Gerald’s Grail – Transcript

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[Sound of an ax chopping wood. Quirky music fades in…]

Christopher Gronlund:

I want to make one thing perfectly clear: this show is not about lumberjacks…

My name is Christopher Gronlund, and this is where I share my stories. Sometimes the stories contain truths, but most of the time, they’re made up. Sometimes the stories are funny—other times they’re serious. But you have my word about one thing: I will never—EVER—share a story about lumberjacks.

This time, it’s a story about a geeky teenager who, while knocking around an antique shop with his grandmother, finds something that changes his life in the most curious way…

And now, the usual content advisory…

“Gerald’s Grail” deals with bullying, violence (including passing mention of the Cambodian genocide of the 70s), and—of course—swearing.

Before we get going, I have an announcement! For six and a half years, I’ve been doing Not About Lumberjacks for free. In that time, some listeners have suggested I start a Patreon for the show. Well, now I have!

If you go to Patreon.com/cgronlund you’ll see it. That’s Patreon.com/c g-r-o-n-l-u-n-d.

Don’t worry, episodes of Not About Lumberjacks will always be free. I created the Patreon for fans of the show who wanted a bit more. Regardless of what those-so-inclined can afford, all Patreon content is unlocked. So, for as little as a dollar a month, you get the same access to bloopers, behind-the-scenes videos, and other bonus content that people paying more see.

If you’re like me, Patreon is more about supporting creators you love than bonus perks because you can pay more. I’m touched that there are those who recognize the time and money that goes into each story and want to compensate that effort. But…I also appreciate those who simply listen to stories and episodes of Behind the Cut.

Again, if you’d like a bit more than just the always-for-free stories, go to Patreon.com/cgronlund to see what I offer. That’s Patreon.com/c g-r-o-n-l-u-n-d.

All right—let’s get to work…

Gerald’s Grail

Gerald Healy sat at the head of the lunch table watching his best friend, Brian Kaminsky, roll up a new character for their weekend Dungeons and Dragons session.

“…And…an eleven after dropping the worst of the four dice. I still say we should roll 3d6 for each ability six times and keep the best roll. It’s in the Dungeon Master’s Guide.”

“When I started playing seven years ago, we didn’t even get to drop the worst of four,” Gerald said.

“My name’s Gerald, and I’ve been playing D&D since 1979,” Dave Strand said. “I agree with Brian. Or…they should give players the option to choose a standard array of numbers. Like 15, 14, 13, 12, 10, and maybe 8. To guarantee you’d always end up with a playable character. That would be cool.”

“That’s unlikely to happen,” Gerald said. “Besides, part of what makes the game fun is the randomness. It’s possible to end up with a really powerful character if you’re lucky.”

Akara Mok said, “Yeah, but none of us are ever lucky. That’s the problem.”

“Fine. If you all wanna go with Brian’s suggestion, we can start doing that.”

“Nah. You’re the Dungeon Master,” Dave said. “It’s your call.”

Gerald nodded. “Yeah, but it’s our game. We’re all in it together.”

“I’m good,” Brian said. “I just have the feeling I’ll be rolling up another new character before the weekend is over.”

“About that,” Akara said. “Are we playing all day tomorrow, or in the evening?”

“Gonna have to be a late afternoon or evening thing,” Gerald said. “I’m going out for lunch and running errands with my grandma.”

“Aww, that’s so cute,” Dave said.

The rest of the group looked at him.

“No, really. I’m not even being an ass—I mean it. Your grandma’s awesome!”

Gerald smiled. “Yeah, she really is.”

As Brian wrote an “11” in the box for his new character’s Charisma ability, a hand swatted Gerald’s dice from the table, sending them bouncing across the floor. Gerald jolted to his feet and looked Cory Bradford in the eye.

“What the hell, Bradford?!”

Cory poked Gerald’s ample belly and said, “Sit back down, Healy. It was an accident.”

The four friends who never seemed to leave Cory’s side laughed.

“Bullshit!”

Cory Bradford ignored Gerald and said, “What are you losers doing?”

Brian said, “Making a D&D character.”

“D&D. What’s that stand for: dickless and dumb?”

“No, Dungeons and Dragons.”

“No shit, Kaminsky. You don’t think I know that? Do I look stupid to you?”

“You look like an asshole,” Dave whispered under his breath.

“What’s that, Strand?”

“It’s Strahnd. Like Strahd.”

Cory took a step Dave’s way and smacked him in the side of the head. “Fuckin’ dork.”

Before anyone else could react, Akara leaped to her feet and slapped Cory in the face hard enough to get the attention of anyone not already looking at their lunch table. Cory Bradford reeled in shock. After composing himself, he took a swing at Akara, who ducked his blow. Gerald charged him, using his full weight to pin him against the wall. As Cory’s friends pummeled Gerald from behind and tried pulling him off their friend, Mr. Gunderson, the wrestling coach and one of the lunchroom monitors, blew his whistle.

“Healy!” he shouted. By the time he reached the table, the sides separated and withdrew to their respected groups.

“What the hell are you doing, Healy?”

“What?”

“Why’d you jump on Mr. Bradford?”

“He started it!” Gerald said.

Mr. Gunderson looked at Akara. “I saw her start it.”

“Only after Bradford hit Strand.”

“Strahnd,” Dave said.

“You need to hustle your butt to the office, Mr. Healy.”

“Why?!”

“Because I said so…”

Gerald shook his head. “Fine!”

As he passed Cory Bradford and his gang, Cory whispered, “This ain’t over, fat boy…”

* * *

As the group walked home from school, Brian said, “Did you get in trouble when you got sent to the office?”

“Nah,” Gerald said. “I think they’re just as tired of Bradford as the rest of us. The coaches look out for him, but I think most teachers and staff hate him as much as the rest of us do.”

“Good point.”

“That slap from Akara was righteous,” Dave said. “Coulda got us all killed, but it was awesome.”

“Some of my family didn’t make it out of Cambodia with the rest of us,” Akara said. “I will never not stand up to bullies.”

Brian nodded and put his hand on her shoulder. They walked half a block in silence until he said to Dave, “Have you checked out the new Maiden album?”

“Yeah. It’s good, but it’s no Powerslave.”

Brian looked at Gerald. “What about you?”

“I get the appeal, but they’re not my thing…”

“Says the guy still listening to Rush’s Power Windows on repeat,” Dave said.

“It’s a great album!”

“It’s even worse than Grace Under Pressure. Those keyboards, man!”

“You can laugh all you want, but mark my words: Maiden’s next album will have keyboards on it.”

“No fucking way! They’d never do that.”

Akara said, “You guys do know there’s other music out there, right?”

“Uh-oh,” Dave said. “Ms. Black Celebration’s about to go on about Depeche Mode.”

“What’s wrong with Depeche Mode?”

“They’re weird.”

“You’re weird!”

