Chapter 8

chapter eight LATER THAT EVENING... Come,come,come,come. You are lying, Kimmy. Dirk is a brave hero. Indeed, to eat that you want to conjure up some fine dining for dust or just more Cheeto dust?" Galamelon," Quint calls, stepping down into the pool. "My cane has finished charging. Shall we get a few hours of late-night cramming in?"

Galamelon springs to his feet. "Absolutely, Quint. Too bad—I was just about to summon a hearty banquet for our companions. But, mentor duty calls. Let's leave them to their sad, not-fancy foods. You've got training to do." Dirk shoots Kimmy a skeptical glance as Quint and Galamelon hike up and out of the sloping pool. "So, Kimmy, tell me," Dirk says, as he chomps into a triple-decker, orange peanut butter vending machine cracker sandwich. "What are we looking at tomorrow? You said the Drakkor, like, levels up between attacks?" "Sure does!" Kimmy chirps, peeling a hunk off a large ball of dough and popping it into her mouth. "Gets bigger, scarier." "Wish we still had Big Mama..." Dirk says, sounding mournful. "Or our BoomKarts. Or any of the crazy Quint contraptions we had back in Wakefield, at our tree house." "You must miss home," Kimmy says gently. "Eh. Only a little. Home is wherever my buddies are—" "OPEN WIDE!" Kimmy suddenly exclaims. "Huh?" Dirk glances up just as Kimmy tosses a fresh glob of dough in Dirk's direction. Dirk opens his mouth, but—

what the hey Drooler yoke drooler gulps down the intercepted hunk of dough, and doesn't even have the decency to look ashamed. He emits a high-pitched BURP, followed by a mischievous little giggle. "Never seen him do that before," Dirk marvels. "Little guy learns something new every day." Kimmy nods. "Me too! I learned that your dimension has a lot of mattress stores. Like, way more than seems necessary? And you guys have these things called families, which is just b-a-n-a-n-a-s." "Well, Kimmy," Dirk says. "Let's hope Quint is learning as fast as you and Drooler..." Quint is not learning as fast as Kimmy or Drooler. At that moment, he is nervously staring down a rusted

snack shack, which Galamelon has modeled into a makeshift conjurer's shooting range. A single soda bottle sits atop the cash register. "This one's extra simple," Galamelon says, slapping Quint on the shoulder. "Just swing your cane in a tri-circular motion, say 'Arcane Jab,' and blast that bottle to bits. It's a low-level conjuration. A total cinch job." Quint takes a deep breath and focuses on the bottle. He begins swirling the cane, and then— "ARCANE JAB!" zsh. You did it. That was way bigger and more destructive than I intended. "What?? Everyone loves big and destructive! Like I always say, 'No such thing as too big or too

destructive.' That was my yearbook quote." Quint shakes his head. "Why can't I do this? I don't even feel like myself." Galamelon sets a hand on Quint's shoulder. "Maybe you're not yourself anymore. Think about it! Spooky, huh? And on that note..." Galamelon fishes an eye mask from his pocket. "Bedtime! I'm bushed. Sleep tight!" Quint is left standing there with his mouth open and his cane hanging limply from his hands. He watches Galamelon descend into the mostly empty motel pool, cursing the condition of their chosen sleeping spot, before finally flopping into a half- inflated unicorn pool float. "You OK, bud?" Quint turns and sees Dirk walking around the edge of the pool. "No! I am going to let Kimmy down. I'm going to let everyone down." "Quint—" "I was doing multiplication at age four! Trigonometry at age seven. They were going to send me to the high school to take advanced biology, but I refused because the high school smells like cologne and tuna casserole!"

Learning things fast is what I do. That's who I am, Quint. I feel like I'm cramming for a final exam, but I only just open the textbook for the first time. And even worse, after opening the textbook, I discovered that I can't even read the textbook. "You done?" Dirk asks. Quint sighs heavily—and nods. "Good. Now listen," Dirk says. "I never crammed for a test. I don't think I ever even opened a textbook. And look at me now." "You look like bootleg He-Man." "Exactly! I turned out fine!" "Fine won't cut it," Quint says, his voice heavy as he plops down on a rusted lounge chair. "I need an A+