Lucky Chances

By: XPud
(© 2018-2019 by the author)

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

xpud@tickiestories.us

Author's Note: Credit goes out to NeverAnywhere for helping with formatting, editing, and suggestions.

Chapter 5 

So neither of us ask if the other wants to spend the night over the weekend; I’m not sure what Chance is doing, but I need to start getting some ideas together for the gaming group and the Inclusivity Club. I spend my time searching for the miniature hero and monster figures that I used to have – sadly, not a lot, but there’s a few good ones – and the campaign papers that I stashed somewhere. I do end up finding most of them, and I think I can probably either go online and find the missing bits, or maybe just write up some basic stuff to fill in the blanks. I mean, I’m no game maker or anything, but I can make some simple stuff to keep the game going, I think.

Friday night at dinner, Papa Chris asks how everything went. I explain about the Inclusivity Club and the games and all that, and how the principal already knew because of what Scott said. Papa Davy remarks, “Lookitchoo, already making waves while making friends!”

I roll my eyes. “I mean, I guess. It’s not like I’m changing the whole school or anything.”

“You don’t know that, yet!” Papa Davy points out. “This is just starting, but you could change the very face of Jim N. Eisenhower Middle School!”

“You’re weird,” I reply.

He flicks his head indignantly. “Fine, but don’t come crying to me when you’re the most popular kid in school.”

I roll my eyes even harder at him, but the thought kind of panics me a little bit. I know he’s being silly, but what if I do end up being popular? What if I end up the center of attention? Would I be able to deal with that?

Papa Chris apparently takes notice and says, “Davy is just teasing you, Champ. I think you’re going to have a lot of fun doing this. It sounds like a great idea, and I bet a lot of kids are going to think the same thing.”

“Man,” I say, “what if it does end up getting popular like that, though? What if...what do I do if people end up asking me questions and thinking that, like, I’m supposed to know everything?”

“Luke,” Papa Chris responds calmly, “you’re overthinking this. You said you have a sponsor, right? It’s also their job to help you do this. They know you’re only a young teenager; they don’t expect you to be able to run a club on your own yet.”

I take a deep breath and sigh, “I guess you’re right.” I take a bite of filet mignon, thankful that apparently Papa Chris felt like being fancy with dinner today. “So, do you really think I can do this?” I ask, completely aware that there’s only one answer they’d ever give me in this case. I’m not even sure why I asked the question.

“You’re a tiger,” Papa Davy remarks, clawing the air with a hand. “Go pounce on this and tear it up!”

He’s practically made of 100% cringe, but I still can’t help but laugh. “Thanks, you two.”

The conversation drifts through other topics, work-related gripes and the like. After clean-up, I start to head upstairs, but Papa Chris says, “Hey, Champ.”

“Yeah?” I ask, stepping back off the first step.

He walks over and embraces me. “I am so proud that you’re doing this. I don’t know if you realize how important something like this is to people out there. Not everyone has a safe space like we do here; this may be the first time that a lot of people ever have the chance to realize that they’re not alone, that they’re not some weird outcast that their parents and peers have made them think.”

The comment makes me realize something. “Oh, uh, what if the parents don’t want their kid in a club like that?”

He lets me go. “Tell you what: you tell your sponsor about that, and I bet you two can come up with a way to make it a club that isn’t about being LGBT or anything, just a club for people to be cool with each other. That way the parents can’t complain. How’s that?”

I smile slowly. “That sounds pretty good.”

“You’re an amazing boy,” Papa Chris says. “You’re going to do wonderful things.”

“Everyone keeps saying that,” I say, feeling my cheeks heat up.

Papa Davy remarks from the living room, “Then maybe everyone’s right. I mean I’m jus’ sayin’.”

By this point the heat travels down my neck. “Right. I’m gonna go chill in my room, now. Good night, Pops,” I say, addressing them both.

“Goodnight, Luke,” they reply in unison.

I go upstairs, feeling simultaneously more confident and yet completely anxious about the whole thing.

*** 

I stay busy through the next week; we’re finally into the thick of most classes, getting to studying and testing time for the most part. Classes are on a six-week schedule, so we’re getting to the time where all the teachers cram in every test they can so they can get them graded for report card time. Yay. That makes sense as to why the principal wanted to wait a few weeks for the group to start, as well; I guess she didn’t want people getting all into the group and skipping schoolwork for games.

I do manage to make sure that everyone is still in for games, as well as get a few more people interested. One of them is Alan, the tall, fuzzy-blond-headed kid with the little button nose, the one that mistook me for Chance way back at lunch the first day; he has also never played it before, but he reads a lot of fantasy books. I can work with that. Two new people isn’t that bad.

I decide to set up a little group text thing with everyone so that I can send out announcements and ask questions, all that good stuff. It looks like Wednesday is going to be our best day to get things together, which works well for me; it’s the middle of the week, so there’s not a lot going on, and everyone can use a mid-week break, right? I also confirm it with Mrs. Cox, who seems completely cool with it. She gets the permission of Mrs. McGraw, one of the “resource” reading teachers (the ones who help struggling students), to use her classroom for the thing, since she’s already got places to keep the materials on spare shelves, and she also has tables in her room instead of desks. They even have tennis balls on the feet, so we can move them around and put them together for activities. So yeah, things start falling into place pretty quickly. It’s almost scary, really.

On Wednesday, one week before the first official meetup, I sit down at lunch, waiting for Scott to show up. As I’m taking a bite of the chicken-fried-steak-tasting slab of cardboard they cooked up for us, Scott arrives with his lunch tray, consisting of a breaded chicken sandwich, an orange, and a muffin. (The chicken sandwich patty and bun are definitely circular, for the record.) He puts his tray down, but then he takes his backpack off and unzips it, lugging out two huge, well-worn hardcover books: Pathfinder Core Rulebook and Bestiary 1. I blink; he's only a little shorter than me (though if he were my age, he'd probably be taller, dammit), so those are some big books to be hauling around in that backpack – each one is hundreds of pages, and they’re not small books, either. Before even touching his food, he opens up the Bestiary to a specific page and starts reading. Eventually, he absently picks up his sandwich and takes a standard-sized gigantic bite out of it.

