Chapter Text
Flag: The banner or name of the newspaper on the front page.
*
Taako’s first class of the day is AP Elvish, which is a blessing because Taako may not technically need sleep, but he’s still not a morning person. His vanity means he doesn’t roll out of bed last minute, like the kids who slump into class with the imprint of their pillow still on their cheek, but he does walk the delicate line between giving himself as long as possible in bed and getting up in time to make himself look like a person.
Today that means he's wearing a full face of makeup, his hair braided, as much jewelry as he can reasonably stack on, and a pair of leopard print ankle boots. Taako’s read the school dress code thoroughly and the only rule about shoes is a ban on open-toed footwear. His subsequent embrace of the most ridiculous shoes he can afford/con out of others has gotten him sent to see Princi’port before. Those are usually quick visits because Princi’port knows he can’t enforce a rule that doesn't exist.
There’s only so much Taako can do with the Neverwinter High uniform, but he’s as well-dressed as he can be while in a polyester skirt. Taako’s shirt is untucked, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his tie loosely knotted for that casually disheveled you-are-all-beneath-me look. He’s got his bag slung over his shoulder as he walks into the Elvish classroom.
Angus McDonald is in the front row. He waves to Taako, looking like an actual baby and smiling too brightly for 8am. He’s gone all-in on his uniform, blazer and all. Taako isn’t actually sure where his blazer is at the moment. Probably somewhere on his floor.
Taako blanks Angus and heads straight to his usual seat in the back corner of the room, by the window. The rest of the class knows to keep it free for him. Taako’s purposefully cultivated fearsome reputation serves him well in cases like these.
People are intimidated by him and Lup both, but they each play it differently. Lup makes people want to impress her; they’re drawn to her, to the way she shines and is so clearly something special, like moths to a flame. She’s bright and fierce and brilliant.
Taako is different. People might admire him or think he’s funny, but they stay away because he’s ice. He’s stone. He’s a spiked wall of no thanks.
Taako’s good with that.
He slumps into his seat and pulls out the paperwork he needs to do to get officially registered for the journalism class, tuning out Jenkins as he starts talking the class through conjugating transitive inanimate verbs. The rhythm of filling out forms is a good morning activity. It requires very little input from his conscious brain.
Taako and Lup are both experts at navigating much more complicated paperwork than it takes to sign up for a correspondence course. They know better than to rely on other people to take care of their shit. Experience has taught them that the only people they can really trust is each other. They got themselves into Neverwinter High. They’re getting themselves through school. They’ll get themselves into the Institute of Planer Research. It’s all work they did, and no one else.
The Board of Governors thinks Taako and Lup should be grateful. They want Taako to go around talking about how lucky he feels, how charmed his life is now that he’s not an orphan living on the road, scraping by with his sister. They want to put images of Taako and Lup, happy and smiling, in booklets and pass them out at orientation, show off the philanthropic side of the school.
Taako hates it.
The people who want to parade him and Lup around and so they can pat themselves on the back—can congratulate themselves on how good they are—are the same people who looked at the caravans he and Lup travelled in with disgust, who would pretend the two of them were invisible when they were out on the streets. They’re the kind of people who kept walking like Taako and Lup were nothing.
Every time their scholarship money rolls in, it comes with a letter encouraging Taako and Lup to write something thanking the donors, something that talks about how much the money means to them as beautiful orphan children. He and Lup feel the same way about the request—fuck no. Burning the letters is very cathartic. Their lives aren’t tragedy porn for rich old men to jerk off over.
It’s fine, because even if Taako is a quote-unquote hellion who makes teachers cry and gets kicked out of home ec, he’s also got one of the highest GPAs in the school. He needs that, to keep himself and Lup both enrolled and on their full-ride scholarships. He knows whose opinions of him matter most and maybe he’s not the most charming elf in the world, but if push came to shove Merle and Davenport would both vouch for him being troubled, high-spirited and maybe a little misguided, but not an actively bad seed.
As long as being in a correspondence journalism course doesn’t fuck up the bid he and Lup are making for university, he’s doing just fine.
