Next to Finn, Ever’s trepidation makes them look small as they stare at me. “I hope you don’t mind my messing with the décor this much.”
“Of course not.” Even after three years of playing together, I don’t know how to make them feel more at ease about my family’s money. I know the differences between our situations are stark, but that’s hardly my fault. I share what I have whenever I can—isn’t that enough? A familiar sense of impatience gnaws at me. “I told you to make yourself at home here.”
My words have hit their mark, and Ever flinches at the frost in my tone. Then they square their shoulders and plaster on a smile. They know as well as I do that I can’t help that we live in different worlds. “Can you believe it’s been three years?”
“No.” Well… “Yes.”
We were young and naïve when we started playing together. I was nervous when I walked into the school theater on our first day, and I never had anything to be nervous about in school…except, perhaps, making the best decisions for my social status. Joining a role-playing group wasn’t necessarily one of those decisions, but there were reasons I did it.
The joy of playing.
The people. Family.
Finn. We were still close. When he extended the invite to me, how could I say no?
He looked so different then. All angles and anxiety. He was the quiet middle school kid who might be a math genius, might be a programming mogul one day. In the years since, he’s come into his own. All of us have.
Maybe that’s part of what makes it so hard to keep the group together; when we were just starting, the lines were easier. The conversations less uncomfortable.
Ever designed our Gonfalon adventures and pulled the group together. They created a world where they were powerful, while living in a town that would do everything to drain that power.
That day in the theater, they welcomed us with a story and a flourish. I was hooked from the moment they started describing Gonfalon. “It’s the biggest city on this side of the Scarlet Sea, where ships from all the seafaring nations dock, so merchants can sell their wares. Where education and medicine are respected and thrive. Where the council works hard every day to make the city safer, more prosperous, and able to withstand any disaster or war.
“They call it the city of mages, and many think there is magic itself in the air. It’s a safe haven for magic users who were shunned or turned away from their homes, which means Gonfalon is rich with cultures and stories from all across the continent. Still, the city is far from perfect. The crime rate is low, but not nonexistent. Powerful factions strive to gain influence, and the underbelly of Gonfalon is rife with corruption. The council does all it can to keep the peace, but despite their dedication, it’s proven impossible to keep the city safe entirely. And that’s where you come in. You’re the inquisitors of the council, sent out when there are crimes and mysteries to be solved.”
They leveled us all with a stare and a smile. “Your journey always starts with a murder.”
There were six of us, then. Carter, who got dragged into the game by Maddy, whose younger sister happened to be good friends with Ever’s sister. Something like that, anyway. I didn’t know Maddy yet, but I knew of Maddy. A bit different, and an athletic star on the rise. We became friends through the game, despite her being a freshman to my sophomore.
Me. Finn. Ever.
And Zac. Because Zac did everything I did, and I did everything Zac did. We should’ve been too young to be the “it” couple of Stardust High, but somehow we were. He was a rich kid, like me, with generations of oil money in his family, like the insurance money in mine. He wasn’t athletic enough to be a jock, but he more than made up for that with his parties. Pool parties. Dance parties. That time his family rented the whole Stardust Diner for his birthday and he invited our entire grade. He loved being the center of attention, and his generosity made up for most of his other flaws.
Everyone wanted him, and I had him, at least for a while. Zac and my presence meant no one could look down on our game, even if the food chain at our small high school still structured the world according to ancient tradition: athletic students, rich students, straight white students, everyone else.
The six of us spent every Friday afternoon together, and we fell deeper and deeper into the secrets of Gonfalon. We’d pause in the hallways at school to discuss theories. We met up in the diner. We lived in two worlds at once.
Zac never quite fit, though. The game didn’t include as many battles as he wanted. He had to share the spotlight. Ever and Finn didn’t take kindly to his biting humor, calling him out on his not-so-politically-correct remarks, even when the rest of us shrugged it off. He became increasingly possessive.
We inevitably broke up at the beginning of our senior year, just after last summer. He didn’t take it gracefully.
“Are you saying you’d rather spent time with those losers than with me?” he’d demanded, though he was the one who’d spent the summer doing community service because he’d drunkenly totaled his mother’s car, and he’d already been suspended for a week when he got caught cheating on a test, the real sign of a loser.
“They’re not losers, they’re my friends,” I told him.
He snarled and slammed his hand into the locker behind me. “You don’t have friends. You have pet projects.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You don’t belong there.”
“I do, and we’re good together. They’re talented, all of them. They’re creative. They’re interesting.” Even though my heart was racing, I reached out and patted his cheek. “You’re the one who doesn’t belong, Z.”
He shook his head in disgust. “You’re truly your father’s daughter. One of these days, you’ll find out that life can’t be organized to your preferences, and the choices you make come with consequences. When that happens, don’t come crying to me, because I will enjoy every minute of it.”
He was wrong, of course. In the game and out, we were far better off without him, though it took several months to adjust to the new normal. I didn’t even consider inviting him here. I did rub it in his face that we’d be reuniting this weekend and celebrating three years of the game.
When Ever suggested bringing in another player after Zac left, I cut them off before they’d finished speaking. I knew what they meant—they correctly pointed out our group was Wonder Bread white, and they knew some people who might be a good fit if they felt comfortable at the table—but we’d finally gotten the balance right. Why fix what wasn’t broken?
It was perfect at the start, and it will be perfect again.
One last time. I repeat that to myself as I part with Finn and Ever and head to my room upstairs. Subtle theme: storybook love. Everything in my room reminds me of the stories I built—posters from WyvernCon, a quilt made from costume pieces, and an old-fashioned storage trunk full of drawings, designs, and dreams (and one of Zac’s shirts) that I dare not show anyone.