The discussion was interrupted by the revving of a car engine and the squealing of tires. A red Camaro IROC-Z pulled to the curb, followed by a blue Mustang SVO. Cory Bradford and his best friend climbed out of the Camaro; Bradford’s other three friends got out of the Mustang. Cory approached Gerald.

“We need to finish what we started earlier, Fat Boy.”

Brian said, “Please leave us alone, Cory.”

“Shut the fuck up, Kaminsky.”

Akara stepped to Brian’s side.

“I’m not afraid to hit a girl,” Cory said.

“And I’m not afraid to hit a little boy.”

Cory looked at the group. “She’s gonna get all of you hurt.”

“Just go,” Brian said.

Cory grabbed Brian’s face and mashed his cheeks. Before he could say anything, Akara kicked at his crotch, but missed her target and hit Cory’s inner thigh. With his free hand, he hit Brian and bloodied his lip. Cory was ready when Akara threw a punch. He blocked her blow and shoved her to the ground.

As Gerald began his charge, Dave threw a handful of dirt in the eyes of Cory’s friends and then picked up a stick. He swung it like a sword, keeping them at bay. Cory took Gerald to the ground with ease. He rolled him onto his back and pummeled his face. Dave looked back and forth between Cory and his friends, deciding that keeping more people out of the fight was the better option.

Akara tried pulling Cory off Gerald, but he wouldn’t budge. When she climbed onto his back, Cory let go of Gerald and flopped backward, smashing Akara to the ground.

“Hey!” Brian shouted.

Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned his way. Brian held a chunk of pavement from the side of the road in his hand.

Cory laughed. “I’ve seen you throw things, Kaminsky. Go for it.”

Brian held the rock over the back panel of Cory Bradford’s Camaro.

“I’m not gonna throw it. If you’re gonna beat the shit out of us anyway, I’m gonna fuck up your car’s paint job—I have nothing to lose. Or…you can climb back in and get the fuck out of here.”

Cory Bradford looked Brian in the eye. Brian raised his eyebrows and slightly cocked his head toward the car.

“All right,” Cory said. “Come on, guys.”

When Cory and his crew were gone, Brian, Akara, and Dave checked on Gerald. He was sitting up, running the tips of his fingers over his red, puffy face.

“How bad is it?” he said.

“We have matching fat lips,” Brian said. “Good thing your glasses fell off—you might have a black eye by morning. But it could be worse.”

They all helped Gerald to his feet.

He stared down the road and said, “I wish people were better than that…”

* * *

Brian was right about the black eye. The following morning, when Gerald woke up and stretched in bed, everything hurt more than usual. Struggling with Cory used muscles Gerald had long forgotten existed. His head throbbed and his lip hurt. In the bathroom, he examined himself in the mirror. A black eye and scraped elbow. All things considered, he fared better than others he’d seen Cory beat up.

As he made his way downstairs, his pain abated—minor agony gave way to the sounds and smells of his grandmother cooking breakfast.

“How are you feeling today?” she said.

“Worse in some ways, but better in others.”

She leaned a wooden spoon against the side of a pan full of scrambled eggs and surveyed his face and elbow.

“You’re sure you don’t want me to contact the school or his parents?” she said.

“I’m sure. He seems to cycle through the people he picks on. I think it was bad this time because I fought back in the cafeteria. He usually just makes fun of me and moves on.”

“That’s no excuse, dear. No one should be forced to deal with that.”

“I know. If he does it again, I’ll let you know.”

Gerald’s grandmother returned to the stove and finished cooking a breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon, grapes, and toast.

Between bites, Gerald said, “Where all are we going today?”

“I’d like to wander around the old part of town, get some lunch, and maybe stop by the antique shop on the way back.”

“Sounds good…”

* * *

Avalon Antiques was a small home converted to a shop just south of the old part of town. Gerald enjoyed wandering the rooms, looking through an ever-changing inventory, as much as his grandmother. He seemed to always find some perfect little trinket to decorate his bedroom or dining room table on Dungeons and Dragons nights: old coins, skeleton keys, wooden boxes, glass vials and bottles, and a letter opener that looked like a dagger meant to be hidden in an assassin’s cloak. His greatest find was an old brass sextant and weathered hourglass the shop owner swore came from an old steamship from the 1880s. Nothing like that stood out on this trip to the shop.

Gerald was about to give up and see if his grandma was ready to leave when something in a back corner that would normally not catch his eye called to him. It was a simple clay chalice with a worn glaze, something he could use to hold dice or strap to his belt when visiting King Richard’s Renaissance Faire up in Wisconsin. It wasn’t as cool looking as some of his other finds, but it could serve an actual purpose at the table on game nights, unlike most of his other found baubles. He brought it to the counter and asked how much it cost.

The old man who owned the shop said, “I don’t remember seeing that.” He gestured for Gerald to hand it over. After examining the chalice, the man said, “You and your grandmother come here enough. You can take that with you.”

“You’re giving it to me?” Gerald said.

The old man nodded. “Consider it a frequent buyer’s bonus. I’m sure it will serve you well…”

* * *

Gerald sat behind his Dungeon Masters screen, surveying hidden notes and a map.

“The jagged stub of a large tower stands up from the razed walls. Two small black birds are perched on the tower top, about twenty-five feet up.”

“What do you do?”

Dave said, “I have Silvarius ready his bow and take a shot at one of the birds.”

“They’re probably just birds,” Akara said. “I say we check out the tower first.”

“Experience points are experience points,” Dave said. “That’s what Silvarius does.”

“Okay,” Gerald said. “Roll to hit.”

Dave shook a 20-sided die in his hand and rolled it onto the table.

“A twelve.”

“That misses,” Gerald said. He removed a six-sided die from the chalice he bought earlier at the antique shop.

“One, two, or three, they attack. Four, five, or six, they leave. Five. The birds fly off away from the party.”

Akara said, “Sovanara looks at the tower. What’s it look like?”

“One heavy door can be seen, barred and chained shut from the outside. Arrow slits are visible on either side of the door, but peering in reveals only blackness beyond.”

“Is there a lock on the chain?” Brian said.

“Yes.”

“Bautigan swings his battle axe at the lock.”

Gerald nodded. “Roll a d8.”

“A six.”

“The lock is damaged, but it’s still holding.”

“Bautigan swings again. A seven!”

“The lock breaks and falls to the ground,” Gerald said. “Now, what do you do?”

“We’ll all work at opening the door,” Brian said.

“Everyone roll a d6.”

Akara and Dave rolled ones—Brian rolled a two.

“All right, you all heave and pull and open the door. Great job!”

“It’s all in the reflexes,” Brian said.

Gerald laughed and then said, “Ol’ Jack Burton! This is probably a good time for a break if anyone needs one?”

“Yeah, all the pop I’ve been drinking has my teeth floating,” Dave said. “Be right back.” He made his way toward the bathroom.

While Gerald got up and stretched, Brian said, “Is that goblet new?”