There’s a line in the course sign-up forms looking for a parent or guardian’s signature to grant Taako permission to enroll in the course. He signs his own name with a flourish.
*
At lunch, Ren’s waiting at their usual table, a disapproving look on her face. It means someone told her he didn’t show for dinner last night or breakfast this morning, which means Lup knows because she’s the only person who’d notice and definitely the only person who’d tell Ren.
“Seriously,” Ren says, gesturing at the tray on the table next to hers—she’s gotten him a plate of pasta and a salad instead of his usual fries and ketchup combo. “For someone who likes cooking as much as you do, you eat a ton of junk. You blood has to be, like, half salt, Taako. Not healthy.”
Taako’s sense of self-preservation is very strong so he refrains from telling Ren that actually his sodium intake is fine because he didn’t get around to making ramen the night before. “Shitty cafeteria pasta is not what you want to feed me if you’re watching my salt levels,” he says instead, taking a seat next to her. Taako picks up his fork and takes a bite of the pasta. Too much salt, heavy on the oregano, absolutely no spice, and the ground meat in the sauce has gone rubbery—to say nothing of the texture of the pasta itself, which alternates between crunchy and mush.
He makes a face. “Have these people never heard of al dente?” he asks, taking another bite because, yeah, actually, he’s kind of starving.
Ren nudges Taako’s knee with hers under the table and takes a bite of her own pasta. “How was the paper? Lup seemed into it when I saw her in Dwarvish this morning.”
Taako shrugs and digs into his salad. It’s limp and there’s too much dressing—obviously bottled, what the hell, how hard is it to throw together some oil and vinegar?—but fuck if eating something green doesn’t feel good. Maybe Ren has a point about the whole salt thing. “It’s fine. I’ve got a sweet deal going. I get to write an advice column.”
Ren’s mid-bite when he makes this announcement and chokes on her pasta she laughs so hard. “You—what?”
Taako grins. “I know, right? People are going to write to me and I’m going to tell them how to sort out their lives.”
“Holy shit, Taako. How did you manage that?”
“I don’t know what you mean.” Taako reaches for his milk. At least Ren has allowed him chocolate. It makes up for the penance of the pasta and salad. “I’m amazing and my advice is great.”
“Lucretia didn’t want to give him anything important to do,” Lup says, sitting down across from them. She’s still allowed to have fries and ketchup for lunch, Taako notes. “That’s why I’m covering my game too. She doesn’t trust us not to fuck up yet.”
“Yeah, that makes sense,” Ren says, while Taako makes a face at Lup across the table.
Lup kicks him.
“Hey!”
“Don’t hey me, dingus. Where were you at dinner last night? Did you eat fantasy ramen in your room again?”
“Oh my gods, you two aren’t my moms,” Taako says, rolling his eyes. He stabs his fork into a tomato and waved it in the air. “Look, I’m eating a vegetable.”
“Uh-huh,” Lup says, and keeps staring him down until he puts the tomato in his mouth, chews, and swallows. “I don’t have practice tonight. Help me with my Dwarvish homework after the newspaper stuff?”
“Yeah, sure,” Taako agrees. “I don’t know what’s up with you and the future conditional, but maybe this time you’ll get it. Ren, you want to stick around and hang out?”
“Can’t,” Ren says, shaking her head. “I’ve got work after school.”
“So responsible.” Lup dips a French fry in ketchup and shakes her head. “Me I get, but I don’t know why you’re friends with Taako.”
Taako squawks in protest and Ren and Lup both laugh. Some of the tension that’s been sitting heavy in his chest since Rick’s class releases and he lets himself relax into affectionate teasing from his sister, into the easy familiarity of Ren and Lup both being a hundred times more responsible than him but still, rightly, thinking he’s fucking hilarious.
*
The newly doubled newsroom reconvenes after school. Everyone arrives on time and Taako can't decide if Lucretia is disappointed or pleased by their punctuality. She collects their paperwork as they enter the room and tucks it in an envelope, presumably to pass off to Princi’port.
