As Told By Tuck & Axel

Mags

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."