha. Well, I hope you enjoyed this joke, friends, because that’s what it was: a hilarious joke. A bit of dungeon humor to lighten the mood after that harrowing troll fight! You must know by now that your old friend Mirt would never turn on you!”
“Who’s Mirt?” said Devis.
“Farewell, traitor,” said Vela. “Perhaps being abandoned in these nightmarish caves will lead to some necessary personal growth.” The paladin unrolled a parchment map and studied it for a moment. “This way, comrades.”
One by one, the party members disappeared down a dark corridor.
“Wait, you took my map too?” said Mirt, as he helplessly rattled the bars of the portcullis. “That’s stealing! You did that before you knew a hundred percent for sure that I was going to betray you. So let’s admit we were both wrong and put this behind us. Please! These caves are crawling with monsters! I don’t even have any torches!”
Sorrowshade shook her head. “Always bring torches.” And with that, the gloom elf followed her companions into the shadows.
The sun was setting as Albiorix made it to Pighaven, winded and dripping with sweat. In addition to his usual twenty-seven Homerooms & Hall Passes sourcebooks, he was also carrying all his worldly possessions in his overstuffed backpack. He stepped into the common room of the Wyvern’s Wrist tavern to find it empty.
“Well met, er, how’s it going?” said Albiorix to the innkeeper.
“Mmm,” said the innkeeper. “Yesterday a tree fell on my brother.”
“Whoa,” said Albiorix. “Sorry to hear that.”
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“Don’t be. It were a magic tree,” said the innkeeper. “Granted him a wish, it did.”
“Oh, nice,” said Albiorix. “What did he wish for?”
The innkeeper cocked her head. “That’s a very personal question.”
“Sorry,” said Albiorix. “Anyway, I’d like a room for the night.” The wizard plunked a small stack of silver on the bar.
“Your friends are already here, you know,” said the innkeeper.
“They are?” said Albiorix.
“It’s Thursday game night, innit?” said the innkeeper.
“I suppose it is,” said Albiorix.
In the small back room that was reserved for them, Albiorix found the party rehashing their latest adventure.
“Thromdurr, I cannot believe you struck down three trolls with one swing of your croquet mallet,” said Vela.
“Boneshatter II is mightier than its namesake!” said Thromdurr.
“The fact that we didn’t solve that puzzle still bugs me,” said Devis. “The troubadour statue clearly unlocked some sort of secret door.”
“We should have smashed it,” said Thromdurr.
“Please,” said Vela. “Smashing is literally never the solution to a dungeon puzzle.”
“Still,” said Thromdurr, crossing his arms. “It would have been most satisfying.”
“Seconded,” said Sorrowshade. “That statue had a smug face.”
“Hi, guys,” said Albiorix. “Just a guess, but maybe you should have checked beneath the statue.”
“Why?” said Vela.
“Well, you were exploring the Caves of Thunderbeard, right?” said Albiorix. “If you rearrange the letters in ‘Thunderbeard,’ you get ‘Under the Bard.’”
The other heroes all threw up their hands or face-palmed as they heard the obvious solution to a puzzle that they’d spent the better part of an hour failing to solve.
“Okay, fine,” said Sorrowshade. “You’re the smart one again.”
“You’re also the sweaty one,” said Devis. “How did your backpack get even heavier?”
“Well, I put everything I own into it,” said Albiorix.
“Oh, no,” said Vela, “The Archmage didn’t . . .”
“She did,” said Albiorix. “True to her word, Velaxis ended my training. As of today, I am no longer an apprentice wizard.”
“I am sorry, friend,” said Vela.
Sorrowshade put a friendly hand on Albiorix’s shoulder. “You know, sometimes life can seem like an unending series of disappointments and pain.”
“But?” said Albiorix.
“But what?” said Sorrowshade, confused.
“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m not too broken up about it,” said Albiorix. “I actually feel pretty good.”
“Yeah, no more boring magic practice,” said Devis, “Now you’ve got the time to focus exclusively on dungeon delving!”
“Speaking of which,” said Thromdurr, “on our journey back from the Caves of Thunderbeard, we encountered a mysterious traveler all the way from Far Draïz. She told us a story of an ancient tomb beneath the shifting sands that is filled with gold. And presumably monsters to wallop!”
“There is a ship departing from Cloudport in the morning,” said Vela. “If we set out tonight, we should be able to make it.”
“So what do you say, Magic Man?” said Devis. “You in?”
