Just to keep things All in Order [Don't Post]

[Volthaire]

Jacqueline Marie Laurent✿

" To love and be loved is to feel the sun from both sides. "
-David Viscott

Jacqueline Marie Laurent had been up for a long time, sitting in her room writing in her diary. The orange glitter pen squiggles in her hand as she wrote in her fancy cursive. Dotting the I’s with stars, and any letter going under the line had a curl. Jackie could remember when she was little, her handwriting was deplorable, something her mother wouldn’t have. So, as a way to fix her writing, Mrs. Laurent had Jackie relearn her entire alphabet in cursive so her writing would be legible. It worked in the long run, but took more than two months for her to actually learn it, and another year for it to turn into her normal handwriting without Jackie having to think about the squiggles or the stars.

Jackie laid on her stomach on her bed, her feet on the pillow, her notebook style diary slowly losing space for future entries. Jackie finished her entry with the date, time, and her overly fancy signature. Blowing over the paper to make sure that the orange glitter ink dried completely, she closed her notebook and jumped off the bed. Shuffling over to her shelf, Jackie put the yellow notebook next to the other ones. All completely full of diary entries. Her yearly tradition, was that on January 1st, she would start a new notebook. It didn’t matter whether the old one was full or not, she started a new one to mark the progress of every year. Total there were about ten different ones, all organized not only by year, but by color. When she was six she had a red notebook, seven was orange, eight was yellow, and so on and so forth. For her 16th year she had a green notebook. It wasn’t her favorite color, but definitely one she didn’t not like.

With a smile, she put it on the shelf, dropping her gel pen into place next to the red and yellow gel pens. Everything in her room was painfully well organized. From her already made bed, Jackie looked around her room to make sure that everything was perfectly in it’s place. Glancing over to the corner, Jackie saw the guitar her mother had bought her ages ago when they were looking for her “Talent.” At this point in her life she wondered why she hadn’t decided just to give it to her little brother. Fletcher DID play guitar, but he didn’t even have one for himself. I guess I know what I’ll be getting him for his birthday...Good thing it’s coming up.Jackie’s little brother Fletcher was one of the poor unlucky souls to have a birthday right next to christmas, so it wasn’t special for him. They went out, he got a present, and that was it. Unlike Jackie, who got whatever she wanted.

Still in her pajamas, shorts and a T-shirt, Jackie went down the hallway to her brother room where she knocked three times on the wooden door. “Fletcher,” she started, opening the door a crack to see her younger brother half off the bed, still asleep. His room was the only room in the house that was a complete mess. There was his old Football jersey in the bottom of the closet, a skateboard, nerf guns, and parts of a bicycle just thrown across his room. Jackie shook her head, and daintilly stepped over the piles of clothes, the skateboards, and the shoes. With a devilish smile, Jacqueline leaned over and pulled the blanket off of Fletcher like a magician pulls off a tablecloth from underneath dishes. She giggled, smiling at her younger brother as he rolled over with a moan. “Jackie,” his words were muffled inside the pillow, his arm reaching over to find something to cover himself with. Like most teenage boys, he slept in his boxers, and felt awkward when his sister saw him in nothing but. However, Jackie had seen guys in less clothing than that, and did not have any problem seeing her baby brother in just his white and orange striped boxers. “,Five more minutes. Please.” With a frown, Jackie leaned over, and ran her finger over the bottom of his foot, hopefully tickling him would wake him enough to get him out of bed. “not a chance Fletcher! I know better. You ask me for five minutes, and that turns into twenty, and I will not be late. Get up silly head. Get dressed. I’m pretty sure I can make you breakfast....” It was all she could offer as incentive to get Fletcher out of bed.

Jackie turned on his stereo, the radio playing some sort of music that he liked. Hopefully that would also get him out of bed, otherwise Jackie would literally have to drag him. Again. Back in her room, Jackie ran a hairbrush through her hair, going over the blond locks slowly to make sure that nothing would be knotted. Maybe I should just put my hair up today...Yes, I think I will. Jackie took her brush and tossed it on her bed, she would put it in her correct spot after she was completely done with it.

Going to her closet, Jackie pulled out a teal embroidered dress and a cropped white shrug. She pulled off her T-shirt, her pink and yellow strapless bra showing only for a moment as she slid on the sleeveless dress, the shrug on overtop. Once her dress was off, she wiggled out of her shorts, coming very close to falling backwards as she did so. Luckily her bed was right behind her to catch her fall. Jackie grabbed the thin fabric and swished it once, satisfied in the color she was wearing. Jacqueline’s mother always complimented her on the fact that she could look good in almost any color, but for some reason teal and orange appealed the most to her. Yes, she did like all the other colors, but teal and orange were her favorite. Which in the long run made no sense if you knew what her favorite flower was.

Going to the window seat, grabbing her hairbrush as she did so, she opened the drawer under the cushioned seat, removing a small clear box labeled “Hair accessories.” Jackie pulled out a double headband, ten bobby pins, and a hair tie. Running her brush through her hair, Jackie pulled her long blond locks back into a bun at the base of her neck, only leaving her bangs out of the bun. With the bobby pins and the hair tie, she secured her hair in place so that no matter what it wouldn’t move or come loose. Putting on her headband, Jackie let her bands hang out in front, just a bit of an accent around her face. Jackie was satisfied when she looked in the mirror, glad that she didn’t need much makeup to make herself look presentable.

Jackie put away her hair accessory box back into the drawer, and her hairbrush where it belonged. While in her drawer she took out a necklace, and a multitude of bracelets, putting all of them on her left wrist, leaving her right wrist bare out of habit. Jackie was right handed, and used that hand for everything, so something interfering with that was always immediately removed. Jackie put the few things she thought she would need for the day (a wallet, lipgloss, cell phone, pen, pencil, planner), in a small black clutch. Large purses were never her thing, for they took up a lot of space, and all in all were just annoying.

Heading down the hall, she could hear some rummaging in the kitchen, That better be Fletcher. I’m pretty sure it is. Mom is at work, and dad is at work, so unless there is a very confused robber that has to be him. It was in fact her little brother Fletcher, obviously forgetting her offer to make breakfast for he was eating a pop tart that he had just gotten out of the toaster oven. Jackie smiled and looked up at her younger brother, still slightly amazed at how much taller he was than her. Fletcher was about five foot ten, and still growing. He still had about five inches before he caught up to their father, but at that rate he would get there before he was a senior in highschool.

“Good morning Fletcher! Sleep well?” Jackie walked through the kitchen as she spoke, grabbing a raspberry yogurt and a spoon for her breakfast. Into the cupboard she went, glad that her mother was at work so she wouldn’t see her daughter doing such a thing,, Jackie removed the box of frosted cheerios and put about a half a cup worth into her yogurt. To be silly, Jackie looked over at Fletcher, finger over her mouth, and went, “Shhhh. Don’t tell mom.” Jackie giggled as Fletcher raised an eyebrow at her, finishing off his poptart before washing his hands in the kitchen sink. Jackie viciously stirred the cereal into her yogurt before taking a bite, glad that she can mix something unhealthy with something good for you. “Hey Jackie, do you know what time dad is coming home today?” Jackie looked up from her yogurt with a smile. Fletcher was leaning against the counter, tapping his fingers on the white granite counter tops.

Jackie put her yogurt down on the counter, her spoon resting on top as she went to retrieve her planner from her purse. That thick pad of paper was neatly organized with times, dates, names, everything. Jackie relied on that small pad of paper more than her own mother, which in a way was almost sad, but it was how she ran things. Flipping to todays date in her planner, Jackie ran her hand down the schedule of things that were happening. Half talkling to herself, half talking to Fletcher, Jackie rattled off the things that were for todays school “Assembly, PE, geometry, Advanced Literature, Advanced Placement World history, French, Photography, Chemistry, free period, pageant rehersal, singing lessons, mom comes home at five, dad comes home at six, dinner at six thirty....OH! Dad comes home at six.” Jackie snapped her planner shut and put it back into her small black clutch, satisfied that everything was all fine and dandy. Fletcher didn’t say anything to her comment, and just walked out of the kitchen to migrate out to Jackies’ car. Jackie threw away her empty yogurt container and slipped on her white flats completing her first day of school outfit. Skipping out the front door, Jackie grabbed her keys from the hook on the wall before getting into the drivers side to head out to school.

--

Jackie and Fletcher rode the entire way to school together, no talking, the radio on. At school they both went there separate way, Fletcher seeming more than eager to get out of the car with her. A twang of guilt ran through her as she watched her younger brother run off into the crowd of people. He was her younger brother, and from what she could tell he resented her for getting all the attention.

It didn’t take long for Jacqueline to recover from her moment of guilt, so she locked the car and skipped off into the gym. It was full of people, full of everyone she went to school with, full of people willing to give her attention. Jackie threw her hands in the air without a word, her silent way of saying “The star has arrived!” Jackie skipped over to a seat on the bleacher, straightening out her skirt so her underwear wouldn’t be seen from anyone running beneath the bleachers.

