Friday Night Lights Cast Shadows

You're a bit surprised at how little you're freaked out about recent, and coming, events. You just agreed to magical war with a trio of lunatics who have already tried to blow you up with a literal bomb. And yet somehow, now that everything's been put on the table? It's like a huge weight has been lifted from your shoulders. Maybe it will all come crashing back down on you tomorrow, once the peace accords have officially dropped. But today you woke up feeling as light as a feather, happily breezed through your classes, and now you're at a goddamn football game about to watch some goddamn football. Honestly, of all the strange turns your life has taken lately, that last bit ranks up there with becoming a witch and turning into a full-on girl.

Okay, it's probably more accurate to say you're here to support your girlfriend and best friend. But the fact remains that you, Ashley Price, are currently wearing Isabelle's varsity jacket and seated amongst a big crowd of classmates all excited for high school sports. That is, like, the most Highschool thing you've ever done or even thought of. And it's not even that you were ever the sort of nerd who makes a big show of disdaining 'normie' teen behavior. You just...never thought you'd do things like this. It's increasingly hard to remember that, until recently, you spent every night and weekend locked up in your Aunt's pool house. Your new world is thrilling in a lot of ways, and you're finding that as much as you love having a spooky magical life, you enjoy having a spooky regular life just as much.

That being said, you're pretty sure you still think football is dumb. You're probably going to just spend most of tonight making eyes at your hot girlfriend.

Unfortunately the cheerleaders haven't hit the field yet, and Donna and Rhys are still faffing about at the concession stand. Hopefully they don't return with a new religion based on soda flavors. So...what to do now? You shuffle awkwardly, fiddling with Isabelle's jacket's zipper. Well, you know the other people around you...maybe try talking to them? Dammit Ashley, that's exactly what a spooky regular girl would do. You're a goddamn good idea machine tonight. You twist around a bit, offering the excited-looking looking girl with the orange pony tail behind you a wave. "Hey! Football, am I right?"

She gives you a big, peppy smile. "Yeah!"

"My favorite part is definitely the touchdowns."

"Uh-huh!"

"And the, uh...scrimmaging? Scrimmages?"

"Sure!"

You turn back around and wonder how hard it is to get into the Witness Protection Program. You've already crafted a new persona for yourself: Shirley Muntz, a Nevada gal who has one of those weird rock front lawns and never, ever talks about football to anyone. The only thing that stops you from immediately fleeing the state and your own ignorance about all sports is the timely arrival of Donna and Rhys, the latter carting a massive tub of popcorn while the former calls out to the orange-haired source of all of your shame. "Talia! Hey, girl! Football, am I right?!"

"Yeah!"

"I'm super ready to see all those touchdowns and scrimmages!"

"Uh-huh!"

The elvish queen cranes herself over to high five the other girl before turning back to waggle her eyebrows at you by way of a greeting. "Hey! Did we miss anything? We kinda got into the weeds with popcorn sizes."

Rhys nods, still looking vexed. "The values are a real mind game, I swear. It's ten dollars for more popcorn than any being could ever eat in a single sitting. But for only a dollar more, it's twice as much popcorn as any being could ever eat in a single sitting! I do not understand money, and I do not understand marketing, and I only sort of understand popcorn."

You manage a wry grin for the prince. "I get it, Rhys. Popcorn is a mystery that's plagued mankind since the caveman days." You sneak a glance back at Talia, then turn ruefully towards Donna. "You've only been in high school for a week, but I'm pretty sure you already have more friends than me."

Donna gives a big pssh at that, smacking you on the shoulders. "Oh give me a break, Ash. You're like the queen of this place! And I am a for real Queen, so take my word for it."

That manages to pull a chuckle out of you, but you can't help a bit of a sigh. "I know, you're right. I guess I still get a bit Imposter Syndrome on my own ass sometimes."

"Well, stop it." Donna grabs your hand, leaning in excitedly. "It's Friday night, and we're going to watch a football game, and then we're going to go to a big afterparty and make a bunch of stupid mistakes. It's everything I ever dreamed of before we got to come here, and I am so happy we get to live that dream with you."

Aw, Donna. These mythical weirdos are the freakin' best. Which reminds you: "Oh! By the way, thanks for keeping watch on my and Jenny's places yesterday. It really was a huge relief."

Donna waves her hand dismissively, then suddenly brightens up. "Ooo, Rhys! I forgot to tell you: I was watching Jenny's house, right? At like eleven this boy came out to empty some garbage cans. She has a younger brother!"

Rhys _oooo_s and ahhhs appreciatively; you'd almost forgotten how rare siblings are among elves. And now that you think about it, the last time you talked about this Jenny wasn't around. Huh. Well, they're certainly in for a surprise. "You know, she actually has two brothers."

Donna lights up. "Really?!"

"Yeah. They're twins, even."

The elves gape at one another. "Like us?! Wow, that's-"

They didn't seem to notice that you hadn't finished. "And two younger sisters, and the baby..."

Donna's jaw drops at that, eyes going blank as Rhys all but explodes in delight. "A baby?! We've never met a baby! We were literally the two most recent elvish babies! Can we go see the baby?!"

You raise your hands quickly, glancing around as you do your best to get Rhys to tamp down his overwhelming enthusiasm. Thank God you've gotten a lot more proficient with the features of your runes lately; whenever Rhys or Donna accidentally use words like 'elf' or 'elvish' to describe themselves while under your shields, said shields make a magical edit to the word 'Canadian'. It's still probably a bit weird for a high school boy to delightedly call himself the last Canadian baby, though. "Yes, yes; we can go see the baby. Maybe not for a while, though? Mrs Park is actually due in, like, a week or something."