Gerald shook the tension from his arms. “Yeah. Bought it today. Don’t know why. Guess I didn’t want to leave empty handed.”

Dave returned to the room with a two liter bottle of Mountain Dew. He refilled his glass and said, “Anyone else?”

Brian nodded. After Dave topped Brian off, he looked at Akara.

“Oh, no,” she said. “That stuff’s grody.”

“Gerald?”

“I put my glass up.”

Brian pointed to the chalice.

Gerald dumped the dice behind his Dungeon Masters screen and said, “Sure. Fill’er up!”

Once everybody settled back in, Gerald took a sip. The Mountain Dew tasted like a fountain drink—not something poured from a plastic bottle. The effervescence and rich flavors gave him pause before he turned back to the group and said, “So…what do you do?”

* * *

Even after opening his eyes Sunday morning, Gerald thought he was dreaming. Everything in his bedroom was in a crisp focus he’d never before experienced—even after getting new glasses. Each breath he took was open and deep, all without the use of an asthma inhaler. He felt his belly. While he was still big, when he stood up, no bones or muscles strained beneath his weight. He felt ready to run a marathon.

On his way to the bathroom, Gerald noticed the scrape on his elbow was gone, along with all the scars he’d collected over the years. He splashed cold water on his face in the bathroom sink. After patting water from his eyes with a hand towel, he looked in the mirror. There were no signs of the deep pock marks and pimples normally covering his face. He ran his fingers over his cheeks, savoring the smoothness of his skin. When he smiled, his crooked teeth were straight.

“What the…?”

He slapped his face to make sure he was awake—there was no sting against his cheek. Using both hands, he struck the sides of his face in rapid succession. No pain; no red marks.

He went downstairs to make sure his grandma had gone to church and called Brian.

* * *

Brian and Akara arrived sooner than Gerald expected. He was halfway through a bowl of S’Mores Crunch cereal when the doorbell rang. He let them in.

“So, what’s the big—” Brian started saying. He looked at Gerald’s face. “What happened? Where are your glasses?”

“I don’t need them anymore,” Gerald said. “I woke up and everything changed. No black eye—no zits. All the bruises and scrapes from the Bradford fight are gone. I feel great.

“I know it sounds impossible, but I think it’s the chalice. I didn’t say anything last night, but when I drank from it, everything tasted…more somehow. I felt different, like something good was inside the drink and fixing my body.”

“That’s not possible,” Akara said. “How could that happen?”

“I don’t know. But I think that chalice might be the Holy Grail.”

Akara laughed; even Brian shook his head. “Like, ‘We are the knights who say…Ni!’ Holy Grail?”

“No,” Gerald said. “The actual Holy Grail. That’s why I didn’t invite Dave over. He’d run his mouth and then everyone would know.”

“How the hell would the Holy Grail end up in an antique shop in town?” Brian said.

“Not sure. Things get lost and passed around. Legends come and go…and sometimes return. We live by a naval station—and the Field Museum’s an hour away. Who knows, but stranger things have happened.

“But look at me. There’s no normal way to explain this.”

“Get on the floor and do ten pushups,” Akara said.

“What?!”

“If you can do that, I might believe something’s going on. Maybe not full Holy Grail, but something more than what we understand.”

Gerald dropped to the floor and did ten perfect pushups. When he was done, he did ten more. He rolled onto his back and kicked his legs toward his head. Rocking back on his arms, he launched himself to his feet with a handspring. No sweat; no struggling for breath.

“Holy shit,” Brian said.

“Yeah, totally. The reason I invited Akara over is I wanted to try something. Your limp. From Cambodia. I wanted to see if the grail fixed it.”

She stared at Gerald a moment and then looked to Brian.

“That is, if you want to try it.”

She nodded. “Sure.”

* * *

Gerald pulled the bottle of Mountain Dew from the fridge and poured it into the grail.

“Does it have to be pop?” Brian said.

”I don’t know. It’s what worked last night. Figured we can test other things later, but it’s probably best to recreate last night.”

Akara reached for the grail. “I hate this stuff, but sure.”

She chugged the contents of the cup as quickly as she could. When she was done, she cocked her head to the side and smacked her lips.

“That’s good!”

Gerald said, “Like the best thing you ever drank, right?”

“Uh huh. Soooooo good!”

“How do you feel?”

“A bit tingly. Especially my ankle.”

“That’s what I felt, too. Like there was something good inside me.”

“Yeah…”

* * *

Akara slowly moved her foot in circles while Gerald and Brian played Super Mario Brothers.

“Feel anything yet?” Brian said.

“Not yet. It just feels good. Like it’s looser.”

“It might take a while,” Gerald said. “I felt good last night, but it wasn’t until going to bed that I felt even better. No idea when I was fully healed because I went right to sleep.”

“I think we should go to the antique shop when it opens,” Brian said. “Ask the owner about the grail.”

“He said he didn’t remember seeing it.”

“Yeah, but he’s old enough to be your grandma’s grandpa! Maybe asking more about it will help his memory.”

“Maybe. We’ll have to go later during the week, though. He’s closed on Sundays.”

“Damn, that’s right…”

* * *

The three headed out before Gerald’s grandmother returned from church and lunch.

Akara’s gait had improved, but her limp was still obvious. When they reached Viking Hobby Shop, they stepped inside.

Nestled in a back corner, among the myriad model trains the store was known for, were the role playing games. Gerald tried selling the group on other systems—Gamma World, Star Frontiers, Gangbusters, and Top Secret—but they always returned to Dungeons and Dragons. He looked through the modules and picked up Lankhmar—City of Adventure.

“What’s that?” Brian said.

“It’s based on some books I like.”

“Is it a module?”

“I think it’s more of a setting. A big city. Maybe they’ll come out with modules for it, but we kind of do our own thing anyway. I figure we can say there’s a cave in Greyhawk that leads here and we can go back and forth. I’m getting it.”

When they were done in the hobby store, they discussed catching the bus and wandering around Lakehurst Mall.

“I’m not in the mood for the mall,” Akara said. “We should just wander close to home today.”

They spent the afternoon meandering around town, ending the day in a convenience store that had a few arcade games in the back. Gerald and Brian got excited when they saw a new cabinet next to Joust.

“What’s Tron?” Akara said.

Gerald and Brian looked each other in mock amazement before Brian said, “We really need to get you caught up on some movies you’ve missed. Trust me on this one…”

By later afternoon, Akara’s limp was gone. She hopped around on her bad foot before falling into the grass and laughing. Brian sat down beside her.

“So it’s fixed?” he said.

Akara kissed him on the cheek and hugged him.

“As good as new!”

Gerald joined them in the grass.

“Maybe it’s not the Holy Grail, but it’s clearly something.”

“I think you’re right,” Brian said. “I can’t think of any other way to explain it.”

Akara slapped their legs. “Guys…” She gestured down the street with her head.

“Oh, shit,” Gerald and Brian said in unison.

Dave spotted them on the grass and shook his head.