✿
xx
✿

[Volthaire]

Jacqueline Marie Laurent✿

" To love and be loved is to feel the sun from both sides. "
-David Viscott

It was about six thirty when Jackie heard a door slam. It's probably the front door. Yes, most likely. Dad....Wait... Jackie glanced over at her digital clock, seeing the white numbers writing out “6:45”. She had about ten minutes before she needed considering the fact that she always liked to show up a little bit early and get to the student section with her cowbell and her well exercised vocal chords. She peeked out her room, and listened for the footsteps. The Laurent's house made footsteps very distinct between her family members. She could tell whom was walking where in a simple way. Fletcher's steps sounded like he always dragged his feet, which he usually did. Jackie could hear the swishing of loose pants, presumably her brothers. Think of the devil. The moment she suspected that it was Fletcher , he walked across the bottom of the staircase from the foyer to the kitchen. She let out a small giggle and went back into her room. Jackie was planning on dragging him off to the pep rally without telling him. Hopefully Fletcher wouldn't be too upset with her, but to tell the truth Jackie didn't care. She just wanted him to enjoy himself for once, maybe even make some new friends.

Back in her room, Jackie went through her clothes, finding her school colored clothes. She had leggings, knee high socks, hair ties, shorts, and a Jersey she had “borrowed” from the old bins in the boys locker room. They were absolutely ancient, but her mother had paid buku bucks to get it cleaned up and set up correctly. What else was she supposed to do, wear a jersey that looked like it had a fight with a lawn mower? Of course not. She slipped off the clothes she wore for the day, quickly wiggling into her bright purple leggings that went perfectly with her white boy shorts. Pep rallys were her only exception to not wearing skirts, that and any sort of manual labor. On top of it, the leggings and shorts were warm and modest enough, so she really didn't need anything else. She put on white under armor, you know the stuff football players to keep them warm, then the purple jersey with the number “56”. It was Miles' number, the main reason she spent an hour dressed in black sneaking through the old uniforms to find that specific number.

In her complete purple and white getup, (Leggings, socks, hair ties, necklaces, gloves, everything), Jackie went over to her dresser to remove two containers of colored makeup sticks, one purple, and one white. Off to the mirror she went, slightly sliding across the wood floor in the hallway and the tile in the bathroom as she skidded in front of the mirror. It took a bit of talent to do what she is currently attempting, something definitely worthy of filming. She used a mirror to write a number on her face, and it looked miraculously correct. Even if you were looking at her head on. Jackie had learned to write backwards a long time ago, her mother made her perfect it when they were going through “Talents” Jackie could do at Pageants. It might not be as flashy as her current talent, singing, but it definitely has helped her out. Unlike the talent of rollerskating backwards down a hill, that idea had many problems. The main one being that there are no hills on stages.

Jackie went fluttering down the stairs, her hair swishing back and forth as if it was an upside down metronome set at an unusually fast tempo. At the bottom of the stairs she could see Fletcher sitting at the table alone, quietly eating some kind of gooey mess on toast. She could only assume that it was a Peanut butter and jelly sandwich without the top piece of bread, but she really didn't want to ask. Are those bananas too? A smile couldn't keep from being erupted on her face, even Jackie was able to stop and stare at her brother with absolute love. She felt like a parent without all the bills, full of pride and love that was rarely reciprocated.

Then she realized what he was wearing. From neck down he looked like someone who had just walked out of a military tank. He was completely dressed in camoflague, heavy boots including, a gun in the corner. OH MY GOSH IS THAT A GUN!? Her immediate reflex was to let out a sharp shriek, making Fletcher (Whom was completely unaware to her presence at the moment) jumped up from his chair so fast that the wooden frame clattered loudly against the linoleum floor. “What the heck Jackie!? No one is at the window!” The kitchen was silent, all except for the elevated heart rate of both the Laurent children. Jackie took a few deep breaths, attempting to calm herself down from her scare. There was a boy in her kitchen that was eating her food, who looked like a military agent, and who had a gun. Good thing it was her brother or Jackie would definitely have taken a frying pan to his head.

”Fletcher I am SO sorry! I didn't mean to freak out! I saw the gun, and I didn't see the hopper, and I guess I just jumped to conclusions and thought you were a creeper.....I'm sorry.” The expression on Fletcher's face was priceless. It was a rather unforgiving look of appall, and horrified. Jackie could only assume that he was appalled at the fact that she screamed, or horrified that she thought that he was a creeper. Either way Jackie wanted to get his expression on film, if only she was absolutely sure it would still be there in time to run and get a camera.

“Let me get this straight, you thought there was someone sitting calmly at the kitchen table, dressed in military-like garb, eating your food. And you thought he was going to rape you...” The moment he pointed out her mistake, Jackie's face turned beat red, her eyes instantly darting to her unmatched socks that were on her feet. She heard a small slap, and instantly looked up to see that her brother had just hit himself in the forehead .

“Fletcher....What the heck did you do that for?

“It's called a 'Face palm' it is the only logical answer to a stupid question or statement. Like the one you just made. “

Jackie was unsure as what to do. Either she was going to hit him in the shoulder for being a jerk, or she would do something as a form of revenge. She took the latter over the former, choosing to pull out her face paint sticks, and very quickly, LIKE A NINJA, Jackie drew four swift lines on his face, one purple and one white on each side, right below his eyes. It was quite the sight, an average height blond boy in an army getup, adorning stripes that almost matched his sisters. Almost. Fletcher just stared at his sister, not completely sure how to respond to her drawing little lines on his face. Jackie could definitely tell that he wasn't happy, but then again, she would make him happy if it killed her, even if she hoped that it wouldn't require things to go that far.

Jackie let out a 'sexy' whistle at her brother, forcing him to roll his eyes and sigh. "Aww, Fletcher, you look so adorable! You look like a gay military officer!" Jackie looked him up and down, definitely looking irritated at his current situation. A look of confusion showed on her face, finally she noticed that he was in fact wearing a military uniform. "Why are you wearing that?" Fletcher glanced down at Jackie and just shook his head as if he had heard that question multiple times.

"I'm in JROTC. I just got it today, wanted to try it out, possibly go paintballing in it with the gang tonight."

"NO! You can't do that!" Jackie looked up at him with a rather unfavorable expression, her mouth partially open from shock of hearing this unhappy news. She wanted to take him to the pep rally, and at that rate there was no way that that would happen. Then again, she would always have her mother on her side.
"You're coming to the pep rally with me! That's why I put the stripes on your face, and why I'm dressed like this!

"I thought that that was normally what you wore." Jackie blatantly ignored his sarcastic undertone, and continued with her arguement. She was going to take him to the pep rally, that much was for sure.

--

It didn't take much convincing, all she had to do was do the standard arguement of "He needs to do something" to her mother. The conversation was ended rather quickly, for when their mother agreed with Jackie, and Fletcher went to their father, Mr.Laurent released the expected response of "listen to your mother," which instantly ended the discussion. As a result, that meant that Jackie and Fletcher were both on their way to the pep rally, no matter how much Fletcher was against such a thing. Jackie didn't even give him enough time to change out of his uniform, so he was stuck with the stripes on his cheeks with camouflage.

Immediately upon arrival, Jackie locked her car and gave Fletcher a smile. " Do you have your cell phone?" He nodded and left without a word, heading off to see his friends. Jackie frowned the moment she saw them, for they were all laughing at the fact that he had come to the pep rally wearing a uniform.

It only took to the count of three for Jackie to move on, forcing her to skip off, her beads jingling around her neck as she danced away to the benches, instantly seeing the foreign-yet not foreign man that was her BBF. Isha Dosanjh.

" ISHA! " Jackie put her hand around her mouth, yelling rather loudly from the top of the bleachers as she skipped down the steps, her frail feet tapping against the metal in her purple converse, each sock pulled up to her knees each slightly falling down with every movement.

It didn't take far too long for to her to be right smack dab next to Isha, standing against him, her shoulder against his upper arm, a wide grin on her face.
"Dang nabbit Isha! Jess beat me to it! I wanted to be the one to draw lines on your face!"

✿
xx
✿

[Volthaire]

"Good Morning California! Isn't it a good day to be alive, Robert?"
"Of course, Bill, It's always a great day to-" Andrew leaned over, and with his left hand on top of the alarm, he turned off his regular wake-up call. All through the summer he had that exact same alarm set, every morning, every day. Seven am was his normal time to get up, get dressed, and start his day. With weary eyes he looked around the room, the very room that he had spent the past week packing from. It was virtually empty, spare the main things. His desk was void of all technology, his nightstand only adorning his alarm clock (Which had a sticky note on the top, his own reminder to remember to pack it), a watch, and the book he had just finished the previous night. The shelves had about half the books he normally had in them, and there were three rather large boxes right next to the door. The grand bedroom was definitely something of a sight. It's wood floors gracefully covering the 300 square foot room, including the master closet and personal bathroom. Throwing the sheets off his bed (due to the fact that it was summer, and Andrew was a rather restless sleeper,the comforter was commonly found on the floor, tussled in a rather unappealing bunch. That of which he would clean up. Eventually.), and set his bare feet down on the floor. His plain white boxer shorts straightened themselves out as he stood up, slowly making his way over to his closet to grab his jeans for the day.

His hair was a rather unruly mop on the top of his hair, the dark blond looking slightly greasy before his daily shower, parts sticking straight up in some places. Into the shower he went, stripping his clothes prior of course, turning on the water and diving right into the cold liquid. There was something about a cold shower that just simply attracted him. Maybe it was the fact that it reminded him of swimming in the pond when he was younger, or perhaps it was just the fact that it woke him up a lot easier than a hot shower, or coffee for that matter. Regardless, he went through his shower, in and out, faster than normal, the excitement and dread of the first day of school finally getting to him. Out of the shower was his next step, wrapping himself in the expensive towels that matched the bathroom in the process. With the towel around his waist, he strode over to the counter top, grabbing his moisturizer and his whitening toothpaste. That was all it took to put a smile on his face, clean, silky hands, and fresh breath. Now all that was left was to get dressed. Slipping into his white-washed jeans, (After putting on a pair of dark blue, Calvin Klein boxer shorts of course), Andrew walked back into his bedroom, aimlessly grabbing the loose watch that was sitting on his nightstand as he went to pick out a shirt. He found a simple wife beater, slipping it over his bony frame he walked back into the bathroom to rub his deodorant into his armpits. The back and forth was definitely rather silly, but he had a system that demanded to be kept, something that he definitely couldn't explain. Back to his closet he went, putting on a simple purple and white striped dress shirt, then a dark brown blazer. Andrew shuffled his bare feet over to a box, opening it to simply find a pair of cufflinks to place on his overpriced dress shirt.

