GreenWolf's Additional Overflow Sandbox

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GreenWolf

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September 14, 2004
Memorial Park, Three Portlands

"I still don't understand why I have to go to this school," Robin complained. "All my friends are going to be at Three Ports Weast."

"Royal Seelie has the best pre-thaum program in the city, that's why," Florence explained. "And you'll make new friends."

"But they're all going to be elves!"

Florence stopped walking and pulled her daughter aside, a fierce look in her eyes. "Robin B. Thorne, don't you dare start with that. I did not raise you to be a goddamn racist."

Robin crossed her arms and looked down at the ground sullenly. "You wouldn't have to worry about anyone overhearing my middle name if we were walking to a human school."

"Wrong! You shouldn't give your full name to anyone on this side of the Veil, human or not. There are too many people who could use it against you. Do we need to go over the ground rules again?"

Robin harrumphed and looked off to the side, continuing to avoid eye contact.

Florence snapped her fingers. "Look at me when I'm talking to you, or you're going to be grounded."

Robin glared at her mother.

"Ground rules. Don't give anyone your full name. Don't sign anything without having me or Aunt Vee look at it first. Don't give anyone your blood or hair. And be in your bed in the morning when I go to wake you up."

Robin rolled her eyes. "Mom, I know better than to do any of those things. I'm almost fourteen, I'm not a child."

"You're thirteen, you literally are a child. Do you know what I was doing at your age?"

Robin nodded. "Fighting for scraps on the streets of Minneapolis, I know. You don't need to tell me how good I have it."

"I just want you to have a better life than I had," Florence said.

"I know, Mom." Robin sighed, then hugged her mother. "I love you."

"Love you too, baby bird." Florence squeezed her daughter tightly. "You're gonna do great at this school, I know it."

"Don't call me that!" Robin wriggled out of her grasp. "Come on, you're gonna make me late."

"Oh, now you want to go?"

"No, I just don't want detention on the first day. That would be so bogus."

"Yes, it would." Florence ruffled her hair, eliciting another protest, then clapped her on the back. "Go knock 'em dead, kiddo."

Robin scurried off, practically leaping as her little legs struggled to make long strides. She paused when she reached the bottom of the front steps of the school, taking a moment to take it in.

The coat of arms of the Seelie Royal Family

Royal Seelie Magnet School of Three Portlands was immediately recognizable as a Sidhe school from architecture alone. The main building was a sort of tiered dome of limestone bricks, similar in appearance to a squashed beehive. A twisting spire of bronze rose from the roof, from which flew a banner with the coat of arms of the Seelie Royal Family. The same seal was wrought — overwrought, really — in silver and brass above the main doors, which were carved from a single piece of living greenwood. All of the fixtures — the door handles, the railings, the window latches — were made from polished brass.

"Hói!"

Robin looked over to see a fae girl waving at her. She was tall — at least half-a-foot taller than Robin — and her dirty blonde hair was styled in a pixie cut. She wore a plaid flannel over a Green Day t-shirt, and a pair of bell bottom jeans with holes in the knees. Her eyes were deep blue, almost black, the same color as a stormy sea on a moonless night. A band of freckles ran across the upper edge of her cheekbones, stretching from one pointed ear to another.

She was the prettiest girl Robin had ever seen.

"Hi!" Robin waved back cautiously, then moved closer to investigate.

"Meredith Meyrick. You can call me Merry." The fae girl thrust out a hand to shake.

"Robin Thorne," she said, accepting the handshake. "And I'm not supposed to tell you my middle name."

Meredith nodded. "Smart. You know not to fall for the old 'Can I have your name?' trick, yeah? Arto has a cousin who had a friend who lost his name that way. Can't even tell you what it was."

"Yeah, my mom gave me some ground rules on talking to fae."

"And she still let you come here?" Meredith whistled. "Very PC of her."

"More like forced. My friends are all at Three Ports Weast."

"Oh man, that bites. Most of my friends are at Sidhe Prep, but mom says that too many of her clients come out of there and she doesn't want me turning into an 'Unseelie delinquent'." Meredith added the scare quotes with her fingers.

"Wait, is your mom Gwen Meyrick? The public defender?"

"Yeah. Did she defend someone you know?"

"No, but my mom complains about her all the time. Says she acts like all cops are worse than actual murderers."

"Hold on, you said your name was Thorne? Is your mom Florence Thorne?"

Robin nodded.

"That's so funny, my mom respects the hell out of her. Says she's the only cop with any decency." She laughed. "So what's your deal?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you're obviously human, but what else are you? They don't send any old boring round-ear here. Are you a wizard, like your mom? A cyborg? You don't look like a cyborg. Psychic maybe? Can you tell what I'm thinking?"

Robin answered before she could keep going with the list. "Um. Wizard. Sort of."

"Sort of?"

"Mom says I have the potential for it."

