Chapter 8

"Water Boy?!"

Coach Vargas' jaw flexed at the way Parker yelled at him. It was too damn early for this. After pulling an all-nighter to get the roster out by morning, the last thing he wanted was to deal with a whiney freshman. He considered benching the delinquent for the week, but no. That wasn't his style. After all, he snorted to himself, he wasn't Mozus Trein. Uptight old fossil.

"Every team needs one," the coach watched one of the weaker flyers fumble a dismount over paying the magicless student any more mind.

The first year grumbled, "I'm not going to be on any team with Leona Kingscholar."

"Oh, aren't you?" Vargas turned to Parker at last.

Gone was the despondent thing from breakfast that morning. As soon as Violet saw her name on the roster— what's more the instant she fully understood that she'd been relegated to the team's water boy— fury evicted every other emotion and fueled itself over the course of the morning. She'd seethed in Magical History, fumed during potions, worked herself up to confront Coach Vargas over this stunt, this… injustice!

The coach almost laughed at the way Parker scrunched his face. However intimidating he thought he looked, it missed the mark completely. He came off more as an upset child than anything. It would be that much sweeter to pop his bubble. "Tough. Kingscholar himself picked you for the job."

Of course he had. Of course he had. How dare he! Violet felt her pride bruising already. How she wished this were happening in her hometown, on her turf.

The damage she could do.

"I refuse."

Parker didn't waiver despite the displeased stare the coach pegged him with. Vargas had to hand it to the kid, he had spunk.

He shrugged. "If you don't, you and that cat won't pass the semester."

Violet's rageful momentum came to a screeching halt. "What?"

"Consider it your ticket to getting in on magical sports."

"You can't— You can't do that!"

Vargas' patience was wearing thin. "You wanna bet?"

"He took away my body!" She nearly lost control of her voice. "Do you know how violating—"

The coach didn't let her finish. His tone rose to speak of dominance and his own annoyance, "You pick a fight in my class, you deal with the consequences. Now give me ten laps!"

He dismissed her with a sharp blow of his whistle.

Violet sprinted, but try as she might she couldn't outrun her anger.

Her sour mood didn't improve all throughout lunch, which she spent glaring at a spot on the table. Neither did it change as she pulled out her chair and slumped in her usual seat for Magical Analysis. Floyd was already there, marking her every move. His eyes glittered like he'd found a new toy. He was nice enough to all her a full minute of quiet before he chuckled and said, "Oooh, little Shrimpy looks scary."

"Not today, Floyd," Violet grumbled. Granted Floyd hadn't done anything to her, but she was not in the mood to entertain his every whim.

Floyd, on the other hand didn't mind poking a sleeping bear. He acted like he hadn't heard, "You were gone yesterday. What's got you so red and puffy?" When Parker didn't answer, he pouted. "C'mon, I wanna know."

Violet cut him a fierce glare meant to shut him up, but after weeks of sitting next to him she knew it wouldn't work. He had a knack for picking out and doing the exact opposite of what she wanted him to. She held his stare until the professor rapped twice on his desk to begin the lecture. This wasn't the end of the conversation, not by a long shot. She knew better. As expected, he opened his notebook to a clean page and scribbled down a few words. Violet caught the sheet as he slid it over to her.

If you won't tell me, let me guess.

Let him guess. She knew what he was asking. The thought of sitting through hangman for the next hour weighed on her. She meant it when she'd said 'not today.' If Floyd was bored, he was just going to have to deal with it.

Violet picked up her pen to write as much, but something bade her to paused. She was still simmering on the inside after all. If she didn't release at least some of the pressure she feared she might boil herself alive. Besides, she didn't want to talk to Ace and Deuce about it. They were much too involved. Floyd, however… He was as flighty as they come. Violet sensed that she could unload on him and he'd be likely to forget all about it by the next day.

Without a word, she put pen to paper and drew out the lines and gallows. Twenty-three lines littered the page. Floyd's grin stretched wider.

Shrimpy's very angry.

Just guess a letter.

She heard him chuckle before printing the letter 'A' in the margins. Violet filled in three spaces.

What a long word.

Violet scoffed.

It's a phrase and you know it.

He did know. They'd been playing hangman long enough for him to have figured out the little nuances of the game weeks ago. The professor went over something about 'fastenings' on spells while she waited, which was supposed to either help them last or stick or whatever. It didn't matter. She'd just go back and reread the chapter to Grim later, anyway.

Floyd sent the paper back with an "I" next to his previous guess. Parker filled up three more spaces.

This could take me the whole class, you know.