Fully clothed and roaring to go, Andrew gallivanted down two flights of stairs, past cleaning staff, past cooks and one of the delivery men taking something in a large box to the garage. I wonder if it's the part for my corvette... Andrew kept going, only to stop when he saw one of his friends at the door. Trevor had been his friend for most of his life, and apparently he was the first one to see him off. With a smile he gracefully rushed over to his friend, a wide smile on his face as he watched his friend look around the bustling house. There were boxes packed everywhere, people rushing in and out, and every so often someone would yell to another about how the box was in the wrong place, or someone yelling for help. The first floor looked almost like a small battleground of people in uniforms, and a young family rushing around the first floor with their parents lecturing them about not touching anything. The moment Trevor saw Andrew, he saluted, even having a small problem keeping a straight face while in this standard military form.

"Brigadier General! Report waiting!"

It was an enormous inside joke, ranging through the four of his friends, and they had all dictated that Andy was to be their leader. In response, Andrew poised himself in a salute, snapping his feet together in the appropriate way in response to Trevor's salute.
"At ease Private. Report."

Trevor looked around, miraculously dodging a young girl skidding across the grand foyer, her older brother chasing her in the process.
"The other privates will be a little late. Noah's mother had a doctors appointment, and Joel's bike broke, Ben...Well I have no idea where he is, but they will get here! I could have given them a ride, but unlike you I don't have my license yet." Trevor was the oldest of their 'military' regime, but because his parents didn't have much money, and the fact that he had four younger siblings, there was no way he would be able to get his license before he was 18, and on top of that, before he had a job.

"Oh, well then, we'll just have to go pick them up, now wont we. I'll just have to go out in the stang." Andrew looked around his house, jumping at the sound of something breaking in the dining hall. He stiffened up and motioned Trevor to follow, striding out into the dining hall, a rather loud voice emanating from his mouth. "What broke, guys?" The many moving crew members stopped in their tracks, even the few cleaning up what looked to be a crystal vase. One guy lifted up a large piece and showed it casually to Andrew, which caused him to let out a sigh of relief. It's not an antique, they're fine. "Clean it up and carry on guys. Thanks a lot. Andy ignored the strange looks from the movers as he went about his own business.

Trevor looked around like everyone was dripping radioactive goo from their ears. The look on his face was definitely something that Andrew would take a picture of, that is, if he had a camera on his person.
"What the flicking hell is going on in this mansion?"
Andrew's face lit up with a smile, for he loved explaining what was going on with his mansion, which he preferred to be referred to as a manor.
"Well, what's going on, is the mess that would be renting. Since I'm going off to school, again, I'm renting out my house for the year. Just the first floor, but it's to a small family that has more money than sense. That little girl that nearly ran into you a few minutes ago, that would be one of them. Their parents are somewhere, most likely making sure that everything was in order. Today's move in day, so I'll be one pretty soon, so I guess it's move in day for both them, and for me."

Trevor nodded his head very slowly, as if he completely understood what was going on. With a nod, Andrew walked over to the front door, Trevor following at his heels. He grabbed his keys out of the large bowl on the table, listening to the quiet clanking of the metal against the porcelain bowl. Trevor followed, keeping at Andrews heels like a puppy to his mother, something Andy didn't really mind.
"Which car we takin', Andy?" Trevor asked, looking around at the moving vans, and the workers fluttering all around.

"Well, I hope to take the old stang, but if that new part hasn't come in yet, we'll just have to take the new one." Trevor followed Andy to the garage out back, the same large, ware-house like building that was decorated like a museum hanger on the outside, but was a mechanics dream on the inside.
Trevor let out a long whistle, clearly impressed with the garage, even after they had been in there many time before, every time it was slightly different. Today there were a set of boxes in the corner, freshly delivered that morning, and obviously someone had signed for them.

"Hey Andy! I'll be done with the Corvette in a minute, already signed and everything for you." John appeared out of nowhere, wearing dirty gloves, an apron, and his usual dress clothes, the sleeves rolled up, of course. John had been Andy's 'Nanny', persay, since he was a young boy, and was there for him when he needed it most.

Andy jogged over to John, with Trevor next to him, obviously amazed at the new cars that showed up almost every day. Andy took a look in the engine, making sure not to touch anything, for he didn't want to ruin his clothing.
"Wow, John, those pistons look amazing. Will this thing be up and running?" Andrew circled the car, grabbing a small cloth off a tabletop, he wiped off a small smudge of oil on the door before returning to the engine to see John turn one last bolt.

"It should be up and ready to drive right about now, too bad you've got onle one last day with this baby. I would give anything for a car this nice, but I guess just monkeying around with the engine is enough for me."

Andrew couldn't help but smile at his old friend, glad that something could put a smile on his face besides his family, something Andrew wished he had. Looking into the engine, Andrew grinned, proud of John's workmanship.

"It looks great John! Now you get to close up the hood and take it for a test run." With a grin, he removed the Corvette's key from his lanyard of keys and tossed it to John, him instinctively catching it midair, a look of shock on his face. John smiled and waved as he got in the car, taking a moment just to appreciate the American designed car.

Andrew looked at Trevor, who was now walking around and visiting each car, even touching some. Andy didn't have a problem with him touching the vehicles, just as long as his hands didn't touch his most praised possession. The 1954 Kraiser. That car was one of the most beautiful cars he had, and his personal favorite. To Andy, he would probably sell his home before he would sell that car, and that's got to say something. Leaning against the hood of his 2009 Ford Mustang, the white one of course, Andrew looked around the garage one last time, his right hand jingling the keys that he would need to lock it up, the key to the alarm system was up as well. Just as you would have expected, Andrew had the entire garage bugged. When the alarm system was up, only two people could unlock it, and that would be Andrew himself, and Johnathan.

"Well Trevor, we should probable get going, pick up the guys and take one last run on the yacht." With a grin, he grabbed his keys and hopped into the white stang, only waiting a moment or two for Trevor to hop in the passengers seat before waving to Johnathan and driving off to pick up the squad.

--

It was eight forty-five, and after spending part of the morning saying goodbye to his friends (Even receiving a few joke birthday gifts for his upcoming sixteenth birthday), Andrew was in Montery, California. He had taken a commercial airline, first class, for it was only an hour flight, and that was definitely not something worth the fuel of his private jet. Johnathan had accompanied him, of course, not only to see him off, but to also help him bring all the things up into the dorm hallway. He had paid a valet extra money to put his stang in a special place at the parking structure so that nothing possibly bad could happen. In the taxi to the school, Andrew found himself simply staring outside the window, almost looking sad that he wasn't home anymore. It was another year of school, another year away from his home, another year wondering whether the family renting his manor were destroying it, changing it, or anything along those lines. Andrew was worried, and Johnathan was well aware of this fact.

"Hey, Kiddo, cheer up. You'll be back home for winter break. And think about it, you can always invite your friends. What's that kids name? Waverly? Wamble? Worcestershire" Andrew couldn't help but smile at John's attempt to make him smile. He knew that John wasn't dumb, he was just messing up the name to put a smile on Andrew's face, and sure did it work.

"His name is Wesley Gates, and you know very well that Worcestershire is a kind of sauce. I appreciate your humor, however." Andy grinned, and for the rest of the car ride they had casual conversation, completely ignoring the poor driver whom had to listen to their uproarious laughter.

--

It only took about ten minutes from the airport to the school, and the Taxi pulled into the parking lot in front of his dorm building. John and Andrew went to the trunk of the taxi van, each taking a large box out of the back in order to take them both up to the second floor where his dorm had been every year. Andrew was partially excited to see his school friends again, but he still wanted to keep in contact with his friends from home.

From the sidewalk in front of the door, Andrew could hear loud yelling, something he definitely wasn't expecting this early in the morning. He took a box, John at his heels and opened the door to be immediately immersed in the front lines of a one on one war.


“WHY DID YOU THROW YOUR SHOE AT ME?”

“BECAUSE YOU DESERVED IT.”

Andrew immediately backed into the wall, making way for the two of them to go chasing after eachother down the hallway. Andrew attempted to keep from being in the line of fire. Luckily for him it wasn't far to the stairs, so for a split second he pretended to be a ninja, gracefully danced against the walls, lightly dove for the stairwell, and scampered up, just in time for John to walk in with another box as if nothing at all was going on. Andrew went into his room, then placed the box on the bed.

Andrew went back downstairs, passing John, and took up the last remaining box to his room. On the last trip downstairs, he paid the taxi enough money to for the trip there, and the trip for John to go back to the Airport to catch a plane back north. John met him in front of the sidewalk, and with a few words and a hug, Andrew waved to John as the Taxi drove off, making it official. School had started. (In Andrews mind, that is.)

Going back to the dorm room, Andrew gracefully went up the stairs, then down the hallway.Through a slightly open door he could hear laughter, a specific set of laughter from the friend who's nameJohn had recently screwed up beyond belief. Andrew leaned against the door frame, and with a rhythemic knock, he slightly opened the door, making sure only to stay in the doorway out of respect.

