Of course she did.
“I don’t want you getting my costume sweaty,” Kelsey says and goes back to reading.
Can’t anything be easy? I walk over to the doorway that separates the living room and dining room. The table is almost completely covered in D&D manuals and notebooks as Mom preps for her game this evening.
“A lot of the sections have already dressed up, and I figured it would be fun for everyone. Like a bonding exercise.” I survey the table. “What are you working on?”
“Last-minute details.” She leans back in her chair and stretches. “I have a big encounter planned, and I want to make sure to get it right.”
I’m sure she will, as she always does. Mom takes her role as Dungeon Masterveryseriously. It’s like an extra part-time job. Everything she does is “homebrew”—meaning her campaigns and non-player characters are created from scratch—and she meticulously studies each of the characters in her campaign to decide how the storyline should progress. Dad says the NPCs are more three-dimensional than his own character.
It’s incredibly impressive, and I’m sure that’s why she’s been playing with the same group for the last six years. But it’s also intimidating. Nova’s been bugging me to DM a game for at least a year, but every time I think about it, I freeze up and abandon the idea. I don’t want to run a half-baked game. Like Mom, if I’m going to do something, I need to do it full-out or not at all.
“Have you decided on your sectional dinner yet?” Mom asks and flips to the back of theMonster Manual.“If you’redoing it at a restaurant then you’ll need reservations given the group size.”
I nod along as if I’d already considered this, but inside, my anxiety cranks up another notch. Right…I need to plan a section dinner too. I should already have that in the works, but I haven’t even begun to think about it.
“Would you want them to come here?” Mom asks in a softer voice. I must not be hiding my panic well. “I don’t want to take over,” she adds quickly, “but I’m happy to help if you’d like.”
“Actually…that would be great. I’ve been spending so much time thinking about our routines…”
“I get it, you have lots on your mind. My work schedule is light on Wednesday. Why don’t you tell everyone to come over after camp for dinner—it’ll be a good way for you all to relax midweek. Oh, and Kelsey’s costume is stuffed into the top of the hall closet. She won’t even notice if you take it.”
“Thanks, Mom. You’re a lifesaver.”
I’m grateful, but a sinking sadness hits me all the same. I wish I didn’t need her to come to my rescue. I wanted this to be the year when I could handle everything on my own, but so far it’s been the opposite.
I arrive at camp Monday morning feeling a little silly. I did my best with Kelsey’s meager costume: securing the cat ears with bobby pins, attaching the tail to my gray shorts, and using some eyeliner to add whiskers to my cheeks. I won’t be winning any awards, but it gets the point across.
Li went full-out. Not only does she have ears and a tail, she’s wearing a leopard print shirt and leopard face paint.
“You look adorable!” I cry.
She beams and does a spin as she walks in the band room door. “I rummaged through my mom’s closet and came up with this. You look great too!”
To my surprise, the sophomores—Callie, Deja, and Keira—have great costumes as well. Actually, the entire guard really brought it today.
“I love a reason to dress up,” Callie says when I pull the group together for morning rehearsals.
“This is so much fun,” Deja agrees. “I wish we could do this every day instead of worrying about rehearsals and performances.”
It’s hard to hear her over the raucous laughter that fills the air. A half dozen percussion players, including Max and Brody, are circled up together in the back of the room, bent over at their waists laughing. One of the guys is trying to do a handstand and keeps falling.
“It’s kinda too bad the percussion section hates us,” Keira says longingly. “They seem fun.”
“And cute,” Deja adds.
“Keep a wide berth,” I say and shoot a quick glare at the guys.
Unfortunately, Max looks over at that moment and catches my eye. My pulse leaps and I spin away. The last thing I need is for him to think I’m talking about him.
“Like you did on Friday at drill down? I saw you talking to Max and Brody—what was going on with that?” Madisynasks.
The whole group encircles me. I get the impression they’ve been hoping for some gossip.
“They thought they were going to beat me at drill down, so I had to put them in their place. I can’t stand their egos.”
“You certainly seem to bring it out in Max. He looked pissed,” Addison replies.
