More Tales of MU

…or, The Interesting Thing About Jamie

Back home, Marlot’s uncle owned the tavern, so she’d already been pretty good with a cue stick by the time she was old enough to play without a stool. My mom’s heritage made me pretty good at games of reflexes and coordination, and summer vacations with her family had made me a pretty graceful loser at them. I had fun either way.

We played for a couple of hours, breaking once to go up and get burgers when we got really hungry. The dart players had drifted away long before that point. When we got bored, we headed back to Pelinor and I helped Marlot hang her pictures and mirrors. Her roommate, Missy, wasn’t around.

Then it was time to head for our floor meeting. It was set for the downstairs lounge, since there was no way our lounge would accommodate all the seventy or so people on our floor at once.

Marlot pointed Missy out to me. She was about Marlot’s height, but not as fat. Big across the shoulders. She had chestnut colored hair. She wasn’t really what I’d picture for a “Missy,” but that probably wasn’t a bad thing.

The crowd of people who filed in—my new floor mates for the next two semesters—was pretty varied. Well, it was as varied as could be expected when I was the least human person in the room and nearly everybody was some shade of white. The thirty-five girls were of the usual assortment of body types and faces. As a group, they looked noticeably refreshed and de-stressed compared to the new arrivals of hours before.

My more immediate neighbors, the guys? Most guys don’t interest me that much. They seemed like an alright bunch. I’d have to get to know them better before I made any judgment calls. This was true of the girls, too, but it was more important with the guys. One thing about coming from elven stock, though, is that you have to be aware that something about you is going to be whispering “scrawny little faggot” no matter how you act or how you carry yourself.

It makes you a little wary around other guys.

The meeting was not terribly exciting. We met our R.A.s, Brad and Jennifer. They went through a lot of announcements about upcoming events and skirmish matches, and reminders about campus safety rules: avoid going out after dark, stay on the paths, keep your weapon ready and visible. We were told about the “buddy board” in the hallway by our lounge where we could sign up for somebody to walk with if we had somewhere to go at night, and an escort program where volunteers from the martial combat and delving and discovery classes would accompany other students around campus.

Brad warned us not to use the escorts too close to finals, since everyone will be looking to squeeze in a last encounter or two at the end of the semester for extra credit. He probably knew what he was talking about. He was a martial combat major, built like an orc with close-cropped blond hair and a nose that looked like it had been broken and allowed to heal naturally. He seemed like a nice enough guy, but not one you’d want to piss off.

Jennifer was about average height, but skinny enough and leggy enough that she looked tall if she wasn’t standing next to anybody. She had wavy ginger hair pulled back in a ponytail and a mole on her cheek that was too big to be anything but distracting. She was pretty, though. She couldn’t have been more than a few years older than us, but she already had crinkles around her eyes and the corners of her lips.

Five minutes of watching her talk about dances and campus groups was enough to see why this was: her face did about twice as much work as anybody else’s.

She was a music major, with a minor in archery, she told us.

After all the announcements had been made, everybody was asked to say their name, where they were from, their major, and one interesting fact about themselves. I couldn’t have made myself pay attention if I’d tried, and I wouldn’t have remembered all the names and which faces they went with if I had. A couple of the girls stood out.

“My name is Iolana Kailani,” one of them said. She wore a colorful sun dress patterned with tropical flowers that matched the one in her hair. Pax was obviously not her native tongue, and she spoke it in an accent that was both lyrical and precise. “I am from the island of Kaha Moai, to the south and west. I am an elemental major, and I am very interested in learning languages. I speak seven of them already.”

Iolana had a round face, with especially plump cheeks and a welcoming smile. Her dress didn’t cling to her, but it still managed to flatter. I wondered if any of those seven languages happened to be elvish.

I also wondered if her entire wardrobe was like that, or if she would change to more ordinary clothes once classes started. She’d probably have to, when the weather got colder, but I could hope for a long, hot fall.

“I’m Kira,” the other halfway interesting girl said. “Kira Andrews. I’m a divine magic major, following Anankha. I’ve got some credit for classes I took in high school and with the local temple, and I’m going to try to finish my degree in three years so I can get a spot in the Rosewood Seminary.”

I didn’t know much about Anankha. Her name sometimes came up in Khersian services, but not often. What was interesting to me about Kira was that she was lying. I couldn’t say exactly how I knew. There was a slight catch in her voice as she spoke, but that could have been nerves. She said she had credits from high school, but her eyes looked a bit too old for an eighteen-year-old. Her body, which seemed to be trim and well-tanned, could have passed for a teenage human’s.

Not her eyes, though, and not her ears, if you knew what to look for at the top.

What made that all the more interesting was that her skin was a bit on the darker side and her hair was black.

Not blonde or even light brown, but a slightly shiny shade of black.

That was very interesting.

There were a few other girls who were pretty, or seemed nice, or had a nice laugh, but their names got lost among the swirl. I’d have plenty of chances to meet them later, though.

