“I thought you knew,” said Elliot. “Everybody knows. Um. Sorry. So will you put down your name? If you do, I’ll come to your Trigon practices. I swear I will.”
“Sure,” said Luke. “Of course. I’ll come to the practice rooms too. You’re not getting beaten up. Nobody’s getting beaten up again.”
Elliot raised his eyebrows. “That’s excellent news. Wait, since this is a moral stand you’re taking—and you would take it anyway on account of your principles—I don’t actually have to go to the Trigon practices, right?”
Luke shook his head and did not look sorry. “You do,” he said. “You said you would, and now you have to.”
“Ugh, fine,” said Elliot.
He turned away while Luke turned to the ring of war-training students, like a ring of crows in their black leather and picking over their meat. Luke raised his voice so Elliot could still hear it over the crackle of fire and of meat on the spit.
“All right, guys,” said Luke. “Listen up.”
Luke’s name written on the board was not scratched out. A tall black-haired boy in the year above them did see Elliot come in one day, and followed him in, but he found Luke already sitting on the benches on one end of the room, reading a book on elven customs.
“Problem?” Luke asked with deceptive softness.
The boy started. “No! No, but great to see you, Sunborn. I just remembered that I have to go back to my cabin and get something—”
“Was it your self-respect?” Elliot asked.
“I hope we can catch up sometime soon!”
“You’d better hope we don’t,” said Luke. The boy just ran.
Since Luke had come through so resoundingly in the name of truth and justice, Elliot actually did feel obliged to go to Trigon practice. It was even more shameful than going to the actual games: the stands were almost empty. It looked as if Elliot had a real interest in Trigon.
Even if Luke had not insisted, though, Elliot did not know if he could actually have forsaken him. Serene had always come to Luke’s Trigon practises. Elliot knew how much Luke missed her, as much as Elliot did himself. He felt like going to Luke’s practises was something he could do for Serene, when he was so desperately worried about her and there was nothing real he could do to help her.
It was not only for Serene. He hated the idea of Luke looking up into the stands and seeing nobody there for him at all.
“Hey, Schafer, good to see you,” said Dale, making his way down to the pitch. “Came to see the new swing I was talking about at lunch?”
“I definitely remember that part of our excellent conversation very clearly,” Elliot said. “And that is absolutely why I am here.”
He sidled over to Carla Summersong, glad to recognize someone with a functioning brain. “Here we are, isn’t it terrible?”
“I know, Trigon, so dull.”
“I think I love you,” Elliot said. “Don’t leave me, but why are you here?”
“My boyfriend’s on the team,” said Carla, giving every indication of pride.
She waved, and the guy with the sticking-out teeth who’d cornered Luke at the sporty table waved back at her, beaming.
“That’s your boyfriend?” Elliot asked. “And this is a voluntary situation for you?”
“What?” said Carla.
“Personally, I am here under protest as part of a dark bargain.”
“Okay,” said Carla, and her accepting attitude made Elliot realize that the cruel medic was right and everyone totally did think he was weird. “Well, Sam likes me to be here to support him. Besides, my man looks great in the uniform.”
Elliot left her to her delusions. It seemed kinder. “Elbow me when it’s all over,” he said, taking out his book.
“But if you’re reading your book, how will you see the game?”
Elliot favored her with a smile for her swiftness on the uptake. “Exactly.”
He did look up occasionally. Luke appeared to be better than everyone else, as usual, so Elliot felt it was foolish and unnecessary to practice at all, and yet here they were. Elliot was being wronged by the universe.
Elliot felt a great deal more wronged by the universe when Dale Wavechaser intercepted one of Elliot’s occasional glances from his book. He waved.
“Hey, Schafer!” he said. “Check this out!”
He threw the large glass ball in a fast, curving arc. Even to Elliot, it looked impressive.
Even to Elliot, it was obvious nobody else was expecting Dale to throw. People were taking a time out, talking amongst themselves. Richard Plantgrown, who was meant to catch, turned and gestured helplessly as the ball sailed far out of his reach. The Trigon ball hurtled through the air—suddenly Elliot remembered how heavy it had weighed in his hands—and connected solidly with the back of Luke’s head.
Luke went down, face forward in the dug-out earth.
“Call for a medic,” said Elliot, dropping his book. “Now!”
Carla Summersong had hysterics because of the blood. Dale had hysterics because of the guilt. Elliot had hysterics because of the rage. They, Sam who was holding onto Carla, and Richard were put in the cabin by the infirmary and told they would be informed when there was news. It was more of a corralling than anything else.
They all sat at different points of the room.
“I’m really sorry,” said Dale.
“Don’t speak to me,” Elliot said coldly. “You raving imbecile.”
“Do you think he’ll be okay?”
“Oh, yeah, no doubt, since he got a giant glass bowling ball to the head!” Elliot snapped. “Try not to be more stupid than you can help.”
“There was too much blood,” Carla murmured, with her head in Sam of the Sticking-Out Teeth’s lap.
“I know, baby, I know,” Sam murmured back, and glared at Dale, who looked as if he was going to cry. “How could you be so careless!” he hissed. “She’s from council training! They’re very sensitive and delicate!”
“If you gave Luke brain damage, I am going to ruin your life,” Elliot announced.
Richard shot him an unfriendly look. “Schafer’s in council training. He’s not exactly a tender little flower.”
“Schafer is crazy!” Sam exclaimed. “Everybody knows Schafer is crazy!”
“You haven’t seen anything yet,” Elliot promised.
Luke had told Elliot in so many words that he was protecting Elliot, so Elliot would be safe when Serene returned. But who had looked after Luke? Nobody had. What was Elliot supposed to do when Serene came back? What was he supposed to do anyway?
Elliot rubbed a hand over his eyes, and continued staring out the window instead of at Dale Wavechaser’s idiot face.
The door opened, and all of them jumped. The mean medic stood in the doorway.
“Well?” Elliot snapped.
“My job would be easier if people would let me get the words out instead of yelling at me,” she observed. “He’s fine. He just has a concussion from your dangerously stupid rough-housing.”