By the next day, people really were talking about the exchange student who had defeated Finnian.
Cassander kept telling him not to mind it, that people's shock was only proof for how impossible this had seemed and how much of a big deal it was. Elaine kept telling him that he shouldn't worry about what people were saying, and they weren't really trash-talking him anyway. His teammates didn't tell him anything at all—they only kept going on and on about how they would definitely win nationals this year with both Finnian and Hikaru on the lineup.
Which—yeah, fair, they obviously would. No team in the country could beat that lineup. But that wasn't the point.
The point was, Finnian was suddenly second-best, and the entire school knew it.
It gnawed at him, enough to distract him in class when he knew he should pay attention; everywhere he went, he thought he felt stares on his back, heard whispers the moment he turned away. Even in alchemy class, which was normally his favorite, he got distracted and mixed up his notes and very nearly blew up his experiment.
"Disappointing, Finnian," Mr. Hawthorne said in his ever-cool voice as he extinguished the sparkling purple flame and erased the contents of his vial with a snap of his fingers. "This isn't even difficult; I didn't expect you of all people to have problems with it."
Finnian bit his tongue, no matter how much he wanted to defend himself. There was, he had learned, no arguing with Basil Hawthorne; their top alchemy teacher was as brilliant as he was stern, and if it wasn't for his undeniable talent in alchemy, he probably wouldn't like Finnian very much. It was better to tolerate his remarks, however humiliating, than to talk back and suffer the consequences.
"Sorry," Finnian said quietly, reminding himself of his father's words about patience. "I'll do it again."
"I'd recommend that. And properly, or I might have to reevaluate my opinion of your talent." Mr. Hawthorne strode on, and Finnian wanted nothing more than to vanish into a hole in the ground and become an unsolved disappearance case for about twenty-three years. He was pretty sure there were people snickering at him in the back row, and it was only Cassander's hand on his shoulder that kept him from snapping at them.
"People are staring!" he burst out as they were exiting the alchemy classroom, having successfully conducted their experiment with some difficulties and lots of help from Cassander. "What the hell are they staring for? Is it that much of a big deal? Has someone taped a big red neon sign to my back that says Look at me, I'm a loser in six-inch flashing letters?"
Cassander sighed, visibly preparing himself for the same discussion they'd already had three times since this morning, and it was only lunch break. "Look, Finnian," he said, "I think you're exaggerating. No one is staring—"
"They are staring," Finnian interrupted him. "Stop coddling me, I'm not an idiot. Do you think I can't feel their eyes on my back, boring into me as they prepare the popcorn for my tragic but inevitable fall from grace?"
Cassander sighed. "Oh, please don't start with the—the anachronisms again. You know you only use those when it's really bad."
Stopping in his tracks, Finnian gestured furiously around him. "Cass, if this isn't really bad, then what the hell is it?"
Cassander gave him a long, tired look and sighed.
"You know, if you weren't such a jock," he said, "you'd make an amazing theater kid."
"Are you calling me dramatic?" Finnian asked, crossing his arms. "You're ridiculous. I'm not dramatic!"
"He said, dramatically, in the most dramatic way possible."
"…Why am I friends with you?"
"Because I've been putting up with your bullshit since we were babies," Cassander answered, ignoring the roll of Finnian's eyes. "Check and mate. Now are you coming to lunch or are you planning to keep sulking until math?"
Finnian went off on a tangent about sulking and how he wasn't, but he also went to lunch.
~ ~ ~
Hikaru had just sat down at lunch, more than ready to unwind in the blissful silence of his noise-canceling headphones, when the first stranger arrived.
It was, to be precise, a trio of strangers: three girls in outfits so similar they might have coordinated on purpose, or maybe they all just had very similar wardrobes, Hikaru couldn't tell. They were led by a tall girl with such bright orange hair that it would put a carrot to shame, as well as huge dangly earrings that already looked like they mad a lot of noise.
"Hello," Hikaru said cautiously, taking his headphones off one ear. He still wasn't absolutely sure if they wanted anything from him, but they were staring straight at him, and there was no one behind him or anything. He didn't like their stares. Eye contact was hard enough to maintain with one person; with three of them, he didn't even know which one he should be maintaining eye contact with.
"Hi," said the orange-haired girl, sliding into the chair across from him without question or invitation. "Are you…the exchange student? Hikaru?"
She was putting the accent on the wrong syllable, but Hikaru was getting used to that. "Yes," he said without bothering to correct her.
"Great! So…" She leaned forward, propping herself up on her elbows, her earrings jingling maddeningly. Hikaru gritted his teeth in a valiant effort to ignore the sound, and the chatter from the surrounding tables, and the fact that he was trying to get a much-needed break from all the noise. "Crystal here heard that you were faster than Finnian at tryouts, and me and Stella totally don't believe it, so we need to ask you: What is the truth?"
It took Hikaru a moment to process the question, to even filter it out from all the snippets of conversation drifting over from all the other tables. "I…was faster," he said at length. "It is true."
He had been hoping, just for a moment, that that was it; but the orange-haired girl made no signs of leaving. "For real? That's so amazing!" she said, her earrings jingling again as she tilted her head. "'Cause I don't know if you know, but Finnian's, like, really good at flying. He's like our school champion, he hasn't lost to anybody in—" She turned to one of her friends, and there it was again, the jangle of her earrings. "In how long?"
The other two girls shrugged. "Whatever," she said, turning back. Hikaru was now hyperaware of every tiny noise from her earrings. "In ages, anyway. Were you the champion at your old school too?"
Damn it, her earrings. It was such a tiny noise, but it felt louder than a gunshot in Hikaru's ears, scratching and grating along his nerves, drowning out even the messy chatter that always seemed to be demanding his attention, mocking the fact that he couldn't possibly follow every single conversation at once. And here she was talking to him in English, and he had to respond in English, and it was all he could do to sit there and clamp his teeth together to keep from screaming or crying in frustration.