In a joking fashion, Andrew put his hand to his chest, and with a mellowdramatic tone said, "You're laughing?! Without me?! I feel so hurt."

[Volthaire]

NOTE: Carter is my character, this was a dual post with LOMN.

Carter normally wasn't a blogging type, but after hearing the information about how sidekicks would be integrated with heroes, he was more than furious. The moment he got his pairings, his hands clenched so tight his nails dug into the palm of his hand, drawing a small amount of blood. The morning before their first classes with their sidekicks, he hadn't even slept. Carter stayed up all night, fuming and blogging about how upset he was with his life. Yes, he had planned to go to bed, he even got into his plaid pajama pants (or, he thought they were plaid, however he didn't realize that his mother had turned those very pants into a neon yellow zebra print, something he was completely oblivious to.), but he stayed up all night, messing with cords in an attempt to keep his mind off his anger. He went through the house, rewiring everything by hand and making sure that nothing was wrong, just to prevent himself from lighting something on fire, or prank calling someone. (He did end up prank calling some random number in Florida, but the old lady was so hard of hearing that he gave up trying to say a joke between her “WHAT!?” and “IS THIS MAUREEN!?”.) Why the hell do they have to change the system? Why now? Is principal Powers finally off her rocker? Or did she just forget to take her midol when at the school board meeting. Carter had no problem showing his obvious disdain for her decision.

He finally registered time when he heard the shower running. He turned to the clock in the dining room, where he was rewiring his fathers computer without his powers. Of course he could do it all with his powers, but that didn't accomplish what he wanted. He had his wire cutters, rubber bands, copper wire, and electrical tape, all with him just wearing his pajama pants. Carter listened to the sounds of the house as his teeth clenched on the wire cutters handle, his own attempts to both keep his anger down, and keep himself awake after an all nighter. The entire house had been rearranged, vacuumed (He made the vacuum virtually silent, something he could make millions with. Too bad he never thought of that.), and every electronic thing had been dusted and cleaned, the cords all organized in a way that could only be considered OCD, or neurotic at the very least. That morning was the morning his mother was coming for breakfast. She did that every so often, but that didn't help anything. It was just a casual thing, just what her and Mr.Rickman did to negotiate when Carter would switch houses. Thank god he was going to be staying at his mothers for the weekend, but that meant a few other things. He really didn't want to deal with his mother that morning, but he know that she would probably beat him on the back of the head or something if he didn't watch his mouth. That, or if she found out that he stayed up all night messing with electrical cords and appliances. Carter probably wouldn't see her until the afternoon, but he didn't mind. She'll probably think that Dad did all this ******** cleaning just for her, and he'll take the credit, and I'll be like 'HELL NAW' and he'll be like 'STFU.' Carter fumed privately, making unhappy mumbling noises through the wire cutters in his mouth as he scrambled out from underneath his fathers computer desk. He stood up and turned the lights on, the darkness of the office instantly went away, and he blinked as his eyes got used to the bright light. It was definitely not something he recommended for others, doing electrical work in the dark, but he did it because it was a challenge.

---

Lela finally walked out of her bedroom, fully dressed and ready to go to school. As she walked down the stairs in the front hallway she adjusted her black polo. However, something caught her attention about half way down the steps. Her brows furrowed as she stepped onto the ground floor and looked around. Something seemed odd. Things looked eerily tidy. She slowly padded into the kitchen, knowing all too well that none of the adults in the household could take the credit for the sudden organization of the household. The brunette knew her mother all too well, and she was not the type of person to worry about such things when there was so much else to be done. After all, up until they moved in with the Rickmans, the two ladies had always had a maid that came in every week or so. It was obvious that Mr. Rickman had not fallen in love with Bly for her cleaning skills. She stepped through the door way and into the kitchen, taking note that it looked like the others room she had passed on the way. Lela couldn't help but feel as if there were something she was missing. Was it National Clean a Room Day or something? The only person she could think of who would willingly clean something in the house without any reason was Carter, and even if there was a reason it was still probably Carter. She remembered once when she had accidently tracked mud into his bedroom... Let's just say, Lela had never worn shoes past the front door since. It wouldn't be a lie to say that it had scarred her for life.

She grabbed a yogurt from the fridge and pulled back the seal before tossing it into the trash. Lela then grabbed a spoon from the cutlery drawer and walked down the hall towards the study where she had sworn she had heard someone. She took a spoonful of the easy breakfast and leaned against the doorway of the study, taking note of Carter standing near the light switch as if surveying his work. Taking a large mouthful of the dairy, she started speaking without much thought. "What the hell are you doing?" It was clear her mouth was full seeing as some of her syllables didn't come out sounding that clear. No one said that she acted lady like all the time. Then again, Lela wasn't one to worry about trying to make a good impression on Carter. After all, they lived together. One tends to stop caring after a while.

---

Carter looked from the office to Lela with the most emotionless expression he could muster. He didn't mind that she was seeing him without a shirt, not like he was a hunk or anything. In fact, Carter looked more like a wet noodle than anything else. Raising one eyebrow, Carter placed his wire cutters on the table and went slightly into the kitchen. He had moderate bags under his eyes, but other than that you wouldn't be able to tell that he hadn't gone to sleep.
“It's best for everyone, especially whomever my partner is, for me to be running on low.” He shuffled his feet as he went into the kitchen pouring himself a large mug of coffee and drinking it black. Normally his go to energy drink was a red monster, however when even he was turning to coffee you knew something was going to go wrong. He leaned against the counter, glaring into his mug in an effort not to think about the fact that he would be having class with his step sister.

He took his coffee into his room, sluggishly going up the stairs without much to say. He quickly finished it off, and changed his clothes. Carter didn't take long before he was back downstairs, immediately going to the sink to wash off his used mug with soap and water. Carter was in his casual summer clothes- Jeans, Geek T-shirt, and his short cuffed socks. In an effort not to hurt anyone, Carter attempted to make small talk, however he kept his glance to the wall. “I've got good news and bad news. Well, good and bad news for you.” His voice was rather monotonous, considering his late night of tedious work, something to keep his mind preoccupied. “Unless you borrow my dads car, or your moms car, you wont have one this weekend. Good news is, is that you wont have me either.” Carter was pretty sure that Lela knew about his parents divorce arrangements. Every other weekend and a month in the summer he lived with his mom. Of course he preferred his mothers house, but his father had better means of supporting him, and the judge ruled in Mr.Rickman's favor. Carter didn't really have anything else to say to Lela, so he went over to the counter where all his technology was. They were all plugged in and charging, ready for them to be neatly shoved into his pocket.

---

Lela watched Carter curiously as he didn't bother replying to her question about what he was doing and laid his wire cutters back on the table. She was rather surprised when he just walked past her out of the study. For a moment she continued to just lean against the door weighing the pros and cons of following her step brother. However, in the end her curiosity for why Carter was acting the way he was and her desire for entertainment out weighed the possibility that he might snap at her. Taking another mouthful of yogurt, she headed back towards the kitchen just as he was pouring himself a cup of coffee. Now she knew that something was wrong. Was it possible that he was as peeved as her about the fact that the heroes and the side kicks were now going to be in a class? At least she wasn't the only one. Though it was still rather unnerving knowing that he might have a nervous breakdown. She took a seat at the kitchen table and finished up the last of her liquid breakfast as Carter headed up stairs and got ready, or so she assumed.

While she was waiting in the kitchen by herself, she quickly made herself a cup of chai tea. And just as she took a seat once more at the table, the hero himself cam down the stairs once more. Lela held the mug to her lips and watched Carter over the rim of the cup as attempted to make small talk. She was rather surprised that he was trying for once. As he gave a pro and con for her weekend coming up, she simply just took sips of her tea in between his words. A minute after he finished talking, she finally rested her mug back down on her table and took a deep breath, as if trying to figure out the right words to say. Finally she tilted her head up towards the ceiling and pulled her arms into her side, letting out a large, "Yes!" She let out a small laugh as she turned her gaze back to Carter. "Finally, I have the house to myself!" The junior did a small little dance to show her enthusiasm. Truthfully, not having a ride for the weekend was worth not having Carter around. Anyways, she didn't need a ride. Instead of having to go to any of her friends, she could just have her friends at their house. It made things a whole lot better.

---

Carter, rather zombie-like, ignored his step-sisters rather loud “Yes!” that interrupted his mental stability. He cringed slightly at her outburst, but other than that was virtually unfazed. He shoved his former iPhone (Now it was a jumbled up mess of buttons and screens from various other phones), his PDA, and a few other small trinkets in his pocket. Cracking his knuckles in an effort to wake himself up, Carter wrapped up the four charge plugs around the power strip, just like he did with most everything else that night, and tucked it in the corner. He unplugged his sunglasses and shoved them to cover the dark purple bags under his eyes. His unrelenting urge for more of a pick-me-up, Carter filled his clean coffee mug an inch and a half from the top. He went into the wine closet and grabbed a bottle of vodka, pouring in enough to fill it to almost the rim. He stirred it with a metal stick (Leftover parts from his car), and chugged about half. Carter wiped his mouth with a napkin and threw it in the trash. Grabbing a thermal mug, he filled it three quarters of the way with coffee, and then filled it back up with more vodka. He put the bottle back in the closet and shut the door, flashing Lela a glare through his sunglasses. Luckily for him, he was too tired to comment on her dancing, or her “house to herself” comment. Then again, he didn't want to make her think that she was completely off the hook.
“Don't get too crazy. I've got the house bugged. Inside, and out.” Carter stared at the refrigerator, debating as whether or not to get something to eat. The alcohol in his stomach demanded food, and as a response he grabbed the cream cheese and popped half a plain bagel into the toaster oven. It was almost amazing that he was a seventeen year old boy, and his younger step-sister ate more than he did. However, that would definitely explain why he was so much smaller than Lela, but he could do so much more lasting damage.

