All That Lives Must Die - Eric Nylund [25]
Eliot whispered to Fiona, “Are we supposed to go up there and take one of those things?”
Before she could answer, a tall pale boy strode to a different table. “I, Donald of the Family Van Wyck, claim Wolf as my standard.”
Sarah Covington moved to Jeremy’s side and proudly took a scarab token.
And then another two girls and three more boys moved forward to various tables.
“Logan from the Kaleb brood takes Green Dragon.”
“I, Xavier of the DeBoars, claim the Open Hand.”
“The Family Pern is Soaring Eagle and challenges all who say otherwise!”
The room erupted into chaos as almost every other student moved for the tables—talking and arguing and snatching up tokens.
Eliot spied that blond girl he had seen before. There was just a flash of her face, and she vanished into the crowds. She did look a little like Julie Marks, the girl he had fallen for this summer. Julie was long gone, but he never stopped thinking about her.
Then he spotted another girl with long uncombed brown hair. She looked familiar, too. Maybe that was the girl Fiona had mentioned.
The girl caught Eliot’s gaze and quickly looked away.
“Eliot!” some boy called out.
Eliot spun about, trying to locate the voice, but with all the students pushing and embroiled in heated discussions, Eliot couldn’t find him.
He was disoriented and completely out of his depth. “This is some sort of test, too,” he said to Fiona. “Part of the placement exam.”
“I get that,” Fiona replied. She wasn’t looking at him.
Eliot followed her gaze and spotted a boy who approached Jeremy and Sarah. He had a tousle of curly brown hair, an easy smile, and looked totally relaxed here. He bowed to Sarah and struck up a conversation with the Covingtons.
“Let’s see how it’s done,” Eliot suggested.
But Fiona had already started to move toward them.
The boy told Jeremy, “I was unaware the Covington clan claimed Scarab.”
“Goes all the way back to the Freemasons,” Jeremy explained, his voice a mixture of insult and amazement that someone would question his claim. He looked the other boy over. “Be that the challenge, Mr.—?”
The other boy spotted Eliot and Fiona as they approached, and his smile warmed. “No challenge,” he said. “I’m Mitch from the Stephenson family. I wanted to join.”
“Stephenson?” Jeremy’s eyes widened a fraction. “Indeed! A family with as noble a pedigree as the Covingtons. It would be an honor, sir.” He shook Mitch’s hand.
“As noble as they are clever and handsome,” Sarah added.
“My cousin Sarah,” Jeremy said.
Sarah offered her hand to Mitch, which he clasped. Eliot noted slight disappointment on Sarah’s face, as if she had wanted him to kiss it or something.
Fiona pulled Eliot closer and said, “We should join Scarab.”
“You told me this Jeremy guy was kind of creepy. I’m not sure he or his cousin likes us.”
Eliot glanced around the room. No other team had three people on it yet, and a few of the discussions had evolved into shouting matches.
“But they do seem to know the ropes around here,” Fiona said.
Three other freshmen approached Jeremy and Sarah. They spoke briefly, but Jeremy held up both his hands and shook his head. The other students left, muttering a few words that Eliot (even with his extensive vocabulary) had never heard before.
“Definitely Anglo-Saxon etymology,” Fiona told him, apparently also curious about these new words. She nudged Eliot. “We should ask them now. I don’t want to be the last ones picked.”
Eliot reluctantly stepped forward. She was right: Anything was better than getting picked last. Or worse, what if all the other groups became so full that he and Fiona had to go on different teams?
“Ah, Fiona.” Jeremy extended a hand to her as she neared. “Please join us”—a quick glance at Eliot—“and, of course, your brother.”
His gaze, however, slid over Eliot like he was something one saw on a dinner plate, unpalatable, but which had to be tasted in order to get dessert.
Sarah eyed Eliot as well, leaned closer