Chapter One: The WORST Day of My Life. Well, Second.
Let me make this clear: I am not a nerd. I play soccer, I used to play tackle football, I had a brief spell of hockey, and I take martial arts classes. Sure, I have straight As in all of my classes, and yes, I love reading. And while I do have a few medieval weapons on display in my room, that doesn't make me a nerd…
Alright, so I'm a bit of a nerd. So what? I call it a need to succeed, non contentment with my life, and an overactive imagination.
I'm getting off topic. I'll start by introducing myself. The name is Jay Connors. I know, the most basic name, right? That's one of the main reasons I like reading my books. My life is completely and totally basic. I go to a public high school with 900 other people, I live in the small town of Gunterson, Indiana, and both of my parents work as paper salespeople. One of my brothers goes to a public college while the other is a senior at the same high school as me.
Even I'm basic. Brown hair, brown eyes, slightly athletic build, a smattering of freckles, moderately tall; I am the definition of mediocre.
My books allow me to visit another life, one where I'm a vampire seductress or a cryptid hunter. It allows me to not feel so… basic. When I was young, my favorite game was make-believe. Me and my brothers would run around in the backyard, slicing (lightly tapping) each other with giant greatswords (semi-large branches), and slaying dragons (my dog) with our magic (water balloons). I always felt so great after we played, like I had actually just had a huge dose of adrenaline.
Even when my brothers got older and stopped playing with me, I still had that need for excitement. It hasn't ever really stopped. I used to be able to satiate it with writing. I had this binder full of short stories, and even a novel. But when I reached the 8th grade, I stopped having enough time to write stories for fun.
So when I first heard of Dungeons and Dragons, my only thought was, Why haven't I done this before? It was everything I did, but better. Instead of writing about a character making choices, I got to be that character, making my own choices. I got to solve problems and almost die doing it without putting myself at risk.
For the next week, I spent my free time pouring over the Player's Handbook and the Dungeon Master's Guide and every other book I could find a free PDF for (I was quite broke). And after a week's worth of intensive reading and studying, I finally felt ready to join in on a session. At my local library, there was a gathering for D&D players that met every Friday, Saturday and Sunday.
So instead of studying for my Algebra 2 exam, I was rereading the Player's Handbook for the third time.
"Connors, would you mind coming out of whatever other land you're in and pay attention?" my science teacher, Mr. O'Donnell, said annoyedly. My head snapped up, first facing Mr. O'Donnell, and then the board. We were reviewing last night's homework, which I hadn't finished. On the board was one of the questions, which I could tell Mr. O'Donnell wanted me to answer. It was a question about non-metals.
"Sulfur, Selenium, and Phosphorous," I answered. Mr. O'Donnell glanced down at the book in my hands and my otherwise empty desk, and an eyebrow raised.
He shook his head and replied, "Next time do your homework. I don't care if you already know the answers." I quickly nodded my head and opened up my book again. I was cramming for the Algebra 2 exam, which was next period. I knew most of the stuff, but my teacher did say there would be some trigonometry, which we had only talked about a couple of times. I understood it, but I was only about halfway through the explanation when the bell rung.
"Don't forget to finish the periodic table! We're bringing in the chemicals next quarter- and everyone's gone," my science teacher tried to yell out to the bustling classroom.
As I was trying to leave, he waved me over to his desk. I gulped, and walked slowly to the wooden table. I had never been in trouble with a teacher before. I mean, they had told me to stop talking a few times, but I never had to stay after class.
"Jay, I noticed you didn't have your homework completed. That is five days in a row. What's wrong?" As he talked, his teacher exterior dropped, opening up his face for more emotion. His eyes betrayed his worry about my school work, and his mouth was worked into that almost pitiful expression that people get when they think something is happening.
I sighed, and told him, "I'm sorry, sir. I've just been distracted." I expected him to remark about that being a meager excuse. What I did not expect was for him to sigh much heavier than I had and look up pityingly at me.
"I know, I heard. I can't believe they would do that to your dad. But your mother, I can't say she made things better." I was opening my mouth to question about what he had heard, but I faltered.
Who did what to my dad? Is he okay? What did my mom do? I wanted to ask him all of these questions, but instead I just nodded.
"Er, yeah. I've been distracted by that."
"Well, of course. Who wouldn't be distracted by that? I mean, both of your parents without jobs… Well, I'll just wish your family the best. Go on, or you'll miss your next period."