“Are you guys blowing me off? I called you all and got no answer. Figured you might be here or the mall.”

“We’re not blowing you off,” Gerald said.

“What’s wrong with your face? Where are your glasses? What the fuck is going on?”

Brian patted the ground beside him. “Sit down—you’re not gonna believe this…”

* * *

After telling Dave about the grail, they walked back to Gerald’s house and sneaked into the kitchen.

“Gerald?” his grandmother said from the den.

“Yeah, grandma.”

“Don’t spoil your appetite. Dinner’s in the oven.”

“I’m just getting something to drink. Brian, Akara, and Dave are with me. They have to get some books for school before they leave.”

He grabbed the bottle of Mountain Dew from the refrigerator and went upstairs to his bedroom.

Brian was the first to drink from the grail.

“You’re right. I feel something. Tingly.”

After Dave finished drinking, he agreed. “Yeah.”

“I wonder how long it lasts?” Brian said.

“Dunno,” Gerald said. “We’ll see if it wears off on me since I drank from it first. If it does, then we’ll know when to have another drink.”

“If I have to do it again, I’m trying water,” Akara said. “I don’t know how you guys can drink that stuff.”

“We know this works,” Dave said.

“If it’s the Holy Grail, anything should work. So, I’ll try water next time.”

“We need to promise none of us will talk about this,” Gerald said. “I know my grandma’s gonna ask about my face. I’m gonna tell her I woke up like this. It’s not a lie. We can’t let anyone know about the grail—no matter what. Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Excellent. I’ll see you guys at school tomorrow.”

* * *

The following day at lunch, Gerald and his friends talked about how they were feeling.

“My ankle feels great,” Akara said.

While nothing physical impeded Brian and Dave, they admitted they’d never felt better.

“I feel like I can just go run as long as I want,” Brian said. “All day long.”

“Same here.”

They stopped talking when Cory Bradford and his friends wandered up to the table and surrounded Gerald.

“How’s the eye?” Cory said.

Gerald looked up and smiled. “What about my eye?”

Cory examined Gerald’s face, looking for any sign of what he did to it Friday after school.

“I wailed on you, fat boy. Are you wearing makeup?”

“No. I guess you’re just not strong enough to leave a mark. Maybe work at that next time.”

Akara, Brian, and Dave laughed, adding to Cory’s fury.

“You think you’re funny?”

“No more than how funny you look. So yes, I think I’m funny. Hilarious, even.”

Cory took a swing, but Gerald caught his fist in his hand. He stood up, grabbed Cory by the shirt, and twisted the fabric around his hand. Even Gerald seemed surprised by how easy it was to lift Cory off the ground like a little kid.

“I think it’s in your best interests to leave us alone from now on,” Gerald said.

Mr. Gunderson blew his whistle and started for the table. Gerald put Cory down.

“This isn’t over fat boy,” Cory said.

“Are you not smart enough to come up with a better insult, Bradford? It’s always the same thing with you.”

“You’re dead after school.”

“Sure. Fine. Where do you want to do it?” Gerald said, loud enough for people at other tables to hear him. “If you want to fight, I’ll fight you. Just tell me where.”

Gerald saw fear on Cory’s face before he toughened up and said, “Behind the football field.”

Gerald put Cory down and said, “Cool. Seeya then…” Then he turned on his heel and walked away from Mr. Gunderson.

“Yeah, yeah…I know. Go to the office, Healy…”

* * *

Throughout the day, hype for the after-school battle grew, to the point that after Gerald’s last class—English—his teacher, Mr. Olander, pulled him aside after the bell.

“I heard you plan to fight Cory Bradford. Is that true?”

“It is.”

“You know you don’t have to. We can head to the office and take care of this.”

“Maybe. But I remember when we read Hamlet. ‘This above all: to thine own self be true. And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man.’”

“Two things—no, three. First: I’m glad the things you read in my class stick with you. Second: that was said by Polonius who is later referred to in his death as a ‘foolish prating knave.’ Third: Is fighting true to who you are? Much of Shakespeare’s work is about the destruction that comes from violence.”

“This is something I have to do, Mr. Olander.”

“I understand. You won’t mind if I watch from a distance, though? Just in case?”

“That’s fair.”

* * *

A crowd had already gathered on the field behind the football stadium when Gerald arrived. His three best friends trotted up to him.

“Are you sure about this?” Brian said.

“Yeah. I feel great!”

“You’re not immortal,” Akara said.

“I know. But I have to do this.”

 Gerald broke away from his friends and stepped up to Cory Bradford.

“We can shake hands like gentlemen and call this done before it begins,” Gerald said. “Or…settle it your way.”

Cory swung at Gerald with all his might. Gerald backed out of the way and grabbed Cory from behind as his body spun around from the blow’s momentum. Gerald brought Cory to the ground and put him in a half nelson. He drove with his body, rolling Cory on his back. With a free hand, Gerald slapped the ground three times.

“One! Two! Three! Ohhh! The state wrestling champ just got pinned by a sophomore!”

Gerald stood up and offered Cory his hand. Cory accepted and used it to launch himself at Gerald in a punch.

Gerald ducked the blow, and Cory almost crashed to the ground. He turned back toward Gerald and came at him swinging.

Gerald looked like Muhammad Ali as he bobbed his head and ducked, avoiding every punch. He shook his head and mocked Cory, sending him into even more of a frenzy where every blow missed its mark and left Cory off balance. With a tap of Gerald’s foot against Cory’s butt or a slight nudge to his back, he sent Cory to the ground repeatedly.

“Mister Bradford,” Gerald said. “I beseech you to stop this madness before you hurt yourself or suffer further humiliation in front of your compatriots!”

Cory spit at him, but missed. When he charged, Gerald turned and started running. He stayed just out of Cory’s reach, even when Cory accelerated to full speed. Gerald deked and dodged, laughing and taunting as he drew Cory deeper into the field. When Cory could run no more, he bent over and vomited—Gerald running circles around him as he heaved. When Cory was done, Gerald put his hand on his back.

“All I’ve ever asked—all that any of us have ever asked—is that you leave us alone. I don’t know what benefits you get from preying on those weaker than you, but I hope this afternoon makes you reconsider some things.”

On his way back to his friends, Gerald spotted Mr. Olander by the fence near one of the end zones of the football field. He flashed a thumbs-up to his teacher and rejoined the crowd.

* * *

As if the effects of drinking from the grail wasn’t enough, the rush that came from having new, adoring fans made Gerald feel like a knight returning from battle. While none of Cory’s friends congratulated him, others still within the circle of popularity patted his back as he walked by.

The high of the moment and swell of popularity carried through to the next day. When the bell finally rang at the end of English class, Mr. Olander held Gerald up.

When the room cleared out, Mr. Olander said, “Your handling of Mister Bradford yesterday was rather clever.”

“Like I said, ‘To thine own self be true.’”