I wait until he’s mostly done chewing and ask, “What are you reading?”

He swallows his food and replies, “I am reading monsters. I am reading all the monsters that are up to Challenge Rating three.” (“Challenge Rating,” or “CR,” is a fancy way of saying “level.” In short, a monster with a CR of one would be a decent fight for a group , or “party,” of first-level players. So, basically, the kinds of things the players will be fighting at first.)

I raise an eyebrow. “Are you reading them to know what dice to roll and what numbers to add?”

“Yeth,” he responds over another massive bite of chicken.

“But you don’t know which monsters I’m going to use, yet,” I point out.

Staring at the book, he responds, “So I want to know all the monsters so that you can tell me a monster and I can know what to add up.”

“But that’s a lot of monsters,” I reply, confused. “Why don’t you just wait until you know which ones I’m going to use?”

“Because, because I know them now. I want to know all the monsters so that you can tell me a monster and I can know what to add up.” I notice that he ends up saying almost the exact same thing, but he says it as though it answers the question in a completely different way.

He knows them? I ask, “What is a skeleton’s attack?”

Though it almost seems as though he’s looking at me, his eyes shift slightly and begin to scan back and forth as he recites, “A skeleton’s attack is a scimitar plus three, and it does one-D-six plus two damage.” (In regular terms, that means you roll a twenty-sided-die and add three points to see if the skeleton hits, and then you roll a six-sided die, adding two points to find the total damage. It sounds all complicated – and it kinda is – but you get used to it.) He adds, “A skeleton’s other attack is two claws plus three, and they do one-D-four plus two damage each.”

“Wow,” I say. “You remember it off the top of your head?”

“I can see it right here if I look at it.” He points at the space between us, moving his finger as if he were pointing at the words on a page.

“...Okay, that is cool,” I admit. “So, what is a zombie’s initiative and hit points?” (i.e. how fast does it react to things, and how hard is it to kill?)

He stares blankly for a short moment, and then his eyes scan the air again. “A zombie has zero initiative and twelve hit points.”

“Dude, you’re just going to memorize the entire thing?”

“Yes, I’m just going to memorize the entire thing.” When he repeats it back, it doesn’t sound like he’s being sarcastic; he says them as if it were his own thought in the first place.

I laugh, which sets him laughing as well. “That’s freaking cool. Heck, maybe you could just run the game!”

His smile instantly disappears as he stares down at his tray. “I can’t run the game.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t run the game because I have to talk to people.”

“But you talk to me all the time.”

He darts a glance up to me and then back to his tray. “I talk to you because, because you are my 'Best Friend Looke.'”

Call me sappy, but it still makes me a little giggly when I hear him say that. “Hm,” I ponder aloud. “What if I ran the game, but maybe I had you say the damage totals and if the players hit and things? Could you do that?”

He stays silent for a moment. “I could maybe do that. What do I, um, what do I say?"

“You know, just like...so for example, they roll their die and they add up their total, right, and they say, ‘I attack for twelve.’ You would check the monster’s AC [Armor Class, or the number that determines how tough the creature is to hit] and say, ‘You hit the zombie,’ or, ‘You miss the skeleton,’ or something like that.” He looks around the table and up at me a few times; I can’t tell exactly, but he doesn’t seem to be completely against the idea. I continue, “And like if the skeleton attacks back, you would roll the dice and add it up, and say something like, ‘The skeleton attacks you for fifteen.’ If they say it hits, you would tell them how much it hits for. Just say, ‘It hits you for three damage,’ or however much it did. Does that sound doable?”

His eyes dart around the table and then across the imaginary page in between us that he was “reading” from before. Eventually, he says, “That sounds doable.”

I burst into a grin. “Awesome! You and me are going to run the game together. This is gonna be great!”

He sees my grin and smiles broadly in return. A quiet moment passes before he looks back at his tray, takes an orange, and practically rips it in half with his hands, spraying some juice onto his shirt. He pays it no attention, instead devouring the orange with gusto.

Not another word is spoken between us, yet nothing seems awkward about it. We demolish our respective lunches and throw away the trash; as the bell rings, I say to him, “See you later, Scott.”

“See you later, Best Friend Looke.” He grins as he scoops up his books and heads out. As I’m turning to go toward my next class, I catch a glimpse of Mrs. Cox looking at me from the far hallway at the other side of the cafeteria with a broad smile. It embarrasses me a bit; I mean, I get it, but still. I smile bashfully back at her as I adjust my books in my arms and walk out of the cafeteria.

So yeah, things just keep going pretty smoothly for the whole thing. Everyone seems pretty excited to get it started, and I even have a few friends of Quoc’s ask if they could join in and bring a chess set; apparently it’s already becoming more than just D&D, so maybe it’ll eventually just be a gigantic game-fest. I dunno. That would be pretty cool, though.

So Thursday afternoon, Chance catches me after speech class. “Hey, Luke!” he calls after me as I exit the classroom.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Uh, I was wondering if you wanted to spend the night on Friday.”

I shrug apologetically. “Sorry, but I have a psychiatrist appointment on Friday – nothing serious, just a check-up for my meds – and then Papa Davy is giving me a haircut. Hey, I bet he’d be happy to give you one, too, if you wanted.”

“Nah, I’m good,” he says with a half-smile. “I was actually thinking I might grow it out a bit more.”

For some reason, the thought makes me feel strange inside. Is it because he wants to look different than me? ...Oh, come on, anxiety, you know this isn’t about you. He just wants to change his hair. Or not change it, whatever.

He picks up the slack in the conversation by asking, “Well, maybe you could come over after that?”

“Oh,” I say, stepping to the side to let the crowds filter past, “I don’t think we’d really have much time, ‘cuz Papa Chris and Papa Davy want to take me out earlyish tomorrow morning to go get brunch, and then we’re gonna go check out some of the miniatures at a couple of nearby game shops. I need to pick up a mat to draw the different dungeons on for the Pathfinder stuff on Wednesday, and some dice, too, in case the others don’t have their own. Then I’m probably gonna be spending a lot of time making sure the adventure is ready to run, and finally, study for the stupid math test.”

