The Pearl Inside of Anything

Friday, June 12, lunch hour, Templeton library

"Alright," says Bran. "Let's review. Borwyn..."

"I know, I know," I start. "I'm a decent warrior, ambidexterous, I can throw an axe and swing a short sword—" I glance over at Ben, he looks impressed. I lock eyes with him and continue: "But I lack any driving force. And I'm level one magical. As in pretty crap. You can't count on me. "

"Well, you're not that bad, I mean, you're the only one of us who can detect the undead," says Dirt, who, it turns out, is up on his Monster Manual.

"Oh, I'm sure that will be handy, can we get started now?"

"Not so fast. Dirt, my man, you're coming in experienced. That's worth a level three in my estimation."

"Got it," says Dirt. "Ricnan Silentread. Rogue drover. Chaotic good and the richest of you lot which is not saying much. Thiefish and highly intelligent..."

"Dear God..." I sigh.

"That's Yondalla to you, "says Bran.

"Who?"

"Yondalla. Goddess of Halflings."

"Good," says Dirt, nodding his head. "Nuff about me. Ben?"

Ben nods and looks serious. "I'm Walvis. Dwarf ranger. Lawful good. Wilderness guide, survivalist and caver level one."

"And?"

"And I own a goat."

"Excellent," says Bran, stuffing the last of his sandwich in one cheek. "Kovaks can't play today." He nods over to the windows and we look over. A squeaky sound is coming from outside and sure enough, there's Mr. Kovaks on a scaffold cheerfully rubbing a rag in circles with one hand and waving at us with the other. Bran gives him a thumbs up.

"Kovaks is Davmorg the Monk. He travels light, no armour but he's good at dodging blows and he can fight with a club and a quarter staff. He'll need that. So I'll roll for him." Bran wipes his hands on his pants, rubs them together and scoops up two dice.

"My friends," he says looking solemnly at each one of us in turn. "The game is afoot."

Friday, June 12, 3:55 p.m. at the Mirabella Salon

"If you were a Muppet, which Muppet would you be?"

This is Patrick's burning question while we wait at reception for Tommy Toh. I wasn't expecting him to tag along, but Dad can't watch him and get Mr. Dinning in 2Ds car going again, so for Patrick, it's an afternoon with the girls.

Mirabella is very modern. Yammy, Patrick and I are waiting on one of the black leather couches. We are surrounded by deep purple walls and gold-framed mirrors. There's some sort of techno beat coming out of the speakers and a fishpond in the corner with calico koi swimming slowly under a gigantic chandelier.

"Muppets. Hmmm, I'd have to think about that." I tell him. I do not think I can handle another character today. Borwyn is one too many. I know I have a mostly A average, but sometimes Patrick's questions are as hard as Algebra. "My head's not there right now." I'm actually busy worrying. It is possible, I learned this morning, to lather-rinse-repeat too much. I wanted my hair to be so perfect that I did the drill at least five times, and now it could give Roseanne Rosannadanna a run for her money.

"Well, if I were a Muppet, I'd be Gonzo's girlfriend, Camilla the Chicken," says Yammy. "I bet nobody picks her. Who would you be?"

"Animal!" says Patrick doing a head banger Muppet move. He loves Yammy. In an instant, she can get right on his wavelength and stay there. One of these days they will make Chuck and Di action figures and then those two will be thick as thieves.