“Point taken. What I’d like to know is how someone I’ve seen get out of breath walking halfway across my classroom to hand in a test can suddenly humiliate one of the better athletes in the state. Are you taking any drugs?”

“No!”

“I’m on your side, Gerald. If you are, know they can hurt you. Especially anything that can make you run like that.”

“I’m not taking drugs. I promise. I’m not even taking vitamins. I guess I just had enough of Cory and adrenaline let me do what I needed to do.”

Mr. Olander said, “All right. But please, know that you can always come to me if anything’s bothering you.”

“I know. Thanks.”

* * *

“Mister Olander knows something’s up.”

“How?” Brian said.

“He saw the thing with Cory yesterday. He thinks I’m on drugs.”

Dave laughed and said, “Did you learn nothing from Nancy Reagan?”

“This is serious. My grandma keeps asking about my face, and now Mr. Olander knows something’s up. What about your parents, Akara?”

“I’m faking my limp at home. If I didn’t, they’d keep at me until they found out what happened.”

“Speaking of that, we need to find out more about the grail. I’m stopping by the antique store before heading home.”

* * *

Gerald’s heart sank when he saw the CLOSED sign displayed in the window. He looked inside at the dark store before knocking.

“Maybe he’s in the back.”

“Why would he turn the lights out?” Brian said.

“I don’t know.” Gerald tried rousing the owner with a second—and then third—round of knocking.

“Maybe he died,” Dave said, causing all heads to turn his way. “I mean, he’s old…it could happen.”

Akara said, “Or maybe it was a slow day and he went home early.”

“That’s gotta be it,” Gerald said. “Or maybe he had to run an errand. I’m gonna call my grandma and let her know I’m sticking around town a bit. See if he comes back. Anyone wanna hang out?”

“I have homework,” Akara said.

Brian nodded. “Me too.”

“Dave?”

“Hate saying it, but I have a lot of homework today, too. My parents have been riding my ass since my last report card.”

* * *

Gerald swung by all his usual stops: Viking Hobby Shop, Spender’s Books, and The Record Bin. He bought nothing—just looked at things he might pick up with money from future allowances.

When the sun began sinking toward the horizon, he returned to Avalon Antiques. Gerald knocked a couple more times, but the store remained dark and still. He turned away from the door and headed home for dinner.

* * *

When Gerald opened his eyes Wednesday morning, everything ached. His room was a blur; each breath an effort. When he stood up, his body strained beneath his weight. On the way to the bathroom, he noticed the scrape on his elbow from Friday’s fight with Cory had returned. He looked in the mirror, horrified to see a black eye and cheeks swollen with acne.

After splashing water on his face, he returned to his bedroom.

The grail was gone!

He lumbered downstairs, where his grandma was fixing breakfast.

“Grandma?” he said. “The chalice I bought at the antique store on Saturday. Have you seen it?”

She looked at his face and said, “Are you okay, dear?”

“Yes. I mean, maybe. The grail—have you seen it?!”

“Not since Saturday.”

He looked around the first floor of the house, finding nothing. When he returned to the kitchen, he said, “You’re sure you haven’t seen it?”

“I don’t make it a habit of going into your room and looking around. I’ve not seen it down here. Was it there last night?”

“I don’t know. I went straight to bed after watching Moonlighting with you last night. I was feeling really tired. Can you think of anything that could have happened to it?”

“One of your friends came by yesterday. He said he had to get a book for school from your room. Maybe he did something with it?”

“Dave?”

“No—”

“Brian?”

“No, let me finish. It was someone I’ve not met. A big blond kid in a letter jacket.”

That was the last thing Gerald wanted to hear…

* * *

“It has to be Bradford!” Gerald said to the others as they walked to school.

Brian said, “Yeah, but how could he have known?”

They all turned toward Dave.

“What?!”

“Did you say anything about the grail? To anyone?”

“Why do you think it’s me? How do you know it wasn’t Brian or Akara?”

“Did either of you mention anything about the grail to anyone?” Gerald said.

“No,” they said in unison.

They looked back at Dave.

“I only told Shane Kupfer. Not even about all it does. He promised not to tell anyone.”

“Doesn’t he have a crush on Cory’s sister?” Akara said.

“Shit!”

“This!” Brian said. “This is why we didn’t call you on Sunday! We knew you’d end up blabbing about it!”

Gerald waved his right hand at Brian. “What’s done is done. I suppose it was stupid to think we could hide it. My grandma knows something’s up. Hell, Mr. Olander knows something’s up. I just need to make sure it was Bradford…”

* * *

Before homeroom, Gerald spotted Cory Bradford in the hallway. Still emboldened a bit by the memory of Monday’s humiliation, he approached him.

“Hey, Cory,” he said. “Did you swing by my house yesterday for any reason? My grandma said someone stopped by to get something from my room, and her description sounded a lot like you.”

Cory’s slow grin spread out wide enough to reveal his sparkling white teeth. He grabbed Gerald’s shirt, twisting the fabric around his fist. With no apparent effort, he lifted all 325 pounds of Gerald off the ground with one hand.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. But I know this. You’re going to meet me in the field behind the football field after school today, and I’m gonna hurt you in so many ways…”

He let go of Gerald, who lost his balance and fell when he crashed back to the floor, causing those around him to laugh.

When the crowd dispersed, Brian stepped to Gerald’s side. “You need to tell someone about that. Mr. Olander, Dean Green…someone who can stop it. He’s bad enough without the grail.”

“If I were you,” Dave said. “I’d fake being sick. Figure out a way to get the grail back.”

Gerald shoved his friends aside and said, “I don’t think I need to fake it!” He rushed to the bathroom, barely making it to a stall before giving up his breakfast.

* * *

Brian, Akara, and Dave were walking home when they heard something from a nearby bush.

“Psst! Guys.”

“Gerald?” Brian said.

“Yeah.”

“What are you doing?”

“Hiding.”

“Yeah, I know. But why?”

Dave kicked Brian’s foot. The sound of Cory Bradford’s Camaro roared as it got closer. It stopped at the side of the road. Over the music, Cory shouted, “Where’s Lardass?”

“Who?” Brian said.

“Don’t make me come over there, Kaminsky. You know who I’m talking about!”

“He went home early today. Sick.”

“Yeah. Well tell him when I see him, what I’ll do to him will now be even worse than if he showed up today.”

When the car got out of view, Gerald said, “That’s why I’m hiding.”

He climbed out of the bushes and ushered his friends to follow him.

“We need to stay off busy roads. And move slow, ‘cause I can’t keep up.”

“Sounds good to me,” Akara said. Her limp was returning.

“Safe to say the grail’s effects last about three days,” Gerald said.

Brian nodded and said, “Yeah. We need to get it back.”

“I have a plan,” Dave said. “I’m sorry I ran my mouth—I didn’t mean for this to happen. So, I’ve been thinking. Cory’s having a party Friday night. That means doors and windows will probably be unlocked. We can sneak in and take it back. If we get caught, just say we’re there for the party like everyone else.”

