Chapter Text
“I mean, uh… I wanted to start off with an anecdote, but—”
“Dude,” says Lup. “Stop. How are you going to tie anything from your life into something like ethics of international trade and commerce?”
“No, no,” Taako interrupts. He’s lounging atop a few pushed-together desks, manicured finger hovering lazily over the screen of his tablet, mouth twitched up in a smirk. “No, it’d be like—Hi, my name is Magnus, and one time I bought a sweatshirt that said ‘Made in China,’ and it really turned my life around—”
“Shut the fuck up!” Magnus protests, as Taako dissolves into giggles. Lup can’t suppress a snort, but she pulls the straightest face she can and pounds the desk to catch Magnus’s attention again. “Over here, big guy,” she says. “Look, if you think you can do it, fuckin’ do it. But the judges’ve already seen that from you, y’know? You've got more in you than just anecdotes.”
He really does. The Dog Monologue, as they’ve started to refer to it, was only the first of his pieces to bring the audience to tears. Magnus sighs. “Okay,” he says, and leans back. “Maybe I could, uh… start off with a really shocking statistic? Everybody loves a good statistic.”
“Cliché,” says Lup, at the same time Lucretia says from behind them, “Overdone.” They both look at each other, and Lup holds up her hand for a high-five. Lucretia indulges her.
“Get creative,” she advises, as she stands up from the table. “There’s so much on this topic, you just gotta know where to look. Hey, babe?”
Across the room, Barry’s slouching with his feet up on a chair next to Taako, scanning over something intently. He looks up and flushes when she calls. “Yeah?”
“Help Magnus with this international ethics stuff, will ya? I have to get to work.”
He nods, and adjusts his glasses as he gets to his feet. Lup puts an unconscious hand to her own frames. Unlike his, which are dark and boxy, hers are large and round and gold, and she usually doesn’t wear them but today she isn’t feeling the contacts. Besides, it contributes to the aesthetic, as her brother would say. They’re a bunch of nerds sitting in an empty classroom after school, talking about world issues and debate. Somebody has to be wearing glasses, and Barry doesn’t count—he’s a nerd by birthright—so today it’s her.
The only other person wearing glasses in the room is Merle, and he doesn’t count, either, because Lup’s fairly sure teachers aren’t allowed to have 20/20 vision. Right now, he’s seated behind the desk in another corner of the room, reclined in its shitty matching chair, thumbing through the pages of a gardening magazine. He’d looked up just twice so far—once to chuckle at a lewd joke Magnus had made, once to supply a word Taako couldn’t remember (the word had been prestidigitation). The bright red baseball cap perched jauntily atop his head reads Ask Lucretia, a gag gift that really isn’t that much of a gag. Before they’d scared off the students who had tried to join them at the beginning of the year, freshmen and sophomores kept wandering up to him, full of questions and concerns and parent-related inquiries. He'd just trapped them in his sharp, perpetually amused gaze and said, “Do I look like the team president? Ask Lucretia.” And thus the catchphrase was born.
The president herself is now standing in front of Lup, smiling idly at Magnus’s concentration as he and Barry pour over Barry’s tablet together. Lup reclines against the back of the chair and quirks an eyebrow. “What’s going on, Madam Valedictorian?”
She flushes. “I’m not—”
“Yes, you are,” says Lup; “or you’re gonna be, everyone knows it. So. What’s going on?”
Lucretia, still pink, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Just checking in. You are planning on entering this one, right?”
“Oh, hell yeah,” comes the immediate response, and Lup hears her brother echo with a Hell yeah! behind her. “I was thinking about doing policy debate this time, maybe take down some fools who still believe in the gender binary? You know the drill.”
“Oh my God, Lu,” Taako interjects from behind them. “You shoulda heard this dipshit from one’a my events last time around. He got into it with this other kid about, fuckin’… heterophobia, or somethin’ like that. I wanted to die. I actually wanted to die.”
“What’s his name?” says Lup, coolly. “I’ll beat the shit out of him.”