Carter grabbed his car keys and jingled them slightly, glancing over at Lela. He tilted his face so he could see over his sunglasses and almost glared at Lela as he pointed the keys towards the front door.
“Car. Now. You know the drill. I'm not in the mood to deal with any s**t your planning, so don't even try and test my patience.” Carter sounded like a less amazing Ben Stein as he talked, finishing his sentence with another gulp of his spiked coffee. On the way out the door he grabbed his fathers container of coffee mints, just in case a teacher even questioned his sobriety.

---

Lela immediately stopped her little joyous outburst as soon as she saw Carter take a turn for the wine cellar. "Um, Carter what are you doing?" She asked with a slight worried tone to her voice. As far as she knew he wasn't a drinker, especially a morning drinker. Though, it seemed he was about to prove that theory wrong. Her eye twitched slightly as she watched him fill his mug with vodka. She drank occasionally with her mother, but even then she only tended to have some wine or beer. Truthfully, she could never imagine drinking vodka straight. When he shot a glare towards her as he closed the door after himself, she met his gaze without even flinching. She was used to these glaring matches. As she took another sip of tea, she managed to continue to meet his gaze over the rim of her cup. However, as he admitted to having the house bugged inside and out, Lela choked on her caffeine. For a few moment she sputtered as she tried clearing her air ways once more. She set her mug down on the table as she raised a hand and covered her mouth as she finished coughing. "Excuse me." The brunette managed to get out. Her gaze lift back up to Carter as he popped a bagel into the toaster. "You... You're kidding right?" Her eyes uneasily moved through out the room, searching for any lenses that she had never noticed before. However, a sudden realization hit her. "If there are cameras in my room or the bathroom, I swear I will cut your tongue off, make you eat it and then slowly pull chunks of your brain out through your nose." The Junior threatened.

Once he started to glare at her once more and pointed to the door, Lela rolled her eyes and stood up from her chair. "Who pissed in your vodka this morning?" She asked sarcastically, as she placed her mug into the sink before heading back down the hall and grabbing her back pack and purse from the closet. Any other day the brunette would have been willing to debate with her step brother, but she knew that she was going to need to save her energy for the super heroes that day. She wasn't going to hesitate to put any of those jack asses back into their places if they tried anything on any of the side kicks that day. The Junior walked down the driveway to the passenger side of Carter's car and tossed her things into the back before resting her arms on the roof of the car. As he walked through the front door, she called out of him, "Is it safe for you to be driving? I know you're not supposed to drive drunk when you're on the road. Are there different rules when you're flying?" The girl asked, her sarcasm still flowing naturally.

---

Carter blinked rather roughly in an attempt to wake himself up further. However, his sad efforts were to no avail, for he still felt like s**t. As she went to grab her stuff, he grabbed his dark gray and green messenger bag, the one he only carried when he felt really, really lazy. Inside were all sorts of random things he could mess with. Random do-dads, tools, and other materials he could do so much things with. It also had a few packages of instant coffee and a cinnamon scone. Carter didn't have much more to say about the house being bugged, for it wasn't video bugged everywhere, just audio bugged. There were only video feeds in the living room and all around the house, but none in her room, or worse, their parents. However, letting her in on that little secret wasn't really worth it at all, for Carter wanted to force her to worry about it for a while. At her comment about piss flavored Vodka, he muttered “Principal Powers pissed in my vodka” under his breath.

On his way to the car he yawned rather loudly, hardly noticing Lela's expression as she attempted to lecture him in on drinking and driving. He rolled his eyes, and in an attempt to prove a point, he threw the keys to Lela. “You want to drive?” For a moment it sounded as if he was completely serious, that is, until he opened his mouth to speak in an even more angered tone. “Oh wait, you don't know how to drive this vehicle.” Without bothering to grab the keys, he slipped into the car and turned it on, tossing his stuff in the back seat as well. Almost irritatingly, Carter slammed the car door, frowning in the process as he started the car without any motions. Pressing one of the buttons on the touch screen, Carter set off into the air, only delaying the answer to her question.

“Have you ever seeing a flying police car?” His words were mumbled and slurred together, not in a drunken way, but in more of an exhausted sort of way. One last check, Carter leaned back and reached behind Lela's seat, tapping something that was under it until he heard a small ting. It was his fire-engine red tool box, and it was mainly used in emergency, but he never really had much of an emergency other than the occasional flat tires, but those he could fix easily. Even when slightly drink, Carter didn't want to die.

He tapped a few more buttons, the slight beep almost putting a smile on his face. Only recently had he made the screen resemble the Star Trek c**k pit controls. Yes, a totally geeky thing to do, but no one ever said that any of Carter's ideas were original. He worked in silence as he quickly got the car on course, glad that he really didn't have to do anything involving driving once in the air, for it was all done automatically.

---

Her eyes widened first in surprise before her face lit up as she lift up her hand and snatched the keys out of the air. "You're letting me drive?" She asked enthusiastically. However, she had spoken to soon. The brunette was about to start moving to the driver's side of the car, when Carter opened up his mouth and completely shot her down. Her smile quickly vanished as he snapped at her before slipping into the car. She rolled her eyes and quickly mimicked her irritable step brother. "I'm cool, I can control technology. I'm better than everyone else." When she was done letting out her anger, she slipped into the passenger side seat and angrily crossed her arms over her chest. This routine was getting way too familiar. Suddenly they were in the air once more and a small sigh left her lips.

As he asked if she had ever saw a flying police car before. She fidgeted with her hands and popped her knuckles as if that would help get rid of her anger. "Well, no, but if you know there's not going to be any popo on the road, you don't still go drunk driving." Her brows furrowed as he reached behind her seat. For a second, Lela thought that he might be trying to eject her out of the car. However, he wouldn't be that cruel... would he? Her gaze went back to watching him pressing buttons. Just watching him made her confused. "I need my own car." She groaned.

---

Carter casually glanced at Lela with her arms crossed, raising one eyebrow in inquisition. Letting out a small snicker, Carter laughed at her misery, slightly enjoying the unhappy air in the car. “You call the police the 'Popo'. I never thought of you to be the ghetto type. Though, your skin is too dark for you to be white trash.” His mood was slightly elevating as they made their way to the school, that is, before he remembered that pairings would be up. [******** my life. Carter glanced back at Lela, just as he heard her comment about her needing a car.
“Save your pennies,” was all he had to say on that subject.

They got to the school rather quickly, landing and parking rather quickly. He grabbed his bag, and threw Lela's to her while he reached back there. He waited for her to open the door before locking and setting the alarm on his car. Closing the door with his foot, Carter headed into the school, a rather intimidating frown on his face. There were still people running around the campus, but as if he was a king they all let him by without any problems. Maybe it was just that obvious he was in a bad mood, but if a sidekick were to run into him, Carter could have guaranteed that a fight would ensue.

Carter pretty much left Lela in the dust, walking briskly through the hallway, his bag over his shoulder, his hands in fists. Clenching his teeth as he went around the final corner to his homeroom, Carter glanced at the note on the door, scanning for his name. The moment he saw it, he clenched his right hand around his backpack so tightly, his knuckles popped. For a moment all the computers in the building started to flicker and pop, something he was greatly aware was happening but really didn't give a ********. Carter literally kicked the door open and made his way slowly into a seat, one farthest away from most. With a small glare, he looked over at Rachel and lowered his sunglasses so she could see his penetrating glare. After a split second, he replacedthe glasses on his face, he gritted his teeth and dug his nails into the palm of his hands. It was his attempt to calm himself down, but it wasn't quite working, for you could still see the computers flickering, and the TV's rapidly changing channels.

---

She glared at him as he commented on the fact that she had called the police the popo. "Well, I'll take that as a compliment. I wouldn't want to be like you, now would I?" Lela sneered, obviously still holding a grudge against his teasing. It seemed the more his mood was improving hers was deteriorating. Though, that's how things seemed to work in their relationship. He continued to push her buttons as he told her to save up for her own car. Despite how true she knew this statement was, she still got angered. "Well not all of us can have parents who buy us cars, now can we?" The Junior asked sarcastically.

As soon as they landed, Lela didn't skip a beat about getting out of the car. She closed her doors and without blinking or flinching she caught her back pack as Carter tossed it to her. Though their personalities would never allow them to be partnered up, she had to admit that they could be rather in sync when the time called for it. Before she knew it, he was way ahead of her which was just the way she liked it. Walking down the hall, she saw the after math of her step brother's rage. She couldn't help but be slightly embarrassed at his attitude. After all, the whole school pretty much knew how their parents had gotten married that summer. The whole hero/ hero support community was small and it wasn't every day that a hero's and a sidekick's parents got married. As she walked past the crowds, most of her peer gave her questioning gazes and blaming glares. Most people would have expected to bow her head in apology, however that wasn't her style. He wasn't her responsibility. There was no way she would be taking the blame for his behavior.