“We kind of stand out as not being the kinds of people Cory invites to his parties,” Akara said.

“Yeah. But it’s a Halloween party. We just dress in our costumes for King Richard’s Faire, and we’re good.”

“They’d still see our faces,” Brian said.

“So, we wear masks, too.”

“Or,” Gerald said. “we swing by the antique store and see if we can find anything there…”

* * *

Gerald was happy to see the OPEN sign in the window of Avalon Antiques and find the door unlocked. He and his friends stepped inside.

“Good afternoon,” the old man behind the counter said. “Oh, it’s you my young friend. How are you?”

“Fine. Well, not really.”

“I see. And the chalice? How is it serving you?”

“It was great…until someone stole it.”

Gerald braced for the old man’s anger; at the very least, his disappointment. Instead, calm as always, he said, “I suppose you and your friends have a plan to retrieve it?”

“We do.”

“And do you have a plan for what you will tell the people who have it? So, they do not discuss it with others?”

“We don’t. We’ve not planned that far ahead. We stopped by yesterday to talk, but you were closed.”

“I was. I had a timely appraisal that needed to be done.”

“Something special, like the chalice? It really is the Holy Grail, isn’t it?”

“You are a wise young man. And I suspect you have wise friends.”

“Why did you entrust me with the grail, sir?”

“Perhaps because not many people your age would have answered in such a manner. But a better reason: I am an old man, and have no need for such a thing anymore. I was curious to see what you might do with it.”

“I ended up losing it. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It is not lost. You are an honorable group of friends, and I trust it will return to better hands soon enough.”

“Excuse me,” Dave said. “Sir. Do you have any masks for sale?”

He pointed to a long, wooden mask on the wall.

“Do you have anything more…inconspicuous?”

“Feel free to look around. See if something gets your…attention.”

They milled about the store, looking at old clothing and aged trinkets. Nothing in the store was cheap, and it all looked like it came from another time.

Akara took a bit of brocaded silk fabric from a short cloak between her fingers, savoring the feel between her index finger and thumb.

“What can you tell me about this mantle?” Akara said.

“It seems to be to your liking,” the old man said.

Dave picked up a white-hilted dagger from a shelf and admired it.

“You need something that will hide your face,” Brian said.

The old man said, “I think that is a fine choice.”

A chainmail tunic caught Brian’s attention. It would be the perfect accompaniment for a knight’s costume he’d been slowly piecing together. He lifted the armor off the old dress form in the corner, marveling at how light it was.

Gerald was drawn to a blue stone nestled among others in a small wooden box. It felt cool to the touch and filled him with a feeling of safety. When he approached the counter, his friends followed.

“Those look like fine choices,” the store owner said. “Quite fine, indeed.”

“How much is this dagger?” Dave said.

“Take it for now. See if it assists you during this endeavor, and then we can discuss things further. The same for all of you.”

“Are these magical, like the grail?” Gerald said.

“I think you will find they all serve their purposes when needed.”

“So that’s a yes?” Dave said.

“It is not a no. Let us leave it at that.”

“Why are you giving us these things?” Brian said.

“I am not giving them to you, my dear boy. These particular items cannot be possessed—only used by those with the right hearts. Perhaps they will aid in the cup’s recovery—perhaps they won’t. It is up to you to find out.”

He carefully placed each item in bags and said, “I trust you will do your best to ensure these do not fall into the hands of others?”

They all nodded.

“Good. May they serve you well.”

As they were leaving, Akara turned back and said, “What’s your name?”

“Feel free to call me Mr. Percy.”

* * *

On the walk home, Gerald developed a plan.

“I can probably get away with faking sick tomorrow after going home early today. And then I’ll ditch school Friday. I’m not giving Bradford the chance to kick my ass before we do this. We can meet at my place around six. My grandma will likely be doing Halloween stuff at her church. And if she’s home, we’ll just tell her we’re going to a party. It wouldn’t be lying.”

* * *

They gathered at Gerald’s house on Halloween Eve just as the sun was going down. Gerald turned off the porch light and ignored knocks from the most determined trick-or-treaters.

“There’s a Ferentino’s pizza in the kitchen if anyone’s hungry?”

Dave was the first to get a slice.

“I already ate,” Akara said.

“Same here,” but it didn’t stop Brian from joining Dave in the kitchen.

Gerald followed his friends. “We look ready to storm the Temple of Elemental Evil.”

“Like a D&D party come to life!” Dave said.

“Dude, don’t talk with your mouth full.”

Dave opened his mouth even wider and rolled half-chewed pizza around with his tongue.

Gerald said, “We need to focus, guys. Dave’s been to Cory’s house once, with Shane Kupfer. What do you remember about it?”

He chewed and swallowed before saying, “It’s big.”

“And…?”

“They’re right on the lake. There’s a creek that runs along the side of the house. They have a big pool and backyard. Trees everywhere, so it shouldn’t be too hard to sneak up to the house. Once inside, things are pretty open. It might be hard sneaking around. I’ve never been upstairs, but there’s a bigass double staircase when you step through the front doors.”

“Do we all agree, then, to follow the creek and stay under cover of the trees?” Gerald said. “Survey the house when we get there and adjust our plans when we see what we’re facing?”

“Sounds good to me,” Brian said.

Akara and Dave nodded in agreement.

* * *

They skulked along the creek beside Cory Bradford’s house until finding a shallow section small enough to leap across.

“My ankle’s back to normal,” Akara said. “I can’t clear that.”

“Maybe there’s another place to cross further down,” Gerald said.

The music and shouting from Cory’s party covered the sounds of the group lumbering through the dark cover of trees. Eventually, they came to a section close to the lake where the creek widened enough to hold a small sandbar with a tree growing from it. An old tire swing hung from one of the branches.

“I can jump across,” Brian said. “If Gerald and Dave hold you up, you should be able to catch the tire swing when I push it your way.”

“Can you clear it in that armor?” Gerald said.

“Yeah. It’s so much lighter than it looks.”

Brian leaped across and, on the second try, Akara caught the tire swing. She swung across, where Brian caught her. Dave and Gerald jumped the creek, with Gerald coming up short and soaking his right foot.

“Shit!”

They repeated the process on the other side of the sandbar and made their way back toward Cory’s house.

From what they could make out in the backyard, it seemed like most of the party was there. A large bonfire sent sparks into the dark sky. Teenagers chugged beer in the fire’s glow. Music blared from an outdoor sound system near the pool, which was already covered in anticipation of winter. They made their way to the side of the house through the trees. A small patio gave way to French doors.

“I’m willing to sneak up and check the doors,” Dave said.

Gerald grinned. “I feel like I need to tell you to roll percentage dice to see if you make it.”

“I’ll be sure to do my best Silvarius impersonation.”

