As the sun rose the following day, Zoey arrived back at the bakery. She creaked open the front door and snuck in to find Mod. He’d already begun preparing bread and pastries. Around noon, he’d shift gears and start prep work for the pizza rush.

“Is Pete awake?” She asked.

“Not yet,” Mod answered, not taking his eyes from the countertop where he kneaded bread dough. “You know how he is, though.”

“I do.” She inhaled a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. “Too bad, though. I’m not letting him sleep in today.” She strode past the dining area, opened the door to the bedroom, and passed through the doorway. She took care to close the door behind her without making a sound.

“Hey, Pete,” she said. “Are you awake?”

No one answered, so she padded over to his bed. “Pete?”

His eyes remained shut tight.

She shook him.

He grumbled something but didn’t wake up…so she shook him harder.

His grumbling grew louder.

Mmm… She contemplated. She could slap him awake. That way, he’d slap himself asleep. Then she’d slap him awake. There would be a certain irony to it. Even so, she did worry about him getting a concussion, so she decided against slapping.

Instead, she shook him thrice, yelling, “PETE, WAKE UP!”

When that failed, she sighed. Then she had an idea. Using both hands, she vaulted onto the bed and began to jump. “EARTHQUAKE!”

Pete remained asleep.

Nonetheless, Zoey enjoyed jumping on the bed. It had a different feel than Earth beds. Round’s beds felt springer. It reminded her of a trampoline. In turn, that reminded her of the trampoline park back in Cheyenne. The last time she’d gone there was with Pete. They went for a dodgeball tournament.

Even though they lost, it was a lot of fun. Pete struggled to climb up the wall to the zipline. It didn’t surprise her that he had a minus ten on his tree-climbing skill.

“Zoey,” she heard Pete’s voice and continued to jump as she looked down. He stared up at her with a confused expression. “What are you doing?”

“Jumping on your bed.” She said, still jumping. “Isn’t that obvious?”

“Why?”

“Because.”

He sat up and stretched his arms over his head. Then he rested his hands in his lap. “That makes sense.” He pretended to understand her reasoning, but he didn’t understand anything. Using care to not bump her or make her lose balance, he lifted the blanket. Then he slid his legs out and rolled from the bed. He landed in a superhero pose on the ground, one arm up and stretched behind him. The hand of his other arm touched the floor.

Zoey ignored the cheesiness of the pose and kept bouncing, “Harvestfest is tonight. There will be real ghosts.”

“What?” He stood from his pose.

“Ghosts are real, and we get to see them tonight.” She said and then jumped from the bed, doing a flip before sticking the landing. She received notifications:

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Flipping proficiency raises by 2 levels.

Flipping proficiency reaches level two.

She blinked away the prompts.

“Ghosts?” He went pale. It was a reaction she expected. He never liked scary movies.

“Yup,” she said, “but you don’t need to worry. They won’t be able to hurt you…and we get to catch them. It will be like ghostbusters…kind of…we won’t have ghost traps and particle beams. Instead, we get orbs.”

“Orbs?” He blinked twice. “I’m lost.”

“I’ll explain it all later.” She promised. Then she changed the subject. “What are your plans for the day?”

“Hmmm…” He considered before saying. “I’m going to climb trees.”

“Climb trees?” Skepticism tinged her voice.

I’m tired of having a skill in the negative.” He struggled to keep eye contact. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Fair enough,” Zoey said.

“After I climb trees,” Pete said. “I want to try something with you. Then you can tell me about Harvestfest.”

“I’m scared.” She answered without hesitation.

“Don’t be. This should make us both stronger…or…break the peel shield.” He shrugged. “Either way, it’ll be fun.”

She glared. “If you break my shield, I will hurt you.”

Pete ignored the comment. “If it breaks, we make you a more durable one.”

Mod cracked open the door. “Guys, I need you to try something.”

* * *

“Is that scrambled eggs on a pizza?” Pete used his fork to prod at the slice on the plate before him. He wasn’t a fan of pineapple on pizza, but he accepted those who enjoyed it. Eggs though? This was taking things too far.

Zoey used her fork to cut off the tip of her slice and ate it.

“It is,” Mod said, “and sausage, gravy sauce, diced onion, and sliced peppers.”

“Why do you hate pizza?” Pete spoke with a somber tone. “What did pizza do to you?”

“Try it, Pete.” Zoey scolded. “It isn’t bad.” She lowered her fork to cut off another piece from the slice on the plate in front of her.

“You’re not my mom.” He answered.

“If you don’t like it,” Mod promised. “I won’t ever make it again.”

“Fine…” Pete conceded. With caution, he used the edge of his fork to cut the tip from the slice. Once cut, he pushed the tip of the fork into the piece and lifted it close to his face. With his eyes, he examined it. Then he lowered it to his mouth and ate it with a begrudging disdain. As he chewed and swallowed, he squinted his eyes together and admitted. “Okay, that is delicious. We can…”

The doors to the restaurant pushed in, and a woman whom Pete didn’t recognize barged through the doorway. She was a human with smooth, long, white hair. Thick, circular glasses rested on her nose, magnifying the size of her glaring eyes. A beige and orange floral dress rested on her broad shoulders, hanging down to her ankles. The bulkiness of it made it difficult to deduce if she were muscular or heavier set.

She swung her arms back and forth as she walked toward the table where Mod, Pete, and Zoey sat. She huffed and puffed to a stop. “The pizza I ordered yesterday never came.”

“Mmm…” Mod thought for a few seconds, stroking his chin. He rested his hands on the table as he seemed to remember something. “Wait…you had the Pepperoni and green pepper, right?”

“That’s right.” She replied. “Why didn’t I get it?”

“When you called, you said you would pick it up. You said you didn’t want to pay the ten extra len for delivery. When you didn’t pick it up, I figured you didn’t want it.”

“I WANTED DELIVERY!” She yelled.

“I’m sorry for the misunderstanding.” He remained calm. “How would you like me to resolve this issue for you?”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “I want a pizza for free.”

“Sounds fair enough.” He agreed. “Would you like us to make that now or deliver it later?”

“Lunchtime would be fine.” She answered. “I want a free dessert, too.”

“Would a tray of brownies suffice?” He asked.

She nodded her head once. “You better not forget this time. I have lots of friends. I’ll tell everyone you don’t care about your customers. I’ll destroy your business.” With that, she spun on her heel and stormed out of the restaurant.

“She’s a pleasant person,” Zoey said, sarcasm inherent in every word. “Does she actually have friends? Or did she make up that part?”

“Her name is Tammy Escaron. The Escaron family is the wealthiest one in Greenlake. One of her sons—a man named Roger—is the only person in town with an adventurer’s pass.”

“What’s an adventurer’s pass?” Pete asked.

“An adventurer’s pass,” Mod replied, “is an item that attaches to the person that receives it. The attachment is permanent. They can't get rid of it after. When someone has the pass, it allows them to enter dungeons.”

“Is that how the family became rich?” Zoey asked.

“It is,” Mod confirmed. “Roger used the pass to traverse dungeons. Aside from the loot, a person can level up at will in a dungeon. There are no moderator restrictions. This earned him great individual power and his family wealth.”

“I understand why Tammy is so entitled now.” Zoey said. “She knows no one will tell her no.”

“Right,” Mod agreed.

After an awkward moment of silence, Pete stood and said, “I’m going to climb a tree.”