The table naturally divides itself in two—Taako, Lup, and Magnus on one side, Angus and Barry on the other.
“Okay,” Lucretia says, taking her place at the head of the table. “I’ll do the minutes.” She takes out a moleskin and flips it open, then uncaps an absurdly fancy pen. “I thought we’d start out with potential names, since everyone seemed to like the idea of a rebranding.” Lucretia begins writing as she speaks, not bothering to look down at the notebook as she does. “Then we’ll move on to deadlines and coursework. I picked up the first round of assignments from Principal Davenport this morning. We’re a little behind schedule because we started the course late, but it shouldn’t be too hard to catch up.”
Lucretia glances at Taako, Lup, and Magnus’s side of the table. “If our new staff members need help, we’ll figure it out.”
She pauses, draws a line in her notebook, and continues. “So, I think it might be nice to go with something classic. The Neverwinter High Tribune or the N.H. Times.”
Taako has a long list of potential names for the paper—what else is he supposed to do in class?—and he’s ready to throw down for each and every one of them. Lup has her own list and Taako hasn’t managed to sneak a peek, but he’s confident in his ability to win this.
“Bo-oring,” Lup says, planting her elbows on the table and leaning forward. “The Gnome Times.”
Magnus muffles a giggle with his hand.
Barry grins, but shakes his head. “We kind of need Davenport on our side if we want to keep funding for the paper going. He’s our advocate with the Board of Governors. Besides, if we call it The Gnome Times and the next principal isn’t a gnome, it’s going to be pretty confusing.”
“Your logic is boring,” Lup says. “Neverwinter Weekly.”
“We’re not a weekly publication,” Lucretia points out. “And isn’t that already a magazine?”
“Yes,” Lup says. “A very popular magazine.”
“What about the Neverwinter Star?” Angus asks. “It sounds nice. Evocative, but professional. And it’s a classic newspaper name, like you wanted.”
Lucretia hums to herself. “I like that one. What does everyone else think?”
“Still a bit...dull, isn’t it?” Magnus asks, looking at Lucretia. “If we want people to be excited about reading the paper, it should have an exciting name. Like… The Fighting Star Times or The… Star Writer.”
Lup laughs at the name. Taako is hit with a flash of genius. He slaps a hand down on the center of the table.
“No,” he says, discarding every name he brainstormed for the paper because they were far too basic. “Fuck that, my man. If we want people to actually read the paper than we need a good name. Like The Starblaster.”
Magnus lets out a bark of delighted laughter and Barry, after a moment of stunned silence, loses his shit, burying his face in his hands as he giggles to himself. Taako decides he’s not that much of a nerd after all.
“Fuck yes, Taako,” Lup says. “We have to.”
They turn to Lucretia and Angus. Lucretia’s lips twitch upwards, briefly. She looks down at the notebook in front of her for the first time since she started taking minutes, like she’s trying to school her expression. “We’re naming a newspaper, not a spaceship.”
“That would be a pretty bad name for a spaceship,” Angus says.
“It’s an even worse name for a newspaper,” Taako says. “That’s why it’s perfect. People are going to pick up the first issue out of sheer confusion. Can’t argue with that, boy’chik. It’s pure logic. Are we voting? Let’s vote. The Starblaster?” He raises his hand. So do Lup, Magnus, and, after shooting Lucretia an apologetic glance, Barry joins them. Taako stares Angus down until the kid does too.
There is a long moment of silence as they turn to look at Lucretia, waiting.
“Gods,” she says. “I can’t believe you’re going to make me tell Principal Davenport we’re renaming the school paper The Starblaster.”
Taako grins. Lucretia has no idea what she’s in for for the rest of the semester. “Have you met me? Because Davenport has. He’s expecting much worse.”
Lucretia considers this, briefly, and nods. “Fair point. Okay. I guess... we’re The Starblaster now.” She looks down at her notes, visibly rallying herself as she comes to terms with the change. After a moment of silence, Lucretia takes a deep breath and looks up at her newsroom. “Okay. Okay, the schedule. We’re pressed for time, obviously. I need everyone to be done with their articles by the end of the week if we’re going to pull this off.”
