MystikQuest, Jeff Schanz [red seas under red skies .txt] 📗

middle of a sentence directed at Marc without much diversion from their topic.

AJ Koepplinger wore a hat with the words, “I DON’T GIVE A…” printed above a cartoon rat and donkey. One of many sarcastic, insulting hats he collected. He had a thick build, roundish face, not necessarily obese, but by no stretch thin. A few small freckles dotted his pale cheeks, which he would deny existed if brought up by anyone.

AJ never paused in his speech to Marc. “Which is why you can’t use the plus one on your attack, bro.”

Marc shook his head. “Stop saying ‘bro’, man. It’s stupid.”

“You’re stupid.”

Marc rolled his eyes. “Get a new comeback, AJ. That’s getting old.”

“You’re getting old.”

“Butthead. Why do I still hang out with you?” Marc’s question was valid even though he was chuckling.

“Cuz I’m lovable.”

“Like a rash.”

“You love me, you just won’t admit it.”

“No one in their right mind would admit that.” To tweak him further, Marc leaned toward AJ and enunciated, “Bro.”

AJ rose and leaned toward Marc. “Your mother did last night, bro.”

Marc wrinkled his nose and angled his face away from AJ. “Dude, your breath stinks.”

“You’re breath stinks.”

“No, seriously, dude. Your breath stinks from that…” Marc fluttered his fingers at an empty plate near AJ. “…Whatever that stuff was. Grab a mint, man.”

AJ sat down, not defeated, but no longer as confident. He eyed the plate and shook his head. “They’re just garlic bread bites. What’re you, a vampire?”

“No, dumbass. Garlic stinks, dude.”

AJ shook his head. “Whatever, bruuuh.” AJ made sure to linger on the outgoing breath during the last syllable.

Wes had no idea why Marc didn’t hit AJ in the face when he got this ornery, but for some reason Marc not only tolerated it, he accepted it as how friendship should be with AJ. One either accepted AJ the way he was, or avoided him altogether. He had his decent qualities, though Wes couldn’t remember any at that moment.

Wes rounded the banister and stopped at the table where AJ and Marc were sitting. “Guys, guess what!?” he said, momentarily forgetting that he was supposed to take his excitement down a peg to be more adult.

“You’re finally coming out of the closet?” said AJ, poorly concealing a smirk.

Marc rolled his eyes. “Wassup, Wes?”

Wes was about to launch into his big reveal when he noticed who the other person was sitting at the table. The boy was small and skeletal, looked downright unhealthy, with pale skin and paler blond hair randomly spiked from lack of interest in combing it, plus thick glasses that gave him bug-sized eyes. He was AJ’s half-brother, Schroeder. Three years younger than AJ, Schroeder rarely hung out with AJ’s friends because of the custody visitation schedule. He didn’t even go to AJ’s school. The three friends went to the same junior high and were similar in age: AJ was fourteen, Marc was almost fourteen, and Wes was thirteen. Schroeder was eleven and went to an out-of-state school. Just over the New York border was a school for special needs kids where Schroeder’s mother had enrolled him a few years ago after he tested on the autistic scale, and was also identified as a potential savant. After AJ’s mom ran off, Schroeder’s mom became the rebound woman for AJ’s dad. Unlike when AJ’s mom left, Schroeder’s mom took her son with her. Mr. Koepplinger had several live-in girlfriends since then, the latest had been there three months. AJ ignored most of them. Schroeder’s mom hadn’t meant anything to AJ, though he did have a soft spot in his heart for Schroeder. AJ was many things, including protective of his half-brother, though no one would know by listening to the two of them go at it.

Schroeder clenched his knees to his chest like he was cannonballing into a pool, not bothering to glance up at Wes. Unwavering in his focus on the papers in front of him.

“So, what up, DJ Double Dubs?” said AJ, raking in several dice.

The odd nickname was one of many poor attempts by AJ to convert Wes’s name, or in this case initials, into something hip-hop sounding. For whatever reason, AJ considered himself a hip-hop gangster, even though he was shunned by every clique in school, including the hip-hop crowd. The three friends were all social outcasts to one degree or another, which was why they worked so well together.

“I kinda got something important to tell you,” said Wes, able to deliver that message much more placidly than his last statement. Wes scanned the room, glancing again at Schroeder.

AJ caught Wes’s gaze and said, “What? It’s cool, he won’t nark.”

His two friends probably assumed Wes had some gossip about somebody from school. He shook his head. “No, it’s something serious. Just between us.”

AJ shrugged like it meant nothing, and Marc merely glanced at Schroeder and said impatiently, “What?”

Schroeder didn’t so much as lift an eyelid in their direction. Whatever world he was lost in, he was deep inside it.

Wes sighed. “Alright, listen, you guys have to swear you won’t tell a soul what I’m going to tell you. Ok?” Marc and AJ darted their eyes to each other and gave a cautious nod, which looked very questionable to Wes. “Swear!” demanded Wes.

“Yeah, ok, man.,” said Marc.

“Fine, dude,” said AJ, simultaneous with Marc.

“You guys remember the treehouse in my old camp? You know, where we used to throw spears around and stuff?”

“Yeah?” said AJ, hands splayed in exasperation.

“I found something in my treehouse. And I know you’re not going to believe me, but you have to believe me. Ok?

AJ stood up, “Bro, listen.” He had a paternal smirk on his face and placed two palms on Wes’s shoulders. “You can’t say ‘you gotta believe me’ after you say ‘you’re not gonna believe me.’ No one’s gonna believe you.”

AJ patted Wes’s shoulders. Wes looked at Marc who was trying to refrain from agreeing, but he gave in and scrunched his face while nodding.