Chance stays silent for a moment after I finish. “Oh,” he finally says. “That’s cool.”

I catch a hint of something hiding behind his words. I stammer as I offer, “M-maybe we can do the sleepover Saturday night.”

He raises an eyebrow, but he quickly says, “Oh, nah, we can’t do that. My parents and I are gonna be doing things Sunday, too, so yeah, I’ll be pretty busy. Hey, I’ll catch you later, okay? Don’t wanna miss the bus.” With that, he turns around hoists his backpack up as he trots out the door. I head to my own bus, wondering where I messed up in that conversation.

The next day, I send him a text.

Me: Hey, you sure you don’t want a haircut? Maybe you can join me while we go shopping.

Me: You could help me pick stuff out for the games.

Chance: Nah bro im gonna hang with friends tomorrow but thx

Me: Okay, let me know if you want to do something.

Chance: K

In spite of myself, I feel instantly jealous knowing that he’s hanging out with friends. It’s extremely stupid, I know, and it makes me feel just as stupid. Chance is allowed to have friends. It’s not like we’re going out. It’s not like we’re going to go out. Dear brain: shut the hell up about crushing on Chance, ‘cuz it’s not happening, and you know it. Anyway, you know the drill, so I’m gonna shut up about it, too.

The weekend is definitely action-packed. First off, the psych appointment is exactly as interesting as I said it would be: I tell her that the meds are working, and she prescribes me more. Whee. Anyway, I decide to get my hair cut a lot shorter than it’s been; I go with one of those cuts where it’s cut really short on one side and combed over toward the other side, but I even get the top a lot shorter, too. I dunno, I was just tired of my hair being as long as it was. It’s not like it was girly or anything, but it was...anyway. You get what I mean. Now I get to spike it up, and it’s gonna look cool.

We get quite a few miniatures, or “minis,” to use, including a lot of basic monsters and various hero types that people can choose from. I don’t find a fairy archer, specifically, but I find a nice, slender elf-looking person with a bow, which is close enough for now. Maybe we can glue on some fairy wings later. Anyway, my parents kinda spoil me on this: we get a container to keep and organize minis, we get like six sets of dice for me and others to use, a cool, velvety dice bag, a dice tower that I can drop the dice in so that it rolls them for me, all kinds of things. I’m pretty surprised that they decide to spend as much as they do, but they don’t make a big deal of it, so I dunno. We also get a big erasable grid map so that I can draw up the different battlefield and dungeons and things. All in all, I feel like a real Game Master by the time they’re done loading the car up. I’m not sure how I’m going to get all this stuff to the school, but I guess once we do, it can all stay there.

I take a break on Saturday to unwind after a brain-ful day of picking things out, and on Sunday, I spend my time making sure I understand the adventure that I’m going to run for the others and seeing if I can help prepare some basic character things to help the players make their characters quickly so we can maybe get some stuff started the first day. It’s a lot to ask for in the time we’ve got, but it’s better to be prepared. Finally, I spend some time studying for the stupid math test we’re taking on Monday – who puts tests on a Monday? -- and by the end of all of it, I’m completely brained out.

I decide to take a shower; I need the decompression...and some, er, “stress relief.” I take off my shorts and shirt, stepping into the shower with my light blue briefs still on. I turn on the water in the tub, checking the temperature until it’s warm enough. As I’m squatting down doing that, it always happens that the moment the water reaches a certain temperature, it makes me feel like I have to pee; I guess that’s why the old “hand in hot water” bed-wetting trick thing works on some people. I don’t do a thing to stop myself, so the urge grows until I feel my muscles relax and it all flows out into my briefs, warming and tickling my balls on the way down. I manage to stay soft long enough to finish peeing, but even the attempt to squeeze the last bit out makes me almost instantly rock-hard. I stand up and take my briefs off, my dick slapping my belly as soon as it’s free. I wash the briefs out and wring most of the water out, leaving them right behind the shower curtain just in case my parents forget what privacy is.

I aim the shower wand underneath my balls and turn it on, giggling and reveling in the tickly rush of warm water. I actually rinse myself off properly and leave the wand where it’s not pointing directly at me as I squeeze a glob of conditioner in my hand and go to town on my dick. I picture various people from school, wondering what it would be like to have sex with them. Tall Quoc, who probably has a longer dick than I do; Chance’s friend Jay, who...probably also is longer than mine...I mean, it’s not like mine is short or anything, but I mean, y’know. Still fun to think about. I even imagine Scott naked, who probably hasn’t grown much between the legs yet. I bet he’d still be fun to play with. I wonder if he jacks off. Probably. I jack off to thinking about him playing with himself, which is pretty fun. I hope either he’s figured it out, or someone gets a chance to show him.

As usual, though, eventually my mind drifts to thoughts of being fucked by Chance. This time it’s the mirror, watching him slowly screw me, hitting my prostate perfectly...the moment where he starts speeding up...then, where I hold him in place and he grabs my hips, pushes hard against me, and just starts pumping...

The effect is almost immediate. Every time I think of him cumming, I clench up and start shooting. The rush is intense, though not as crazy as if I had taken longer – I notice it always seems more powerful if it takes a while to get there. Whatever, I was horny and needed relief. I let the feeling wash over me as the water washes away the few globs of cum that dribbled down over my thumb.

Spent, I actually take the time to wash myself up like normal people do in showers; then, I head to my room (tossing the wet undies into my laundry hamper) and sit on my bed, reflecting on all the stuff I got done. Looking back, it really does seem like way more than it did while I was doing it. I guess once you get in the zone, or whatever, it just kinda happens. Is this how adults get all their stuff done? I mean, I can’t really think of anything I missed. I feel like there’s something, but I have a feeling I’d think that even if there wasn’t – thank you, anxiety.