She looks at Taako’s half of the table. “If you three need help with your coursework, you can ask any of us. I’m a day student, but Barry and Angus are boarders too, so they’ll be around in the evenings and they’ve both said they’re okay with tutoring you.”
Taako bristles at the suggestion that he might need tutoring in journalism. “I think we’re good on help for a correspondence journalism class,” he says. “But how am I supposed to write an advice column with no question?”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Lucretia says. “Normally we wouldn’t want to fake anything, but in this particular case I think it would be fair to just… ask around. See if any of your friends have questions they need help with and answer those. We’ll put out a call for questions in the first re-launch issue. We should get at least one or two from that.”
Taako’s pretty sure Ren’s got everything on lock, and Lup’s definitely not going to give him a reasonable question. He interprets this in a way Lucretia probably didn’t intend him to, but which makes much more logical sense: make something up.
“No problem,” he says. How hard can it be to brainstorm a question on par with the name The Starblaster? “One top-notch advice column coming your way.”
*
Taako and Lup roll out of the journalism room as soon as Lucretia calls the meeting. Days when Lup’s insistence on participating in school culture doesn’t cut into their free time are Taako’s favourite, so even if they’re heading to the student lounge to talk about conjugating Dwarvish, Taako’s looking forward to chill out time.
“Hey, wait up!”
Correction: Taako was looking forward to chill out time.
Magnus jogs through the otherwise empty library to catch up with them, grinning. “What are you two up to?” he asks. “No field hockey practice today, right? The basketball team doesn’t have anything either.”
Taako has no idea what’s happening right now. “We’re going to the student lounge,” Taako says. “To hang out.”
“Cool,” Magnus says, and just… keeps walking with them as they leave the library and turn down the poster-lined hallway towards the lounge.
“I’m going to help Lup with her Dwarvish homework,” Taako adds, after a moment, because maybe then Magnus will take a hint.
Instead, Magnus brightens, his smile widening. “Oh yeah,” he says. “You tested out of a bunch of language classes, right?”
That… is true. Taako has no idea how Magnus knows that, but yes, Taako and Lup are both very good at languages. They grew up travelling a lot and they’d picked stuff up. Taako’s been taking an AP language class in order to test out and get the credits every year since starting at Neverwinter High. He saved Elvish for last because he wanted to spend his senior year coasting as much as possible.
Taako glances at Lup, who shrugs. “Don’t know how you know that, but yeah,” he says.
“Cool,” Magnus says. “I’m taking Elvish. It’s really hard.”
Taako gestures to his long, pointed ears. “Kind of got Elvish in the bag here, homie.”
“Oh yeah, of course.” Magnus laughs and stuffs his hands into his pockets. “I didn’t want to assume, you know? But yeah, I get it.”
They walk into the student lounge. It’s still early enough that most other boarders are busy with a club or practice or something, so there are actually a couple couches free. None of the furniture is great quality, but with teenagers inhabiting the lounge pretty much twenty-four seven, that’s just the school being practical. The room is directly under the cafeteria, so everything smells like an unholy combination of grease, whatever the last meal was, and a lingering and perpetual whiff of table syrup. There’s a shelf full of board games and puzzles in the corner, most which are missing at least one piece, and a pool table donated by some well meaning alum in their sophomore year that has aged approximately ten years since its arrival.
Lup tosses her bag across the room, onto a free couch, before someone else can claim it. “Well, we’re going to work on Dwarvish,” she tells Magnus. “So…”
“I’ll do my Elvish homework.” Magnus sits on the far side of the couch and puts his backpack down. He takes out his textbook and binder and dutifully opens both.
Taako and Lup stand there and watch, then exchange a glance. Lup’s the one who’s had more experience with Magnus, as the one who’s kind of his friend, but even she looks baffled.
After a moment, she takes a seat on the other end of the couch. Taako makes a face at her, but fine. This is happening. They’re doing their homework with Magnus fucking Burnsides.