Donna bursts forward at that, hands clutching at your lapels and a wild look in her eyes. "Due? You mean she's having another baby? Jenny will have six siblings?!"

You blink at the suddenly intense elf. "Um, yes?"

That revelation is simply too much for Donna, the peppy queen dropping to her seat with a very far away look in her eyes. Rhys isn't doing much better, having immediately buried himself in his newly acquired phone to do an Amazon deep-dive on baby gifts. You love these guys, but you really still do not get elves. And you'll have to set aside the matter for now, because the cheerleaders are making their entrance with the football team right behind them.

Okay, you're up. It's time to knock being a supportive girlfriend out of the damn park. Is that this sport? You're pretty sure that's the right sport.

Either way, the right thing to do seems to be to whoop and cheer right alongside the rest of the crowd, so you set to it with aplomb. You save a big cheer for your friend Colin, unrecognizable in his Big Bull mascot outfit as he runs down the field with the cheerleaders. Wow, is he actually sort of good at this? Your normally unremarkable friend is cavorting for the stands with an athleticism you'd never oh wait, nope; he just fell down. And a cheerleader is helping him up and...uh, yeah, they've both fallen down. It takes Jenny, showing the grim determination of a grizzled sergeant ushering helpless young men into battle, to get Colin back up to his feet, the crowd giving your somewhat unfortunate friend a round of good-natured applause as he begins a much less ambitious trot down the field.

You want to try and catch his eye somehow, but then you spot Isabelle and immediately forget about that noise. God, she's just so fucking everything. Those long, gorgeous legs, those sparkling green eyes, the excited flush to her lightly freckled face as she loudly cheers in unison with her squad...she really is the absolute picture of a perfect, All-American cheerleader. When you first came to pine for her, you had no idea she was anything other than that. But now you know better; she is that perfect cheerleader fantasy, but she's also a fussy hippy dork. She hates pickles but loves cucumbers. She has intensely strong opinions on how creepy Mr Rochester from Jane Eyre is. She even likes Face Taker. She's super weird, absolutely amazing, and you love her.

Sometimes you feel life you cheated at this, that magic allowed you to gain a relationship with someone who otherwise had zero romantic interest in you. And maybe you did. But right now, she's caught your eyes in the crowd, and when she saw you proudly showing off her jacket and giving her an extra loud cheer she lit up with a smile that sends your toes curling. So right now, you don't give a shit. You love her, and you're certain that she loves you too. Who cares about anything else?

Well apparently your fellow students do, because you're starting to hear some murmurs in the crowd. "Hey, where's David?"

That knocks you out of your reverie for the moment as you glance over your shoulder, the boy who spoke already getting a response from a nearby friend. "Didn't you hear? He's injured, isn't he?"

Uh, what? He did hurt his ankle after he and Leslie surprised your group in the science lab, but Isabelle said she healed it. Didn't she? You speak up. "I thought that it wasn't serious, though?"

Another girl shakes her head. "No, I heard it was pretty bad. He's definitely out for at least tonight. Maybe longer."

That prompts a new chorus of murmurs as you turn back towards the football field with a frown. That is not great. David Wright was by far the best player you had, so if he isn't playing tonight...you scan the crowd, quickly picking out Quinn's tousled blonde head. Yeah, he looks super fucking nervous. Looks like David really isn't going to play tonight. Well that is less than optimal! You really like Quinn; hopefully he'll be able to make it through this as best he can. You resolve to cheer especially hard for him. That helps, right? You don't understand football.

Well regardless of whether you get it or not, the game is starting all the same. The other team kicks off, and you suppose that went well? People are cheering, so you cheer too. When Quinn jogs out to take his position behind the center (center? Snapper? Something?) you make sure to call out his name and wave your arms in a show of support. There, he should be set now. The two teams line up in opposition, Quinn starts calling out a bunch of stuff, and then the ball is in his hands for the first play of the game. You're actually getting excited; go Quinn!

And wow, he really can go! The other team managed to break through his defenders with startling ease, but Quinn twists and jukes around them in a display of agility that is impressive even to your untrained eye. Why did he tell you he was bad at this; he's so good at this! The crowd's roar builds to a frenzy as he evades another opponent, his receivers open further down the field. You're practically jumping up and down in excitement as Quinn keeps on scrambling, clearly waiting for the perfect target to make it clear than David Wright wasn't the only champion on this team.

Except...he never throws it. He just keeps on frantically weaving around the field, and eventually one of his opponents manages to drag him to the ground. The crowd collapses with a groan of disappointment, a heavy feeling settling onto your shoulders. Well that's a bummer. Okay Quinn, you've shaken off those first timer jitters. Now it's time to really go to work!

Except on the next play, the exact same thing happens: the defensive line collapses immediately, and Quinn is so focused on not getting tackled that, again, he never throws the ball. Or even runs forward! You'd never claim to be any sort of genius football tactician, but it almost seems like his evading is worse than just getting tackled right away. He keeps scrabbling further backwards to avoid the rushers, and as a result winds up losing even more yards. Soon enough, he's pulled to the ground again, that heavy feeling weighing you down even further.

It's when he's dropped yet again that you realize what you're feeling isn't just disappointment, it's something else. And when Quinn is brought down for the fourth time, in his own end zone no less, you confirm it in a cold flash of panic. Every time Quinn gets sacked, your network of shields gets a little bit weaker. The game has only been going for ten minutes, and your source of power and protection is already notably diminished. This is going to keep happening over two more hours, and a few few short hours later you'll be plunged headfirst into war significantly weaker than you were this morning.

Your spooky regular life is going to have to go on pause, immediately. Because if you don't do something quick, your spooky magical life will be over before it had a chance to really begin.