Presley hadn't expected his cousins to talk to him before the match. For one thing, they're busy Quodpot captains, and second, there are few things that the Mondragon twins love more than to treat him like dirt underneath their shoe. One time, when they were ten, Eden and Eve spent two weeks pretending that he was invisible. Frankly, Presley would've welcomed a second round of that game, but the two girls cross the field while the cheer team is warming up. Eve wears her hair in a sharp bob and Eden has a high ponytail, but otherwise they're identical, strong and confident in their movements, with doll faces and determined eyes. Presley is taller, but not by much.
"Presleeeey!" Eve Mondragon yells. "Are you playing today?"
As though Presley isn't obviously wearing a cheer uniform. "No," he says coolly.
"That's right, you have a fear of heights." Eden bounces the handle of her broom against her shoulder. The brand new paint job, Vercoer red, gleams in the sunlight. "Honey, are you going to be okay with all those somersaults?"
"I don't—" Presley bites down on his response, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of seeing him get angry. "Please. If it's a crime to not want to be bathed in hot sauce, then hand me to the authorities."
Eve ignores him. "Edie, don't be mean. It's better that Presley can't play! Vercoer goes hard, and I'd hate to see him get hurt out there."
"Worry about yourselves," Presley says in the same sweetly insincere tone. "You clearly haven't seen our team in action yet. Peckenpaugh is more than capable of taking you out."
Eden grins. "Ooh, so confident. How about we put money on it? If PP can beat my team, then I'll give you twenty-five dragots—"
"Same if you beat Junior Varsity," Eve chimes in.
"And if PP loses both matches... well, you're the guest here. You can give us twenty-five dragots instead of fifty. Fair?"
Presley's jaw clenches. He doesn't have that kind of money, and they know it. "Gambling is against the rules. Don't you two have reputations to maintain as school captains?"
Eve laughs, so loudly that it draws people's attention. "Oh my god, you still have no sense of humour."
"This is boring." Eden takes her sister's arm, and starts tugging her away from the Peckenpaugh cheerleaders. "Come on, we can't let them deliver a pep talk without us. Good luck, Pressy."
Eat shit, he thinks. "Good luck, Edie," Presley says, with as beatific a smile as he can manage. "Evie."
He doesn't turn his back on them until they're clear out of hexing distance.
BEFORE THE GAME: Presley and the Mondragons
"Presleeeey!" Eve Mondragon yells. "Are you playing today?"
As though Presley isn't obviously wearing a cheer uniform. "No," he says coolly.
"That's right, you have a fear of heights." Eden bounces the handle of her broom against her shoulder. The brand new paint job, Vercoer red, gleams in the sunlight. "Honey, are you going to be okay with all those somersaults?"
"I don't—" Presley bites down on his response, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of seeing him get angry. "Please. If it's a crime to not want to be bathed in hot sauce, then hand me to the authorities."
Eve ignores him. "Edie, don't be mean. It's better that Presley can't play! Vercoer goes hard, and I'd hate to see him get hurt out there."
"Worry about yourselves," Presley says in the same sweetly insincere tone. "You clearly haven't seen our team in action yet. Peckenpaugh is more than capable of taking you out."
Eden grins. "Ooh, so confident. How about we put money on it? If PP can beat my team, then I'll give you twenty-five dragots—"
"Same if you beat Junior Varsity," Eve chimes in.
"And if PP loses both matches... well, you're the guest here. You can give us twenty-five dragots instead of fifty. Fair?"
Presley's jaw clenches. He doesn't have that kind of money, and they know it. "Gambling is against the rules. Don't you two have reputations to maintain as school captains?"
Eve laughs, so loudly that it draws people's attention. "Oh my god, you still have no sense of humour."
"This is boring." Eden takes her sister's arm, and starts tugging her away from the Peckenpaugh cheerleaders. "Come on, we can't let them deliver a pep talk without us. Good luck, Pressy."
Eat shit, he thinks. "Good luck, Edie," Presley says, with as beatific a smile as he can manage. "Evie."
He doesn't turn his back on them until they're clear out of hexing distance.