Chapter Text
When Steph arrives at Hatchetfield Adventuring Academy on Friday, she figures the day cannot possibly be worse than the day that came before. She is proven almost immediately wrong when, the moment she walks through the front doors, the hallway echoes with a cheerful magical chiming, and a disembodied voice announces: “Welcome, Stephanie Lauter. Please report to the principal’s office at once.”
Great. Because what Steph needs—what she needs her dad to hear about—is for the whole school to know that she’s in trouble. Again. Except—what could she possibly have gotten in trouble for this time?
It all becomes a little more clear when she sees Max Jagerman and Grace Chasity sitting side by side on the bench outside of Hidgens’ office, having a hushed but intense conversation. If Steph didn’t know better, she’d almost think they were flirting.
“Hey there, lovebirds,” she teases anyway, because it’s fun to fuck with Max. Max just nods up at her but Grace actually springs to her feet.
“Steph!” She cries, voice far too loud for this early in the morning. “There you are! You never responded to my text in the group chat last night. I was very worried.”
“Yeah, well, my dad took my crystal away last night,” Steph says with a scowl, unable to stop the edge of irritation from bleeding into her voice. Her father didn’t even know about the fight in the cafeteria, or that Steph had almost fucking died. All he’d heard was “failed exam” and “detention” and, predictably, he’d flipped his shit. He’d used mage hand to snatch her crystal away, and, when she tried to explain why she needed it, told Miss Tessburger to cast Silence on her. “It was kind of fucked up.”
“I’m sure he was just doing what he thought was best for you,” Grace says seriously. Steph considers strangling her.
“Whatever,” she says instead, taking Grace’s seat next to Max on the bench. “You guys doing okay? No lasting damage?”
“No damage,” Max confirms. “But I had, like, a wicked nightmare last night.” Steph stares at him.
“So did I,” she admits. She wants to ask Max what it was he dreamed about, but she stops herself. If she asks, he might ask her back, and then she’ll have to admit that she dreamed that Peter Spankoffski died in her arms and it was all her fault.
“I slept great,” Grace says cheerfully. “Have you guys tried praying for good dreams?” It’s such an absurd question that Steph ignores it completely. Luckily, that’s the moment that Peter Spankoffski walks up to them, trailed by a halfling girl with headgear and an aarakocra guy with a streak of blue in the feathers on top of his head. “Hi guys!” Grace greets them.
“Hi Pete,” Steph says, trying not to make her relief at his general not-being-dead-ness too obvious.
“Hey, Steph,” Pete says with a little smile.
“Yo, ‘sup, P?” Max says, holding out his fist. To Steph’s surprise, Pete flinches back at Max’s movement; the halfling girl next to him clutches at his arm. For a terrible moment, Max just holds out his hand patiently, and Peter just stares at him.
“Is this an attempt at some sort of spell?” The aarakocra guy asks, eventually, pronouncing each ’t’ distinctly.
“Nah, bro, it’s a fist bump!” Max explains. “Spankoffski is my boy. He saved my life yesterday.”
“This is a trick!” The halfling girl pipes up. “Don’t fall for it!”
“Richie, Ruth, please go away,” Pete says with the kind of weariness Steph associates with the mothers of toddlers.
“Fine,” Richie huffs. “But you know where to find us if you need us.” Pete waves them off, then, gingerly, taps his hand against Max’s still extended one.
“Sup?” He says, awkwardly. Then Pete sits next to Steph on the bench. He smells nice, kind of woodsy but kind of sweet. “Well, uh, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m kind of glad we got called to the principal’s office.”
“You are?” Steph asks bemusedly.
“Well, I wanna know what it was that possessed Mr. Houston yesterday,” Pete says. “I was trying to do some research about it last night, and I couldn’t find anything. But I’m sure Principal Hidgens has access to way more tomes on this kind of thing.”
“You’re probably right,” Steph says. She bumps her shoulder against his, just slightly. “Good intelligence check.”
The thing is, though, Principal Hidgens insists that Houston wasn’t possessed.
“I understand why that’s what you might have assumed,” he says from where he’s struck a dramatic pose by the window. “But what you children might not understand is that Mr. Houston was a deeply troubled man. He lost his wife on a very harrowing adventure and hasn’t been the same since. What you experienced was the actions of a man amidst a traumatic flashback.”
“No way,” Steph protests instantly. She’s spent enough time in detention to know what Mr. Houston is like. “He’s a good guy, he would never hurt one of us.” Principal Hidgens carries on as if she’d never spoken.
"For obvious reasons, he’s been taken to a psychiatric facility, where I’m sure they are doing the best they can to help him.”
“What about his son?” Grace asks at the same time Pete blurts “But what about the gem?”
“His son is in the custody of his aunt, a wonderful druid who graduated from this very institution a mere ten years ago,” Hidgens replies. “And what gem would that be, Mr. Spankoffski?”
“The gem,” Pete answers, sounding completely confused. “You took whatever green magic stuff was inside of him and you put it in a gem.” Steph was unconscious at that point, so she has nothing to add, but Max jumps in to back Pete up.
“Yeah, bro, we all saw it,” Max says. Hidgens looks frustrated.