"Oh, but you haven't actually done any magic, have you?"

"No. Mom says it'll happen when I need it. She didn't start until she was 15." She shrugged, trying to appear indifferent. "What about you?"

"Oh, I'm a Selkie. Half-Selkie, really, but I still turn into a full seal."

"Cool!" Robin looked at Meredith intently, as if expecting her to turn into a seal at any moment. "What's that like?"

"Wet." The sound of pre-recorded laughter played in response, seemingly emerging from thin air.

"What was that?"

"Last year's senior prank, apparently. One of the juniors told me that they cursed the whole school with a sitcom laugh track. No one's been able to get rid of it, apparently." The canned laughter played again, causing the Selkie girl to frown. "I think acknowledging it is making it worse. There wasn't even a joke that time."

"Is that kind of thing normal here?"

She shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine."

The first bell — an actual bell, like the kind found in churches and clock towers — rang, cutting their conversation short.

"I have English first period," Meredith said. "You?"

"Logic."

"Damn. I guess I'll see you at lunch then? Assuming we don't have another class together first."

"Yeah!" It occurred to Robin that she had just made a friend.

The first four periods flew by in a dizzying flurry of names and syllabi.

First period. Logic. Mr. Orlando Kent. "Logic is the foundation of all knowledge. In this class, I shall teach you how to think."

Second period. Algebra. Ms. Regina Patterson. "Algebra is the mathematics of the real world, and what you learn in this class you will use every week after graduating — whether you are a banker or a battlemage."

Third period. English Grammar. Mrs. Lily Ellis. "We are, currently, speaking one of the most difficult languages in the world. You may think you know it now, but by the end of this class, you shall be experts in it."

Fourth period. Antediluvian Lore. Dr. Horatio Maxwell Street. "Who can tell me the difference between myth and history? For in this class, we shall deal in both, and learn to sift the lie from the legend to produce the truth, as near as it can be known."

Lunch was where things began to go wrong.

It wasn't hard for Robin to find Meredith at lunch. She was already waiting in line, chatting animatedly with a gnome kid that Robin recognized from Algebra.

"Hi, Robin!" She waved her over. "We saved you a spot in line."

"Hi, Merry," Robin said. She looked at the gnome expectantly.

"This is Arto," Meredith said by way of introduction.

"Arthur Doran," he clarified. He was all of two-and-a-half feet tall, with a broad, round face adorned by square-framed glasses. His black hair was slicked back, and he was wearing honest-to-god suspenders and a yellow bow tie. He looked like the accountant for the world's shortest mob boss.

Robin shook his hand, taking care to avoid crouching or bending down. "Merry mentioned you this morning."

"Oh yeah, we go way back," Arto said. "Ever since her mom helped my dad out of a tough spot."

"What'd he do?"

"Nothing, that's the thing," Meredith said.

"Like, actually nothing?"

"Yeah, yeah, it was a frame job," she said.

"My dad's a silversmith," Arto started to explain.

"One of the best," Meredith interjected.

"Yeah, maybe," Arto said. "His workshop makes the weapons for the 1st Seelie Rifles."

"That's the Elvenking's honor guard," Meredith clarified.

Arto continued seamlessly, as if she hadn't even spoken. "So when some of his silver guns started turning up in the hands of an Unseelie militia…"

"Your dad got blamed," Robin finished. "Except it was actually a disgruntled employee who was selling them on the black market for extra cash."

"How'd you know that?" Arto demanded. "Merry said you aren't psychic."

"My mom led the raid that broke up the black market ring. Your dad tried to give her one of the guns as a gift, but she had to turn it down."

"Small world, huh?" Meredith whistled. "So my mom took the case and it was her investigating that proved Arto's dad had nothing to do with it. And she accepted the gun." Canned laughter played again.

"I think it likes you, Merry," Arto said. "That's at least the tenth time today it went off over something you said."

"I can't help it if I'm naturally funny," Meredith said. The laugh track played again.

"Eleven," Arto said. "That wasn't even a joke."

"Maybe it's broken?" Robin suggested.

"It's a curse concocted by a bunch of drunk and stoned seniors, I don't think it was ever not broken," Arto countered.

"Can we just stop talking about it?" Meredith pleaded. She grabbed a tray and started filling a bowl with some kind of seafood chowder. "I saw the Twins in Logic, they said they'd join us, but they brought their own lunch."

"Excellent, that makes five," Arto said. "That's a good number."

"You're the numbers guy," Meredith said.

"Um." Robin looked back and forth between the two of them, suddenly worried. "Did I agree to something other than lunch?"

"Oh, yes, I forgot to mention that we're forming an elite strike force to seize control of the school," Meredith quipped. They all ignored the canned laughter.

"We are putting together a group," Arto said. He started constructing a pile of hand-pies on his own tray, assembling a heap almost as large as his head.

