Chapter: Mags
Author: Axel Otto
My little sister's name is Mags. She is the most important thing to me, right under Tuck of course. I know what you're thinking: what dick values the life of his best friend over the life of his own sister? Well, the answer is this dick: Axel Octavius Otto.
However, Mags and I have always been close, which probably had to do with what little age comes between us. I am protective of my sister. Very protective. She is almost exactly one year younger than me: only three days away from my October 24th birthday. Mags was born the 21st, but we couldn't be any more opposite.
Where I am a leader, Mags is a follower. Mags always seems to be in her own world. She is passionate and smiles a lot. My lips always seem to form a hard line. Everyone she meets adores her. I don't get along with a fraction of the people I meet. But she has big blue eyes that rival mine, and a head of sleek blonde hair, just like my own, that had me practically pulling idiot cock-driven boys off her until I went to college. The only idiot cock-driven boy I didn't have the heart to pull off her was my best friend Tucker.
"Wow, the infamous Tuck," my mother was beaming as she kissed Tuck's cheek. This was the third time she had met him, yet she still caused a scene. I sighed in embarrassment.
"Rachel," I threatened. "Give the boy some space, please."
My mother didn't even give me the side eye for calling her by her first name, and that's how I knew it was going to be a rough night. Tuck was here for dinner after soccer practice, and both of us were a sweaty, dirty mess. We stepped into the kitchen, and in the fifteen-minute window I had told her Tuck was coming over, my mother had prepared a feast.
"Wow, Mrs. Otto, jeez, you didn't have to do this," Similarly, Tuck was astonished by the amount of food at the table. I noticed there were five seats at the dinner table, meaning Papa was coming home from work early, and I almost told Tuck to turn around and walk out the front door. But then Mags came downstairs and everything got a little bit weird.
I'm not going to be humble, I am good looking. Mags is like the female version of me, without the scruff and the attitude. She even has the same jawline I do, and boy can we both pull it off. (Just so you get a better picture, Mags is now a freelance model in her spare time. She is paying for her own tuition at Vet school with the money she has made. Mags is every older brother's dream.)
I watched Tuck's lips part as she cascaded down the stairs quite ungracefully, cursing loudly at me in German because I used her computer without asking. She hadn't noticed our guest.
"Maggie," I scolded, stepping in front of my best friend. "We have a guest," I told her in German. (I would write this all in my native language but you see, Tuck is going to have to read this eventually and no matter how many times I try to teach him, he can't seem to grasp the Germanic language.)
Maggie squealed of surprise when she saw Tucker standing there. I mean, if I were a junior Fair Lawn high school girl, I would have squealed too. THE Tucker Oaks was standing in OUR living room, sweaty and dirty and hot. I think we can all put ourselves into Maggie's shoes for a moment, as she stands in her home in sweatpants and a One Direction t-shirt in front of one of the most popular boys in the school, internally damning the brother who gave her no warning of this impending occurrence.
"I am going to murder you, Octavius," she spat, using our language and my middle name, a habit she developed as a child to combat my teasing of her own second name, which happened to be Fergus. She suddenly smiled widely. "Hi, you must be Tucker," she said, extending her hand and her insanely good English. Tucker's eyes flickered at the sound of her voice; she barely had an accent. "I'm Otto's sister, Maggie, but everyone calls me Mags."
Tucker chuckled that charming chuckle of his before taking her hand in his. "Nice to meet you," he said to her, before turning back to me. "Even your family calls you Otto?"
I shrugged. "Sometimes. Mostly they just call me Octavius. It's my middle name."
Tucker grinned, biting back the laugh I knew he wanted to let loose. I glared at him, but didn't have the chance to bring up his own middle name (which is Moon. Tucker Moon Oaks, yes.), because the room fell silent as the door to our home creaked open.
And then, Eadmund Beorhtric Otto V arrived.
My mother lit up like a Christmas tree, her blonde ponytail bouncing as she rushed to the door to help my father with his jacket. He was back from one of his trips. His handsome face smiled widely, kissing my mother with tenderness. Despite my father's threatening, fierce, and utterly terrifying persona, whenever he looked at my mother it was like all of that disappeared. He had the same attitude with my sister. Maggie squealed again, rushing over to my father.
"Papa!" My dad turned from his wife and smiled into the embrace Mags had pulled him into.
"Magdalene, Ich habe dich vermisst, meine Liebe!"
Mags told my father that she had missed him too, in German of course, before they broke away and my father finally noticed his only son and the sweaty boy standing next to him.
"Papa, dies ist mein freund, Tucker."
I had to pull Tucker out from behind me after I introduced him, considering he had sunk deeper and deeper into the background since my father's arrival.
