"What the fuck."

"I dunno. Does he have anything I want? I mean, he's just a freshman."

"I mean, you can always ask for his mana. You ready? Watch, look at this, just put out your hand and he'll give it to you." Hand out, for demonstration.

"Wait, stop, I have free will, I'm a human, I have human rights--"

"Come on, George, it's fun."

"Hm." George considers for a moment, then shrugs and sticks his hand out.

"Now tell him to give you his mana."

"Give me your mana." George's voice never wavers from its normal tone of profound indifference.

Clay cheers and claps George on the shoulder.

And then, when Tommy just looks at them mutely, his arm starts to rise.

"Fuck you."

...Tommy's holding his mana storage.

Clay grabs his wrist and squeezes, hard; when that doesn't work, he starts to bend it, not quite to the point of breaking it but enough that the threat is clear.

...Tommy drops his mana storage.

And Clay catches it, letting Tommy's wrist go. "Thank you. Now give him your mana."

.........................

...Tommy puts his hand in George's and gives him his mana.

"See? Pretty cool, right?"

"Now I don't have any mana storage."

"You can make more, I'll give you stuff for it."

....

"But we already did that."

Shrug. Clay angles his body towards George and away from Tommy. "Come on, it was funny."

"Eh. I guess."

"I probably shouldn't make jokes about killing your family, should I."

"It'd be kind of weird, yeah."

"Out of pocket, as the New Yorkans say. Are you--you seem like the type of guy who's from New York."

"I'm not, I'm from Tampa."

"Yeah, no. People can move, Clay. I think you are."

"George is actually, George is actually from England, did you know that?"

"Is he actually?"

"London. My parents moved because of stupid politics stuff or whatever."

"So you betrayed our nation for politics. I am shocked, shocked I tell you--"

Eyeroll. To Clay: "Do you know if Nick's around?"

"Uhhhhhh, I think so, why?"

"You're being... boring. I dunno. Maybe I'll just head back to my room for the night or whatever."

"BYE."

"Bye, George." Then: "Tommy."

"What did I do? He was rude first."

"...Wow, you're down bad, huh, oh, look at this, Clay's blushing--"

"Tommy, shut upppppp. I am not blushing. People are going to think you're being serious."

"Oh, but I am, Clay! I am the most serious, you know this about me. I have never made a joke, ever, in my entire life. Scout's honor."

Clay giggles. "You can have your mana storage back, by the way, Tommy." 

"Really? Thank you."

"Yeah, I just wanted to prevent you from, uh, I mean-- you weren't giving him your mana, and you were holding it, so." He can have his crystal back. (It's one of the ones shaped like a penis.)

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"I've had an idea, by the way, and I want to know what you think, and if I'm allowed?"

"Okay..?"

"So I was thinking--Easter's in April this year, right? The beginning of April? Right around my birthday."

"I think so, yeah."

"I was thinking, since you said I could talk to Toby again then, I could start saving up tokens for the snack bar now, we could all go to the snack bar. And for meals, maybe Toby could sit with Tampa, or you could sit with Toby and the rest of us? What do you think?"

"Yeah! Yeah, that'd be great."

"I'm-- I'm allowed?"

"Yeah, of course! --We probably shouldn't invite them today, though, uh, I think George had the right idea, it's getting kind of late. C'mon, I'll walk you to your room."

"I meaaan." Tommy tosses his mana storage in the air and doesn't bother to catch it; it lands on the table and rolls a little before stopping. "You could just leave me."

"Tommy! Don't-- don't joke about that."

"Well, Clay, have you noticed the-- you know, how I don't have a backpack, and the bags under my eyes? And then you come hang out with me all the time, but you also take all my shit? You're just-- you're just a monster."

"I didn't take any of your shit."

"You do! Every day you come and you take my shit! You're ruining my fucking life!"

Clay puts on a high-pitched voice and a fake accent: "You're ruining my life! Mom, get out of my room, I'm playing video games! That's-- that's what you sound like."

"That's not even f-- I do not sound like that. I could just-- I could just stay out after curfew, and you would be able to do nothing about it, and I’d be donezo."

"I ask you, please, not to."

...

"Okay."