#misfits

You check your phone for the details of the workshop. You always wanted to try one of the community events but your anxiety always had you hiding in the stacks. Not this time; it’s free, it’s something to do, and it’s something you’re genuinely interested in! You have to do it.

You go to the community room where there’s a sign printed out in comic sans with game pieces beside the words; ‘Dungeon Mapping Tutorial’. You always walked by the campaign sessions on your way to checkout out your weekly haul but never had the courage to sign up. You didn’t know where to begin, even with a copy of 5e on your bookshelf.

This will be a good starting point. They have a character creation workshop next month. If this goes well, you might sit in on that too. Don’t get ahead of yourself. It’s taking everything you have to ignore that tiny voice telling you to turn around and just go find a book.

You pass through the open door and look around the tables. There’s several already filled. The chatter already filling the room is intimidating. You gulp and find the only other lone figure in the room. A skinny girl with what the Arthurian legends would describe as flaxen hair; straight, limp, and blond. She wears a headband with daisies along the elastic and a floral blouse with a peasant ruffle.

You slowly make your way over to her as you clutch your cloud shaped purse. It’s kind of lame but you couldn’t resist the purchase. On one side, there’s a frowny face and the other a smiley. You stop across from her as she stirs around in a large pencil case; a classic Dr. Who TARDIS.

“Um, hi,” your voice creeps up your throat, barely cutting above the din. You cough and make yourself speak up. “Hi.” You say, bolder than before. “Do you mind… if I sit?”

She looks up and her blue eyes brighten. Her cheeks turn red, the pale speckle of almost golden freckles across her cheeks clumping together. Her features are sharp and frail, her chin pointed and long, her nose straight and just as narrow as every part of her.

“Hello!” She chirps. “Sure! All the other tables were full.” She beams.

“Thanks,” you hesitate before you sit. You don’t want to sit too far from her and make her feel awkward. You sit beside her, your stomach a flurry of nerves.

You put your bag on the table and watch her pull out a little plastic case of geometry tools. She’s so prepared. She has a compass and a protractor and a ruler in a bright shade of neon blue.

“To be honest,” she leans over and hides her mouth behind her hand. “The other tables are also a bit…smelly.”

You make a face and glance over at the table closest to your own. You can see a few sweat stains. You nod and smile sheepishly.

“I’m Saralie.” She introduces herself. “What’s your name?”

“Oh…” you offer your name. “You… brought so much.”

She looks down at her tools and giggles. “I did so much research! I was watching videos about it and they suggested all this stuff.”

“Really!?” Your excitement evades your anxiety. “Me too. I was watching this one girl. She turns My Little Pony toys into monsters.”

“I watch her too!” She chimes and bounces in her seat. “Have you ever played before?”

You shake your head. “No. None of my friends are into it. And… I haven’t really seen any of them since high school.”

“Yeah. I know about that.” She scoffs. “My Uncle Bucky offered to play with me but all his characters are just Aragorn from Lord of the Rings.”

You chuckle. “That’s way overpowered.”

“That’s what I said!” She claps and wiggles. “And my dad doesn’t understand it. But he drew me a character. It took me forever to get him to put the horns on her.”

You asked your brothers to play. Once. They laughed and threw a basketball at you. You have a cousin who does campaigns but he said he was full up and didn’t accept novices. Your sister rolled her eyes. And your parents asked you why you were wasting your time on make belief.

“That’s so cool. I made one in The Sims but… it didn’t really look how I wanted,” you rock slightly and glance around.

“Oh, I love Sims. I made all the Doctors.” She preens. “Hey… are you okay?”

You flinch and look at her. “Yeah?”

“You’re just… squirmy. Are you nervous?”

You nod and push your shoulders up.

“Me too,” she says. “That’s okay though. We’ll just stick together.”

“Okay,” you agree. You stare at her as she pulls out a pencil with a flower eraser on the end. “I… like your headband.”

“Yeah?” She touches one of the daisies. “My Uncle Sam calls me goblin.”

“Oh…”

“He’s silly.” She giggles. “I might be a goblin but he’s a crusty old troll. But… I like your necklace!”

You look down at the chain around your neck. It’s a Victorian cameo you found at the thrift shop. You touch it and run your thumb over it.

“Yeah, it’s… old.”

“I love vintage stuff.”

“Me too.”

“Did you ever go to the shop down by Florence? It’s called… The Loft. Yeah. It’s in the attic. They have cool stuff.” She asks giddily.

“No, I never heard of it.” You admit.

“Really? You’ll have to come with me some time.” She insists.

Your cheeks pinch. It’s quite a forward invitation but not unwelcome. “Oh… okay, sure.”

“But right now, a quest,” she proclaims and swishes her pencil around. “We must navigate the lands of another world!”

You grin. She’s amusing. “Any ideas?” You wonder.

“Hm. Do you like caves or castles?” She prompts and hands you a pencil.

“Thanks.” You take the pencil. “I’m open to either.”

“How about two floors! We’ll map out a castle then do the caves underneath! And the secret passage will be guarded by a giant spider.”

“Alright,” you lean in. “Sounds cool.”

“Cool? Me?” She sticks out her tongue.

🎲

“Dang! I can’t believe we ran out of time.” Saralie says as she holds the rolled up chart paper. “That was so much fun!”