Thankfully, he was saved from having to reply by another group of students joining the first trio, two boys and a girl. For a short, blissful moment Hikaru hoped that was their cue to leave, and he could finally go back to the safety of his headphones.
Then the boys asked the redhead something, and she motioned to Hikaru as she responded, and he knew at once that there was no such luck.
"Whoa, you really beat Finnian?" one of the boys asked, and Hikaru died a little inside. "That's awesome, dude! We're gonna win so much this season!"
"Thank you," Hikaru gritted out, because he was pretty sure that was the appropriate thing to say. There were too many people in his space, too many voices—too many noises. He wanted to run and couldn't.
"You're from Japan, right? I've always wanted to go there," the second boy piped in, talking very fast in a voice that was already grating and difficult to follow. "Do you watch anime? I'm a big fan of—"
Hikaru tuned him out. More and more people joined the table until it was overcrowded, and most of them seemed to be trying to talk to him. There was noise. Too much noise. It felt like his entire body itself was noise, too much chatter that demanded his attention when he already had none to give. And in the middle of it all, there was still the infuriating jingle-jangle of the stupid, accursed earrings.
Quiet, quiet, quiet! Why can't you all be quiet?
Hikaru clenched his fists until his knuckles were white, nails digging into his palms, his breaths slow and measured in a last desperate grasp at his sanity. Threads of magic slid back and forth through the air around him like spilled ink in water, their shape ever-changing, asking to be formed. Some were bright, glowing white; some a frantic shade of black; but most of them were some variation of gray, with the steady colorless undercurrent of the school's artificially generated neutral magic. His fingers were itching to use it all. Grab one of the threads with his mind and silence this entire cafeteria in a single fell swoop.
He looked at the girl's earrings, then the inky black threads dancing erratically around an arguing couple across the aisle. He could take them. Transform the earrings into a pair of angry tarantulas, or at least enchant them to keep them silent, anything. It would be so easy—
"Aren't you just a lovely little gathering."
The whole table fell silent at once. Hikaru breathed, even as conflicting emotions shot through his head. Finnian Day. The champion.
"Look at you," Finnian said, effortlessly pushing his way through the crowd. "Sixteen people at a table for six. Now I might not be a huge mathematical genius, but I'm pretty sure that's way over that table's capacity."
Despite his own annoyance, Hikaru found himself relaxing. Insufferable personality aside, Finnian's voice was…less grating than most. It was clear and in a pleasant mid-range, and his expressiveness and tendency to over-enunciate made it easy to catch what he was saying. Not to mention he apparently had enough authority over the students to be able to silence them with a few easy sentences.
Unlike him, Hikaru added bitterly in his head. He could only avoid people or get swept along.
"And what about it?" one of the boys asked, standing almost a head taller than Finnian as he rose to his feet. "It's not like it's illegal."
"It wouldn't be, except for the tiny but important fact that you. Are. Blocking. The. Way." Finnian narrowed his eyes at him, undaunted. "Would you like to be held responsible if a fire breaks out and people can't get out in time because you little geniuses can't line up for autographs like normal people? Actually, don't answer that, Watson," he added with a sneer. "I know for a fact that your family couldn't afford the bill."
The tall boy had gone very pale, and he only hesitated for a moment before grabbing his tray and stalking off. "Good," said Finnian. "One less problem. Would the rest of you living obstacles like to follow him, or do I need to chase you all off separately?"
"Jesus, Finnian, we're leaving," the orange-haired girl said as she stood up. "What's got you so upset?"
"Oh, I don't know either." Finnian rolled his eyes. "Just the fact that I can't walk through because you people just had to throw a welcome party for the oh-so-fast guy who's also as boring as an empty bottle of dish soap. You could at least have found someone more interesting to drool over!"
One by one the visitors rose and left, muttering among themselves. Finally only Finnian remained behind with Hikaru, and Hikaru wondered idly if he should…thank him, or something. The mere thought nearly made him break out in hives.
"What?" Finnian snapped, his bright eyes flashing as he turned to Hikaru. "Happy again, now that I've freed you from your adoring fans? Or should I stand guard at your table in case anybody else dares to approach the almighty Hiyama?"
Never mind, Hikaru was definitely not thanking him. "Shut up," he said, reaching to put on his headphones again.
"Oh right, your headphones," Finnian sneered. "You think you're so special, don't you? Sitting here all alone with your…your headphones on like some brooding hero, the untouchable genius." He scoffed. "Makes me sick."
Hikaru wondered if he should dignify that with a response, but in the end he only silently put on his headphones and went back to his lunch.
~ ~ ~
Finnian returned home stressed and irritable and wishing for nothing more than to grab Anthony and tell the snake all about his awful, terrible, no-good day. He had heard that snakes were practically deaf, so it wasn't like Anthony would care about a word he said; and even a mage-bred, enchanted snake had the massive advantage of not talking back like humans would.
But today of all days, Anthony was nowhere to be found; and Finnian was just about to despair when his search led him into his father's study.
His father was home, poring over some documents at his desk, though he quickly shuffled them away when Finnian came in. Anthony lay curled up in a spot of sunlight on the carpet.
"Oh, you're home already," his father greeted him, standing up. "You're early today."
"No, I'm not," Finnian answered, frowning. "What were you doing?"
"Just—just paperwork, routine stuff, nothing interesting." Putting an arm around his shoulders, his father gently led Finnian out of the study. "You know, I could use a break anyway. Why don't we have some coffee while you tell me about your day?"
Peering back over his shoulder, Finnian tried to sneak a glance of what his father had been working on, but from this distance he couldn't make out what it was.
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