Dave left the safety of the trees and raced across the manicured lawn to the patio. When he stepped into shadows, he seemed to disappear completely. It was only when he checked the doors that he appeared in the glow from the inside lights. He tried the handles and gave a thumbs up to the group.

Akara was next to go. She pulled up the hood on the mantle and disappeared from view.

“No fuckin’ way,” Brian said. Gerald shook his head in amazement.

Before they started across the lawn together, the doors opened. Two of Cory’s friends stepped out and lit cigarettes. Dave disappeared into a shadow mere feet from the two. They had no idea where Akara was. The two party revelers eventually snubbed out their cigarettes and returned to the house.

When Brian and Gerald made it to the patio, Dave whispered, “Where’s Akara?”

“Right here.” She removed the hood from her head and appeared before them, startling Dave. “What’s going on, guys?”

“It has to be like the grail,” Gerald said. “The things we picked out at the antique store are real. When we were running across the grass, Brian’s chainmail didn’t make a sound. These are real magic items!”

“There’s no way,” Akara said.

“And yet, here we are,” Dave said. “So, now what?”

Gerald pointed the way. “I say we head in and go to the stairs.”

* * *

While much of the party was in the backyard around the bonfire, the interior of the house was a refuge for those wanting to get in from the chill of the night and get on the backside of speakers. Classmates the group only saw passing in the halls bunched together according to social standing. Gerald and his friends made their way to the front of the house, where a marble entry room gave way to two massive stairways leading to the same landing at the top. Velvet ropes turned away anyone thinking about making their way upstairs, but the addition of signs taped to the ropes reading KEEP OUT OR ELSE! – CORY warned anyone thinking about breaching the barriers that there would be serious repercussions for not doing as told.

Brian opened one of the front doors, ensuring no one was about to enter the mansion, while the others kept an eye out on the ground floor beyond the stairs. On Brian’s go, they stepped over the ropes and made their way upstairs.

Beyond the landing, a long room thrust into dim lighting. The grand hallway looked like a room from the Field Museum, down to lighted cases full of artifacts on each side. In the middle of the room, on a marble slab, was a dinosaur skeleton. The long creature was no taller than a human, but its menacing pose looked like it could break free from its supports and attack, or join the group sneaking around the mansion. Gerald read from a plaque mounted on the slab.

“Thes-ul-uh…Thes-kel-oh-sore-us.”

“Holy shit!” Brian whispered. He pointed to a T-rex skull in a glass case behind Gerald’s dinosaur.

“Are these real?” Akara said.

Brian leaned in for a better look. “Looks like it.”

“Check the cases,” Gerald said.

He and Dave walked along one side of the room, while Akara and Brian inspected the other side. The grand hallway in Cory Bradford’s house was a tiny museum. When asked what his father did for a living, Cory told classmates, “He’s an international businessman,” as if that said everything. Looking at Mr. Bradford’s collection, it seemed part of his international pursuits put him in touch with ancient artifacts and art. Dave stopped before a painting.

“What’s up?” Gerald said.

“That might be a Rembrandt.”

Gerald looked at the landscape. “How do you know?”

“Before my mom started appraising art and opened her gallery in the city, she worked in a museum in Montreal right after I was born. She talked about a robbery. She has some photos she took, and I swear that’s one of the pieces.”

Gerald looked at the other items Cory’s father had on display. “I wonder how much of this is stuff the Bradfords shouldn’t have…”

Their inspection didn’t turn up the grail. The group came to a point at which a hallway went to the left, and another to the right.

“We’ll go down here,” Brian said. “You guys go that way.”

“We shouldn’t split up the party,” Gerald said.

“We need to get in and out of here as fast as we can.” Brian and Akara started down the hall. Dave tugged on Gerald’s arm, leading him the other way.

“I’ll check the left side—you check the right.”

* * *

The first room Gerald came to was a bedroom. It was hard to make out anything in the dark hallway, but—judging by the smell of perfume and hair spray—he guessed it belonged to Cory’s sister. Next was a bathroom, where the smells of Cory’s sister’s room mingled with the odor of the cologne Cory splashed on each morning before coming to school. At the end of the hall was another bedroom. Gerald poked his head inside, but the light from the grand hall barely made it back to where he was. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a flashlight, and pointed it toward the floor. He turned it on, using his free hand to further try blocking the light.

He had found Cory’s bedroom. Band and model posters lined his walls: Paulina Porizkova flanked by Van Halen and the Scorpions; Cindy Crawford and John Cougar Mellencamp representing the Midwest; Elle Macpherson hanging out with AC/DC and Mötley Crüe. Gerald moved to Cory’s desk and dresser, hoping to spot the grail on top of one for a quick grab-and-go, but it was nowhere to be seen. The surface of Cory’s nightstand was also a bust. Gerald did his best to shield the light as he opened the nightstand drawer.

“Psst!”

Gerald instinctively shined the flashlight toward the bedroom doorway, flashing Dave in the face.

“Dude!”

“Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“I didn’t find Cory’s bedroom.”

“Well, I did.”

“Did you find the grail?”

“Not yet. Gimme a sec.”

“That’s cool—I need it. I can’t see shit right now.”

Gerald checked the inside of the nightstand and all the drawers in Cory’s dresser. Nothing. He opened the closet and stepped inside. In time, he found the grail placed on a shelf. When he turned to leave the walk-in closet, Dave charged in, doing his best to quietly close the door behind him. A moment later, the light in the bedroom clicked on. Gerald turned the flashlight off and set it on the shelf beside the grail. He reached into his pocket for the blue stone, holding it tightly in his off hand.

“If anyone’s up here, you’re not gonna like what happens next, Cory said.

His feet cast a shadow at the bottom of the closet door.

“Stay here,” Gerald whispered to Dave. He opened the door and stepped out with the grail. Cory, dressed like Tom Cruise from Top Gun, greeted him on the other side.

“Healy?! What the fuck? I’ve been looking for you.”

“I know. I’ve been looking for this.”

“You’re dead.”

Cory grabbed Gerald by his shirt and twisted the fabric around his fist, as though picking up where he left off in the hallway at school days before. He grinned and lifted with all his might, but Gerald barely budged. Cory winced in pain.

“Oww!”

That’s when Gerald used his size to his advantage, shoving Cory back into two of his friends. He drove forward until the three crashed onto the top of Cory’s bed. He turned and broke through Cory’s other two friends and ran as fast as he could down the hallway. From the other wing of the house, he saw Brian and Akara. He waved them on toward the mini museum.

“Go, go, go!!!”

* * *

Cory and his friends quickly gained ground on Gerald. They closed in on him as he reached Cory’s sister’s bedroom. And then…they all went down.

When Gerald reached the light of the Grand Hallway, Dave seemed to appear beside him.

“I bought us a little time!”

Akara and Brian were already heading down the stairs when Dave and Gerald joined them. Cory and his friends hadn’t given up—three of them raced down the other side of the stairway, while Cory and his best friend started down behind the group.