Violet's face somehow managed to fall even further.

Then let it. You want to know, you've got to work for it.

A quiet snicker.

You'd make a great Octavinelle student.

This time, when Violet's eyes narrowed it wasn't from anger.

I thought your value was mercy.

Ironic now that she thought about it. He'd never shown her a lick of it in nearly a month. Floyd eyed her with amusement and answered.

Sure. Among other things.

If Floyd was trying to distract her through curiosity, it wasn't working.

Pick your next letter. We're running out of room.

It was a lie. They still had half the sheet of paper, the back, and Floyd's entire notebook left. They could co-author a novel if they felt like it. Regardless, he followed through with a 'Y', his first miss of the game. Violet drew a head at the gallows.

Floyd's failure sent him into a long thinking spell. Conversation was getting boring now. He'd much rather discuss what was irking his neighbor already, but to do that he knew he'd have to give in a little. Though, was it really 'giving in' if he was just as keen to play?

'S'.

Two spaces. Well, now he could see that one of the words in the phrase was 'is' and the other was 'a'. What 'is a' what? Or rather, who? His guesses came faster now. First an 'R' (two spaces), followed by a 'B' (another miss), a 'K' (two more spaces), an 'M' (his third miss), and a 'C' (two spaces again.) He was hitting all the doubles. Floyd was starting to think it was possible he'd solve this faster than he'd suspected. Already the last word was one letter away from completion. But… what was a 'rick'?

Something about the second word niggled his memory. It started with a 'K'. Floyd paused. He had an inkling he knew who the 'who' in the phrase was. He tested his theory by guessing an 'L'. That was two more spaces filled, including the first letter of the first word. He suppressed a laugh. If he wanted to, he could guess the rest of the name right there, but he was having fun with this. His next guesses were all correct until the name was revealed. All that was missing was one final letter. He thought hard, going through all the rude names he knew from both his hometown and Night Raven until the perfect word came to mind.

'P'.

Violet wrote in the last letter a little too satisfied. The message she wished she could scream from the school's highest turret was written clearly on the page.

Leona Kingscholar is a prick.

She'd tattoo it on her forehead if she could.

Beside her, Floyd had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. His sharp teeth left little marks on the thin skin when he'd gotten himself under control.

Sea Lion? Why would you be mad at him?

Violet caught and held his stare for several seconds before she answered. His expression was interested, but impassive. Still she searched for any sign, any tick that would give away whether he'd heard about the fight. She found none, but didn't outright answer either.

So, you don't know about what happened at freshman tryouts?

She watched him consider his response for a second before committing to it.

Why would I care what happens with first years?

Nope. That wasn't the kind of response she was looking for.

You didn't answer my question.

Words were important here. This was dance of sorts and she couldn't afford any missteps. As harmless as Floyd was, she still didn't have a firm grasp on what made him tick.

You're smarter than you look, Shrimpy. Fine. I heard there was a fight, but nothing else.

He grinned slowly, adding

Was that you?

Violet sighed.

He hurt Grim. I couldn't let him get away with that.

She watched as Floyd blinked once, then craned his neck towards Grim's window.

Where's Sealy, anyway?

Hurt, but doing better.

I should probably go visit him after class, Violet thought. She was starting to feel guilty for not going earlier. The end of the hour came sooner rather than later as the bell rang halfway through Floyd's response. He hadn't been minding the time today.

"Poor Sealy," Floyd said, stretching to his full height. "Tell him to feel better soon."

Violet's features softened for the first time all day, "Thanks. I will."

With that, Floyd collected his notes and for the first time ever Violet managed to watch him exit the room. He was still an enigma. A green-haired, sharp-toothed, heterochromatic enigma.

Violet shook her head. She had places to be, after all. Namely, the infirmary where Grim was still recovering. She'd make a quick stop along the way to Sam's shop, though. Grim would appreciate a nice can of tuna.

Azul Ashengrotto fancied himself a man of business. Like the matriarch of his dorm house— the same figure he'd hero-worshiped all throughout high school— he knew how to strike an effective bargain. At least, he thought he did. Lately he was beginning to doubt his skills. As far as his dealings with other students went, he was as sharp as ever. But with the headmaster?

The trouble began two weeks ago, at a Saturday meeting with Head mage Crowley.

"You've made quite the proposal," The Headmaster tapped the bottom of his chin with a clawed glove. His mask tilted down at an angle that gave the impression of focused, downturned eyes trained on the presentation the dorm head had painstakingly assembled.

Azul stood before the headmaster's desk in his office, the picture of smooth confidence, "Thank you, head mage."