He sits between them, feeling crowded, and glances down at Magnus’s homework as Lup gets her stuff out.
It’s… not good.
“Boat’s an animate noun,” he says, before he can stop himself.
Magnus pauses, frowns down at his homework, and then looks up at Taako. “But it’s… not alive,” he says. “It’s a boat.”
“That’s not… that’s—seriously, this is Elvish III?” Taako snatches the textbook from Magnus’s hands, grumbling to himself as he flips through it. It’s a lot simpler than AP Elvish, but it still feels like Magnus should have gotten a handle on how nouns work by now.
The chapter on animate versus inanimate nouns is pretty much just a list of nouns with very little explanation.
“Okay, this textbook is useless.” He tosses it onto the table. “Everything is arbitrary and nothing really makes sense until you just fucking… remember it, but you’ll be better off if you don’t think of animate and inanimate as alive and not alive. Think of them more like… stuff that moves and stuff that doesn’t move. So a boat is animate because it moves. A rock isn’t because it doesn’t,” Taako says. “It’s more complicated than that, but you have to understand Elvish before you can really get how Elvish works, so that’s the best I can explain in Common.”
Magnus blinks at Taako and then slowly turns his head to look down at his homework. “Holy shit,” he says. “That… makes so much more sense.”
Taako rolls his eyes, but nods. “Yeah,” he says, and then points to one of Magnus’s painstakingly written out sentences. “Now what the fuck are you doing with your conjugation here, thug?”
Magnus frowns at the page. “I have no idea.”
The next time Taako looks up from Magnus’s homework it’s an hour later and they’ve finished his assignments for the next week and a half because Taako refused to stop working until he was sure Magnus understood that he couldn’t just keep using command statements to avoid conjugating verbs.
Taako, looking at the clock on the wall, sits back and then glances at Lup. “So the future conditional.”
Lup snorts and waves a hand. “I figured it out, I think,” she says. “I see how it is. You’d rather help your new friend than your sister.”
“He’s not—”
“I’m sure I needed more help,” Magnus says, laughing. “Sorry, Lup.” He gives his homework a proud look. “This is great, Taako. Thank you.”
Taako’s confused about how this happened. “Yeah,” he says. “Don’t mention it. To anyone. Seriously.” He hasn’t even started on his own homework yet.
“Hey.” Lup hits Taako’s arm to get his attention and nods towards the pool table. It’s late enough now that the lounge is starting to get busy, which means there’s a game going on. Nobody at Neverwinter High is very good at pool, but there’s a certain segment of the population that likes to pretend they are. They tend to be dudes and they tend to be loud. Today, it’s Maarvey and his annoying gang of losers.
Taako lets his eyes drift down to their shoes. “I don’t know. Motorcycle boots? I have a pair already.”
“They’ve got those jackets,” Lup says. “They’re not bad.”
“Do you really want a jacket that says Hammerhead on the back?” Taako asks, making a face. “Someone might think you’re one of them. Or worse, dating one of them.”
“Taako, if you can’t transmute the patch into something passable then what the fuck are you even doing in AP Transmutation?” Lup asks, raising an eyebrow at him.
She has a point.
“Fuck it,” he says, getting to his feet. “Magnus, hold the couch. Lup and I are going shopping.”
“What—”
Taako and Lup bounce before Magnus can finish his question.
It’s been a little over two years. Most people at Neverwinter High are well aware that Taako and Lup are very, very good at pool. It’s no longer a matter of running a game on their opponents to con them out of as much as they can get—it’s about choosing the stupidest targets they can and antagonizing them into a game everyone knows they’re definitely, definitely going to lose.
“We’ve got next,” Taako says, leaning against the pool table. “Lulu and I are getting a bit out of practice. I mean, I see you need the practice too, but let’s all be realistic about what the best use of this resource is.”
Maarvey looks up from trying to line up his shot. “What did you just say to me?”
“Mm, I think he said you were bad at pool,” Lup says, leaning against Taako and resting her chin on his shoulder. “And that we’re better so you should give us the table.”