"A group of what?" Robin decided to go with something she could identify, and grabbed a slice of something that was approximately pizza.

"Friends. Study partners. People who eat lunch together." Meredith shrugged. "It's high school, you gotta have a group. So, are you in?"

Robin nodded. She'd had little success in striking-up conversation with her other classmates, and Meredith had this… energy about her that made Robin want to follow along just to see what would happen next.

"Sure."

"Great!" Meredith practically glowed. "And there's the Twins. Yo! Aeron! Hayden! Over here!"

The Twins were Sidhe. That was just about the only thing Robin could tell for certain. They were tall, taller than Meredith, and so slender they looked like they would snap in half if she shouted at them. They were dressed identically in plain black t-shirts and black jeans, and they both wore their red hair in a medium-length bob cut.

"Hello, Merry," the first twin said.

"Hello, Arto," the other said. They both turned to look at Robin curiously.

"Robin Thorne," she said. "Which one of you is Aeron and which is Hayden?"

"Does it matter?" One of them asked.

"You can just call us the Twins," the other said.

"What if there's only one of you?" Robin asked.

Meredith shook her head. "That never happens."

"Never?"

"Very rarely," one of the Twins said.

"We do most things together," the other said.

"I'm pretty sure they're a gestalt entity," Arto whispered to Robin. "Just assume that they both know everything the other knows."

The five of them made their way over to an empty table and sat down. While they ate, Arto pulled out a notebook and began quizzing them on their schedules. Somewhere in there, he ate his own lunch, but every time Robin looked over he was busy writing in the notebook. It seemed like the hand-pies were vanishing off his plate of their own accord.

The schedules of the gang from 2004

"So it looks like we all have Biology with Dr. Draknovich," Arto said. "And we all have at least one other shared class with each other. That'll make homework easier."

"See, I told you a group was a good idea," Meredith said.

"Excuse me, peasants."

They all stopped talking and turned to look at the person who had just insulted them.

A small Sidhe boy was looking at them nervously. A taller Sidhe wearing a letterman jacket was standing behind him, picking his nails disinterestedly. A silver circlet set with four green gemstones and four blue gemstones sat upon his brow.

"Did you just call us peasants?" Robin asked.

"You have to move," he said, refusing to make eye contact.

"Why's that?" Meredith asked.

"This table belongs to the Crown Prince."

"Who?" Robin asked.

The boy inhaled, then said, rapid-fire, "The Prince of Annwn, Duke of Tír na nÓg and Tír Tairngire, Earl of Falling Leaves and Baron of the First Frost, Tánaiste of New Avalon and Heir to the Sidhe Throne, Caradog Mac Delbáeth Ó Dagdas." He gasped for air upon finishing the last syllable.

"That guy?" Robin waved at the Sidhe in the letterman jacket. "Why don't you go find an empty table? Or just wait a couple minutes, we're almost done with our lunch."

The rest of the table gasped. "Robin, you can't do that!" One of the Twins said, panicked.

"What, talk to him? He's not my prince, I'm an American citizen. I can mouth off to anyone I want. Says so in the Constitution."

"Yeah, but his family owns the school!" The other twin said.

"Then he shouldn't have any problem finding another table."

Caradog stared at her contemptuously. "I shall forget this insult, and even deign to honor you with my speech. In exchange, you will surrender this table and give me your lunch as tribute. Such is the price of your impertinence."

Robin looked at the half-eaten slice of alleged pizza. In truth, she was more than happy to inflict it on Caradog. But she remembered something her mom had said.

"Never give a bully what they want. It just encourages them."

She looked at Caradog. His sneering face could have replaced the dictionary entry for 'bully'.

"Sure. Catch." She picked up the slice and tossed it like a frisbee.

Directly into Caradog's face.

The entire cafeteria fell silent, every student therein suddenly transfixed watching the pizza slide down the front of Caradog's shirt. The sound of pre-recorded laughter echoed through the room.

"How dare you?" He squeaked. His voice had shot up several octaves in outrage. "How dare you?" He repeated. "I'll have your head, you SPOON-EARED SASSENACH!"

Caradog's page rushed to place himself between the elf prince and Robin. "Your Highness, remember what happened at Eton!"

Caradog grimaced. "This insult must be avenged!"

"It shall be, sir. I believe I have a solution." The page turned to face the onlookers and bellowed, "Food fight! Smite the human and earn the favor of the Crown Prince!"

Robin felt the predatory gaze of 300 pairs of elfin eyes focus on her with laser-like intensity.

"Screw that!" Meredith shouted. She leapt up onto the table, bowl of chowder clutched in one hand. "We all know that the Prince's favor is worth squat. Let's cream the smug prick!"

She flung the chowder over the head of Caradog's page, dousing them both in a creamy broth that stank of fish.