AJ continued, “You gotta sell it, ya know? Like this. Guys, there’s this incredible thing I have to tell you, and I swear I’ll eat my mother’s panties if I’m lying.”

Marc’s face scrunched tighter. “Gross, dude.”

“Knock it off,” said Wes, pushing AJ’s hands away.

AJ backed up, arms raised in mock surrender.

“This is serious,” said Wes, pausing before adding, “damn it!”

AJ’s mouth went into a wide “O” shape. He slapped the table. “Oh, shit. He’s cussin’! He’s breakin’ out the cuss words. Everybody duck, he’s gonna blow!”

Marc rolled his eyes. He, better than AJ, understood how distressing it was for Wes to swear. Wes confessed to Marc once how his dad had said that words were powerful, and to always choose them carefully. Wes interpreted that to include swearing and lying. “Blow yourself, AJ,” said Marc.

AJ wiggled both sets of fingers then slapped one hand against his rump. He blew Marc a silent kiss.

Marc shook his head. “Come on, Wes. What’s so important?”

Wes wanted to slap the cell phone down with the display already beaming the glorious truth of his discovery. However, it took a few moments to swipe the screens and get to the pic.

AJ’s fingers thrummed the table while he did. “Better be a naked pic of your mom,” he said.

“Dude!” said Marc.

“What? His mom’s hot.”

Wes ignored the comment and held the phone to his chest, the goblin pic displayed, but not yet turned toward them. “Like I said, I found something in my treehouse. I thought it was just an animal at first, but…” Wes paused for emphasis while he began to turn the phone around. “But then it spoke. In English.”

The phone was carefully set down upon the table like it was an egg that would break. Wes proceeded with a short version of his confrontation with the goblin, which had been brief anyway, and waited for the revelation to seize his friends. They both stood up and crowded next to him to see the image better, but neither erupted in any kind of show of amazement or wonder. In fact, they both looked only mildly curious.

“That’s pretty cool. Where did you get this?” asked Marc.

Where’d I get it? I just said…

“It’s like a retarded version of Dobby,” said AJ. “Probably computer generated. Lighting sucks.”

“What? It’s real!” cried Wes.

“Nah, come on,” said AJ. “Right there, in its eye, there’s a reflection of the production team holding the boom. It’s not bad, but it’s fake.”

“That’s me holding my phone, you moron! And they can’t have production reflections on computer characters because they’re made in the – freakin’ computer! But this goblin isn’t from a computer, it was in my treehouse!”

“Ok, ok, man. Power down the guns,” said Marc, stepping between Wes and AJ. “S’all good, dude.”

Wes was grinding his teeth. He assumed other people might not believe him, but surely not his best friends. “It – is – real,” he said through gritted teeth. “I spoke to it, it threatened me, and I took its freaking picture to prove to you – dorkwads that I wasn’t lying.” Get a grip, Wes. It’s pretty hard to believe anything nowadays just by a photo. But what else did he have? The rock? Though he had brought it with him, what good would that do?

AJ slapped a hand on Wes’s back. “Awright, Dubster. Pull the panties out of your crack. So, where is this goblin thing now?”

“I never said it was a goblin.”

“Yeah, you – uh, just did a second ago,” said Marc.

I did? Frak. “Ok, I don’t know what it is – or was, but it just kinda looked like – you know?”

“A wizard’s goblin familiar from the MystikQuest Beast Book?” offered Marc.

“Yes! Thank you. I’m not saying it is, you know, it just – looks like one.”

“Kinda. A little, I guess.” Marc pulled the phone closer.

AJ put a hand on his hip. “Ok, fine, so where’s the thing now?”

Wes let out a long quivering sigh. “It’s gone. It died and disintegrated.”

“Uh huh,” said AJ, patronizingly. “Of course, it disappeared.”

Wes felt numb. “After it exploded.”

“Even better,” AJ deadpanned. He placed a surprisingly gentle hand on Wes’s shoulder. “Bro, if you want us to believe this story, you gotta bring something else to the table.”

The rock was clutched in Wes’s fist. He slid it out of his pocket. In a defeated voice, he said, “It was holding this.”

AJ plucked it from Wes’s hand. “A rock?”

“Arrowhead. I think.” Wes hung his head. “I don’t know. Probably just a rock.”

“Whatever,” said Marc. “Why would it want it?”

“I don’t know,” said Wes, fighting back the urge to scream. The most amazing, significant thing in his life just happened that afternoon and no one was going to believe him. His heart was palpitating.

“Oh, jeez, here he goes,” said AJ. He turned Wes’s shoulders and wrapped his arms around them. “Come on, bro, no crying. Don’t be a wuss.”

Despite the taunt, the hug was welcome. But Wes wasn’t that close to crying. He was more pissed off, now, heat rising to his face and scalp. “I’m not gonna cry, and I don’t care what you guys think. I know what I saw.”

AJ patted Wes’s back like he was an infant, which was the last straw for Wes.

Wes snatched the arrowhead-rock from AJ and gripped it in clawed fingers. AJ once again raised his hands in mock surrender. Blood pounded under Wes’s temples as he drew back his fist.

“Jesus! Don’t!” shouted Marc. “He’s an ass, but he ain’t worth it.”

Wes wasn’t intending to punch anyone, it was just his poor attempt at a throwing stance. He slung the rock against the concrete wall. Though AJ’s dad had long ago dressed up the basement with carpet and furniture, most of the walls were simple concrete with a layer of tan paint. The rock careened off the wall, a sharp snap and thump sounding as it first impacted concrete, then the carpet.

“Uh, awrighty. What was that?” said AJ.

“I don’t know!” said Wes, blood draining from his flushed face. “Just felt like it. Probably worthless anyway. Stupid goblin was delusional.”

“Sure. The goblin was