When they reached the bottom, Cory’s friends had blocked the front door, driving the group deeper into the house. Brian shouted, “Go! I’ll hold them off!”

He unhooked one side of the velvet rope and wielded the support like a club.

Brian fought like a 10th level fighter, using his opponents’ momentum against them and sending them to the ground with a nudge of the post.

As the rest of the group made it to the back of the house, Cory shouted, “Stop them!”

Akara pulled her hood and disappeared, but Gerald could still hear her beside him as they ran past the swimming pool. As Gerald neared the bonfire, one of Cory’s friends stuck his leg out and tripped him. It seemed to happen in slow-motion, Gerald falling to the ground while the grail slipped free from his hand and tumbled into the fire. He continued his momentum, crawling closer to the flames on all fours, still clutching the stone in his left hand. He looked around and didn’t see his friends. The person who tripped him tried rushing forward with a kick, but the heat from the fire kept him back. Gerald’s classmates looked horrified as he reached in and grabbed the grail.

It didn’t burn. He thought, perhaps, the pain was so traumatic that his body blocked it, but his sleeve and hand remained unscathed. He stood up and pushed against some of the larger logs, toppling the bonfire and sending people fleeing. He stepped through the flames; when he exited the other side, he heard Dave calling for him at the back of the property. He raced beneath the canopy of trees, his lungs aching like when he was forced to run laps in P.E. Cory’s backyard opened to a small beach next to a boathouse. Dave struggled to unmoor a rowboat while Akara kept watch.

When she saw Gerald, she said, “Where’s Brian?!”

Gerald turned back toward the house, where Cory and others worked to stomp out the toppled bonfire.

“I don’t see him.”

Something moved through the trees along the creek spilling into Lake Michigan. Gerald stepped between the noise and his friends. A figure broke clear of the strip of forest near the boathouse.

Gerald squinted in the dark. “Brian?”

“Hey, guys.” He joined his friends beside the rowboat. “What are you doing?”

“I’m not going back through all that,” Dave said. “ and I’m not letting them catch up to us along the shore.” He tossed the rope in the boat. “Get in.”

Akara took a seat in the bow, and Brian took his place in the middle, manning the oars. Gerald and Dave shared a spot in the back, with Dave giving the boat a final shove free of the sand as he climbed aboard. Brian rowed with the strength of a small outboard motor. They were about fifty yards out from shore and heading south when Cory and his friends made it to the beach. They started down the shoreline, but when beach gave way to rocks, they gave up the chase.

* * *

As they rowed south, the sounds of Cory’s party faded. The soothing cadence of the oars cutting through the water helped relieve the tension concentrated in Gerald’s shoulders.

“This isn’t over,” he said. “Bradford will come back for the grail.”

Brian slowed the rhythm of the oar strokes. “He might still give us grief, but when I had him on the ground, I told him if he said or did anything about it, I’d make sure it was known that his father has a collection he likely shouldn’t have. And if he does that, I’m sure other things he’s done aren’t clean.”

“You had Cory on the ground?” Akara said.

“Yeah. All of them. It had to be this armor.”

“None of this makes sense,” Gerald said.

Akara pulled on the hood from the mantle. She didn’t disappear.

“It’s not working right now,” she said. “Brian’s slowed down the boat. Maybe we imagined it?”

Dave shook his head. “Or maybe it was stress? Maybe the powers kick in only when they’re needed.”

“Maybe…” Gerald said.

Brian turned the boat toward the shore when they reached the city beach. They dragged it up on the sand and started toward home.

* * *

On Saturday morning, Gerald, Akara, Brian, and Dave were at the front door of Avalon Antiques shortly before it opened. Gerald knocked and looked inside. The owner shuffled to the front of the store and let them in…locking the door behind them.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Gerald said. “We have some questions.”

“Questions are always good. How can I help you?”

Gerald removed the grail and stone from a bag and placed them on a wooden table. “What are these?”

“You’ve already discovered what the chalice is. The other items have also been around for some time and serve their purposes.”

“We decided these should remain here.”

The others placed their items on the table.

The old man said, “That is the conclusion I hoped for.”

“How old are you?” Akara said.

He pointed toward the grail. “As old as I’ve always wanted to be. You’re welcome to stop by and use that any time. All of you.”

“This still doesn’t make sense,” Gerald said.

“That is understandable. We’ve lost many old stories and items along the way. The world is not like it once was. It is heartening to see younger people like you still willing to believe.

“When I was your age, it was expected that one begin plying a craft or prove themselves in some other manner. I cannot offer you an apprenticeship in a traditional sense, but I can offer you an after-school job here in the store. And, eventually, I can teach you how to recognize the things most of the world has forgotten. Then, perhaps, it will all make sense.”

“I’d like that,” Gerald said.

“I hoped you would. You can come by Monday to formalize the agreement, and begin working on Wednesday. Now, go enjoy the weekend. And if you’d please, on the way out, leave the door unlocked and turn over the open sign.”

* * *

Epilogue

(Where Are They Now)

Cory Bradford remained an asshole, but he did give Gerald and his friends a wider berth following that Halloween Eve. After attending Notre Dame on a football scholarship, he followed his father’s footsteps into “international business.”

Dave Strand joined the Army after graduation, and took part in Operation Desert Storm. After serving, he returned to Northern Illinois and opened a collectible music store that’s still going strong today.

Brian Kaminsky and Akara Mok dated throughout high school and college. They later married and settled near their hometown, where Akara teaches high school biology and Brian works as the research librarian in their city’s library. They have one child, a son named Arthur.

Gerald Healy worked part time at Avalon Antique Shop throughout his schooling. After college, he worked there full time, putting his PhD in history to use in ways no scholar would have imagined. When Mr. Percy passed in the year 2000, he left the store and its many artifacts to Gerald. Even today, at least once a month, he meets up with Brian, Akara, and Dave at a round table in the back on the shop, to catch up on life, play Dungeons and Dragons…and show off his latest acquisitions.

[Quirky music fades in…]

Christopher Gronlund:

Thank you for listening to Not About Lumberjacks.

Theme music, as always, is by Ergo Phizmiz. Story music this time was by Lupus Nocte, Rocking for Decades, Ludvig Moulin, Christopher Moe Ditvelsen, Jon Bjork, Philip Ayers, and Cercles Nouvelles, all licensed through Epidemic Sound.

Sound effects are made in-house or from Epidemic Sound and freesound.org. Visit nolumberjacks.com for information about the show, the voice talent, and the music.

And if you want bloopers reels, behind-the-scenes-videos, and other additional Not About Lumberjacks content, check out Patreon.com/cgronlund for more details. That’s Patreon.com/c g-r-o-n-l-u-n-d. For as little as a dollar a month, you help the show and get access to all bonus content.

In July, I think it’s finally gonna be that murder mystery set in a bog in northern Illinois. (I seem to have a certain affinity for that part of the country, it seems…)

Until next time: be mighty, and keep your axes sharp!