“You look like a snail that’s about to explode,” Luke said and made a grab for one of his bags. Elliot gave a pterodactyl screech of protest.
Luke stepped out of range of Elliot’s grab and studied the bag. It did seem to be melting at the bottom a tiny bit. “What have you got in here?”
“None of your business, loser. You know, you are not the first bully to ever snatch my bag from me, and I think keepaway is a terrible game, so—”
Elliot had noticed that referencing his previous schooldays often made Luke give him his way, but apparently not this time.
“Bet I’m the first bully who snatched your bag that was about to explode,” said Luke, and started to spin the bag by its strap.
“Don’t throw it!” Elliot wailed as Luke whirled it over his head and threw it with all his might.
As soon as the bag hit the ground, it loudly burst into flame.
Elliot winced. “That’d be the microwave. In retrospect, the microwave was a mistake.”
“What’s a microwave?” Luke asked.
“Clearly some kind of volatile explosive weapon,” Serene deduced, strolling up to them and eyeing the small fire in the distance with her usual aplomb. “Elliot, you really must leave handling weapons to the experts.”
After the explosions and everything, it seemed odd to remind Luke that according to the terms of the truce he could now stop hanging around so much. Besides which, sometimes Elliot said stuff when he was annoyed that he later didn’t mean as much as he’d thought he did at the time. Elliot realized the truce was working in his favor; he had no confidence that if Serene had to choose which of them to hang out with, it would definitely be Elliot. And Luke and Serene were both excelling in all their history and geography and mathematical courses, and if he didn’t watch them they might slip. He supposed he didn’t mind so very much.
Being fourteen wouldn’t be so different from being thirteen, Elliot thought.
It took him less than a week to realise how very wrong he was.
The absolute worst thing about being fourteen was that almost everyone else’s interest in girls had caught fire and caught up with Elliot’s at last, and thus Elliot was no longer the only one actively wooing Serene. Though he did flatter himself that he had got the head start, and made real progress. Plus he was easily the most cunning person in the entire training camp, and had several cunning courtship plans.
He put one of them into action at one of their lunchtimes, when Serene had once more been waylaid by other boys. They were always offering to teach her how to do this or that warlike thing which Serene already did better than them, it made Elliot feel extremely unwell. But Serene was very patient with them. She even seemed to like it.
She was standing near the food buffets with her tray empty and the small discreet elven smile on her face directed toward other men, and Elliot decided he could bear it no longer.
“When Serene gets here,” Elliot informed Luke, “you have to compliment her.”
“What?” asked Luke blankly.
“I’d do it,” said Elliot. “In fact, I’m going to do it, I doubt I can restrain myself, she’s a perfect elven being. But I compliment her all the time; it doesn’t have the same impact coming from me.”
“What?” asked Luke, even more blankly.
“Do you want her to leave us?” Elliot asked. “Is that what you want?”
“What?” said Luke. The blankness was now inscribed, as on a white page with red pen: “What horrifying thing are you saying, Elliot? What are you trying to imply?”
“What if she wants to sit at someone else’s lunch table?” Elliot asked. “Some other table where she receives the adulation that is her due. If I am deprived of my only love and have nothing to do but stare at your stupid face, I’ll stop eating and probably go into a decline.”
“Serene’s not going to leave us,” said Luke. “She and I are swordbrothers. Well, you know what I mean. We swore an oath on a blade and shared blood. It’s a warrior thing. You wouldn’t understand.”
Elliot understood enough to feel hurt and left out, so he said: “Please do not discuss swapping bodily fluids with Serene in public. She is a lady! And ladies need to be wooed with soft words.”
Luke made a face. “I’m not randomly complimenting Serene. That’s weird.”
“It isn’t weird, it’s an ingenious scheme in which I thought outside the box and decided that the devilish competition I know and can keep an eye on is better than the devilish competition I don’t. Why are you being so difficult, Luke? I know you like Serene, so what is the problem with verbally expressing your appreciation? Why are you upsetting me?”
“Why are you upsetting me?”
“Why would flawless logic upset you, Luke? That makes no sense. If you don’t want to do this simple thing for me, I don’t think I want to eat my extra pudding anymore.”
“Fine,” said Luke. “I don’t want you to keep taking my pudding anyway. I never said you could. I like pudding.”
Elliot was Boy Scout levels of prepared to argue the matter further, but just then Serene arrived with her lunch tray, arrayed with the usual elvegetarian fare of lettuce, various vegetables, and flowers, plus her own pudding, because Serene had been corrupted by their disgusting human ways.
“Hello, flower in the garden of my heart and nightlight of my soul,” said Elliot.
“Elliot, Luke,” said Serene.
Elliot was pleased: he privately kept track of when Serene said Elliot’s name first. But then Serene chose to sit on Luke’s side of the table, which cancelled out the names and left them at a draw.
“Hi, Serene,” said Luke.
Elliot coughed and ostentatiously pushed away Luke’s pudding.
Luke rolled his eyes and frowned. “Serene. Your, um, dagger work was seriously exceptional today.”
“Why, thank you, Luke,” said Serene, gracing him with a small smile. She and Luke fist-bumped: Elliot supposed it was a swordbrothers thing.
“Really, daggers? Really? You are useless. You are entirely without use,” Elliot announced, but since Serene seemed satisfied with Luke’s pathetic effort, and he believed even pathetic efforts should be met with rewards to encourage improvement, he deigned to reach over and draw the pudding back to his side of the table.