It’s close enough to bedtime that I put on some underwear and go wish my parents good night, and to thank them for the help today. It’s just a bunch of “You’re gonna kill it on Wednesday” and “Of course, anything for you,” and all that cringe. You know the drill. Anyway, I head back upstairs and, curious as to what Chance has been up to, I send him a text.

Me: Hey, how was your weekend?

Chance: Ok

Chance: How was urs

Me: Great! I think I’m completely ready to do the gaming thing on Wednesday, and at least I think I won’t fail the math test. Lol

Chance: lol cool

Me: Did you do anything fun with your friends or your parents?

Chance: yeah it was cool

Me:Well, whatever you did, I’m glad it was fun? Lol

Chance: lol yeah 

I feel like he’s deliberately not answering me, and now I’m thinking that this is all my fault somehow. I can’t figure out what I’m supposed to do to fix whatever problem there is here; I can’t even figure out what the problem is. I don’t want to ask, because then that gets more awkward if I’m wrong, and--

Sigh. Here I go, overthinking things as usual. How about I just say this:

Me: Cool deal. See you in speech tomorrow?

Chance: c u then

Me: Good night!

Chance doesn’t respond. I try not to take it personally, but you can guess how well that goes. 

*** 

Next week, classes are exactly as exciting as expected, what with all the tests and such. Joy. Way more importantly, though, is Wednesday: the start of the Inclusivity Club! When the bell rings, I hot-foot it over to the room, where Mrs. Cox is already helping Mrs. McGraw set things up. In a corner, they've set up an easel with the big chart paper type thing that people make posters out of. I must have my questioning face on, because Mrs. Cox says, "Since it's the first meeting of the year, we need to set norms and make sure everyone behaves."

"Ah, gotcha. Makes sense. Um, I don't really have anything prepared for that..."

She smiles. "This isn't my first rodeo, you know. I'll help you out, but if you have anything to add, please feel free."

I get the phrase she used, but I never heard anyone use that expression up in Connecticut. I've never even wanted to go to a rodeo, but that's beside the point. Anyway, shortly afterward, the others start showing up. All of the players arrive: Erin (with Quoc as observer), Paul, Betts, Connor, and Alan; Scott arrives a bit later and stands in the doorway, staring wide-eyed. Behind him are four others that I don't know, all boys. I think I recognize two of them from the Behavioral program -- I don't know them personally, but the program is for kids that either have special behavioral needs or are likely to seriously disrupt a class.

I beckon to Scott. "It's okay. Come over here." I motion to a pair of chairs at the far side of a large table, large enough for a decently sized play area in the middle of the table and room for eight chairs around it. I take a seat in one, and he quickly ducks into the room as if the ceiling were going to fall on him, hugging his copies of the Pathfinder Player's Handbook and the Monster Manual like he was protecting them from the rain. He scurries over to the seat and plops down in it next to me, keeping his books tight against him.

The other boys behind him file in and sit at other tables, while the Pathfinder group settles in around the big table. Once everyone is seated, Mrs. Cox motions me over to the easel and announces, "Welcome, everyone, to the first meeting of the Inclusivity Club!" I see a few heads turn, with some confusion on people's faces. I know I mentioned it by that name to some of the people, but maybe I didn't make it clear enough. Crap! I hope that doesn't mess things up!

She continues, "I am Mrs. Cox, your sponsor for the group; if you need anything or have any questions, I'm here for you." Turning to the other boys without even having looked at them before, she says, "Toby, Cal, no throwing anything or you're out of the group immediately. I'll make sure your parents hear about it, too." One of the boys, a kid with shaggy light brown hair and thick-rimmed glasses, puts down the little crumpled piece of paper he was about to throw with a dejected look on his face.

"Now before we get deep into games and such, there are some rules we want to make sure we keep. The obvious one is there's no breaking any school rule. That means no gum, no fighting...you know the drill. As for the rest, this is your group, so I want you to come up with your own 'norms,' or things that you agree as a group to do, or not do." She writes "NORMS" across the top of the chart paper on the easel. "To start with, this is mostly a gaming group, right? What is something we can all agree on that we need to do in order to make sure it's a good gaming group?"

At first, nobody speaks up. To try to get things moving, I raise my hand and say, "Well, I think everyone should be a good sport and not try to ruin the games for others."

Paul adds, "Like griefing." ("Griefing" is a term in online games where people actively try to destroy or interfere with what other people are doing.)

"Yeah. So...how about 'Be a Good Sport / No Griefing'?"

"Does everyone agree?" asks Mrs. Cox. As everyone nods, she writes it down. "Okay. Anything else for the gaming aspect of the club?"

Betts says, "We should respect each other. No name calling, don't call other people stupid, that kind of thing. I hate when people do that."

"Agreed," Erin says emphatically. "Easiest way to ruin the mood of a game."

Mrs. Cox writes, 'Respect Everyone' as the next one. Then she looks directly at me and states, "I'm putting you on the spot for this next one, since it's not an Inclusivity Club without it."

My heart immediately picks up the tempo. I stand next to the easel, switching places with Mrs. Cox. "Okay, so, I know I didn't mention this much to everyone, and I'm really sorry if this part bothers anyone. If you want to leave, I get it, but..." I see a mix of confusion and a bit of impatience on people's faces, so I cut to the chase. "...Okay. I want this to be a place where everyone feels safe. Not just like from being attacked or bullied, but free to be themselves. So, yeah we're mostly playing games, but there's absolutely no making fun of anyone for anything at all. This is a safe space. So, like, if someone here was gay, or, or wanted to carry a purse, or, I dunno, liked listening to Sesame Street songs or whatever, it doesn't matter." The Sesame Street reference gets a giggle or two from the group. I continue, "You're allowed to do that here without being judged. I want this to be a safe place for anyone to be who they really want to be." By the end of it, I can feel my face and chest on fire, as my heart tries to race straight out of my chest.

Nobody gets up and leaves. Nobody even argues. All I see is a bunch of nodding and quiet agreement. After a few awkward  moments, I ask, "So...does anyone disagree with the words, 'Keep This a Safe Space' as a norm?" Nobody disagrees. I look to Mrs. Cox meaningfully, who then writes those words on the norms sheet.

