Schlatt's probably going to die.

Well, all the other magic teenagers are probably going to die too. But he's probably going to die even more than that.

He's lucky to be British; no one would waste a spot on him otherwise. If he were an enclaver, maybe. He gets out of breath just walking, he can't run or swim, all because his heart doesn't fucking work like it's supposed to. So what. Life isn't fair.

(He doesn't tell anyone. None of their fucking business.)

His affinity is on his side, at least. He can make drugs, kind of, approximately. Well enough that he's not definitely going to die. There's a chance he'll make it. He's made it a year inside, now, which is more than some people have to say for themselves.

But, you know. Probably.

Doesn't mean he shouldn't live while he can, though. "Nice ass," he says, a little bit because he's been flirting with Alex for months but mostly because he's never believed in having a brain-to-mouth filter.

Alex laughs a little in shock. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. I was complimenting your fat ass. --What, you want chocolates and flowers? 'Cause I'm not gonna lie to you, those are kind of hard to come by in here."

"Nah nah nah, no chocolate and flowers, just the potions. You did bring them, right?"

"'Course I did. Anything for you, honeysuckle." He slings his backpack off one shoulder, combs through it, hands over the goods.

"You're such a sap. Honeysuckle, is that a new one?"

"Depends, do you want new ones, because I can do new ones. Pumpkin spice. Sugarplum. Sweet pea. Cupcake--"

"Stop it," Alex says, but he's laughing, firmly inside Schlatt's personal space. "People will think."

"Think what? That my honey bear's off the market?"

"Something like that, something like that." 

"What should I do, then, huh? 'Cause chocolate and flowers are off the table, I mean."

"Wait, you're--you're actually serious."

"Sure. Why wouldn't I be?"

"I dunno, you just caught me off guard, you know." He laughs. "You know what, sure! Sure! You figure out a date, I'll go on it, okay? I'll, I'll give you a chance, how's that sound."

"Y'know, I love that a whole lot."

The date is… surprisingly nice. They go to the vending machine and use up their collective tokens for the week (a bag of pretzels that looks actually new—a Rice Krispie treat that looks edible—a tin of coq au vin that looks decidedly not—a single gumball—a dubious-looking muffin—and an expired bottle of ramune) and then head to Alex’s room to eat. 

Alex was kind of expecting they would have sex—he’s met guys like Schlatt before, and they usually expect you to put out—but they don’t, they just sit around talking and eating until Schlatt has to leave.

(Alex does kiss him, though. Hard to not, when Schlatt says I’m not hungry, you can eat more of it and presses the Rice Krispie treat into Alex’s hand.)

And a couple days later, at the library, he can be approached by a very serious freshman with a British accent. "Hello. I'm Wilbur Soot, Brighton. --You don't have to introduce yourself, I know who you are. I've been told you're a good person to talk to if I want to do some advertising?"

"I can be, I can be. What do you want to advertise?"

"A group. Well, more of an idea, really. --You're an indie, right?"

"I am."

"So you know what it's like, to be dragging yourself through this school with no alliance, nothing you didn't work for, while they sit high and pretty, acting like they're better because they were born into a power-sharer.

Do you have any siblings, Alex?"

Wow this kid is bold. "I do, yeah."

"Older or younger? --Nevermind, it doesn't matter. Indies with older siblings do better than indies without, you know that, yeah? The older ones can pass down, y'know, books, materials, words of advice. But it's not just that. The older ones can protect the younger ones. The amount of mana a senior has, compared to the amount of mana a freshman has--it's barely comparable, it's like comparing a teaspoon to a lake. But indie groups are mostly just--within a year, y'know, it's who you're graduating with, 'cause if all you have is a teaspoon then you can't be very useful, you can't justify it, especially 'cause you can't, you know, you can't make a real alliance out of it.

But if we could get enough indies to join, across years, if we could make it so indies coming in freshman year had seniors on their side, it could be a big deal, it could be good for everyone. It'll be a cost at first, I know, but--imagine what we could do. If you have any younger siblings, maybe they're coming in, maybe you see some of the benefit.

I want to start with, with other British indies, because we're not competing with each other for spots, right, we're all guaranteed to be in, us and all our families, and we all start out with a common language, a common geographical tie, we don't have power-sharers per se but we could share mana, resources, spells-- more people would live."

"I see your vision." Alex sits back. "Let me guess, you're asking me because all the other people you asked said no?"

"Well. We're still--"

"It's fine. Not a bad thing. ...And you only want Brits, huh? Seems like you're limiting your pool a bit more than you can afford."

"I mean, even if we can't get anyone, it's fine, I'll just be the oldest, my little brother's coming in next year and I have a few friends, we can branch off from there, grow over time. But it'd be better if we could get more people from the start, the more people we have the better it'll work."

"I'll tell you what, Wilbur. I'd be interested in being part of your little project. I'm gonna tell you something, you don't have a great chance of success, but your logic checks out, if you do succeed it'll be a big deal. I'm willing to go out on a limb for you. But you gotta work with me, here."

".....You're not British."

"Mhmmmm. But I am a year older than you and you've already had a few people tell you no."

"...You can come to our meetings. But I don't know if we want you as a full member. We'll--we'll discuss it."

"You're making a mistake."

"--You'll still ask around, right?"

Deep sigh. "Probably. What are you offering?"

"I have some song spells, if you know anyone who wants those."