"Everything looks to be in order…" Crowley flipped through the pages a final time.

"I'm glad you agree," Azul said. "Now, about the—"

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to deny your request," Crowley placed the packet of papers down and slid it forward.

Azul blinked. "Apologies, headmaster. I don't believe I heard you correctly."

Crowley shook his head, "You have, Mr. Ashengrotto."

Azul reached for his tact, his eloquence, but his shock stunted him. He didn't mean to speak so abruptly as he opened his mouth, "But, why?"

If Crowley was at all surprised by his outburst, he didn't show it, "Unfortunately the abandoned dorm is currently in use. Perhaps next semester."

Unfortunate, indeed. Azul returned to his dorm that afternoon in a near catatonic state. The next day, however, he'd utilized all his resources in finding out precisely what the building was being used for. By that night, he'd found his answer. That strange, magicless boy from the entrance ceremony was living there. Apparently, the headmaster hadn't felt right turning him out on the street. Aside from that, there was nothing. The frustration was almost too much to bear.

"You're going to ruin those contracts."

Azul shot back to the present. He was in his own office, nestled in the back of the Monstro Lounge— the student-run restaurant of his own creation.

"Not at all, Jade," he loosened his grip on the enchanted parchment he'd been perusing, nearly identical to the stacks of others he'd yet to go through.

His companion, Jade, merely hummed. He sat at a nearby lounge chair, poised and proper as always, and ready to help at a moment's notice. While he seemed serene on the surface, his gaze was ever-sharp, drinking in the tiniest of details and working out their usefulness in seconds. Anything of value was tucked away to a bank in his memory. The rest? Also, saved. One could never know too much.

The exact opposite of his brother in all things. They might have shared a face, but even that was off, appearing more as mirror images than and identical twins. Where Jade's uniforms were always pressed and neat, Floyd's were more rumpled, tie either undone or absent altogether. Pain in my neck, but useful.

As if summoned by Azul's thoughts, Floyd sauntered in with his usual lopsided grin.

"Afternoon, boss," He plopped down onto a couch, tossing his school supplies on the corner of Azul's desk. His notebook hit the surface with a slap, spilling papers and half-finished notes onto the organized stacks of documents.

"Floyd!"

"Ehehe, sorry~."

Floyd made no move to clean the mess he'd created, didn't acknowledge it beyond his apology. Azul adjusted his glasses and sighed. There was no use forcing him to, either. He'd likely pout, arch is head back and whine, "Don't feel like it." Azul began collecting the errant notebook paper. Honestly, if it weren't for his loyalty Azul would have no qualms…

His thoughts trailed as something curious caught his eye. One of pages was covered in two different styles of handwriting. Floyd's sweeping, yet legible hand mixed with something rounder. The phrase that stood out, however, was written in the center of the page.

"'Leona Kingscholar is a prick'?" Azul read aloud.

"Oh, yeah!" Floyd laughed. "That was Shrimpy."

"Shrimpy?" Jade didn't bother hiding his own delicate chuckle. "Another one of your nicknames?"

Floyd's smile widened enough to showcase the points of his teeth, "He's a fun one. Doesn't have a drop of magic but still picked a fight with Sea Lion yesterday."

Azul rolled his eyes, ready to dismiss Floyd's inane chatter. Such ridiculousness.

Doesn't have a drop of magic…

The boy from the ceremony. The one living in the abandoned dorm house.

The one standing in his way.

"You know the Ramshackle student," Azul practically whispered, then scoffed in shock. "Why didn't you inform me?"

Floyd gave a catty shrug, "You didn't ask."

Had Azul been granted more physical strength he would have strangled Floyd. For weeks, he'd been fighting for more information, working every angle short of confronting the boy. He'd hunted for any and every shred of ammunition he could find only to learn that his colleague, one of his closest associates somehow befriended him? His mind raced. He wanted to know everything about this student. His friends, his weaknesses— apart from a lack of magic. How close was this student to Crowley? More importantly, how could he exploit that relationship to his own end? Azul wanted more, needed more! And now… he had the perfect way to get it.

Whatever nerves or annoyance that lay beneath his skin melted away to his usual smoothness. He wasn't in control of the situation just yet, but he would be in no time. He ran a hand through his silvery hair.

"Floyd, Jade," Azul's change in demeanor piqued both of their interests. They leaned forward as one, inclining to hear what turn their leader had taken. "Keep an extra-close eye on this one, boys."

"Oh?" Jade tapped his chin with a knuckle.

Azul met both pairs of miss-matched eyes, "He may be the key to getting exactly what I want."