An Excerpt from
Wizards of the Game
by
David Lubar
Shortly, if the ancient maps were correct, I'd face my sworn enemy. Soon, I'd discover whether the sword of Calandra was a magical weapon capable of defeating an army, or a worthless piece of iron I'd been tricked into buying through the clever promises of a lying wizard. Not much longer, I told myself, trying to control the excitement that buzzed through my nerves with the energy of a thousand wasps. Soon, revenge would be mine. Soon, the head of Maraku would dangle from my belt, and his heart would nourish the wolves who followed my trail.
But first, I had to make it through the rest of my third period Geography class.
I glanced at the clock again while Mr. Abruzzi described the many natural resources of Central America. Sixteen minutes to go. Less than a thousand seconds.
Over to my left, Kyle Tate, who was one of my gaming buddies, grinned at me and whispered, "Hang in there." He flashed the Palm of Power, a secret hand signal used only among members of the Warrior-Mage clan.
"Can't wait," I whispered back.
Fifteen minutes.
For that dragging stretch of time, I'd have to sit in my seat in the third row of room 298 and be Mercer Dickensen, earthbound eighth grade student at Oscar Wilde Middle School. But then, for all of free period, I'd be Shath'dra, sixth level Warrior-Mage, fighting to survive and gain wealth and power in the treacherous world of Zule.
Wizards of the Warrior World. That was our game. We sought adventure in a land of spells and swordplay.
Fourteen minutes.
"Major exports of Panama?" Mr. Abruzzi asked me, slipping up to my desk from the right as I checked the clock above the door on my left.
"Bananas, pineapples, and copper." I answered instantly, taking him by surprise. The real world was a battleground, too. I'd just dodged a spear thrust and countered with a deadly triple slash.
"Right, Mercer" Mr. Abruzzi said. "Very good." He turned from me, I guess in search of weaker foes.
Actually, I enjoyed Geography, but it was hard to keep my mind in the real world when there were richer realms to explore. And enemies to fight. The streets of town paled before the dirt paths of Zule.
When Mr. Abruzzi returned to the front of the room, Ed "the Head" Bingham glanced over his shoulder and said, "Want to go to the library next period? We can work on our assignment."
"Can't," I said. Ed and I had to do a project for English. Ms. Reuter had paired us up randomly. I didn't know much about Ed, but he seemed pretty smart. He worked on the school paper, so I figured he knew how to write. Last time, I'd been teamed with Dooley Cronk, who held the school record for fastest consumption of a bowl of cafeteria Jello. Two point seven seconds. I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't been there. Unfortunately, Dooley's awesome skills at sucking up Jello were balanced by an equally extreme inability to spit out a single solid sentence. I'd ended up doing the report myself.
After getting stuck with Dooley, I sure didn't mind being paired with Ed. The problem was finding time to work together. This weekend was out. There was a marathon gaming session at The Comic Nook. Noon to seven on Saturday and noon to five on Sunday. No way I was going to miss that.
"We need to get started," Ed said. "It's an important paper—ten percent of our grade. We can't mess around. College is less than five years away." His gaze flicked toward the front of the room, where Mr. Abruzzi was writing on the board, then back to me. "You sure you can't make it to the library? I thought you had study hall next period."
"I'm busy. How about later?" I asked.
"Later is what my dad says when he doesn't want to do something." Ed sighed and shifted his eyes away from me. "Look, if you're that busy, don't worry about it. I can get started on my own. It's not a problem. I usually end up doing all the writing, anyhow."
Good grief. I hadn't been trying to brush him off. "How about after school?" I asked.
"Sounds good," Ed said. "I'm free. I'll meet you out front."
I nodded and glanced at the clock. All right—six more minutes had slipped by. Eight to go.
My mind drifted for a while, playing out the upcoming battle in various ways. In each version, I achieved total victory.
Three minutes to go.
Two.
One.
I had my books in my hand, my butt off my seat, and my feet on the floor the instant the clock ticked past that final minute. By the time the bell kicked in, I was halfway down the aisle.
"Eddy and Michelle," Mr. Abruzzi called over the noise of the class's flight toward the door, "I'd like to see you for a moment."
Tough luck, I thought as Ed and Michelle stopped dead in their tracks. I moved through the crowd that was funneling out, ready to join the flowing mobs in the hall and make my way as quickly as possible downstairs to room 157. It was finally game time. I felt like a parched man crawling through a desert toward a vat of vanilla milk shakes. Watch out, Maraku, here I come. Feel my sword. Taste my vengeance. Eat cold metal.
"And you, too, Mercer," Mr. Abruzzi said just before I reached the hallway. "Could I see you for a moment, please."
_______
From Wizards of the Game
Copyright © 2003 by David Lubar