Huh. That went easier than I expected. I say more as a question,

"Uh...so I guess we can just get started?"

Mrs. McGraw announces, "Well, there's chess boards over there, a few other board games on this shelf here, and you all," she indicates my table, "are good with your game, correct?"

"Yes, ma'am," I reply.

"Then have fun and be nice!" She takes a tote bag from the side of her desk, says her goodbyes to Mrs. Cox, and heads out.

I get my materials and start getting everything set up on the table next to Scott, who calms visibly when I sit down. Before we get started, I ask him quietly, "Are you okay?"

He keeps the books to his chest, but after a moment of hesitation, he stares forward with that look of determination people get when they make a super-important decision in a movie -- you know the look I'm talking about -- and nods firmly. I have to stop myself from giggling; I know this is life-or-death for him, but it's hard not to find it kinda ridiculous.

Things get moving pretty quickly. We only have time to get characters made and all that, since we have to help most of the players understand how it all works.

At one point, Alan frowns at his character sheet. "I don't get it."

"What's up?" I ask.

"I don't get how you do the math for figuring out your stats. Like, how do I know how much I can put into, like, Intelligence or Strength?"

I see Scott immediately perk up when he hears this. He says nothing, though; he just glances over in Alan's direction and then back to his tightly-held manuals.

I decide to try something. "Well, Scott has the book; maybe he could show you the page that explains it."

Scott looks at me, though it's not a look of fear. It's more of...I guess like he's looking for permission, or I guess maybe confirmation? Either way, I nod to him and say quietly, "Could you help him?"

Scott nods to me and puts the book on the table, quickly flipping open almost directly to the page that explains it. He leans over to get a good look at Alan's page and says, "You have too many points in Intelligence. You can only go to 20 if you're a human, or an elf or a gnome." He scans the character sheet for another quick moment and adds, "Also you have too many points in all of it. Um, so, when you put the first three points in, they only cost 1, but when you put in the next two, they cost 2 each, and then the next two cost 3..." Scott goes on to explain the math all in practically one breath.

When he finishes, Alan looks at him like he just tried to explain quantum physics. I jump in before there's any tension: "So maybe you can tell us what you want from your character, and we can help make your ability scores as good as they can be for you."

"Oh," Alan says, "uh, yeah...I mean, I don't even really know what I want to be. What can I...what is there?"

"Depends on what you want to do," I point out. "What kind of thing do you want to be, or do, or whatever?"

Alan gets this small smile as he replies, "I kinda want to be, like, I dunno...can I be a mad scientist? Not like evil or anything. Like...like Yzma from The Emperor's New Groove, only not evil."

I remember that one. It's a Disney movie, where Yzma tries to poison the emperor and take his place, but she turns him into a llama and...well, it's nuts. It's hilarious, though. "Then you, my friend, need to be an alchemist. That means lots of Intelligence and Dexterity; when you're throwing potions at people, you need to know how to make them, and aim well enough to hit." I smile slyly in response to his own smile. "So, Scott, what do you think? What can we do?"

Scott stares at the paper for a few seconds, and then quickly slides it over to himself, scribbling out numbers all the way down the "ability scores" column. He slides it back; I look it over and can easily tell that Scott knows what he's doing. It's the perfect balance for an alchemist. "Nice," I say. "That should do well. We can explain how it all works as we go."

Alan smiles genuinely at Scott. "Thanks. I don't get it all yet, but it's starting to make sense now."

Scott glances at Alan's face a few times before staring back at the table, though with a slight blush and a smile to go with it.

All in all, everything goes very smoothly and the time flies. Scott helps each of the players come up with ability scores that will help their characters be smart enough, or strong enough, and the like; I help with the actual character classes and all that, so everyone gets to live out the fantasy character they want to be. So we get the characters made and come up with some fun back stories, and all that; soon, though, Alan has to leave a bit early when his mom calls, and then others' parents call one by one to come pick them up. It's almost anticlimactic (love that word, by the way), but I guess that means it was successful. It looked like people had fun, and I guess that's what I was looking for. Still, at the end, I feel...I dunno. Like something is missing from the whole thing. It's hard to explain.

The next day, though, I get an ear-full from each one of the players about how excited they are to start it up. On one hand, it makes me kinda nervous that I might screw something up; on the other, I feel really good for bringing this out, since everyone seems to be loving it so much already. I can't wait to get to the combats and stuff, and apparently neither can they.

As I enter speech class, I catch Chance's eye and nod at him. He nods back before continuing to talk to Joe at his table; no smile or anything. Am I reading too much into this, or did I piss him off or something? What the heck happened?

I completely realize that I'm probably obsessing over something that doesn't really exist, but that doesn't stop my brain from obsessing. So, to shut it up, I ask him after class, "Hey, uh, did I do something wrong?"

He stares at me in confusion for a moment. "What? No?" He seems completely flabbergasted. Or maybe flummoxed. One of those.

Either way, I respond, "Oh. 'Cuz you...I dunno, it just seems like you're acting differently toward me than you used to."

"Mm....no, I don't think so," he says brusquely, starting to head off to the buses.

I keep up with him. "Are you sure? I mean, if I made you mad, please tell me. I don't want to, y'know...I don't want to be the reason you're mad. I mean, I don't want you to be mad at all, but--"

He turns with a raised eyebrow and stares me down. "I'm not mad. You didn't do anything wrong. It's fine. ...Okay?" He says the last word slowly, as if to try to placate me.

It doesn't work as well as I wish it would. "...Okay. Just making sure. You'd tell me though, right?"

"Yeah," he says. "We gotta go." He turns and starts to leave.

Well, crap. I can't bug him, but I can't just leave him...what am I supposed to do, here? Oh! I know! "Hey, Chance!"

He stops and turns around. "What?"

"Do you want to spend the night this weekend?" The words fly out of me as fast as my desperation will allow.

He smiles a bit. "Sorry, bro, but I promised some other friends I'd hang. Maybe next weekend." He turns again and walks away, leaving me with a lack of ideas and a pit in my stomach. 