“I dunno. Harvey or some basic-ass white boy name like that. My point is, take the shot.” He folds his hand into a finger gun, bracelets jangling, then goes back to checking over whatever is on his tablet.
Lucretia sighs. “Please don’t actually—”
“I won’t,” Lup promises, and then, “probably. Anyway, yeah, that’s the plan.”
That is the plan. The plan is also to crush it, which she usually has no problem doing, because she’s been doing it for three years now and she has no intention of breaking her streak. Besides, she’s as much needed here as she is out on the field. No one would look at the lean, five-foot-seven star athlete and take her for a debater, but here she is, at the second meeting of the year for the Neverwinter Speech and Debate Team. They’re in one of the only classrooms they’ve ever been able to commandeer; this year, it’s one of the nice ones, with a set of large windows overlooking the quad and framed by vibrant orange-and-red trees. It’s a far cry from the basement labs they had started out in, which were cold and dismal and harbored some truly terrifying spiders. (All school basements contained a few ungodly creatures, of course, and theirs was no exception. They suspected one of the school’s German teachers, who had a few rather beloved pet arachnids. The theory was that one had escaped and bred with a genetic mutation living in the air conditioner.)
The NSDT is a ragtag group, for sure. They’d all started out as freshmen, young and sleep-deprived and looking for an extracurricular to put on their college application, and become a family purely by accident. But that’s what they are, Lup thinks, sparing a glance around the room. She and Taako, her spontaneous, glamorous twin; Lucretia, a skilled artist and their perpetually overtired president; Magnus, the club’s resident dog lover and master of emotional speeches; the currently absent Davenport, their expert in speech and debate and Merle’s long-suffering partner; and Merle and his magazines and mysterious eyepatch. He tells students it happened in the same accident that claimed his right arm. That’s all he ever says about it, but ideas run wild—a Faustian bargain, a gardening mishap, a run-in with a troupe of organ harvesters. Whenever students confront him with their hypotheses, he shrugs and says, “All of the above?”
Lup realizes with a start that she’s been spacing out. She blinks and clears the glass from her eyes just as Lucretia says, “… and really focus on recruiting this year.”
“Oh,” she says. “I totally was not listening to any of that. Sorry, Luce.”
The president arches an eyebrow, which is usually enough to kill anyone (including Lup) on sight, but luckily she doesn't comment. “I’ve just been thinking since our last meeting. You know, after we graduate, there won’t be anyone left in the club, and I want to make sure it sticks around after we leave.”
Lup blinks. “Yeah, sure.”
“So I just wanted to mention to you—and Taako, too, I guess, just ask that you spread the word. Find people who are interested. Preferably the freshmen, who don’t know that we’re, a, ah…” Lucretia trails off and rubs the back of her neck. “An exclusive group, so to speak.”
That’s an understatement if Lup’s ever heard one. This year, the turnout for the first meeting had been even impressively smaller than the last—two students with bulky coats peered into the doorway, come under the scrutiny of several practiced glowers, and shrunk back. Run, Taako had mouthed, widening his glitter-accentuated eyes, and they had.
Alright. Understandable.
“Sure thing,” she says, breezily.
Her brother looks up from his tablet again and clicks his tongue. “Taako’s on it, lady. Expand the brand. Word ’a mouth. Let’s do it.”
“You’re gonna bring your cult following, huh?”
He looks both vaguely insulted and pleased, and she know he won’t go as far as to defend his acolytes, but it’s amusing to watch him try and contain his personal offense. Taako’s “groupies,” as Merle refers to them, have no formal name, but in Lup’s opinion they’re one Twitter account short of being a recognized fan group. She sees them from time to time, clustered around him in a gaggle, hanging onto his every word. They’re a constant source of experimental recipe ideas and miscredited quotations—once, Taako had bragged to Lup about convincing a freshman that he’d come up with a sentiment by Aristotle. He’d even introduced a few of them to her, and now she has several dedicated underclassmen fans who come to all of her games and shout eagerly over the crowd.