“Yeah. It was.” You agree as you pass through the automatic doors. “You’re a really good drawer.”

“So are you.”

“If you say so. I think my rocks look like weird squares.”

“Practice makes perfect.” She says. “So, uh, do you wanna like finish these together?”

You look at her, sidling out of the way of others leaving the library. “If you want. We could meet up back here?”

“Sure. That works.” She shimmies excitedly. “So cool. My friend, Peter, was supposed to be here but he had something more important to do, I guess. Would it be cool if he joined?”

“Erm, okay.”

“You don’t have to say yes,” she says.

“No, it’s fine. Probably easier with more people.”

“Yeah, but Peter can be very opinionated,” she snickers. “Don’t worry, I’ll deal with him.”

A soft toot of a horn makes you jump. Her brows drop and she glances over. She bobbles her head sardonically then looks at you. “That’s my dad.”

“Oh?” You peek over as a large hand waves out of a car window. “Cool. Uh. I don’t wanna keep you.”

“Nah, he can wait.” She crosses her arms. “I was gonna drive myself but he ‘needed’ the car.”

“Right, er…” You sway.

“Wait, are you walking home?” She asks.

“No. I have a bus pass–”

“The bus! After spending time in the BO hot box? Nah. Come on. He can give you a ride.” She grabs your hand and tugs you toward the curb. You stumble after her.

“It’s okay. It’s just a few stops.”

“Then it won’t be too far out of the way,” she retorts over her shoulder.

She stops by the car and you collide with her. She keeps hold of your hand. “Hi, dad, my friend needs a ride.”

“Friend?” The man’s deep voice rumbles through you.

“Don’t worry. Peter bailed.” She tuts. “No, this is…” she introduces you and steps to the side. “She’s my new friend. My library friend.”

“Uh, hi.” You give an awkward wave to the man. 

He’s not what you expect. Where Saralie is slender and spindly, he’s beefy and even sitting down, you can tell he’s tall. He has thicker, darker blond hair, with some patches of silver around his temples and chin. They have similar features but more fleshed out than her dainty ones.

“Sure. Not a problem.” He says and hits a button on the door. The locks unclick loudly.

“Thanks!” Saralie trills and drags you to the back door. She gets in first and hauls you in behind her.

“I appreciate it, sir.” You say as you shut the door.

“He prefers Mr. Rogers,” Saralie cackles.

“Steve’s fine,” he growls. “But I guess I’m acting chauffeur today.”

“Um… I can get the bus–”

“All good. Let me know where I’m going.” He checks his blindspot and slowly eases into traffic.

“Just down here and along Summervale, then left onto Emery.” You instruct as you tap your fingers on your cloud purse.

He looks at you in the rearview. “I know that area.”

“I really appreciate it. Thank you.” You eke out.

“Ladies,” he clucks. “Seatbelts on.”

“Yes, Captain!” Saralie laughs.

You grab your seat belt and click it in place, uttering an apology. Steve huffs as he grips the wheel. Saralie smirks and leans over. “He hates when I call him that but he runs the place like boot camp.”

“I can hear you.” Steve sniffs.

“I know!” She sits up and chuckles again.

“Hm. Well… seems like you had fun.”

“Sure did!” Saralie answers. “We made two maps. Well… we have plans for two maps.” She crinkles the rolls of paper. “We were going to meet up next week to finish, right?”

“Uh, yes.” You agree.

“At home?” He asks as he stops and flips his signal on.

“The library, unless… do you wanna come over? Dad just finished the pool install.”

“For all the effort, I won’t complain for seeing it used,” he drawls as he turns onto Summervale.

“Well, I guess I could…”

“Oh! I don’t even have your number.” She sits up and digs in her knapsack. “You’ll have to add me on everything!” She hands over her phone. You take it and type in your number. “Dad, you’ll never believe. She goes to the same college!” She takes her cell back. “And we never even met until today.”

“That’s awesome,” he says. “You need new friends.”

“I’ll tell Peter you said so.” She snips.

“I’ll tell him myself.” He counters.

You smile awkwardly. You're no stranger to parental spats, though mostly you avoid any conflict with yours. It never really gets you anything but a headache. Or indifference. If they’re not telling you what to do, your parents don’t care too much. You just have to turn in good enough grades to get your tuition paid. You can’t afford both that and your rent; even splitting it with three other people.

“Did your team lose again?” Saralie teases.

“They don’t play today,” he shakes his head.

“Is it Uncle Sam? Did he play another joke?”

“They aren’t jokes. They’re not funny.” Steve chides.

Saralie laughs. He snorts softly. You can see a hint of humour in his brow in the rearview. You exhale in relief.

He slows as he comes down Emery. “Further?” He asks.

“All the way at the end. The yellow building.”

He nods and keeps going. He pulls up in front of your building and he leans over to see through the passenger window. He hums.

“This it?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” you assure him and grab your purse. “Thanks again, sir.”

He sits up and taps his fingers on the wheel. “The west end of Emery is nicer.” He intones.

“Yeah, I know,” you say as you open the door.

“You be safe.” He says.

“Um, okay. Thank you.”

You get out and close the door. You go around the bumper and up on the curb. You head up the front walk and as you fish out your keys, you glance back. He idles exactly as he was, watching you. You turn and unlock the door and dip inside.