Finally, she got to the upper class mens' home room. She took a deep breath before stepping forward to look at the pairing list. Raising a finger, she read each line searching for her name. However, her name was no where to be found. Of course she had seen the burn mark next to AJ's name, though she had hoped that she wouldn't have to try and figure out who's name had once been there. The brunette forced herself to read the list several times over, though gave up after the twentieth run through. She snarled as her nail on her pointer finger suddenly shot out. Lela placed the tip at the beginning of AJ's name and with one simple stroke, ripped the paper over name. "Where the hell is he?!" The Junior yelled as she walked through the doorway of the class room. Her eyes immediately shot towards AJ who surprisingly had a bleeding nose and was being nursed by Sunny. She blinked before rolling her eyes for the umpteenth time that morning. "Damn! Someone beat me to it!"

Without stopping to take the time to ask what happened, she walked across the floor and pulled up a chair from a neighboring desk and sat next to Adam. "So I'm already planning on murdering AJ. Anyone got any ideas how I can do it without getting caught?" She asked in a completely dead pan voice. No doubt she could get some ideas from her father the next time she went to the prison. In fact, that was no doubt going to be pretty soon considering the fact that Carter would be out of the house, and thus no one would be there to take notice of her leave. However, it wasn't like she would actually waste such father/daughter bonding time on talk of some stupid fire spinning super hero. In fact, she would like to think that she wouldn't have to waste any of her time on AJ. Though, if he bothered her too much she might actually have to follow through with her inward musings. As if to get everything off of her mind, Lela leaned over and rested her head upon Adam's shoulder. "You lucky son a b***h. Why did you get paired up with Isaac? I wanted him."

[Volthaire]

Five twenty in the morning and the house was empty. Definitely not something that Ethan was used to. He lied in his bed and listened to the sound of his home. The humming from his sisters room humidifyer, and ticking from the grandfather clock in the living room down stairs, all the little things that made his life run were still working and on when everyone else wasn't. Almost as if it were an instinct, Ethan liped “three, two, one,” cuing the start of the coffee pot at five thirty. That was his alarm clock, the slient dripping and the high pitched sizzle coming from the coffee pot. Out of bet he went, quickly running himself through the shower, making sure to rinse and repeat before conditioning his hair. He spent all the time he needed in the shower, just simply letting the hot water rush over his skin. Ethan stared at his reflection in the white plastic, the wet hair looked almost adhesed to his face, but it didn't completely matter. Or, it didn't to him. By the time he got out of the shower, watched his morning cartoons, and ate his breakfast his hair would be perfectly normal. Or, as normal as a blonde boy with a cowlick could get.

Wrapping himself in a towel, Ethan quickly put on his deodorant before skittling across the hallway into his own bedroom. He slipped into his black “Pink Flloyd” boxers before dancing into his jeans, the very ones that were slightly too small and took quite the skill to put on. There were holes in the knees, and the heels were frayed from walking on them for so many years. On the inside seem he had even written the year he bought those pants, “2003” he said to himself, rather shocked at the fact that those pants lasted as long as they did. Six years were a long time to have a pair of pants, his mother had even suggested throwing them out. Multiple times. He rejected her premis, and only wears them on days his mother wont notice, which is usually friday. What is it with bad things happening on friday? I mean, more crimes are on friday and saturday night than any other day. Thursdays are bad too, but....Huh....Maybe I'll ask my dad later...

Grabbing a sandwich from the freezer, a Jemima brand breakfast sandwich that is, Ethan shoved it in the microwave and pressed a button, assuming it to be three. He went hovering throughout the kitchen, grabbing his backpack from the hutch in the process. Ethen lightly bit his bottom lip in thought, wondering to himself whether or not he should take some extra munchies for school. Settling on grabbing the entire box of lucky Charms, he shoved the permanantly smiling leperchaun into his backpack before going back to retreive his sandwich before getting on the bus to school.


When he got to sky high, there was a bit of minor chaos.. People high-fiving others, girls crying over whoever their partner was, all sorts of other things. Ethan managed to navigate through the hallways, even with an entire Jemima brand breakfast sandwich halfway in his mouth. Oh...we get our pairings today, don't we...? There was a crowd of people in front of his homeroom, lots of shorter peeps that he could easily tower over. Taking his sandwich out of his mouth, he took a giant bite and loomed over his classmates to take a peek at the page. He instantly found his name, right next to a small mass of scribbles, and...An arrow? His eyes went up slightly as he took a small relization...
“HOLY CRAP THEY MOVED ME UP TO HE- oh wait...Nevermind......They changed Chris! Oh cool!” He looked into the classroom, taking another large bite of his sandwich. It was truly amazing that he could finish the entire thing in three bites, meaning that he just had a small amout of food left in his hand.
“I'm still hungry.....” Ethan glanced around his homeroom in hopes that Cam was there with some kind of tasty goodie, but that was moderately rude of him to expect from the frail girl. He had his own food. Good thing I've got a box of lucky charms in my backpack...

He slipped as gracefully as he could into a seat near his friends, sitting rather close to Rachel, Chris, and Isaac. He took a seat closest to Chris, considering that they were not partners in crime heroism. Ethan grinned and reached into his bag, opening up his box of Lucky Charms and taking a few handfuls.
”Hey Chris, congrats on the powers! HEY! If you've got electrical powers....I wonder...” Ethan rolled up his dress shirt sleeve to reveal his forarm, which he almost immediately turned into moderate rubber, bending as if there were no bones right at the elbow.
”If I'm rubber, do you conduct through me? Shock me! Do something!” It was rather obvious that Ethan didn't read any of the other pairings, for he saw his name and moved on, not wanting to be too overcrowded with the others around the pairing chart.

[Volthaire]

Oh. My. God. OH MY GOD! Holyshit. Oh damn. ********... Finissez la douleur !
Jean Luc turned over in the bed, his hands going from under the overly sterile covers to around his head. His eyes stayed closed, his hands pulling his hair in an effort to distract himself from the internal pain. That's when he felt a plain white bandage wrapped around his skull. One eye squinted open, immediately regretting it. In the split second of having his eye open, he saw a very white room, a sterile room, a bright room.

He heard a few whispers, a few exclamations, every sound making him want to stab himself in the brain. Repeatedly. It didn't take long before the nurse, whose name he did not yet know, to notice he was awake. Jean Luc opened his eyes, completely this time, to see that the hospital wing was indeed not empty.

And then there was yelling.

Jean Luc grimaced, holding his head as tight as he could to make an effort to get the ringing to stop. Luckily enough Madame Pompfrey was nice enough to whisk over to him with a glass of...Well, he had no idea. If that bottled goop doesn't help this, I'm going to bust a nut.

“Come on up dearie, this will make you feel better.”
Jean Luc, with some assistance, sat up in the bed and took the drink from the bedside table, and made one of the most expressive faces he had ever made in his life. It was a rather quaint cross between disgust, and disdain, either way, he downed the rest of the contents of the glass.

“Oh my gosh...What happened?” Jean Luc looked around the hospital wing, and something was going on. It didn't take long for the throbbing in his head to subside, but he still had absolutely no idea what happened, let alone why he was in the hospital wing.

”Umm, Madame....Why am I even in here?” He watched Madame Pomfrey flutter around his bedside, slowly scooting him out of bed while keeping a rather lenient eye on the large group of rambunctious teens loitering in the hospital wing. Okay, they weren't necessarily loitering, but in Jean Luc's eyes, that was all he saw.

”Oh, a dictionary fell on your head. A prefect found you sprawled out on the stairwell about two hours ago.” Jean Luc's mouth dropped slightly, his eyes wide in shock.

” A DICTIONARY fell on my head! What the heck! Are there random dictionaries falling from the ceiling in this school!?”
Madame Pomfrey nodded her head and pulled off the covers, obviously indicating that he was perfectly alright, and that he should get out of bed.

Jean Luc winced, a slight headache ringing in his ears, and got his footing, wobbling slightly, but obviously he didn't have too bad of a concussion, either that, or she already fixed it for him. Hopefully it was the latter over the former option. The nurse rushed him out, obviously she had much more important things to deal with, and that didn't bother him too much.

Jean Luc casually left the hospital wing in a daze, rather glad that his head injury was minimal to the inside, but the large bandage around his head was definitely something he would notice, as well as everyone else. And then it dawned on him that she probably could have fixed him a lot better, but as he started to walk back he reconsidered, remembering that she was extremely busy with whatever else was going on.

Taking a deep breath, Jean Luc went down the hall, following a few students that he eavesdropping whom were heading to dinner. It hadn't come to his attention that he was indeed hungry, when he heard a rather loud erupting sound come out of his stomach. Quite a wonder when you think about it, not realizing you're hungry until after someone puts it to your attention, but it happened quite often for Jean Luc, since he isn't exactly the brightest, or most alert, bulb in the box.

Almost as if he was stalking them, Jean Luc followed the group of students into the great wall, glad he did or otherwise he would be as lost as we was before he got hit in the head with a dictionary. Seeing Madame Maxime sitting next to his classmate, Marc. He put a smile on his face as he sauntered over to the table where his classmates were at.
”Bonjour Marc ! “

[Volthaire]

Tatiana hated the English language with a flaming passion. To her, it was dirty, repulsive, and had the worst sounding, well, sounds, she had ever had the misfortune to hear. Yet, for some reason, she was forced to learn it by many people in an effort to get her more “Cultured”. Her parents praised her when she could speak it, with a ridiculously strong accent (but that was more than her mother and father), and they were oh so proud when she could talk very loosely to English speakers. The English language to her was the epitome of all she hated, which was probably why she never bothered to learn it without an accent. It was her own sort of vengeance towards any English speaking person, for if they wanted to converse with her, they would actually have to make an effort to understand what was communicated.
This is where we catch up with Miss Dorogi, having a rather interesting spat with herself.