*** 

As usually happens around the second six weeks, school life just starts to become "same stuff, different day." I'm not mad about it; there's plenty enough excitement after school and all that. Wednesday goes by in the blink of an eye, and we're all gathered around the table, ready to start our grand adventure in Pathfinder. Meanwhile, there are a few more boys that show up, most of whom play chess on nearby tables -- I'm guessing those are Quoc's other friends, since I recognize one from orchestra and because Quoc decides to sit and talk with them. Another group of kids arrives with Uno cards, camping out in a corner to make that happen. Even on the second week, we're like almost twice as big as the first week. "Where'd everyone come from?" I ask to nobody in particular.

Erin answers anyway, "I think those kids are in choir together," she says, pointing to the Uno group, "and I might have advertised a bit about the club."

I look at her, a sudden wave of unnecessary panic hitting my chest. "Like how much?"

She smiles a confused smile, not unlike what I seem to get from most of the people I talk to. "A bit? It's not like the whole choir is coming in here and having a concert. I thought you wanted more people, anyway."

"I do, it's just..." I realize that I don't really have any words ready to finish that sentence. "I mean, I guess I do. Never mind."

She smiles bigger, but with less confusion, at least. "You need to chill out a bit. Everything's fine."

I sigh. "Sorry. I get anxious, sometimes."

"I've noticed."

"Hey, don't roast the GM, or the GM might roast you."

She puts her hands up. "Okay, okay, fine. ...Unrelated question: are there magical items that resist fire? Asking for a friend." That gets a snorting laugh from me as we make our way to the table.

I won't bore you with the "deets," as Chance calls them, but essentially the group all meet each other in a tavern, where there's a notice about a rash of livestock being stolen. The party finds tracks leading from the local fields to an old, abandoned lumber mill in the nearby forest, where they encounter a group of wolves led by a much larger, red-eyed one that speaks to them, claiming this land as his nation. The fight is a bloody one, but the big one manages to lope away before they can kill him. (Betts is very angry that her arrows kept missing, but I explain that she's not a champion archer yet, and the red-eyed dire wolf was very good at being evasive.)

After the whole deal, everyone is pretty pumped at how the session went. Connor with his rogue was able to sneak behind a wolf and hamstring it pretty hard; Paul, who is playing Balsafar the wizard, blinded a few of the wolves with illusion magic; Erin, a halfling oracle by the name of Misty Morningdew, was able to keep everyone alive with some well-placed healing spells; and finally, Alan's alchemist managed to chuck an explosive potion straight in a wolf's mouth. I won't describe the results, but he was pleased.

As we're finishing packing up, though, Erin announces, "I have a request. Or a suggestion. A requestion."

Laughing, I reply, "What would you like to sugquest?"

She stares at me. "...Nah, that one doesn't work. It's can only be called a requestion."

"Fine," I say with a roll of the eyes. "What's up?"

"I would like another day per week that we do this..."

"I dunno if I can keep up--" I begin, but I am cut off.

"No, no, not game. Hang out. Except more just chat and sit around and stuff."

I look at the others in the group to gauge their reaction. "I'm fine with it, as long as it's Monday or Friday. I have things to do the other days usually."

"Yeah, Friday would be great!" she responds. "Betts? Quoc? What do y'all think?"

Quoc shrugs slightly. "I would enjoy that, I think. I would like to talk more, and since I'm not in the game, there's not much to talk about."

"That sounds cool," Betts chimes in. Friday good with everyone else?"

Alan and Connor mull it over a sec and then agree. I turn to Scott. "Would you be interested in coming on Fridays as well?"

"I..." he stammers, "I would be interested in coming on Fridays as well."

"Now, we won't be playing games or doing math as much, just talking. Is that okay?"

He thinks for a moment, then nods, taking a step to my side, close enough that his shirt sleeve brushes up against mine. I know he's a year younger than me, and he's like maybe an inch or two shorter than me, but I swear he feels like a little kid in some ways, almost like a little brother. It's like I gained two different brothers this year. That...just hurts my head to think about.

"Mrs. Cox?" I ask as she's packing up stuff to leave. "Does that sound okay? Could we also do a Friday?"

She tosses the idea around for a moment. "Yeah, actually, I think that would be fine. The boys in the corner would probably not show up, since it's not about games, but I don't think that will bother you too much, will it?" She has a wry smile on her face at the end.

I shrug, saying, "I mean I don't mind them. They haven't really been annoying or anything."

"Yet." She rolls her eyes. "Trust me. They're fine here, but as soon as they're bored...anyway, Friday works. Meet here then on Friday after school? I'll clear the details with the principal, but I'm sure she would only be thrilled to have more student engagement."

Erin hisses, "Yessss!" and passes out high-fives. This is moving faster than I expected. 

*** 

The next few days go by pretty quickly. Chance interacts with me a bit more in gym class, which is really nice, but then when speech class rolls around, he's back to hanging with his other friends in the class, practically ignoring me. He does say "bye" to me with a smile on the way to the buses, though, so...man, I dunno. Maybe I'm overthinking this. That's a thing I do. A lot. ...Okay, most of the time. But I just don't know what the heck is going on and he won't talk to me about it! It sucks!

After class, though, I head to the room, where the Pathfinder players are already gathering. Scott is actually already in the room, sitting in the chair closest to where he was sitting on Wednesday, though the tables have since been moved apart. He flips a page of the Monster Manual, already near the back of the book, and reads intently.

We all take seats in chairs nearby, moving them to make a sort of circle in the room. I motion to Scott to come take a seat next to me in the circle, which he quickly does. I catch a smirk on Mrs. Cox's face as she watches the two of us; I shrug a bit with a sheepish smile, which actually gets a quick laugh and a head shake out of her as she goes back to her computer work.

Scott continues to read the book in his lap as the conversation drifts from one topic to the next, mostly griping about stupid little things at school, like how the passing periods are always too short, or how there are too many kids getting into fights over ridiculous things. It's kinda nice to have just a little chat session sort of thing outside of the ridiculously noisy lunchroom and all that.