Of course, Taako’s shameless about the attention, but she knows he’ll never admit how much it means to him. “Please,” he lilts, with a fluid roll of his eyes. “I recruit based on talent, not loyalty. If those fools want to join up, I’ll be putting ’em through their paces.”
“Sounds grueling,” says Lucretia. “I love it.”
He winks. “You know it. Hey, someone know the word for when you’re try’na tempt someone to do somethin’, but, like, in an exciting way?”
Lucretia hums. “Entice?”
“Entice!” Taako’s shout is loud enough to startle Barry’s tablet off his desk. “Thank you, Luce, you’re the real MVP.”
“No problem.” She turns back to Lup with a lingering grin. “Any chance you want some help on policy research?”
“You kidding? Always.”
Lup doesn’t want to brag—okay, she does—but she’s really gotten her shit together since freshman year.
Namely, she’s won four speech and debate events (three debate, one speech, because she does have an undeniable penchant for arguing), figured out her major (physical chemistry, after she’d almost lit the science lab on fire twice and fallen in love), and learned to drive (her driving instructor swears on his life he doesn’t know how she got her license, and she prefers to leave it up to his imagination). She has herself a kickass boyfriend, a group of ride-or-die friends, and the captainship for the school’s lacrosse team, as well as a solid reputation for track and field. Freshman year Lup wouldn’t stand a chance.
(Of course, she maintains that facing herself at any age would result in a dead heat, but when it comes to general impressiveness and organization, senior year Lup’s pretty sure she’s got this one in the bag.)
So it’s really no surprise that as far as school goes, she’s feeling pretty Zen. It’s a weird feeling for someone who’s fairly sure that her stresses show a little too outwardly—Taako tells her she taps her fingers and jiggles her leg and rakes her hands through her hair. But she likes it. She could get into it. This won’t be a stress-free year (when is it ever, really?) but she’s enjoying where it’s going so far.
Particularly because of Barry.
Barry, her beautiful numbskull of a boyfriend, who had twiddled his thumbs for the first two and a half years they had known each other until Lup, on an impulse, had asked him out after one of their competitions. Barry, whose last name is decidedly not Bluejeans but seems to respond to it just as readily as his actual surname, because it was a long-standing nickname from his middle school years. Barry, who gets just a little too excited over dissections, who’s full of random trivia about the occult, who had worn those stupid glasses just about every day for his natural life. Whenever Lup glances in his direction, she finds herself lingering on his dorky smile and slightly mussed hair, and whatever variation of a white t-shirt he’s sporting that day. He’s shy but sincere, perpetually anxious, mad smart, and Lup is head over heels. She will, of course, admit this over multiple dead bodies, but God—he has her whipped.
This is what she finds herself doing when she steps off an unexpected curb and nearly falls flat on her face. Magnus reaches out to grab her by the elbow with a tiny “Whoa, there!” and she hops it off, trying to regain her balance. She doesn’t even have to look to know that Taako’s mouth is curled in a tiny smirk. “Someone on your mind?” he sing-songs.
“Just thinking about how to kick your ass at the mock,” she shoots back.
“How’re you planning to do that when that curb just nearly fuckin’ wrecked you?”
She flips him off and spins to face the rest of the group—they’ve congealed in the parking lot in front of Neverwinter High’s imposing double doors. Lucretia claps her hands together. “You know the drill, people,” she says. “First mock is this Friday for—”
A chorus of groaning and complaining goes up from the small assembly. “Really? ” Magnus interrupts, at the same time Merle heaves an enormous sigh. “I had plans, Luce!”
Taako’s smirk widens as he crooks an eyebrow in Magnus’s direction. “Plans, huh?”
Instantly Merle catches on. It’s not hard to, what with how thick her twin is laying on the suggestion. “I sure hope you and Julia are being sa—”
Magnus groans loudly and claps his hands over his ears. “Nope! Don’t wanna hear it! Don’t wanna know! I’m good!”
“Ew,” Lucretia deadpans. Lup places an elbow on Barry’s head and leans idly as the president goes on. “Friday,” she says, and then to their reluctant sponsor, “Davenport can supervise if you don’t want to.”
