Page 17 of Nerdplay
“Relax. It’s a kid’s microscope and a petri dish full of seeds and liquid soap. The only thing she’s liable to develop with that is a rash.”
“I thought these two weeks are adults only.”
“They are, but there are exceptions to every rule.” She pauses. “Like someone who turns up with a duffel bag and entitlement issues and asks to register at the last minute.”
“Hey, you told me it was okay.”
“I know what I said.”
Next is the cabin designated for board games. There’s already a group gathered around a table, including a white-bearded older man who bears a striking resemblance to every wizard I’ve ever seen in a movie. Generic Wizard turns over the hourglass.
“Hey, isn’t the sand in those things usually white?” I ask.
Courtney casts an idle glance at the hourglass. “Usually.”
“Then what happened with this one?”
“That isn’t sand.”
“It’s her grandfather,” the wizard says.
“Ben!”
I jump back. Everybody laughs, and I relax. “Oh, I get it. Another prank. I thought we were all done with those.”
“No, it isn’t a prank,” Ben tells me. “Those are her grandfather’s ashes. He spread himself a little thin if you ask me, but that was his dying wish. Even wrote it in his will.”
I look at Courtney for confirmation, and she nods. “Pops loved his family. Game nights were some of his most precious memories. He didn’t want to be left out after he died.”
I pick up the hourglass and examine its contents. “And your family was okay with his request? Just because someone makes a request in their will doesn’t mean you’re legally obligated to honor it.”
“I know,” Courtney says. “I liked the idea. It was vintage Pops.” She plucks the hourglass from my hand and sets it on the table. “And now I get to think of him fondly every time I’m playing a game I enjoy. It’s a win-win.”
I don’t know how I feel about it, but I decide to roll with it. “Playing a game with a dead man is definitely a new experience for me.”
“I imagine you’ll be having a lot of those experiences the next two weeks, old sport.”
We rise from her grandfather’s ashes and move on to a cabin crammed with people in costumes seated around a table.
“Dungeons & Dragons,” she explains. “Everyone, this is Chucky.”
“Charlie,” I say, a little loudly given the quiet of the room. And now I sound aggressive. Great.
A few players grunt in response, but they barely look up from their tabletop game.
“What’s with the pointy ears?” I ask, gesturing to one of the women.
“They’re elf ears,” Courtney explains like it’s the most natural thing in the world, which it seems to be here.
The elf turns to glare at us.
“They’re in character,” she whispers. “We should leave them to it.” She closes the door behind us. “I refuse to be the reason somebody gets scorched by a dragon horde. I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“I don’t understand. I thought camp was supposed to be toasting marshmallows and learning how to pitch a tent.”
“I told you this camp is special.”
“And you get enough campers who enjoy this sort of thing?”
