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healer. “There’s just a lot of preparation required, like building weapons and armor.”
    Sarah frowned, confused.
    â€œI know you—you’re Sarah Jepson,” Melvin said with a bow. He was thin with dishwater-brown hair and a haircut that looked like his mom owned a set of clippers she hadn’t quite mastered yet. And while he wasn’t as tall or as fast as Dirk, he was head of the chess club, played in band, and would pick dressing up as an elf and shooting plastic arrows over online gaming any day of the week. “You’re the girl who wasted the Kraken last year.”
    Sarah offered a forced smile—no matter what she did, she’d never get to live that one down. “So you guys dress up and stuff?”
    â€œTotally,” Sydney replied. “It’s way super awesome.”
    Melvin leaned on the counter and did his best cool-kid impression. “It’s hard to describe the rush, especially if you’ve never felt the thrill of battle before.”
    Max slapped his hand over Dirk’s mouth before he could answer. They’d all seen their share of real battles. “We mostly play online,” he said.
    â€œWhat’s your character’s name?” Sydney asked. “You could friend me and then we could campaign together. I mean, I’d have to get the game and get permission from my parents to go online and learn how to play it and everything, but I totally would.”
    â€œUh . . . ,” Max said, loosening his shirt from around his neck—suddenly it felt awfully tight.
    â€œAnyway, we really don’t have time for idle chitchat,” Melvin said. “We just stopped by on our way to the park. We’re going to be fighting a troll war party.”
    â€œTrolls?” Sarah asked.
    â€œPart of the fun of LARPing is dressing up like monsters,” Megan answered. “Today a band of humans and elves will fight a bridge battle against a gang of trolls.”
    â€œAre you sure you don’t want to come, Max?”Sydney asked. “You could even be a troll if you wanted.”
    Max could feel everyone’s eyes on him. “Thanks, Sydney. Maybe another time.”
    â€œNo problem,” she said, her enthusiasm unfazed.
    Dwight reappeared with a large leather-bound book in his hand.
    â€œHey, Dwight,” Melvin called out. “We just stopped by to check on those boots I ordered.”
    â€œFairy boots?” Dirk asked. “With bells and stuff?”
    Melvin frowned. “Elf boots.”
    â€œHaven’t seen ’em yet,” Dwight replied, dropping the book on the counter. “Probably be here Monday if you want to try then.”
    â€œSounds good,” Melvin said, leading the two sisters away. He paused at the door and turned to Sarah. “You have an invitation to play with us anytime, Sarah. I would put you under my personal protection.”
    â€œOh, okay. Thanks,” Sarah replied, not sure how to respond to the offer.
    Dwight gave them a wave as they left.
    â€œI don’t remember you ever waving at us like that,” Dirk said.
    Dwight climbed on his stool. “Yeah, well, theyactually spend money once in a while.” He began flipping through the pages and the group leaned in to get a closer look—the book was written in a language they didn’t recognize.
    â€œThat’s not from the Techrus, is it?” Max asked.
    Dwight kept turning pages. “Nope. It’s the Dwarven Book of Lore .”
    â€œSweet,” Dirk exclaimed. “I mean, probably.”
    â€œOkay, let’s see here,” Dwight said, turning a final page and moving down the text with his finger. “There’s the Sandals of Stink—that’s a cursed item—the serpent’s escutcheon—been there and done that—the Seer Stone of Olfaction—you see and smell your future—oh, here we go . . . the Shadric Portal. Says here it was constructed by