“An adventurer’s first real combat is always an emotional time,” he says, sounding impatient. “But you’re simply mistaken. I’d advise you all to speak to the guidance counselor about your confusion. Now I want you to go back to your classes and forget this gem nonsense immediately.” His voice rises in pitch until he’s almost shouting.
Steph makes eye contact with him. He looks back. And Steph clocks, with absolute certainty, that Principal Hidgens is lying to them.
“Okay,” she says, forcing her voice into calmness. She’s proficient at performance and deception alike, and hiding her true feelings from authority figures is essentially second nature. She stands up, keeping her posture relaxed. “Let’s go, guys. Thanks, Principal Hidgens.”
“Thanks,” she hears Grace and Pete echo behind her as the other three follow Steph into the hallway. The second Hidgens’ door closes, all three of the others open their mouths to speak, but Steph holds a finger to her lips.
“Not here,” she says. She knows how easy it is to magically bug a building, and suddenly the hallway feels like its full of watching eyes. “Everyone meet me at the bleachers at lunch.”
Lunchtime finds Max Jagerman, Peter Spankoffski, Grace Chasity, and Stephanie Lauter on the bleachers, receiving strange looks from the cheerleaders practicing out on the field. Even stranger, they are all on exactly the same page: Hidgens was lying. Something is wrong.
“This isn’t right,” Steph says, feeling on the verge of tears.
“Houston was the only teacher that didn’t make me feel stupid,” Max agrees seriously. “And I know saw some shit go down with that crystal gem thing.”
“Something is seriously fucked,” Steph says. “And we have to do something about it.”
“But what can we do?” Grace Chasity asks. Pete seems both surprised and pleased when all three of them turn to look at him.
“I’ll, uh, do some more research,” he says. “Maybe the library will have more books about possession and stuff. Steph, Max, maybe you can…ask around? See if you can figure out if Hidgens is like…”
“Up to something?” Steph fills in the blanks.
“What can I do?” Grace asks.
“Maybe you can use your church connections to find out where Mr. Houston is?” Steph suggests. “You guys are always going to hospitals and stuff, right?” Grace squares her shoulders and nods resolutely, fidgeting with the holy symbol on her charm bracelet.
“I can do that,” she says.
“Excellent,” Steph says. “Then we have a plan. Any other ideas?”
“I have some friends I could ask to help us,” Peter suggests, sounding hesitant. “Ruth and Richie? They’re pretty smart.”
“Who, Lipshitz and Mouthpiece?” Max asks.
“Don’t—” Pete tenses up, then takes a deep breath. “Listen, Max, if we’re gonna do this, you can’t—you can’t bully my friends. Or…or anyone.” Steph’s first thought is that confidence is a pretty good look on Peter Spankoffski. Her second thought is wondering how badly Max has really been treating people. They might run in the same circles, but Steph tends to be friends with people more in theory than in practice. Max’s brow furrows as if he’s thinking really, really hard.
“I—okay,” Max says.
“Really?” Pete blurts, sounding shocked. He’s undercutting his earlier coolness a little, but that’s okay.
“Yeah,” Max says, nodding thoughtfully. “Cause, you know, I used to think you were a nerdy prude, but you were a badass yesterday. And maybe—maybe that’s true of all nerdy prudes.” Steph can’t help but let her jaw drop as she realizes that she’s literally watched Max Jagerman discover the concept of people containing multitudes.
“Praise Lathander,” Grace murmurs to herself, looking as stunned as Steph feels. Suddenly, Grace jumps to her feet. “Um, I have to go take care of myself—I mean, of something! Are we done here?”
“Yeah, we’re done,” Steph says. “Just see if you can get into the hospital, okay?” Grace nods, rushing off.
“I should go too,” Max says. “I gotta tell Jason and Kyle that we’re nice now. See ya, Steph. See ya, P.” He holds out his hand for a fist bump again, and this time it only takes Peter a second to tap his own hand against Max’s. The barbarian wanders off, and suddenly it’s just Steph and Pete out in the bleachers.
“Holy pantheon,” Pete mutters, breaking the silence. “I dunno what was scarier, facing Houston or standing up to Max right there.” Steph laughs.
“You’re funny, Pete,” she says. And then, before she has a chance to think about it: “I like funny guys.”
“I—” For a second, Peter just blinks at her. “Are you okay, by the way?” He asks. “You didn’t text back in the group chat last night and I was—maybe this is dumb, but I was kind of worried.”
“It’s not dumb,” Steph replies. “I’m okay. I told Grace earlier, but I guess you weren’t there—my dad took my crystal away when I told him I got detention.”
“Really? Even after you told him about what happened with Mr. Houston?” Steph shrugs.
“I didn’t get to tell him,” she says. “He doesn’t like to listen to me.”
“That’s fucked up,” Pete says, seriously. Steph can’t help but smile. She’s starting to suspect that’s going to happen a lot around Peter Spankoffski.
“Super fucked up. But you don’t have to worry about me, Pete.” He smiles back at her sweetly.
“Sure I do,” he says. “Isn’t that what it means to be in a party?”
If Steph’s stomach swoops, it’s just because she’s had a really fucking weird two days.
“Yeah, Pete, I guess it is.”