by Susan Harper
Rosemary shrugged. “I don’t know. Just didn’t expect him to ask me to dance. He said he didn’t dance.”
This struck Monica as a bit odd as well, but they let it slide. Apart from Krulin’s less-than-pleasant behavior, the rest of the Norbury players were quite welcoming. Monica and Brian spent a good bit of the night talking with Oldar who kept referring to the Wysteria Werewolves as the underdogs of the league, but it was evident he meant it in a pleasant way and not as an insult. “I know I’m one to talk being on a team with only witches and wizards,” he said at one point during the night, “but I really am glad to see some diversity making it to the finals! The game is changing, that’s for sure, but it makes it exciting! I’ve heard good things about your team, and I’m looking forward to this weekend’s match!”
Abigail, growing a bit antsy with the grown-up party, needed a bathroom break after dinner, so Monica went with her. On their way back, they passed by the Norbury Nymphs’ table where Krulin was seated alone sipping a bubbly concoction from the bar. He smiled politely at them both. “How do you know the team? I saw you with that mortal?” he asked.
“Yes,” Monica said. “Brian is the portal keeper for the Bankstown-Wysteria border. He’s my boyfriend. This is my daughter, Abigail.”
Abigail beamed brightly, and Monica realized it was the first time she had introduced Abigail as such to a stranger. It felt surprisingly right. “Cute lass,” Krulin said politely.
Abigail, evidently still sassy as ever, could not help herself. “I thought you said you didn’t dance,” she said. “But we saw you dancing with Rosemary.”
“Oh,” Krulin said, a little embarrassed. “I don’t mean nothing by it, kiddo, but I’m not into…hairy girls, if you know what I mean.”
Monica frowned. “You wouldn’t dance with her because she’s a werewolf?”
“Look, you lot clearly come from a different upbringing,” he said. “All the power to you, really. I don’t care what you do in your personal time. And if that team shows us up, then I’ll be the first to admit the werewolves are good players. I just am not into bumping shoulders with that sort myself. I have a more…well, as Udali put it, traditional world view.”
Monica huffed at him. “She wasn’t asking you to run off and marry her, Krulin. You didn’t have to be so rude, and…” She paused, catching a glimpse of his forearm as his dress robes sleeve had been rolled up. “Is that… Is that a Cinur tattoo?”
Krulin shrugged, but he quickly rolled the robes back down. “I’m not Remembrance,” he said quickly. “I’m not into that cult mess.”
“But you have one of their symbols tattooed on your arm?” Abigail asked, irritation rising in her voice. Monica gripped her shoulder to let her know to take a step back.
“That’s my business, don’t you think?” Krulin asked. “It’s just a tattoo. I don’t agree with a lot of stuff Remembrance stands for—I definitely don’t agree with their nasty methods—but some of their ideology lines up with my own.”
“I think I’ve got you pretty well figured out then,” Monica said. “Come on, Abs.”
Krulin huffed again. “Don’t be so judgmental!” he called. “I’m entitled to my opinion.”
Monica spun back around, glaring at him. “You’re telling me not to be judgmental? You must be joking.”
“You are judging me, and I don’t care for it,” Krulin said. “I bet you wouldn’t be so high and mighty if your kid there got herself bit by one of your boyfriend’s teammates when the full moon was out. They’re… They’re practically animals, you know? Pardon me if I don’t think they’re worth my time.”
“Krulin!” a voice snapped, and Monica turned to see Udali and Bolt standing nearby.
Monica frowned, catching Bolt’s eye. He looked a bit hurt by his comments. “Screw you, man,” Bolt said. “I’m not an animal.”
Krulin smirked. “Full moon is only six nights away. We’ll see how animal-like you get between now and game night four nights from now. You’ve already gotten your puppy whiskers sprouting.”
Bolt instinctively reached up and touched his cheeks to discover that Krulin had been messing with him. This caused Krulin to laugh even harder. “Krulin, I swear!” Udali huffed. “You’re such a jerk sometimes.” She hooked arms with Bolt. “Come on. He’s not worth it.” She ushered him away apologetically.
