Myra gazed beseechingly at Elliot. Elliot flipped through the pages.
“Uh, why is Radiant described as a young woman in the prime of her youth and strength while Red Rose’s beauty is fading with his years? Since they went to school together, aren’t they the same age?”
“Eeesh,” said Myra, making a dismayed face. “Good point.”
“Cry me a river of blood tears, you ginger whiner!” Adara exclaimed. “This is a play that will involve a mostly human cast and be played in front of a mostly human audience, and this is not how humans see men and women! It might be good for them to think about how our situation gets flipped around by the elves. I’m not going to have my play ruined by someone who finds it too traumatic to even pretend to walk in someone else’s shoes.”
“Good point,” said Elliot. “You seem really into this play. Why don’t you sit around at the table with most of these fine students discussing the dramatic arts? Not cool enough for you?”
Adara sniffed. “I hardly need to have my habits at the lunch table criticized by someone who fell on his butter knife yesterday!”
Elliot felt he’d won that round since Adara had descended from the philosophical to the personal so rapidly. Adara seemed to feel differently. They glared at each other. Elliot thought she was going to be terrific in the role.
“I think you two would play off each other well,” said Myra hopefully. “And obviously, Luke looks just right to play Jewel.”
Luke looked like a man in a nightmare.
“Elliot’s not hot enough to play Red Rose,” Adara sneered.
“Excuse you, I am a tornado of recently matured sexuality,” Elliot told her. He flipped through more pages. “Oh, Red Rose gets two dance numbers and a song!”
“Elliot,” Luke hissed. “I thought we were leaving. I was happy to be leaving!”
“I’m reconsidering,” said Elliot. He flipped a few more pages.
“I thought we were meant to help Myra with the props and scene painting,” Luke said more loudly. “I don’t want to leave her doing all the work.”
Myra looked touched.
“Fabulous,” said Adara. “You’ll play Jewel and Red Rose, and help with the sets. Thanks for volunteering, Luke. I wish I could help, but my part is very taxing and requires all my concentration.”
“Wow, I can’t believe you volunteered us for double duty,” Elliot remarked disapprovingly. “Thanks for nothing, loser.”
Luke looked torn between weeping and punching Elliot. Elliot understood that this was an eternal struggle.
And that was how they got cast in the school play.
Dinner was a less important meal than lunch in the camp, usually eaten around the fires. The war-training and council-training courses had separate fires and tended to keep to their own.
Elliot left his fire that night and went to find Luke, who was surveying a cut of meat as if he would never have any appetite again due to being in a play.
“Hi, I need something,” he said.
“Will something be another living nightmare?”
“It’s a tiny thing!”
“Is it a tiny living nightmare?”
“I simply need you to put your name down for one of the practice rooms so I can learn these dance routines.”
Luke frowned. “You can put down your own name.”
“Yeah, totally!” said Elliot. “Except no, not at all. People in war training will scratch off my name.”
“Nobody would do that!”
“They have been doing it for literally years,” said Elliot. “Also, they come and beat people up if they don’t take the hint about the name-scratching.”
Luke looked upset. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”
“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.
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.”
The world lost its tunnel-vision focus, and Elliot remembered he was meant to be nice to Dale.
“It was nobody’s fault!” he announced. “Just one of those accidents that could happen to anyone.” Dale looked extremely surprised but extremely pleased. “Can we see him?” Elliot pursued, and made a gesture to Dale that might have been reminiscent of a mad scientist displaying his latest experiment. “This is Dale Wavechaser. If you mention his name, Luke will want us to come in.”
“Nope,” said the medic. “He’s asking for Elliot. That’s you, right?”
“Right,” said Elliot doubtfully. “But are you sure you should be listening to someone with head trauma? A large object hit him right in the noggin. I don’t mean to tell you your job, but he’s probably deeply confused.”
“Are you coming or not?”
“Oh my God, go!” said Dale. “Tell him I’m really sorry! Really sorry! Tell him you’re not mad at me! Put in a good word for me! I’m so sorry!”
It appeared Elliot had no choice. He trailed disconsolately out of the cabin after the medic. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see Luke, but Elliot had some serious doubts about his ability as a ministering angel.
“Could Dale not come too? Luke is, like, totally in love with him. I am sure he would want to see Dale.”
“Terrific idea,” said the medic. “I can see you know a lot about head wounds. Lots of company is ideal. Let’s bring in the whole class.”
Elliot appreciated her dark sarcasm but was still left desolate. “Dale has a very soothing personality.”
“Are you sure you’re not the one in love with Dale Wavechaser?”
“Let me tell you, you wouldn’t be asking me that if you saw his test scores,” said Elliot. “They are obscenely dreadful. But, you know, okay, the thing is—”
He didn’t quite know how to say, I have the opposite of a soothing personality and only ever upset Luke and I should probably be kept away from everybody and put in the cruel-repartee dungeon.