Niyext tiyme ve diycide do thiriow a dyictioniyary yiov a stiyairevell, ve miyust chiyeck do miyake ziyure zat niyo vone eez yiunderniyeath.”

She did not have her school uniform on, something that she assumed Igor Karkaroff would get in her face about, but she's gotten away with it on a number of events. Though, she was wearing Durmstrang colors, spare for neon yellow toe socks, so she thought that she could get away with it, if not through the duration of dinner. Then again, even if she did get caught it wasn't like she'd listen to him, for Tatiana was one of the most stubborn Russians you could find, and that's quite a feat considering that most of them are stubborn.

Tatiana barely understood what was going on, what with the rumors flooding the hallway about some sort of potions incident. It was rather trivial to her, some students were injured due to their own stupidity. Seyiriously, eet ez jiyust a piyotion. Hiyow hirard ciyould eet be? Yiyou fiyollow ze inzteructions, und piyut ze engridientz en yiacordingly. Tatiana shook her head in disbelief, for something as simple as a potion going as horribly wrong as people were saying baffled her. To her, potions was like cooking, something else to be competitive about. Pulling out her jump rope from her pocket, Tatiana placed a handle in each hand, and looked like a freak as she jump roped at top speed while walking down the hallway. In her mind, just because she was at another school, didn't mean that she had to give up her boxing training. On top of that, it would probably give her an upper edge when it came to the triwizard tournament. Hopefully.

It was around dinner time, she knew that, and she knew she had to be there, but Tatiana had barely any sense of direction normally, but when in a location she was less than comfortable with, she would be as lost as a blind person parachuting out of a fighter jet. So, her way of puzzling out this rather difficult conundrum, was to follow her hears. Tatiana was bound to hear some kind of commotion from wherever everyone was, and hopefully for her that meant that everyone was in the Great Hall, or so she hoped.

With her jumprope, she began hopping over it faster and faster, something that she had trained for years to be able to do. She never tripped, she never faltered, and then she began to sing.
“Кукушка кукушонку сшила капюшон.
Примерил кукушонок капюшон.
Как в капюшоне он смешон!
Шла Саша по шоссе
и сосала сушку.
У ужа ужата,
У ежа ежата.
Тридцать три пирога
С пирогом и все творогом.
От топота копыт
Пыль по полю летит. *

With each syllable she jumped over the rope, her own cardiac workout as she began to sing the children s rhyme faster and faster. Down the hallway she went, not bothering to react to those who laughed, to those who pointed, or to those who gave her strange expressions. It was how she trained for boxing competitions, which were usually in the summer, but starting at the end of the season was the best way to keep herself in shape. Tatiana started conditioning in September, and went all year round, whether it be swimming in a lake in September or October, running a few miles in December, or jumping rope for a few hours in April, she changed it up every year, and was completely prepared for a change n, well, anything.


It didn't take her long to get to the great hall, a combination of talking and a fast hallway to a giant door helped a great deal when it came to navigating her way through the school. It was definitely a great deal brighter than Durmstrang, something she liked when it came to the mornings, but she missed Russia, and the language, and the people, and, well, everything that came with being in Russia. The weather in Britain was far too unpredictable for poor Miss Dorogi, but after a longer stay she would for sure get over the rain. Hopefully. Taking a few faster jumps, and after spending half an hour jump-roping through the hallway to get to the great hall, she stopped and shoved her jump rope back into her pocket. Pulling out her wand, she made sure that she didn't smell anything like BO, or was sweaty at all. Into the Great hall she went, immediately recognizing her fellow schoolmates.

Looking like a military leader, Tatiana stormed through the allyway between tables, walking into people and making sure not to apologize. Anyone from another school would laugh, considering how small she is, but any other Durmstrang student would know that she wouldn't hesitate to hex the hell out of anyone who went against her. In her mind, she was a dictator, and everyone was her suffering people. She was always good at things like that, and under no circumstance would she allow anyone to take that mindset against her. She was stubborn, ruthless, and above all she was a winner.

Tatiana took a seet across Aleksander, and grinned, glad that there was someone she could speak fluent Russian too. Grabbing a roll, and stabbing a piece of meat with a fork to shove onto her plate, Tatiana looked up only momentarily, making eye contact with Aleksander before she spoke.
”Hey Aleksander, Turnoment Triwizard, Durmstrang идет выиграть. Отсутствие аргументов. Так ли it' s я или вы, то из нас должен выиграть. Отсутствие комнаты для компромисса.” **
She looked at Alek like a mob boss looks at a mobster who failed to shut someone up. Her eyes were crooked into a fashion that showed that she was more than serious, that she was more than dedicated. However, they both knew that Tatiana wanted to be the one to represent Durmstrang. She had made that more than clear on the boat ride, since her and Alek were the only two seventh years going over to hogwarts, and thus they were the ones able. Если Aleksander получает представление для Durmstrang, то I' ll тренирует его настолько трудное he' кровотечение ll. ***



*In english- here
**Hey Aleksander, Triwizard turnoment, Durmstrang is going to win. No arguments. So whether it's me or you, either of us has to win. No room for compromise.
***If Aleksander gets the representation for Durmstrang, I'll train him so hard he'll bleed.

[Volthaire]

There they were. Family number four since the death of a Miss Bates, and she wanted nothing to do them. The first family was of course her own, but after Annette's mystery death, they couldn't take staying in the same house. The second family was in the sixties, and they were spoiled rotten. Annette watched them, day and night, even going to far as to creep them out every so often. They moved for reasons that Annette really didn't care about. Something along the lines of a family member sick. The family was about as interesting as black dress socks, so she didn't really care to remember anything about them.

The second family was her favorite. Her absolute favorite. At first it was just a couple who was just starting off. Annie watched them for years, and was even there through the excitement of their first child. He was her favorite person in the world for the entire 18 years he was at home. Annette watched him as a baby, sleeping in his crib. Even at times she would sing to him when he would cry in the middle of the night. Next to every night he would wake up bawling every night, and in an effort to keep the parents at bay, she would do the only thing she could. For the longest time Annette even believed that he could see her, but as he got older he was just like everyone else. She watched him play with toys, play with bikes, play with radios, and even with girls. He was born in 1965, 9 years after her death. He watched movies, television, elections, listened to music, and indirectly introduced her to so many things. She loved him, every bit of him, and there wasn't anything she could do. Of course, he moved on, got married, and is now the parent of two teenagers of his own. That family moved out back in 89, and the third family moved in.

The third family stayed there until 2001, an old couple that did nothing but watch television. Which, frankly, is all Annette had an option to do as well. Television, burnt toast, and a visit from her grandchildren at Christmas.

That was her favorite time of the year. Every family, from her own, to the other two decorated her house up for Christmas. That's right. Her house. Each family had different tastes, but all In all, she loved every bit of it. Christmas was the only thing she had left to celebrate. She would keep ladders steady, tighten lights, make bows stay perfectly on the wrapping, any little thing to make sure that their day was perfect.

In 2001 the house was empty. The housing market was in a slump, and no one could afford a house that was half run down, and in the middle of silicon valley. Okay, that wasn't a complete lie, people could afford it, but those who could afford it, didn't want it. For nine years Annette sat on the windowsill in her former bedroom, completely empty of the small things she missed when a family lived there. A bed, moving footsteps, voices. Most of all she missed interaction. All she had now was the changing seasons.

On many occasions did she attempt to leave. She could walk through the walls on the inside of the house, float through the ceiling, control electricity slightly with her moods, but grabbing things was never something she tried. The first week of her death she didn't believe it. Annette would wake up, go downstairs, and her parents were the same. They would say hello, and everything. It wasn't until week two when she realized that it wasn't because her parents were mad at her that they wouldn't talk to her, but that she had died. They had set a plate for her every day out of habit. Her mother cried every day, her brother didn't speak much. Her father became an alcoholic. Amazing how the death of one person could have such an impact.

It was all she had to do the entire time she was in the empty house. She didn't know who the latest trend was, like she did back in the 80's when the boy was there. Annette was out of touch with reality, and time was passing her by like a hurricane. Days turned into months, seasons turned into blurr. When she didn't need to sleep, Annette could stare out the window for days without moving. She mastered the art of doing nothing. There was so much she could do, but without the ability to get out of the house, she couldn't do it. Her brother was out in the world somewhere, hopefully with grandchildren, maybe even great grandchildren. Something she would more than likely have if only she were alive.

When she heard a crash, Annette fell through the floor.

“s**t. Guys, you need to be careful with this stuff!” Came a yell from the mover as he carried a box upstairs.

Annette took a second, regaining her composure. What year is it? Was the first thing that popped into her head as boxes by the bucket load were moved into the house. Some were labeled with names, others labeled with rooms. They had come so fast, yet so slow.

Stomping her feet as if she could be heard, Annette made a face at the mover, and let out a rather shrill shriek.
“YOU'RE LATE!” She screamed, hoping that one of them would hear her, just hoping.

But of course, they couldn't hear her. She was dead.

In an effort to get them to hurry up, Annette put her hands on one of the back of one of the mover, and attempted to push. But of course, she went straight through, tumbling to the ground rather quickly, a shiver running through the moving man's skin.

”Did you feel that?”
”...Of course not.. It's kind of windy... You sure you didn't just feel a cross breeze?”
”That's got to be it.”