Monica quickly got Abigail away from him as well, more so for Krulin’s safety, because she was pretty sure Abigail had started reaching for her wand, and she was not one to be trifled with in a duel.
4
After a restful night’s sleep, Monica and the others got up early with the team. They were being allotted some practice time on the Norbury field that day, and Monica couldn’t wait to see it. She had heard the Norbury Nymphs’ field was a real sight to be held, and when they finally arrived, she found that she was not even remotely disappointed.
Romp-A-Roo had been invented in London pre-Split, so it only made sense that London’s border town would have a go-big-or-go-home attitude with Romp-A-Roo. There were enormous stadium lights, cushioned stadium seats, and the podiums were freshly cleaned and done up with wood finishing that made them glisten in the morning sun. As the team made their way out onto the field and Bolt yawned for the twentieth time that morning, Monica could hear them all giving him a hard time about how late he had gotten in from the gala, evidently having spent a considerable amount of the evening with the opposing team’s ginger-haired witch, Udali.
“Fraternizing with the enemy, honestly, Bolt,” Trixie teased. “But dang, Bolt, didn’t know you had it in you to impress such a pretty face. She was the second prettiest girl in the room.”
“Hope you’re not talking about yourself,” Ida joked.
“You know I’m talking about Clowdia,” Trixie said. “She’s a selkie, for crying out loud. Five fistfights broke out last night for her attention because people are too stupid not to look directly at her.”
“It was only two,” Clowdia said, always a bit sensitive about her selkie infatuation spell, something she could not help. Monica was fairly certain it was at least three, but she elected not to correct either of them.
Monica, Mona, Abigail, Holly, and Isaac hung out in the stands where they would be able to watch practice. They watched the team run a few drills, being put through their paces by Coach Joanne-Jo and Deimus alike. They practiced several complicated plays and were looking quite impressive. It was only about forty-five minutes into practice before Abigail abruptly stood up, whistled for her broomstick, jumped on it, and took off without warning.
“Abs!” Monica called as she watched Abigail zoom downfield, wand outstretched.
She heard a surprised shout, and the next thing she knew, she saw Krulin flying up from the grass below and landing right at the center yellow podium. Monica whistled for her broomstick, as did Holly—hers taking a bit longer to arrive. They flew over to the top of the Romp-A-Roo podiums as the whole team gathered around Krulin, who was now rubbing his rear end. Abigail landed gracefully beside him, gliding off her broom and crossing her arms, though still holding onto her wand that she had used to catapult him high up onto the enormous podium from where he had been hidden on the ground.
“You were spying on our plays!” Brian snapped.
“Bad warlock!” Urrgah said. “I crush his head!”
“Whoa there, I like where your hearts at there, big guy, but dial it down a few notches,” Deimus said, though Deimus looked as though he wouldn’t mind watching Urrgah squash the spy like a little bug. Deimus glared at Krulin. “Did Oldar send you here to spy on us?”
“Please,” Krulin groaned. “That goody-two-shoes?”
Coach Joanne-Jo came fluttering over, looking quite livid. “Mr. Krulin, I expect better from a player on the Norbury Nymphs team! You have a reputation to uphold, sir!”
“Yeah,” Krulin said. “I suppose you’re right. Norbury Nymphs haven’t ruined their rep yet like this lot.”
“What’s
that supposed to mean?” Deimus snapped.
Monica wished he hadn’t asked. Krulin smiled wildly. “You’ve got a team made up of three night-biters, a seal bride, a rockhead, a midget, and an insufferable. Only a single witch and wizard among you, and your coach is a fairy reject!”
Monica covered her mouth and yanked out her wand, surprising Holly, Isaac, and Brian, who had no background knowledge as to how the insults were meant to hurt the feelings of her friends. She was ready to blast him clear off that podium, but he looked at her and grinned. “What are you going to do with that thing? Do you even know how to use it, unnatural?”
“Flexilis!” Mona shouted, her wand blasting him off the podium, but he bounced like rubber three times clear out of the field before landing in a dumpster in the parking lot.