“I think I’ll skip this one,” said Albiorix. “Honestly, I don’t know if I’m an adventurer either. I’m not sure I feel it in my bones, like the rest of you do.”
“Not an adventurer, not a wizard,” said Thromdurr. “What then shall you be, Albiorix?”
“I think I’ll just be . . . me,” said Albiorix.
A momentary hush fell over the group as they stared back at their friend, unsure of how to respond.
“Lame,” said Devis.
Everyone burst out laughing, and Albiorix laughed even harder than the rest. And so five brave Bríandalörians (four of them adventurers) spent a warm and companionable evening in the Wyvern’s Wrist tavern, reminiscing about their old adventures and even more about their time at J. A. Dewar Middle School. And as the darkness fell on the land and the moon rose high in the sky, Vela the paladin, Thromdurr the barbarian, Devis the thief, and Sorrowshade the assassin bade their friend Albiorix farewell, and set out on the road toward their next adventure.
And Albiorix found himself alone, sitting by a cozy fire in the Wyvern’s Wrist tavern. And with a smile he reached into his pack and pulled out his Homerooms & Hall Passes Hall Master’s Guide and started to read.
Acknowledgments
This book would not have been possible without the love and support of so many people.
First and foremost, thank you to my wife, Colleen Duffy, who has always believed in me, no matter what. I’m grateful that my scattershot, borderline illogical approach to a writing career has always made perfect sense to her. Without Colleen, I would not be doing this.
I’d like to thank my agent, Noah Ballard, who first reached out to me years ago after he read something I wrote online about cannibalism and thought, “I’d like to take a chance on this guy.” And many thanks, as well, to Holly Frederick and the rest of the team at Curtis Brown.
I’d also like to thank everyone at Balzer + Bray, especially Donna Bray, who was excited about this idea from the jump and worked so hard to make it much better. Thanks to Barry Blankenship for an awesome jacket illustration, Stephen Gilpin for amazing character art, Jordan Saia for his wonderful map designs, Renée Cafiero for topnotch copyediting, and Dana Fritts for a beautiful layout.
A lot of folks rolled a lot of twenty-sided dice with me over the last couple of years, and without returning to the world’s greatest role-playing game after a long hiatus, I never would have written this book. A big thank-you to Guy Molinary, Eric Moore, Josh Moore, Eric Hamilton, Bryan Yeary, Matt Pritchard, Chris Mischaikow, Katie Mischaikow, Julian Graham, Nina Ippolito, Hanlon Smith-Dorsey, Ted Rounsaville, Lars Casteen, Geordie Broadwater, Scott Hoffer, Kevin Roe, Will McCutcheon, and Liba Vaynberg.
Thank you to my father, Hugh O’Donnell, and my mother, Suzanna O’Donnell, who taught me that books are important and have always been happy for me, no matter what path I chose. Thanks to my sister, Caitlin O’Donnell—a real-life school-based hero—for her unwavering support. My in-laws, Gary and Anne Duffy, have never hesitated to pitch in whenever I needed help with anything, and I’m so grateful to them for it. And thanks to my stepmother, Teresa O’Donnell, who literally taught me algebra (it finally came in handy, sort of!).
Last of all, I’d like to thank my son, Rudy, and my daughter, Suzanna, for bringing immeasurable joy to my life every single day. Sleep is a fine price to pay for that.
About the Author
Photo by Colleen Duffy
TOM is the author of the Hamstersaurus Rex series. He also writes for television and film and his work has appeared in McSweeney’s and the New Yorker. He lives with his wife and family in Brooklyn, New York. Read more at www.tomisokay.com.
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Books by Tom O’Donnell
THE HAMSTERSAURUS REX SERIES
Hamstersaurus Rex
Hamstersaurus Rex vs. Squirrel Kong
Hamstersaurus Rex Gets Crushed
Hamstersaurus Rex vs. Cutepocalypse
Copyright
Balzer + Bray is an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.
HOMEROOMS & HALL PASSES. Text copyright © 2019 by Tom O’Donnell. Illustrations copyright © 2019 by Stephen Gilpin. Map art copyright © 2019 by Jordan Saia. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system,
in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
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Front cover art © 2019 by Barry Blankenship
Spot art © 2019 by Stephen Gilpin
Cover design by Dana Fritts
Hand lettering by David Coulson
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Digital Edition OCTOBER 2019 ISBN: 978-0-06-287216-6
Print ISBN: 978-0-06-287214-2
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FIRST EDITION
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