Only one guy really jumped out from the crowd, and that was because he had a really sullen look on his face when Jennifer said it was his turn. A couple of the other guys had already declined to participate in the little exercise, and I was fairly sure he would, too. Right when it seemed like Jennifer would have to give up and move on, he stood up and said that his name was Kurt Stiles and he was from the Border Territories. His major was martial combat and he was on a skirmish scholarship.

Brad did a lame arm-pump and a battle grunt, which Kurt ignored.

He looked big enough to be a skirmisher, when he stood up. Sitting down, he had almost been folded in on himself. It was a neat transformation that didn’t just extend to his size. His hair fell down over the top half of his face when he sat and leaned forward, but when he stood and raised his head, it fell to the sides. He went from sulky mopey emo boy to a fairly handsome warrior in one fluid motion.

It was eye-catching.

“I’m Jamie Bowman,” I told the room when it was my turn. “I’m from Agora, which is a little market town in Westphale, and I am triumphantly undeclared.”

“Bowman,” Jennifer repeated. “Are you an archer?”

“No,” I said. “It’s just a family name. Oh, and, um, the most interesting thing about me would be the fact that my axe has been in my family since before the Imperium.”

“Oh, hold it up,” Jennifer said, and I did.

It was lame. I mean, my axe was cool. I loved my axe. I was proud of my axe. But it was cool to me. That didn’t necessarily mean it was cool to anybody else.

It was also the best I could come up with on short notice. Most of the things you can think about that would really be “interesting” to other people by any kind of objective measurement aren’t necessarily going to be the things you care to blurt out in a room full of strangers.

I knew what Marlot considered to be the most interesting thing, but a little elven ancestry wasn’t really that unusual. Most people our age who had it probably didn’t even know, or if they did, they weren’t still connected to their elven relatives like I was. Bottom line, it just wasn’t that noteworthy.

Marlot, being right next to me, went next.

“My name is Marlot Kincaid,” she said. “Spelled like ‘lot’ but said like ‘low.’ I am also from Agora, which is still a tiny market town in Westphale. I’m majoring in either elementalism or illusion, and an interesting thing about me is that my best friend Jamie Bowman is an elfblood.”

“And you don’t use a bow?” Jennifer asked me.

I shook my head.

It was like I’d said. Just not that interesting.

When everybody was introduced and promptly forgotten by everybody else in the room, the R.A.s broke out a stash of the product boxes. Some people passed on them. Marlot, never one to pass up freebies, ended up taking three more of them.

“There’s going to be a floor meeting every Friday,” Brad said. “You don’t have to show up for every one but you do have to show up to the next one, because that’s when we will be electing the two senators for our floor. It’s also when we’ll be voting how to allocate the activity funds.”

“And also the surplus from the housing fund,” Jennifer said.

“Right,” Brad said. “They were under the budget last year so each hall’s got some extra money to spend on new furniture or whatever. Bring your ideas to the meeting…”

“Carombole table!” Marlot shouted.

“…and we’ll vote on them, and then we’ll vote on one from the winners at each floor at the next meeting,” Brad said. “Now, we’ve got to wrap this up, because the fourth floor is meeting down here next.”

“Oh, and if you have a problem and Brad and I aren’t around, Jeff and Tina from upstairs are your go-to guys,” Jennifer said. “They’re really awesome. If you can’t find them, any of the other R.A.s will do, too, but I know how ‘scary’ it can be to go into the upper class floors when you’re a freshman. A frosh.”

“Right,” Brad said. “That’s it. Try to have a little fun this weekend, but, you know, go to bed early Sunday night so you’re up bright and early on Monday. When I came here, this was the best advice anybody gave me: however you start the year is how you’ll end it. Don’t skip any classes the first week. It’ll bite you in the ass later.”

“Is that everything?” Jennifer said. “I think that’s everything. Have an awesome first night, everybody!”

The crowd started to break up, with some people standing and stretching and gathering up their things while others milled around chatting or headed for the door.

“Oh, and, one last thing, for the guys?” Brad said. “I’m sure you know where you are on campus. If you’ve heard the rumors and decide to go ‘visiting’ next door, make sure you pack a ring. The girls over there don’t carry them.”

Jennifer punched Brad in the side at this, but he ignored the blow.

“Don’t be gross,” she said.

“You think I’m joking?” he said. “Sexually generated diseases aren’t a laughing matter.”

“Come on,” I said to Marlot. “Let’s head up. We can hang in my room for a while.”

“What if I want to hang in my room?” she asked.

“Then we’ll hang there,” I said. When she tried to get picky just to annoy me, I foiled her through the magic of not caring.

We ended up in my room, because Missy wanted to lie down for a bit. We sat on the ugly red carpeted floor, playing a game of imperial war and listening to elven pop on my music box. It was competing with several other boxes and arcadia crystals up and down the hall, and around the corners.

It was the first night of freedom for all of us, and also the first night of sharing a living space with six dozen or so other people. Nobody was complaining about the noise yet, though.