Brian, Holly, and Isaac all laughed, but everyone else was stone quiet. “Let’s…take five,” Coach Joanne-Jo suggested, and she fluttered off. The others slowly descended from the podiums.
“Was what he said that bad?” Brian asked once Monica, Holly, Isaac, and Abigail had sank down together at a corner of the grassy field below.
“Yeah,” Monica said. “Night-biter is a pretty rough term for a werewolf. It’s an old phrase that was used during the twelfth century back when werewolves were kept locked up in cages every night just in case, even when there wasn’t a full moon. They had to wear collars during the day that were labeled night-biters.”
“Dang,” Brian said, glancing down the field toward where Bolt had gathered with Ida and Gale, all looking painfully insulted.
“And…what’s a seal bride?” Isaac asked.
“That one was for Clowdia,” Monica said. “There’s this old, outdated practice of forcing selkies into marriage by stealing their seal skin. They can transform into humans by shedding their seal skin, but they can’t return to their home in the water without it. It’s actually…happened to Clowdia before. I wonder if Krulin would have still said it if he knew someone had actually tried to force her to marry them before by keeping her away from her family…”
“What a sicko,” Holly said. “Guessing rockhead was for Urrgah… Pretty sure I know who he was calling a midget… What’s an insufferable?”
“A mortal,” Abigail said. “During the European witch trials, that’s what witches and wizards started calling mortals for a while because it’s one of the things mortals would call us when they were burning witches at the stake. Insufferable. Calling Brian an insufferable is basically a threat. You call a mortal that if you’d like to see them burned alive.”
Brian looked only mildly flustered. “Well, whatever,” he said at last and jumped to his feet. “Yo!” he shouted, walking towards midfield. “All of you get your butts over here!” Slowly, the team started dragging their feet back. Even the coach was looking a bit taken back by the reject fairy comment. Brian reached out and grabbed Deimus by the shoulder. “We aren’t going to let that guy get in our heads, are we?”
“No way,” Bolt said, though he was still looking bothered.
“Urrgah crush Krulin’s head!” Urrgah said.
“Might let you this time…” Deimus mumbled, but he shook it off. “No one calls Urrgah a rockhead but us, right, guys?”
“Right!” Urrgah said, paused, and then laughed at Deimus. “No, not you either.”
“That’s right, buddy,” Brian said. “Only rockhead around here is Krulin.”
Urrgah found this extremely amusing. He clapped his hands together. “Krulin rockhead.”
“Let me tell you what’s not going to happen,” Brian said. “We’re not going to let his smart-mouth get to us. We’re not going to feel sorry for ourselves. I know that probably doesn’t mean a lot coming from me since I don’t know how deep of a cut all that nonsense was, but apparently, he just threatened to burn me alive, and that went right over my head.”
“Rockhead,” Urrgah said to Brian.
“Whoa, easy there,” Brian said to Urrgah, and they all laughed. “All I’m saying is, let’s forget about what that jerk thinks. What I’m looking forward to is showing him up at this weekend’s game! And if we’re going to do that, we’re going to need to get our head in the game. Which means practice. It also means no more late nights with Udali—no matter how pretty she is.”
Bolt laughed, and the next thing Monica knew, the team was back up on the podiums hard at work running plays. She was proud of Brian for encouraging them like that. But there was one thing that was bothering her. It was how quickly Krulin had picked her out as an unnatural. Monica hated being called that, but she hated it even more when it was so obvious to someone. Was she really so different from her sister? She didn’t want to think about it.
5
After resting for the afternoon on the ship, the team had to get ready for a press conference. It was going to be a Q&A for the coaches and team captains, but the entire team was expected to attend. They once again had to dress up for the occasion, though not nearly as fancy as they had done at the gala. Monica wore a simple purple dress and braided her hair back. Abigail was, much to Monica’s surprise, thrilled to discover that Monica had gotten them matching mother-daughter dresses. “This is like that time you got me a purple collar to match that outfit you wore to camp!” Abigail said, referring to her days as a cat.