Their sponsor offers up another dramatic sigh. “If someone’s gotta look after you dunces, might as well be me. Besides, speech ’n debate is Dav’s whole thing. I’ll leave the uppity bickering to him and you kiddos.”
Lucretia’s eyerolls aren’t really eyerolls; more long, hopeless stares into the sky that plead, Why me? She’s gotten so good at them that once, Lup saw a kid revise his argument after being on the receiving end. “Then we’re all meeting here after school on Friday. Speech people, if you want to workshop your stuff, be ready to do so. I’ll be a stand-in if anyone needs someone to argue with.”
“Luce,” says Lup, “last time you were a stand-in, you made Magnus cry.”
Magnus’s head snaps indignantly in their direction. “She did not!”
“She said your entire argument was built on a logical fallacy, and if you were so sure of its construction, you were no better than its shaky foundation, and then you said you had to check on Steven, and you just left? Dude, we all knew what the fuck was going on—”
“I wasn’t trying to—”
“I didn’t fuckin’ cry, you have no proof!”
“It was actually kinda funny, though.”
Taako inspects his nails and says, “Can we get going, Lulu? I got my hot date—”
“If you call me that one more time,” says Lup, “I’m gonna kick your ass—”
“—and Taako’s gotta freshen up the look, y’know? I mean, this one’s a gem, but it ain’t a life-ruiner.” He glares critically at the layers of delicate gold chain hanging from his beige turtleneck. “I’m not digging the pumpkin spice.”
Lucretia snaps to attention. “Coffee. That reminds me. I need to pick up my coffee. Here, Friday, non-negotiable,” she says, and turns promptly on her heel, flashing a peace sign over her head. “Drive safe, don’t do anything stupid!”
“No promises!” Lup returns, as Magnus pulls out his phone (to call his girlfriend for a ride, presumably) and Merle slings his hands behind his head, starting to saunter off towards his van (they’ve all christened it the Merlemobile, and he pretends to despise it, but Lup knows for a fact the name is on a keychain hanging from his rearview mirror). She tugs at Taako’s elbow and pulls Barry in for a gentle kiss on the forehead—yes, it’s cheesy as hell, but the noise he makes in response is absolutely worth it. “You need a ride home, babe?”
He goes a little bit pink, and she has to smirk. “It really gets tiring, y’know?” she muses, linking her arm in Barry’s. “Being the competent one between you two jokers?”
“You drive like a fuckin’ maniac, Lulu.”
“At least I actually drive.”
Barry cracks a smile. “You know I love you,” he says, “but you do drive like a fucking maniac.”
She punches him in the arm—lightly, because he bruises easy—and pulls them towards her car. “You’re supposed to be on my side, here!”
“What kinda boyfriend would I be if I didn’t tell the truth?”
“A lousy-ass one,” says Lup, and yanks him in for a half-embrace as they walk. He’s always warm; crazy warm, like a furnace is heating him from the inside out. She could probably name ten of his quirks right here and now, including some truly embarrassing habits and qualities, but in the moments she keeps them to herself, they’re too sweet to deal with. Tooth-rottingly sweet. Honestly, if someone had told her she'd end up this much of a sap, she’d have punched them in the face. Things change, though. They always do.
Taako takes one look at the two of them, leaning into each other, and gags loudly. “Keep it to yourself!”
“Get in the fuckin’ car,” says Lup, as she takes out her keys. He flounces around to the other side, and she and Barry exchange a look, then burst into quiet giggles. She doesn’t even know what’s so funny. Does it matter? Does it ever, when she’s around him?
Ugh, she wants to punch herself in the face.
Lup slides into the driver’s seat, jams the key in the ignition, and yanks the stick down to R, then slams the gas and reverses out of the parking lot. She blazes past the Merlemobile and Magnus, who’s still standing on the curb, and leans on the horn as they go by. He jumps, drops his phone, and flips them off.
And she’s laughing a little diabolically as they peel out of the school parking lot and lurch onto the main road, as Taako snickers and flips through stations and trades quips with Barry in the backseat, but God, it’s good to be back.