About a half-hour in, though, as the conversation begins to die down, Erin stands and announces, "So. I had an ulterior motive for asking for Fridays like this."

Interesting...where is she going with this?

Alan asks, "Are we going to form a New World Order and take over?!"

Erin stares at him for a moment. "Not...yet? Maybe after a few more sessions." Alan nods in satisfaction as Betts snorts. Erin continues, "So this is a safe space, right? But we're all too busy playing games to really make that mean anything." She pauses, but nobody responds. She takes a deep breath. "So let's test this 'safe space.' I've been thinking about it, and..." She looks around the room as if there would be people spying on her from the windows before saying, "I think I'm bisexual."

Strangely enough, the only person to even react is Quoc, whose head turns quickly. "Oh?" he asks.

"Yeah," she replies, brushing her hair out of her face with what I guess is a hint of nervousness. "I definitely find both boys and girls attractive, or at least some of each. Not like everyone, of course."

Another short pause sits awkwardly on the group; I look around and realize that nobody actually knows what to do in a moment like this. I guess it's time to show them how it's done. "Well," I say, "congratulations on coming out, first off, and thank you for telling us." I've read up a lot on coming out, so I have a pretty good idea of how to make it work right. Now if only I could be sure that others would do that for me...

Paul nods slowly and adds, "Yeah, that's cool." It's somehow both smooth and awkward at the same time.

Quoc asks, "Did you just figure this out recently? I'm only curious -- I'm not trying to...I don't really mind one way or the other." Betts and Connor both support his statement with nods and 'yeahs.'

Erin takes her seat again. "More or less. I'm also pretty sure I'm hetero-romantic. Like, I see myself dating a guy, no problem, but it just doesn't seem right with a girlfriend. I dunno, maybe just..." she trails off, turning a bit pink in the cheeks.

"I read about that, actually," I chime in. "Still, though, does it feel good to finally say it?"

"It really does!" she says with a long exhalation. "It's like peeing after a three-hour movie."

I'm completely caught off-guard and practically die laughing, even startling Scott a bit with the sudden explosion of laughter. Alan's face scrunches up as he remarks, "Ew! That's not a picture I needed."

Erin raises an eyebrow and smirks at him. "You know what I'm talking about, though. Am I wrong? Anyone?"

Everyone shakes their heads, most of us still laughing. Betts points out, "Normally, when people talk about coming out of the closet, it's not a water closet."

This sets me and Erin laughing, but Quoc is left blank-faced. "What is a 'water closet'?"

Betts answers, "It's what people from the U.K. call their bathrooms."

As Quoc finally gets the pun, he smiles and leans his head back. "Ahhhh, I get it now."

Somehow, his reaction to the pun makes me laugh even more, to the point where I stand up and head to the door. "Speaking of water closets, now I need to go."

I excuse myself and head to the stall, my mind racing with thoughts about coming out, about admitting it out loud to others -- not just to my brother, that was  different -- and how that would feel. I mean, yeah, it's scary, but she has a point. I'm kinda tired of holding it in. So to speak. Well, no, I'm tired of holding that in, too, but anyway.

God. Am I ready? I mean I know I've been wanting to do it for a long time, and honestly I don't even know why I'm so anxious about it. But now would be the perfect time, and maybe even help the group out...

Chance. Right. Why didn't I think of that? I can't come out yet. Chance needs me to stay in the closet.

But really, why should I? He's dropped me like a piece of trash. I need to do what's right for me.

But what if he needs me? Maybe he's acting weird because he's hiding something. Scratch that -- I'm almost sure he is. But is it just that he doesn't want to hang out anymore, or something else?

I finish peeing, but I'm definitely not done thinking, so I flush the toilet, pull up my pants, and sit on the toilet to think. Like, literally think, not the euphemism for...anyway. So I sit a moment longer to sort things out.

I'm running an Inclusivity Club. It's perfectly safe to come out here. Nobody's going to say anything. Besides, I can be very specific that it means nothing about Chance's sexuality (even though apparently it does). That's believable, right? Besides, it's only a few people, and I can trust them not to go blabbing it. I don't know when -- or if -- Chance will ever really be ready to come out. And if I waited forever, I might look like some sort of hypocrite, starting up a club like this and then not admitting my own sexuality.

Sigh. I was hoping that this would happen later, after Chance had a...an opportunity to come out on his own. I guess it is what it is, though.

I walk back into the room to hear Paul say, "I hope he didn't fall in--" He turns to me and cries, "Oh, thank God, you're safe!"

I stare at him blankly for a moment before replying, "I did, in fact, fall in. I went on a magical journey through the water into an ocean, where I met an orange-and-white fish and a bunch of crazy surfer turtles. We had a great time, and I still had time to dry off and put on the same clothes I had on before. ...My dryer is very fast."

The short moment of silence that follows is ruptured by Scott cackling in a squeaky soprano laugh, getting a few strange looks and a couple of confused laughs from the rest. Scott catches his breath to say, "Dryers can't work that fast!"

I try my absolute hardest not to break my serious face, but Scott's level of amusement shatters it. "No no, you're right," I say with a snorting laugh. "You caught me. None of that happened."

Paul asks in a low voice, "Why is that funny? I don't..."

Erin wags her finger at him. "Uh-uh-uh! Part of Inclusivity Club is that you don't have to agree with everyone else. If you don't find it funny, too bad." She finishes with an insufferably smug smirk. Paul, though, gives a sidelong glance at Scott and seems to understand. I breathe a quiet sigh of relief; I'd hate to get into that discussion.

I sit back in my seat, where Scott looks at me for a moment and cracks up again. I find it adorable. Am I allowed to find someone only two years younger than me adorable? I'm sure there's a rule against that, somewhere. "So what did I miss while I was gone for the last two years?" I ask.

"I just finished up what I was talking about, really," says Erin. "Oh, we also looked up some terms, and I might be pansexual? I'm really not sure, since I haven't really met a lot of nonbinary people."

"A lot of what?" Paul asks.

"Non-binary people."

At his blank stare, I take a deep breath. "So some people don't want to be called either a "girl" or a "boy," but they're somewhere in between..."