“I mean, I was going to wait for you to finish your game, but you know what? Lup’s right. You should really just give us the table.”
“Hey, you can’t talk to us like that,” Jerree says, taking a step towards them and brandishing his pool cue.
“Yeah,” says Little Jerry, puffing out his chest. “You can’t talk to us like that.”
Taako and Lup have dealt with people much worse than the Hammerheads and their stupid little club in their lives. It’s hard to find three teenagers in stupid jackets intimidating. Taako certainly doesn’t, and Taako’s not exactly known for rushing into danger. “I think I just did.”
“You want to take this outside?” Jerree asks. “We can take this outside, bud.”
“Is going outside going to prove you’re better at pool than us?” Taako asks. “I don’t think it is . Why don’t we play a game?” He smirks. “We can even make the game a little more interesting if you’re up for a wager.”
The Hammerheads hesitate. Taako’s smirk widens into a smile and he tilts his head, bats his eyelashes at Maarvey and his friends. “Hmm?”
If they say no, they’re admitting that Taako and Lup are better at pool. The Hammerheads aren’t the type of people who want to admit that anyone is better than they are. Not even when faced with an obvious loss.
“You want to play for money?” Maarvey asks. “Sure. We can play for money.”
“Oh, we’re not interested in your money.” Lup waves a dismissive hand. “If we win we get… your jackets.”
“Our jackets?” Jerree repeats, glancing back at Maarvey. There’s an edge of panic to his voice. “These are for Hammerheads only.”
Taako shrugs the shoulder Lup’s chin isn’t perched on. “Well, if you’re that sure you’re going to lose…”
That’s all it takes to push them over the edge. “Okay, you’re on,” Maarvey says. “But if we win then we get—you have to do our homework. For the next month.”
Taako would agree to bet his first-born child on this game. He’s not worried. “For sure,” he says. “You win and we’ll do all your homework. Let’s rack them up and go, kemosabe.”
In the wild, outside of Neverwinter High, Taako and Lup conning people out of their shit via games of pool had been a survival tactic. Now that they’re older, with a roof over their head and food in their stomachs, it’s just fun. Most kids at school don’t know what it’s like to go without shit—Taako and Lup are just giving them a taste of the real world. They don’t do it to day students or boarders who are, you know, decent people, but people like the Hammerheads, who shove other kids around? Who make a point of intimidating younger and smaller students at school? They’re fair game. And the students who walk around dripping in designer goods when Taako and Lup get everything second or third hand? Yeah. They’ll clean them the fuck out.
Sometimes Taako feels like he’ll never be satisfied. He’s hungry for things other people have, for their clothes and their fancy shoes and their expensive bags, things most of the boarders have and take for granted because to them that’s just the way the world works. Those are just things people have. That their parents buy them.
Taako wants them too, and experience tells him the only way he’ll ever get anything he wants is going out and taking it for himself.
He and Lup are resourceful. Taako has some very nice kicks because of their games.
Little Jerry sets up the game and pats Maarvey and Jerree on the back. “You can do it, boys,” he says. “Show ‘em who’s boss!”
The faith he has in his friends would be cute if it wasn’t so sad. All five of them know exactly how this game is going to go. Taako stretches his arms over his head, making a show of getting ready, and grins at Lup. “Should they go first?”
Lup’s gaze flicks over Maarvey and Jerree, completely dismissive. “Sure,” she says. “They need the advantage.”
This isn’t the first time they’ve extorted the Hammerheads and it likely won’t be the last. They’ve never gone as big as their club jackets before, but Taako has a pair of boots from Jerree and they’ve taken their uniform shirts and ties before, just because they could.
Maarvey breaks and Taako watches the balls bounce around the table. After two years of pretending to be good at the game, you’d think Maarvey would improve—or at least realize he should try to do more than send balls flying around the table when he breaks—but Maarvey and his gang are all bluster. They play up their accents and act like they’re not the kids of Goldcliff bankers.
