Keeper of the Lost Secrets

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: I Dominate the Field as Reigning Splotching Champion

Our school was known for many things. The fact it was named after a fungus, our capes that made us look like snotty human rich boys, and our P.E session

Phys Ed took place outside on Foxfire's massive grounds and was a whole school session. All levels, every mascot and student, paraded their way downstairs to engage in a match for the ages.

I, not to brag, was a champion of these matches. My telekinesis skills made their way onto the court, and I showed them off like my shiny Vacker crest.

I made my way to the locker rooms, boys of all ages laughing and joking with each other. They waved at me and reminded me of my legacy, which I had to uphold. I waved back, sure I was going to do so.

My person changing area was as tidy as my room. My uniform hung in the corner, waiting for me to try it on. It was clean, and upon closer inspection, smelt like fizzleberries.

The vanity carried numerous hair products. Something I was shocked to learn in the Forbidden Cities is that how sharp the divide between feminine and masculine was. Men never had baby changing stations in the bathrooms; I had often seen mothers carried cranky children into bathrooms, but never the fathers.

The field was of purple glass encased in a clear dome, for a reason I couldn't fathom. Year levels gathered around it, some students ready to knock it out of the park, and some ready to hide behind the shrubs.

I stood and faced off against my good friend, Keefe, who was rubbing his hands together maniacally. I focussed my strength on the Splotching match. Despite being the unbeaten champion since I joined, it was good to have a little humility.

I picked up the paintball with my mind, floating it in the air with a certain beauty to it. A second after, I felt a pull from my ball, but I held it in place. Keefe's face strained. His eyes were red, his cheeks were puffed with air, and his nose was red. I could see beads of sweat pouring down from his head. His hair would not stand the battle, I was sure.

I grabbed the paintball from him and threw it with my mind. Keefe did his usual by catching it and throwing it right back. I grinned and caught it. This time, I didn't throw it. I held on to the ball, mentally, even as it touched Keefe, so it was of a slap in the face. Keefe didn't have a second to react. He looked up and at me and up again, wearing the same tired expression he'd worn the week before, as the paintball came crashing down on him, soaking him in purple paint. He raised his hands in surrender and laughed. I walked over to him and did the not. Of course, after I was announced the winner.

"Good game, dude." I said to him. I helped him get up, even if it costed my cleanliness.

"It's always one when you're winning, I'm sure." He grumbled, but I knew more than anyone he was teasing me. His face illuminated with a smirk. "I wonder what the new girl's doing."

Keefe cleaned up miraculously quickly, his hair, though not as perfect as the morning, still holding some of the perfection. He wiped his face off and his changed back into his usual uniform.

"There she is," Keefe said, leaning forward from the stands. I did the same, squinting at a blonde blob nervously making her way up to the ring. I couldn't tell who her opponent was, but I knew they weren't going easy.

And I was right. In a few minutes, Sophie was slathered with green paint, not happy but not complaining. She stormed off the field, her opponent laughing behind her. She slammed the locker room entrance when she went in.

"I should go check on her," I mused, but Keefe stared.

"You don't know here," he said, "What if she just scowls and walks away." I shrugged.

"That's not a horrible fate, to be honest." I spoke. Keefe grinned.

"Okay, fine, but I'm coming with," before I could protest, he was up and on his feet. "Nope. You are not making stay here, Fitzy. Let's go."

We snuck away from the usual commotion that was the splotching matches, into a quieter, emptier P.E. rooms. The door was crystal, so it hurt to knock. Instead, we called for Sophie.

"Sophie? Are you in there?" I asked stupidly. Keefe offered a raised eyebrow.

Grumbles and words that would get me in trouble for saying were uttered, before a tired Sophie opened the door, her expression as friendly as someone who's been embarrassed in front of the whole school. Because that's what happened.

"Fitz? What are you doing here?" She spoke. I turned to my side, hoping to let Keefe answer, but he had disappeared. Classic Keefe.

"Just came to check up on you." I said softly. "That match was nasty."

"I'm not usually a sore loser." She said, leaning against the doorframe and heaving a sigh. "I feel so lost, Fitz. Everyone knows what they're doing, and I don't."

"I know," I said cautiously, scanning the area to make sure Keefe wasn't listening. "But you'll catch up. I know you will."

"In time for Bronte?" She whispered.

"In time enough." I smiled. She smiled back, but the joy in her face was minimal.

"Thanks for coming to check up on me." She said, quiet as a mouse. My grin stretched.

"No problem, Sophie. You're always free to talk to me. We're friends after all." The lie tasted terrible on my tongue. I hated lying to Sophie, but I wasn't her friend in the least.

"I will, if I need to." She smiled. "Bye Fitz!" She said, her mood miles higher than it was at the start of the conversation, which I chalked up to a Fitz magic.

"Bye, Sophie." I said, walking away. A few metres ahead, Keefe surprised me by erupting from the bushes.

"I got nervous and selkied out." He groaned. 'Selkied out' was equivalent to the human phrase, 'chickened out', which somehow rolled off the tongue better.

"It's fine. She's alright. Feeling good, I think." I smiled at him, wrapping my arm around his shoulder.

"Good, good." He smiled. "I still want to meet this mysterious girl."

"In time enough, I'm sure."