The medic who did not care about anything did not care about his problems. She shoved Elliot inside the tent and departed, Elliot thought maybe to kill everyone left in the waiting cabin.
The day was drawing down to evening, but there was only a single candle guttering in a little bronze cup, lending the tent a flickering glow so as not to hurt Luke further. Luke was lying on a white pillow, looking dazed and helpless: his eyes unfocused and half open, trying and failing to prop himself up on one elbow. It was horrible to realize that Elliot had almost bought into the myth of the untouchable Luke Sunborn, found himself thinking about Luke the way everyone else did.
“Elliot?” Luke asked thickly.
“Shhh,” said Elliot, because it seemed like the right thing to say. He wasn’t sure it was: nobody had ever been there when he was sick. He hadn’t been taught what to do.
He poured Luke a glass of water and carried it carefully over to him, helping him sit up and putting the glass to his lips.
Luke drank the water obediently, then laid his head against Elliot’s shoulder with a little sigh. “Don’t be mean to me, okay?” he whispered.
“No,” Elliot promised. “I won’t be mean.”
After that evening, Elliot kept reminding himself that Serene wasn’t there to watch out for Luke. He reminded himself of all the reasons he’d been willing to go to the awful sporty table and all the reasons Luke had not wanted to be there. Luke did not like crowds of people, did not like new people, and did not trust anyone easily, even if everyone seemed to like and trust him on sight. Luke always tried to be good to people, and someone had to be good to him in return. There was nobody else: Elliot would have to do. Just until Serene got back.
The next morning, Elliot finally got a letter from Serene herself. He nobly did not read it, but carried it to the infirmary and Luke so they could read it together. Apparently Serene had been severely reprimanded, and also robbed of many privileges including writing implements, due to what her commander had described as “berserker frenzies.” Serene seemed rather proud about the whole thing.
They had a lot of things to do behind the scenes for the play. Myra turned out to be a harsh taskmistress. They had to paint all the scenery, help with the costumes, and build a balcony for the big romantic scene between Radiant and Jewel.
Luckily, Luke seemed to quite like painting scenery. This meant that Elliot was not abandoning Luke, nor forcing him to do anything that made him actively miserable. It also meant that Elliot could spend lots of time with Myra and earn her eternal gratitude. Two birds, one stone, thrown by a strategic genius who had no interest in throwing actual stones or harming actual birds.
When one of them was high up on the ladder painting, someone else on the ground had a rope tied to the paint bucket and their wrist so they could catch it and the person on the ladder could catch themselves. They had to implement this policy because of the time Myra was on top of the ladder and wobbled, tried to catch the paint and ended up falling right off.
Luke had caught her. Elliot had caught the bucket of paint with his face.
“You cannot be mad about that forever,” said Luke, painting the starry night of the balcony scene.
“It’s funny you should say that because b
eing mad about it forever is my exact plan,” Elliot told him, and carefully painted the front clump of Luke’s fair hair dark blue. Luke ducked his head and grinned.
He had been extremely grateful that Luke was there to catch his lady love, because Elliot definitely could not have done it. He was, however, still going to punish everyone for the cruelty of the universe in directing the bucket of paint at him.
He had been painting odd bits of Luke and Myra for days. It was possible that was why Myra had gone up to the top of the ladder again. She looked down at them laughing, though, so Elliot didn’t think she minded. She was very fetching with scarlet paint streaked down one side of her face.
“Terrific,” said Adara, coming in to inspect their handiwork. Her tone, as always, was deeply sarcastic. It was one of the things Elliot liked best about her.
“Oh no, we need more blue paint, I’ll get it,” said Luke, and bolted.
Adara looked vexed. “The sets aren’t done and you’re all wasting paint. Getting in character already, Elliot?”
She referred to scandalous elven men who were no better than they should be and used cosmetics to adorn the contours of their chests.
“Is that a request for me to take my shirt off?”
“It’s a request for you not to mess things up. Do you think you’ll be able to pull off the dance between Radiant and Red Rose in the ball scene?” Adara asked.
Elliot grinned at her, charmed, and put down his bucket of paint. The rope was still tied to his wrist, but he had plenty of room to maneuver. He glanced up at Myra, who gave him a thumbs up. “Let’s see.”
The ball scene was when Radiant suspected Red Rose of turning to the side of evil, but was not sure, and Red Rose tried to seduce her—to get information or because Red Rose wanted to seduce her. Elliot thought it was both. He had made extensive notes and had many opinions about Red Rose by now: the way the world had told him he was useless until he seized on being evil as the only possible purpose, the charm and strangeness of Red Rose, which had once attracted and now repelled Radiant, and how the unfairness of that, of being first loved then hated simply for being himself, enraged Red Rose so completely.
In Other Lands Page 31