In a stroke of luck for Maarvey, the 12-ball rolls into the far corner pocket. Maarvey grins as he straightens up. “Looks like we get to go again,” he says, and then tries to find a shot that’ll let him sink another striped ball.
Taako isn’t worried.
Maarvey lines up and takes a shot. It knocks the fifteen ball off the opposite side of the table, but doesn’t manage to sink it. He shrugs, sniffing artfully. “Guess I should let you have a fighting chance.”
“So good of you.” Taako’s eyes the table, playing out possible shots in his mind. It’s definitely unintentional, because Maarvey’s not that good a player, but he’s left the cue ball in a bad position for Taako and Lup. It’s near the edge of the table, so it’ll be hard to approach from a good angle, and flush against a couple striped balls, but far from any solids.
If they were rank amateurs like the Hammerheads, this would be a throw away shot.
Lup taps a finger against Taako’s arm twice to signal that she’s got a plan and he searches the table for the 2-ball. It’s behind the 9-ball, but the shot’s not that bad otherwise, lined up near the center right pocket. “That works,” Taako says.
Taako lines up his shot and hits the cue ball into the striped ball—the 11—sitting directly in front of it and watches as it rolls into the 9 and the 9 taps the 2 into the pocket. The 9-ball hovers on the edge of the table, but doesn’t drop. It’d be easy for even a semi-decent player to sink both the 9 and 11 now, but Taako doesn’t plan on giving the Hammerheads the opportunity to try.
“Okay,” Taako says, repositioning himself for his second shot. “Let’s see if I need eight shots to do this.”
“Bragging isn’t very nice, Taako,” Lup says, mock-scolding and deeply amused.
“I’m not very nice.”
“True,” Lup agrees, and Taako takes his next shot, sinking the 5.
The game goes very quickly after that.
Taako has two jackets draped over his arm when he and Lup head back over to the couch. Lup’s got hers in hand. “I’ll have to come up with something else for the back,” she said, sitting again. “Black’s kind of cliche, don’t you think? What do you think about red?”
“A red leather jacket is very you,” Taako says, sitting between her and Magnus again.
Magnus is gaping at them, eyes shining with admiration. “That was so cool ,” he says. “Where did you learn to do that?”
Taako shrugs. “We had an interesting childhood,” he says, and then tosses Magnus Maarvey’s jacket, mostly because he doesn’t really need two leather jackets. “Here you go, my dude. For keeping the couch warm.”
Magnus laughs as he takes the jacket. “You’re not going to give them back?”
“Fuck no. We won these fair and square.” Taako pats his jacket. “I’m going to bedazzle the shit out of it. Mine now.”
Magnus glances at the Hammerheads, who are glaring at them from beside the pool table, jacketless. “They do kind of deserve it.”
“They absolutely do,” Lup agrees. “Taako, turn my jacket red for me.”
“Lup, you’re a wizard too,” Taako says, rolling his eyes at her. “You can handle colour changing.”
“I know I can, but why would I when I’ve got the best transmutation wizard in the school for a brother?”
She has a point. Taako reaches into his tote bag for his wand and twirls it in his fingers before pointing it at her jacket, turning it red. “You’re welcome.”
Magnus makes another impressed noise beside Taako. Magnus seems to basically be the human embodiment of a dog—eager to please and easily swayed—Taako can see why he wanted the dog colum now, even if he can’t envision what the content would be. “Magic is so cool.”
“Only as cool as the person doing it.” Taako’s feeling benevolent, still riding the high of thoroughly trouncing the Hammerheads. “You want a new colour too, big fella?”
“Really? Yeah, awesome!” Magnus stares down at his jacket for a long moment, like this is some kind of major life choice, and then glances at Lup’s jacket. “Um. Would you mind if I…?”
“Nah, it’s cool,” Lup says, pulling on her coat. It’s too big on her, but Lup makes the look work. “I know how it is. Everyone wants to be me.”
Taako turns Magnus’s jacket red too. “Not me,” he says, as Magnus ohs and ahs appropriately over his new threads. “Taako’s his own unique creation.”