As rousing speeches went, it wasn't the worst — it got at least five people to throw their lunches at Caradog, which was enough to create a cross-fire that rapidly unraveled the Prince's coalition. The size of the forces arrayed against Robin and her newfound friends worked to their advantage — there were fourteen friendly fire incidents in the first minute alone, each of which generated a new belligerent faction. Within five minutes, the cafeteria had descended into an unorganized free-for-all of food-based violence, and most of the combatants had long-since forgotten their original targets.

Robin crouched next to Meredith behind an overturned table, sheltering from the last remaining handful of Caradog loyalists. Both of them were splattered with ketchup and other assorted condiments.

"Why'd you do that?" She asked.

Meredith popped out of cover momentarily to fling a handful of cold spaghetti at an unsuspecting junior. She ducked back behind the table and grinned. "You're part of the Gang now. We gotta look out for each other."

She grabbed a loose can of Diet Pepsi as it rolled past, shook it vigorously, then punctured the side with a fork. She lobbed the soda grenade at a clump of freshmen. "Plus, C-dog is a real bastard. He deserved it."

"What the heck is his problem anyways?" Robin asked.

"Aside from being a prince?" Meredith used a lunch tray to deflect an incoming burger. "Word is he got expelled from Eton, so now he's slumming it here."

"Isn't Eton full of rapists? How do you get expelled from there?"

"Ancestors only know. Duck!" Meredith grabbed her shoulder and pulled her out of the way of a ballistic milkshake.

"Thanks. So he's here because his dad owns the school and they can't expel him?"

"Basically. And everyone is afraid to stand up to him because they don't want to get blacklisted once he's the Elvenking. Or at least, they were until you did it."

"Aren't you worried about that?"

"Nah. He's such a self-absorbed douchebag that he'll probably forget I even exist by the end of the day. There's no way he remembers any of this in 20 years."

Robin turned to respond, only to startle upon finding one of the Twins huddled between them. She looked to her right and found the other Twin. There had been no sign of their approach.

"Weren't you guys supposed to be hitting up the burrito cart on Hobgoblin Street?" she asked upon noticing their lack of ammunition.

"And what happened to Arto?" Merry asked. "You didn't leave him behind, right? He'll get slaughtered trying to get through this mess on his own."

One Twin nodded while the other shook their head. "We ran into the Dean."

"He's on his way here," they continued.

"He's furious," the first one added.

"Arto is trying to stall him," the other concluded.

Merry blanched. "Oh shit."

"Indeed, Miss Meyrick." The Dean's voice sounded from behind them.

Dr. Vernon Werner, Dean of Students, stood at the entrance to the cafeteria with hands clasped behind his back. He wore a three-piece suit of royal blue, accented by a green-and-black checkerboard tie. His lapel pin displayed the same coat of arms that hung above the main entrance. His mustache was waxed.

His eyes blazed with a cold fury.

"ORDER!" He shouted. The command echoed off the walls, compelling the attention of everyone therein. Several students began to take aim. "The first student to lay down their arms will be allowed to leave without punishment. The last student will have detention for a week."

Any thought of targeting the Dean vanished as a giant Plop! resonated through the room, the sound of nearly 300 students simultaneously dropping their weapons.

The Dean pointed at a random student. "You are free to go." He pointed at another, again at random. "You have detention."

He raised his voice again. "As for the rest of you… YOU WILL ALL be staying to clean up this mess for however long it takes." His eyes swept the room, gaze alighting on Caradog's page. "Mister Billingsgate-Wentworth! I am told that you are the instigator of this chaos. What do you have to say in your defense?"

The Sidhe boy's eyes widened in panic. He threw an accusing finger at the Gang. "They started it!"

The Dean's death stare swiveled to pin the Gang in place. "Is this true?"

Robin nodded. "Yes, sir. I threw a slice of pizza at the Crown Prince."

He frowned. "Why did you do that?"

"He demanded that I give him my lunch. So I did."

For just the tiniest moment, a hint of amusement flickered through the Dean's eyes. Then it was gone. "Your honesty is commendable, Miss Thorne, if not your judgement. You have detention today and tomorrow." His gaze swiveled back to Caradog and his page. "Prince Caradog, Mister Billingsgate-Wentworth, you also have detention for today and tomorrow."

Caradog yawned lazily. "Billy, serve my detention for me."

Billy sighed forlornly, but still nodded. "As you wish, Your Highness."

"Hold on!" Meredith objected. "That's not fair! Caradog was the instigator of the whole thing. You can't just let him dump the consequences on his whipping boy."

"Miss Meyrick, you will be joining your friend in detention." The Dean looked around the room. "Does anyone else have an objection?" He raised an eyebrow. "No? Then start cleaning. All classes are cancelled until this cafeteria is spotless."

He turned and strode out of the room.

And that was how Robin Thorne got detention on the first day of high school.

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