We spend a good bit talking about different genders, transgender people, all that good stuff, with Erin leading most of the conversation. I have plenty to say about transgender issues, but Erin really shines on all the different sexualities and the like. Paul mentions, "I kinda knew about transgender because of all the stuff in the news, but I had no idea about most of that. Why does it all have to be so complicated?"

Erin responds, "It's really not that bad. Just get it out of your head that there are two genders, and everything else is easy."

I finally manage to say, "I just...wow. Maybe I should have let you start up this club. You know way more than I do on a lot of this."

Erin smiles a bit bashfully. "Well, first off, it's all really interesting to me, but it got even more so after I figured out I wasn't 100% straight. Also, my cousin is nonbinary, so they kinda inspired me to read up a lot on it."

Not a lot can follow that up, so the conversation kinda falls flat for a bit; I guess it's now or never. "So...I guess since Erin started the conversation..."

As I trail off, Betts raises an eyebrow. "Yeah...?"

I look down and nervously clean a bit of dirt from my fingernail. "I..."

Dammit, Luke! Just say it!

"I'm gay." The words come out like a bullet, sounding really awkward compared to everything else.

"Cool, cool," Erin says, nodding. A couple of others nod in quick understanding and acceptance. Alan stares at me for a few moments before nodding slowly; Scott looks up when I say it, but then goes back to his book.

I look around the room. "That's it? Just, 'cool, cool?'"

Erin's mouth twists into a suppressed laugh. "What did you expect? I forgot the cake and fireworks. Sorry."

I roll my eyes. "I dunno, maybe like an, 'Oh, I had no idea!' or something like that would make me feel better. I'm just saying."

Betts mentions, "I didn't know, but it's not a big thing. Congratulations on coming out, though."

"Thank you," I say with a cheesy grin. "That's better." Seriously, though, I'm not sure what I expected, but it was definitely more than that. I mean I'm not actually sure why I expected more than that, but that's just my anxiety, I guess.

Alan thinks a moment longer before asking, "So does Chance know that you're gay?"

My heart sinks. Don't screw this up, Luke. "Yes, he--I've talked to him. He knows. But, but don't...don't talk to him about it, please." Well, that sounded suspicious. "He...he's afraid that people will think that he's gay if they find out that his twin brother is."

"Oh," Connor says after a second of processing. "I didn't even think about that. Is that a thing? Gay twins?"

Erin's eyes light up. "Clearly, you haven't been on the Internet before."

Shocked, I yelp, "Erin!!"

"What?!"

"I can't believe you'd go there!"

"What, to the sites, or in the conversation?"

I sputter for a moment, unable to form a response. "B-both!"

She cackles and points at me. "God, your face! Hah! No, I haven't actually visited those sites, geez. I just know they exist."

I'm pretty sure I'm red all the way to my toes by this point. "Could you never, ever talk about that again, please?"

I can see the laugh bubbling up in her eyes as she responds, "As you command, Lord Strawberry."

I swing my foot out and kick her in the shoe. "Shut your face. Oh my God." Of course, everyone stares at me after her comment, which doesn't help a single bit. I stand up and announce, "I'm going to go hide in a freezer until I die of hypothermia now, thanks." Everyone gets a good chuckle out of it, which helps me regain composure and control of the situation. "But in all seriousness," I point out, "it's not my place to say anything about his sexuality. Just because we're twins doesn't mean anything, okay? Don't go making assumptions; you wouldn't want someone doing that to you, right?"

"Right, right," Connor responds. The thought gives everyone something to chew on for a moment.

Breaking the silence, I say, "So as a general rule, the things we talk about here should stay here. Don't go telling other people's secrets. It'll ruin the whole purpose of the discussion group. Can we all agree to that?"

Everyone nods or otherwise agrees. "Then we have a few minutes left before Mrs. Cox kicks us out. Any other conversation topics? No, nobody here has to come out if they don't want to, by the way. I mean, you can even come out as straight if you feel like it, I don't judge."

"Ooh!" Betts hoots. "Who does everyone have a crush on?!"

"Oh, would you look at the time!" I say quickly, staring at my leather wrist strap that Chance gave me. "Wow, did those few minutes fly. All right, well, have a good weekend!" I stand up, pushing my chair in as Betts laughs maniacally.

Everyone else apparently decides that now is a good time to end things, as well. We put the room back together with some small talk here and there. As we head outside to wait for our respective rides, Scott attaches himself nearly arm-to-arm at my side; I take it in stride as I tell Erin, "Seriously...you really helped out a lot today. I had no idea that any of this would happen like this. Really...thanks."

Erin shrugs. "I had my reasons, but I figured this is what the group really needed. I love our game so far, but this was good."

"I completely agree."

As we exit the building, she says quietly, "So...gay, huh?"

"Shh!" I hiss. "Stays. In. The. Room."

"Fine, fine," she replies. "But if you were gay, which I'm not saying you are...what do you think about Quoc? He's got that tall, cute Asian thing going."

I roll my eyes with a heavy sigh. "Can we please not?"

"Oh, come on! Just this one!"

Another heavy sigh. "Fine. Yes, he's kinda cute, okay?"

"Good."

"What?"

"I appreciate your taste in boys."

"Gee, thanks."

She splits off with a farewell, heading to the car that arrives at that very moment.

Scott and I sit in silence for five minutes or so. I use the time to contemplate the next steps in my journey: coming out to my parents, and coming out to Chance about coming out. I'll need to tell him at some point; I really, really hope it goes okay. Whichever way I look at it, I'm going to have a lot to talk to my therapist about, that's for damn sure.

Scott's ride shows up a few minutes later, which he runs to without saying goodbye, at least at first; about halfway there, he freezes, whirls halfway around, and yells, "Goodbye, Best Friend Looke!"

Grinning uncontrollably, I yell back, "Goodbye, Best Friend Scott!"

He grins back, locking eyes with me for a second or two, before turning and dashing to the car. What a great kid; at least if everything goes sour, I still have that to come to school for.

To be continued...

Posted: 06/21/19