“Taako’s just jealous he doesn’t look as good in red as I do,” Lup corrects, brushing invisible dust from her shoulder.
Taako snorts at that. “We’re identical.”
“Physically, maybe, but spiritually?”
It’s actually not a bad night, even with the unexpected addition of Magnus Burnsides.
*
Neverwinter High has outdated notions of gender and sexuality so there are separate buildings for the girls and boys dorms and they’re on opposite sides of the school quad. Taako and Lup hate it. Now that Taako has a single room, they don’t really have to pay attention to dorm regulations—who’s going to tell on them for sharing with Taako occasionally?—but Lup’s got practice in the morning so she heads to her own room and Taako and Magnus are stuck walking back to the boy’s dorms together after he follows Lup and Taako to dinner and then eats with them too.
Well, Taako is stuck with Magnus. Magnus doesn’t seem to view it quite the same way.
The air has a distinct chill to it and it’s getting dark, but there are still plenty of people outside on the quad, hanging on to the last vestiges of fall before the year really truly careens towards winter.
“I mean, I feel kind of bad, but those guys do pick on kids a lot,” Magnus says, stroking the leather of his newly red jacket.
“No point in feeling bad,” Taako says, shrugging. “They wouldn’t if they took your jacket. Besides, it’s not like they won’t have new jackets in a week. They’re loaded.”
“Really?” Magnus frowns at that. “I guess I always assumed they were on scholarship.”
“Nope,” Taako says, making a point of popping the p. “A scholarship student couldn’t get away with half the shit they pull. They’re just assholes who think pretending to be poor is cool. They’re from Goldcliff. Their parents are bankers or something. Don’t feel sorry for them.”
“Huh.” Magnus looks down at Taako. “I didn’t think you really paid attention to other people.”
Taako pauses. He doesn’t pay attention to people, normally, but the Hammerheads annoy him. It’s not that he’s got a strong sense of justice about the bullying or whatever. He just doesn’t like it when people get away with shit he can’t. “What makes you say that?”
“Oh, well. My buddy Avi was one of your roommates freshman year.”
Yep. That would definitely give Magnus a lot of insider information about how little attention Taako pays to other people. Avi had probably experienced the worst of Taako, what with the whole Pringles-not-getting-it thing. Lucas and Brad had been easy to antagonize because they were both the worst, but he’d almost felt bad about Avi.
“Been a long time since freshman year, my man,” Taako says. “People change. Grow. Self-actualize.”
Magnus laughs and sticks his hands in his pockets. “That’s true. I don’t think we’ve had a conversation since gym sophomore year and you definitely wouldn’t have helped me with my Elvish homework then.”
Taako has absolutely no memory of Magnus in sophomore gym, so he just nods because yes, sure. If Magnus says they had gym together, they probably did. “Coach Taylor doesn’t exactly bring out the best in me.”
“Coach Taylor’s cool,” Magnus says, a touch defensively. “I mean, I know his speeches are a little… corny sometimes, but he’s not bad.”
“Sure.” Taako pulls the door to the dorm building open. “See you at the next meeting.”
“Well, I’ll probably see you at the game on Sunday, right? You go to cheer for Lup?”
Taako definitely goes and dutifully sits in the stands for Lup. It’s not quite the same thing as cheering, but he nods. “You go to the field hockey games?”
For some reason, Magnus blushes. Taako’s eyebrows raise. “Uh, yeah,” Magnus says. “It’s… they’re a very good team. And my best friend plays. So. They deserve the support. Everyone goes to watch basketball, but no one watches field hockey and that doesn’t seem very fair. Women’s sports don’t get the attention they deserve.”
Taako tilts his head. “Or the players on women’s sports teams, am I right?”
Magnus’s blush deepens. “I’ll see you Sunday, Taako, bye! Have a good night!” he says, walking backwards, away from the conversation. The back of his foot hits the staircase and Magnus nearly falls, but catches himself and spins on his heel, not-quite-running up the stairs and away from Taako.
Taako hopes, for the sake of his own sanity, that the field hockey player Magnus has a crush on isn’t his sister.