People who don’t play war very much think it’s a game of pure chance, but the strategy is in what you do with the cards you capture. They go on the bottom of the deck, but each trick you win contains at least two cards, and there’s no set order they have to go in. If you remember what your opponent last captured, you can optimize your deck over time.

We played against each other a lot. When we were both paying attention and trying to win, it could get really heated. Most of the time, it was like a game of carom; it was just something to do while we talked. We each turned over a card, high card took the trick. Tie, we went to war. The game went on.

“So, all of a sudden you’re majoring in illusion?” I asked her once we were settled into the rhythm of the game.

“I’m thinking about it,” she said. “I want to do something modern when I graduate. Applied enchantment or communication would be a bit too technical, but with illusion, I can go into animation, or do special effects for the movies. I don’t want to be stuck doing weather spells or fire control. Also, most elementalists are seriously old school. Picture me in a robe?”

“Well, you do like hats and staves,” I said.

“Funny,” she said.

“How’s your knee handling the stairs?”

“Pretty good, though I’ve only been up and down them twice,” she said. “Next year, we’re getting in on the ground floor, so to speak.”

“Are you sure we’re going to want to live together next year?” I asked her. “I mean, you had all that talk about getting out of boxes. What about the box that says we’re the sort of best friends who have to do every little thing together?”

“Are you saying you want out of that box?” she asked.

“No,” I said. “I don’t think anybody ever really does. But, it happens.”

“If it happens, it happens,” she said, unperturbed by the possibility. “But let’s not build our plans around it.”

“Alright,” I said. “What time do you want to go to breakfast tomorrow?”

“Not too early,” she said.

“Nine? Nine-thirty?”

“That’s earlier than I’ve been up on a Saturday in a long time,” she said.

“Yeah, well, some of us had jobs,” I said.

“I had a job,” she said. “It’s not my fault the tavern wasn’t open on Saturday mornings. Why didn’t you tell them you’re an elf?”

“Downstairs, you mean?”

“Yeah.”

“Off the top of my head, because I’m not,” I said. “I’m a human with some elven blood. It’s not that interesting.”

“You could have gotten into Harlowe,” she said.

“We agreed to go for the same dorm,” I said.

“Is there actually a rule that says humans can’t be in Harlowe?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “It seems like the sort of thing they’d discourage, though. Have you heard the way some people talk about the place?”

“What, like Brad? Well, they’ve got satyrs and nymphs. Maybe that’s what he meant.”

“They don’t have nymphs,” I said.

“I heard people talking,” Marlot said.

“When?” I asked. “You’ve been with me, except when you were off doing stuff.”

“‘Doing stuff’,” she said. “I like that. Yeah, that’s when I heard it.” She shrugged. “Maybe it’s just a dumb rumor. I don’t know. This is way far afield of the point.”

“Which is?”

“When it’s us and we’re alone, you talk about how cool your cousins are and how awesome summers at your grandpa’s were,” she said. “But with anybody else, it’s ‘Hi, I’m Jamie, the ho-hum-human.’ It’s like you’re ashamed.”

“Humans aren’t ho-hum,” I said. “Are you sure this is about me being ashamed of my race?”

“It isn’t as though either one of us was given a choice,” she said.

It was an old conversation, and one neither of us had anything to add to, though the change in setting seemed to have made it fresh and new again. We’d stepped outside the boxes that had defined us throughout high school, done with the practice rounds and entering real life.

Back in Westphale, everybody had known my heritage because everybody knew my mom, but it hadn’t really presented a lot of difficulties. Again, because everybody knew my mom. We were part of the community.

Elves don’t tend to get a lot of shit to begin with, comparatively. There’s the homophobia thing, and the clever t-shirts like “Elves Have Great Forests But Men Have Big Wood”, and the whole general perception of elven arrogance, but it’s not like people go around hanging elves from trees.

That wouldn’t be the best idea in the first place, but you get the idea.

The thing was, though, we were outside our boxes now. The guys at M.U. didn’t know my family. They didn’t know we were good people. I didn’t know if they were good people. Actual elves didn’t really get a lot of shit but that didn’t mean everybody approved of “mixing.” Just because somebody didn’t mind elves teaching their kids didn’t mean they wanted them dating their daughters.

Then there was the whole homophobia thing.

Fact of life: to humans, elves come off gay. According to human standards, most elves are gay, or at least bi, but even the ones who never went through any kind of exploration with their own sex still come off that way.

For a full-blooded elf or half-elf, this usually turned into a matter of avoidance for people who had a problem with that. For me, the vibe was more subtle. People were less sure of what they were seeing, and they didn’t tend to pick up on it unless we were up close to each other. That wasn’t necessarily a safe place for me to be.

I’d tried explaining this to Marlot, but she’d said I was just being homophobic. She didn’t get it. I don’t think she could have.

So, I let the argument play out like I always did, and we played our way through the deck a few more times and then said goodnight.

It was our first night of freedom, but there wasn’t a lot going on and it had been a long trip.

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