[WP] A mighty jock. A frail but deadly goth. A nerd who can stack the odds in his favor. And a sheltered homeschooler whose abilities are shrouded in mystery. These are their adventures, and this is Detention and Dragons.

They all came in one by one, my next players.

I sat at my desk, holding my clipboard in one hand and twirling my pen in the other. The page attached to it was blank at first. But as soon as the first person stepped over the threshold and into the room, the paper divided itself into different fields and automatically populated with stats.

I peered over my glasses at him and sized him up: Michael Yarbrough, senior, outside linebacker on the school’s football team, and sent to detention for skipping class to canoodle with a young lady, a different one from last time.

I clicked my pen and made a note.

“Mr. Yarbrough, welcome back,” I told him.

He groaned and fell into one of the chairs, slamming his head onto the desk in front of him. Hard. I knew the guy could take a hit, but, ouch.

The next person entered and sighed. I continued to scribble on my sheet.

“Hello, Miss Whitney,” I said.

Charlene threw up her hand and saluted lazily, mockingly. “Afternoon, ma’am,” she said.

Charlene Whitney, senior, librarian’s assistant, and sent to detention for smoking less than 20 feet from the school building. Again. Even e-cigs aren’t allowed on school property.

She took a seat at the front of the room, placing her bag on the desk and rummaging through it. She dug out a book, flipped to the page she dog-eared, and began to read.

The student who followed her surprised me, yet I knew who he was. Tim Pitts, junior, band member, jazz soloist, head of the Mathletes, and… sent to detention?

“Mr. Pitts,” I said.

Tim walked up to my desk and handed me a slip of paper. I accepted it.

“Hi, Ms. Inman,” he said, a small smile on his face. It fell as soon as he turned away. He found a desk close to mine and took it.

I set my clipboard and pen down as the fields continued to fill in. I unfolded the slip. It was a detention form. I scanned it until I arrived at the “Reason” portion and stopped. I scowled.

Seriously? I thought. He got sent here for doing math problems in his pottery class?

I rolled my eyes and snapped my fingers, causing the slip to vanish. None of the kids noticed.

I glanced up at the clock hanging from the wall. It was five minutes past 3. So I stood up and started my usual shtick.

“Well, here we are —”

“Sorry I’m late!”

My eyes went straight to the door. All three of the other students either turned their heads or spun around in their seats to see our newest arrival.

She was certainly unexpected. I couldn’t grasp any of her information because I knew nothing about her. She hurried over to my desk and also handed me a slip.

“I-I’m… Aleta,” she stuttered. “Goodrich.”

“What an interesting name,” I told her, taking the slip. “Are you a freshman this year?”

“Yes,” she replied.

“Ah, welcome to Lightfair High School, Aleta,” I said. “Where did you go to middle school?”

“I, uh, didn’t,” she answered. “I was homeschooled.”

Michael snorted, his head still down.

“I see,” I said. “The first thing you’ll learn here is to steer clear of the football players.”

Charlene snickered this time.

“Well, as you probably noticed on your way in, I was just getting the ball rolling,” I continued. “Please have a seat.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Aleta said.

I picked up my pen, jotted something down on my sheet, and placed the pen back on my desk. She moved to the desk next to Tim’s, and I rounded mine. I heard Tim introduce himself to her as I opened her slip and checked it.

Late to class numerous times… possibly the least offensive reason to end up in detention.

Yet here they all were.

The campaign could commence.

I snapped my fingers once more, and the slip disappeared. I strode to the whiteboard.

“Mr. Yarbrough, it’s past time I had your full attention,” I said loudly.

Michael brought his head up and folded his arms across his chest, mumbling something under his breath.

“I couldn’t care less what you think,” I told him. “And the last thing I want to do is hear about it, so please, keep it to yourself next time.”

Charlene laughed until she nearly coughed up a lung. Michael shoved his hands out in protest and looked to the others. I suppose he expected them to defend him for some reason. Aleta appeared shocked, and Tim concerned; however, they both said nothing.

“Control yourself, Miss Whitney,” I said.

Charlene cleared her throat and quieted down.

I stared at all of them in silence for a moment, memorizing their faces. Michael’s brows were furrowed as he glared at me. Charlene still seemed fairly bored, despite her outburst. Aleta and Tim shared a similar, confused expression.

“The rest of you know me; however, since Miss Goodrich is new, I’ll introduce myself,” I explained. “My name is Nicole Inman, and I teach 12th grade AP English here at Lightfair. Also, obviously, I take care of detention after school.”

I held my hands out and faced them upward, and the clipboard and pen floated and flew toward me. I caught both. All four students shot up in their seats. I smiled.

“I happen to be a dungeon master as well,” I said.

The walls warped around us. Michael and Tim stood up suddenly, and the whole group experienced different levels of panic.

“What the fuck is this?!” Michael demanded. “This isn’t a game!”

“Actually, it is,” I told him. “But certainly not one you’ve ever played before.”

A portal opened beneath all of us, the floor twisting into a never-ending cyclone.

“Welcome to Detention and Dragons!” I exclaimed. “Let’s get this started!”

We were all sucked in, and everything went dark.