"Great. Then it's been a pleasure doing business with you, Wilbur Suit." (He says the name wrong on purpose, just because.)

Dramatic bow. "Likewise."

He's fucked. Terminally fucked. This is a big gamble, and probably a bad one.

He's still, probably, going to take Wilbur up on it. Maybe he can help make them a little less doomed. Or maybe they'll drag him down with them. Who's to say, really.

Schlatt is, in fact, a British indie. He could put in a good word. (The more pragmatic part of his brain points out that freshmen make easy targets, and that the scholomance is built around using easier targets as meat shields. The less pragmatic part of his brain is already getting ahead of himself imagining futures where it works.)

Which is how he ends up on sprawled on the floor of Schlatt's room the next day asking, "Do you know Wilbur Soot?"

"Phil's kid, right? Yeah, I've heard of him. Hard to not, his older brother's a fuckin' legend, man."

"Sure, yeah, we've all heard of Terrence. Wilbur had this idea--it's sort of like, trying to get the benefits of an enclave but as an indie, right? So he's trying to start a group across different years, get as many Brits in on it as he can until it's just, like, what all the British indies do, maybe get survival rates up. Homework sharing, mana sharing, whole nine yards."

"That is the dumbest fucking idea I've ever heard."

"Awwww, come on, it's not that bad. If there's someone half-competent there then they'll be able to help with homework and they're all freshmen so it's not like they'll be asking for much mana."

"Wait just a goddamn minute here, are you actually trying to sell me on this crap?"

"I just think it'd be nice to, y'know, maybe... maybe give it a try! And if we want to leave, we leave, no big deal." And Schlatt can have a kiss about it.

"...Only 'cause you're so goddamn cute."

Alex: 1, Schlatt: 0. "That's great, that's great! I'll let them know we're showing up to the next meeting."

"Whoa, whoa, let's not get ahead of ourselves. Tell them I'm not sharing my fucking mana unless they do my homework first."

"Sure thing, babe."

And they can meet up at the library.

"Heyyyyy, Alex, my man! Who'd you bring?"

"Hi everyone, I'm Alex, this is my boyfriend Schlatt, I'm from Puerto Vallarta, he's from Essex, we're sophomores and we're interested in this, this project you guys have going. I'm excited to get to know you all!"

"You didn't tell me Wilbur was cute," Schlatt stage-whispers to Alex, who rolls his eyes.

...Ugh. Well, they're sophomores.

"I'm Wilbur. Brighton. Pleasure to meet you. This is Eret and Niki."

"Nice to meet you." Nod. "What are your affinities? I do long-range divination. Not the most useful in here, but hey."

"I do traps, Wilbur does songs, Niki bakes."

"And Schlatt?"

"I do drugs."

"Great! That's--that's really great, actually, we can definitely work with that. Make a little potion business."

"I dunno if I'll show up all the time. You'll do my homework when I do, right?"

...Sigh. "I think as long as, as long as you help us out, we'll help you out. So, yes, that can include homework help."

"Well. I've already got Alex here for language practice, isn't that right, guapito?"

"Of course."

....He does not roll his eyes, because they're sophomores and he needs them, but it takes a lot of self-control.

"Well, this is--this is great! New people! What homework do you have, I probably can't help with the magic parts but I'm good at English and history and I probably have most of your languages?" That last part was maybe rude. Oh well.

Schlatt's homework, it turns out, is less hard than the homework Wilbur was already doing, so that's easy. If he can get occasional mana and potions out of this he'll be incredibly happy. This is exactly why multi-year groups are so useful.

Alex's homework is mostly harder than Wilbur's, but not to the point where it's impossible to help with. (And Alex technically isn't a real member anyway, just accompanying Schlatt, so any helping there is strictly optional.)

They both flirt with each other an obnoxious amount, but they also flirt with him quite a bit more than he expected them to, which is--a bit flattering, if he's being honest. It definitely makes Schlatt's company more interesting if Wilbur focuses on his cheekbones rather than his personality.

"I think I'll have a prototype working soon," Eret announces near the end of their meeting.

"Oh?"

"Right, I've got it laid out like this--there's two main components, see, there's the actual alarm and then there's the container for it which has a trap built in--for mals or thieves, whichever, if it wants to get at the actual alarm it'll trigger a different alarm."

"That's really cool."

"Thank you. The container prooooobably isn't going to be very mobile, so most likely I'll end up building it here, but we'll see."

"That's awesome, man! You really lucked out with your affinity, huh, traps, I mean, I bet you're gonna make all sorts of awesome stuff."

"Thank you."

Wilbur is not jealous. Look. He is smiling. He is going to take deep breaths and smile and not throw himself at their feet and beg reassurance that they still like him even if Eret's better at everything and cooler and has a more useful affinity and is better at producing mana and has a deeper voice and nicer hair. It's fine. He's fine about all of that. And soon the meeting will be over and he can go to his room and cry.

Time passes. Wilbur's pillow is wet more nights than not. It's fine. He's fine. Everything's under control. Sometimes Schlatt and Alex show up to meetings, sometimes they don't. Eret sets up the alarm, and Wilbur is, reluctantly, extremely grateful for having a warning that doesn't rely on one of them happening to check.

They (well, mostly Wilbur) do Schlatt's homework and are rewarded with some potions; they sell about half to an upperclassman enclaver and split the rest between themselves.