"Hallo Tucker," he said in no friendly manner, before turning to my mother and asking-in German-what was for dinner.
If he spoke at all during dinner, he spoke in German, completely ostracizing poor Tucker whose palms were so sweaty he couldn't properly grip his fork (My dad had that affect on people). He was stuck sitting across from his future girlfriend and next to his best friend/future girlfriend's father, and let me tell you, he was not enjoying it.
"So, Tucker, how is the season going for you?" my mother asked him politely. It was some of the only English conversation all dinner, and I could practically feel the nerves in his chest deflate.
"It's going very well," Tuck said with a smile, turning to look at me. "Your son is the best goalie I have ever seen."
My mother gave him the "oh-stop-it-you" routine, Tucker insisting it was true. My father snorted. He had been a goalie for the German national team and he taught me everything I knew.
"Du hättest mich spielen sehen sollen," my father said through a smirk, stating that Tucker wouldn't be saying the same thing if he had seen my father play. All of the German speaking attendees laughed at this, and Tucker's face grew very red. His eyes stared downwards as he pushed a potato around on his plate, avoiding everyone's stare.
Suddenly, I was angry with my father. How dare he embarrass my guest?
I lightly touched Tuck's knee. "He said-"
"I was just saying," my father cut me off, his English impeccable. "I used to goal tend as well. My son is good, of course. But he is no Deutsche Fußball-Spieler."
Tuck snapped his neck up to my father's gaze, meeting him in the eyes for the first time all night. "Holy crap. You're Eadmund B. Otto the fifth. Goal tender in the winning world cup game of 1974. Youngest German goal tender in the history of the league. Only four goals against you the entire competition. Oh my god, it is an honor sir, you are a legend."
To say my father was surprised was an understatement. Papa was astonished. He used to think no one outside of Germany could even name a national football player. Tucker had just recited my father's entire young adult years. Well, at least the only things that mattered. This one sentence granted Tucker a spot in my father's heart for the rest of his life.
"Well, thank you," my dad said, still in awe. In fact, all four of us were still in awe. "I look forward to seeing you and Axel play this year. He tells me you are his sweeper? And a damn good one at that."
Tuck blushed and shifted his weight. I then realized I still had my hand on his knee. I retracted it like his leg was molten lava. "Thank you, sir, but Axel is something else. You have a lot to be proud of."
My dad smiled at me. "I know."
I know I make it sound like my dad is like Voldemort or even, I don't know, the Joker, (If you're reading this--sorry Papa), but he's seriously great. He's definitely got a tough exterior, but he believes in me, and he has always been my biggest supporter. So, shout out to you Papa.
After dinner, Tuck was about to take off when Maggie started complaining about her precalculus homework.
"It's just incomprehensible," she whined. "My teacher is an ass and she doesn't even offer extra help time."
My mother's face twisted into an expression of horror as she grabbed the dish Mags was holding and placed it in the dishwasher. "No extra help?"
"I can help you, Maggie."
I gaped at my best friend. He was staring at her with this soft, comforting, compassionate look that I didn't like. I didn't like boys talking to my sister, but Tucker? He was my best friend. I couldn't just knee him in the nuts and threaten to fuck his girlfriend. I would have to be civilized when telling him if he ever touched my sister I would not hesitate to take away his ability to produce offspring.
Maggie blushed and my mother gave her one of those raised eyebrow looks she gives whenever I bring attractive friends over. Maggie looked up at Tucker who had gotten significantly closer to my baby sister. "Really?"
"Yeah. I took that class last year, I have all my notes still and everything. I'd love to help."
I cut in before Maggie could speak. "Just get someone in your grade to help you. Tucker has enough on his plate, we're trying to get into college, play soccer, and have a social life on top of school, Fergus. Let him be."
"It's not a problem at all!" Tucker quickly jumped in. "It would help me as well. I need a precalc refresher anyways. How does once a week sound?"
Maggie eagerly agreed. I refrained from punching Tucker in the face. My mother's smug expression did nothing good for the situation.
"I'm going to take a shower," I practically yelled, none of the three missing the intense anger in my announcement. Tuck turned to give me a confused stare.
"Alright man, I guess I'll see you tomorrow?"
"Yeah, I GUESS SO," I shouted (yes, I know, I need help) before turning around and heading upstairs, cursing him in German all the way until my bedroom door slammed behind me.
I caught the two of them making out in Mags' room during "study time" a week later. I punched Tuck in the face, but he said he still wanted to see my sister and would really appreciate my permission. So I thought about it, and realized if I ever had to punch my sister's boyfriend again, I wouldn't want it to be anyone but Tuck. So I gave him my permission.