Monica laughed. While she sometimes missed the way things had been, she was loving this new version of their relationship so much more.
The Q&A was in the same hotel as the gala but in an upstairs meeting room. Monica and company filed in and found their seats. Abigail sat excitedly between her and Brian, watching the front of the room where Deimus was setting up a miniature chair for Coach Joanne-Jo on top of the table they were to be at, which Monica found incredibly amusing. Deimus sat on the far end next to Joanne-Jo. Beside her was the opposing team’s coach, a fit-looking warlock, and on the other far end was Oldar. The press took up the front two rows, and a game official stood upfront and announced the start of the Q&A.
Not surprisingly, most of the questions were directed at Deimus and Coach Joanne-Jo. People were naturally curious about this small-town team that had somehow managed to make it to finals with such a unique and unusual group. “Do you not feel that your coach not being able to physically play Romp-A-Roo due to her size is a setback in any way?” a reporter asked Deimus.
“I’d like to start by saying Joanne-Jo could kick every one of your butts at Romp-A-Roo,” Deimus said with a smile, causing the members of the press to laugh. “But, seriously, you are mistaken in assuming she’s never played. While it doesn’t have the recognition traditional Romp-A-Roo has, fairies and sprites, like my coach, have been playing a version of Romp-A-Roo for decades now. They call it Zip. It has its own set of rules, of course, but she’s hardly new to the concept of the sport. I couldn’t have asked for a better coach.”
The Q&A went wonderfully. That was, until right at the end as the room was starting to dismiss the press. Oldar clasped Deimus on the shoulder in a friendly manner. “Hope you got in a good practice,” he said, stepping around him to get down from the stand where they had been seated.
“Yeah, I’m sure Krulin told you all about it,” Deimus muttered.
Monica winced, sensing that this was not going to go well. Oldar did not deny it for even a second. He smiled. “He reported back to me just like I asked.”
“I knew it,” Deimus said, standing upright and coming nose-to-nose with Oldar. “You did send him to spy on our plays!”
The press, catching wind of the tension, all bustled back into the room, though both teams were blocking their way as they had started up toward the podium to meet with their coaches and team captains. “What’s this, Oldar?” the other team’s coach, Coach Albom, asked.
“I’m sure you knew something about it, Albom,” Coach Joanne-Jo said, fluttering up so that she was eye level with him. “Krulin was attempting to camouflage himself at our practice, and then he insulted my players.”
“I assure you,
I didn’t,” Albom said, glaring at Oldar. “That’s unacceptable sportsmanship, Oldar.”
“Sorry, Coach,” Oldar said, holding up both hands defensively. He smirked. “Though from what Krulin saw, it doesn’t sound like we have too much to worry about. I figured as much.”
Brian huffed. “So you were just acting all welcoming at the gala, for what? To get our guard down?”
“You’re just like Krulin, aren’t you?” Deimus snapped.
“Whoa, heck no,” Oldar said quickly. “Don’t compare me to the prejudiced crap he pulls. I’m not into that. I have no problem with non-wizards playing Romp-A-Roo. And that goes for any mystic. I’ll play some freaking fairies if they manage to make it to finals. You want to know what my problem is?”
“What?” Deimus demanded, his hand clenched into fists at his side.
Oldar pointed a finger right at Brian. “That! A mortal!” he snapped. “This is a mystic sport. This is the mystic world. He doesn’t belong here! That’s my problem.”
“Whatever,” Brian said under his breath.
“No, I’m serious,” Oldar said. “You shouldn’t be allowed to play. It’s not right!”
Deimus started at Oldar like he intended to swing at him. Mona, evidently sensing this, quickly got between the two of them. “Forget it, Deimus,” Mona said. “Show him out on the field. You know Brian will.”
Brian grinned slightly. “We’ll see,” he sang, an air of confidence in his voice that agitated Oldar.
“I’m sure you’re good,” Oldar said. “I’m not saying you’re not. I just question whether or not you should be allowed on that field or…heck, allowed in the mystic realm at all. Mortals don’t belong here.”