That was that. Annette stormed upstairs, letting out a rather interesting string of frustrating words. Of course, she knew quite well that she could fly, but stomping made her seem more human, more of something she wished she was.

With one last minor outburst, a tantrum if you will, Annette went up to her room, and sat on the windowsill. Crossing her legs in a rather ladylike fashion, Annette flitted her blue dress over herself, and crossed her arms, waiting, just waiting for the first person to come in the room. Her room.

[Volthaire]

xxxxxxxxxx

Seth nodded at Alex, wincing slightly as he opened his mouth to say Hello. Alex was always more of a morning person than he was. Finishing off his third cup of coffee since six that morning, the first being drunk over the period of two hours due to doing other work he needed to finish up prior to eating breakfast. ”Morning.” It was the best greeting he could muster with the little energy he had that morning, and even the sound of his own voice made his head hurt. However, it was doing better than normal, something he did notice, but something he really didn't care about. Pain was pain, and he couldn't remember ever being completely sane, and pain free at the same time. The last time he had been pain free was three years ago after getting hit by a car and the paramedics had pumped him with so much morphine he couldn't remember his own name. Good thing he had identification on him, or that could have been a semi-messy situation. Luckily enough Alex was the paramedic on staff during that bumpy part of his life. He was only 15, he had no home, and had basically disowned his family. He even changed his names in the federal databases, created fake dental and medical records, even a new social security number, so that the person before he moved didn't exist anymore. Too bad for him that when he had the accident, he forgot what his actual name was.

It took the smell of the food cooking for him to realize something of vital importance. He was starving. The moment he inhaled the smell of eggs, and heard the sizzling of the bacon on the pan, his stomach let out a loud gurgle that could be heard across the kitchen. Seth let out a small laugh, and went to sit on the other side of the kitchen, in a space where he knew that he wouldn't be of any bother. That was his usual spot to stand while Alex cooked, there was even a small indentation on the wall from where Seth would lean against. In an effort to be a bit more pleasant in the morning, Seth plastered a fake smile on, even it was only a smirk. He actually enjoyed watching Alex cook. The aromas the filled the kitchen, the sounds, even the feel of the air as the grease filled it was something he enjoyed, but could never do. He had tried to cook something once at Alex's house, but that ended in semi-disaster, because he ended up having a short “moment”, causing everything in the dish to burn, and eventually turn into flames. Luckily enough Alex came home In time to rescue his own kitchen. Seth had felt bad for that, and in return he would buy Alex a mug once a month, each saying something different, or with a different figure on it. Last month's mug said something along the lines of The Doctor says “Suck it up.” It was an inside joke, and it was an all inclusive joke at the same time.

Seth had his empty coffee cup in hand, wishing greatly that it would stay warm, but he knew that it wasn't possible. Going back over to the coffee pot, Seth poured the rest in his cup. It had already cooled down a bit from it's usual scalding hot, but that didn't bother him as much as holding something that wasn't warm. When Alex opened his mouth again, asking Seth how he felt, the calmness of his mood took a turn. He hated being babied, even if it was only Alex. He wasn't a kid anymore, and he despised being swooned over, but what could he do. Seth of all people accepted his condition, and he knew that the lulls were steady, so that was all he could ask for. Yet, every time Alex asked it was like a slap to his face. Yes Alex, my night was horrible. I played hungry hungry hippos and danced to the Beatles until the sun came up and I had to hide in my coffin, he thought, almost wanting to say that in the most sarcastic tone he could manage. Then again, Alex was making him breakfast, so Seth wouldn't go and be an a*****e. Not yet anymore. “I feel like I feel normally. My head is throbbing, but it isn't as bad as it was last week. I slept like I normally sleep.” That was his normal response, and Alex usually knew what it meant. However, when Alex brushed past him, goosebumps went up his arm, causing the hair on it to stand up straight on end. He knew exactly what Alex was doing, and it bothered him to no end. Can't he ******** trust me? It's not THAT bad. I've had worse. But Noooo, he has to go and check to make sure I'm not lying. a*****e. Seth rolled his eyes, but brushed it off as normal, considering that breakfast was smelling so attractive.

When Stefani came in, Seth knew it immediately. The cameras pointed at her, and an alert, literally, went off in his brain. She was what kept her up at night, she was the reason that he hated blonds. They were dumb, they were temperamental, and they were rude. He smelled her before he saw her, that distinctive sent that covered her up and down. It wasn't strong to say the least, but to Seth it was the smell of death. He glowered at her, not wanting to say anything as she looked at him in disgust, the feeling likewise.

”I'll be back.” Seth trudged back upstairs, setting his coffee cup in the proper position in the dishwasher on his way. If he wanted any more coffee that day, he would either have to run the load with only that cup in it, or go to the coffee shop and deal with it that way. He almost felt bad that he had already used his Thursday cup of coffee before nine in the morning. Outside of his room, Seth waved his hand over the pad next to the doorknob. For anyone but him, you would actually have to press your finger on the scanner before entering, but because he was Seth he could bypass that entire thing. Then again, Alex could bypass it, but only after the “Call” button was pressed.

His room looked sterile. One half had a queen sized bed propped up, medical equipment set up next to it, ready in case of an emergency. There were sensors all over the room, some measured his heart rate through the floor, others his breathing, some even measured his movement. In his room he was most safe, and more dangerous. His mind had more issues in hie bedroom, where one half of it was medical, the other side looking like something out of a best buy commercial. There was a desk completely covered in monitors. New ones, old ones, and some in between. He even had multiple monitors that were from the 80's, and even an old electric typewriter. They were all connected, each monitor doing something different, all of them stacked on top of eachother using anything and everything to keep them up. Some just used stands, others were hanging by fishing line, and some were literally nailed to the wall. All Seth's own handy work, but he usually got too tired, or his head started to hurt before he got to make the computer stand somewhat decent. Part of him knew that one of these days all of the computers would come toppling over on top of him, but he would worry about that later.

Tapping away at two different keyboards at once, Seth checked a few numbers, taking notes in his head, and writing a few things down. After just a second, Seth walked over to the hospital-quality dresser that hailed all of his clothing. He wore usually the same thing every day when it was warm; jeans, some kind of T-shirt, and converse. It wasn't as if Seth did any field work, so he didn't have to dress to impress. Pulling out his clothes, Seth got dressed, and grabbed his aviators and laptop case before heading back down stairs, a bottle of prescription pain killers. Without any further word, Seth pulled out a random cup of coffee and filled it from the second pot, grabbing cream and sugar and putting it in front of Stefani without saying anything. I don't want to be nice to this mother ******** whore, but if I say anything Alex will hit me upside the head, and I do not need that this morning.

Seth took a seat kiddi-corner from Stefani. That way he wouldn't be next to her, and he wouldn't be across from either. He gently put on his Aviators, the only barrier between him, and the migraine-inducing lighting of the house.

[Volthaire]

Carson hadn't really had much duties as Head Boy. The worst thing was when a first year got lost, and never showed up to their common room. Somehow the first year slytherin had managed to get up into the divination tower, and he was as far away from the slytherin commons at eleven PM as he could possibly get. The entire school was in a minor panic, sort of. It was more of an excise to train the prefects and head boy/girl. Of course the student was found and all in one piece, but that was pretty much the extent of his Head Boy duties besides monitoring the hallways and being counted on to be a goodie-two-shoes. Why exactly am I a goodie-two-shoes? Oh. Right. Because the worst thing I've ever done in my life is go into the forbidden forest, and have sex in a broom closet. Even in his sleep he was lecturing himself. Do better. Be the best. Work hard. Be nice. Rolling over on the cot, Carson breathed heavily. It was past eleven, and he wasn't asleep, something that rarely, almost never, occurred. It was her., Annie, stuck in his head. Her body, bloody and gruesome that stayed over and over in his mind. It wasn't the fact that she had been disgustingly murdered, or the fact that he had seen her just a few hours ago in the common room. The night had been spent at a rather awkward party, something he never was comfortable with. Carson had been prefect, and now head boy, for the longest time, making it hard to get into the party scene, even If he was never the one to tattle. He was a horrible Head Boy, but his flaws complimented Blare's talents, and the same applies vice versa.

Carson was still in his costume from the halloween party, the red velvet cloak acting as a decent blanket, the mask shoved upwards on the top of his head like it was a very awkward headband. He was more than exhausted, but sleep didn't come easy when every time he closed his eyes he saw her. When the alert went off in the middle of the night that the students could go back to class, he didn't move. Carson didn't waver, he didn't stutter, he just layed there, his eyes open, but fixed on a standing point. He had heard Effy walk, and luckily enough he was faced in the opposite direction, otherwise he would have to explain himself. Every bone in his body was aching, his brain mentally exhausted. He didn't want to move, he didn't want to speak, he didn't want to acknowledge that he was alive. However, that nagging voice in the back of his head went off once again. Do better. Be the best. Work hard. Be nice.

After about twenty minutes, the Great Hall was clear, and Carson stayed there, the professors still walking around, not waking the students that were supposedly asleep. It wasn't until Madame Gillywort approached him, that he moved. She was the main healer at hogwarts, and in a sense, she had taught him a lot of what he knew. He spent most of his free time either in the library or in the hospital wing, not for injuries of course, but as almost an internship. As he got older, he got to help out more and more with the injuries. Maybe that was why he had gotten the position as head boy? Was it because he could heal next to any ailment, and even knew some common diseases so that he could help students out. Carson was a good student, he was nice, however, he was almost too nice. He didn't tattle on someone unless they did something severely wrong, he wouldn't skip class or damage a library book, hell, Carson only lost his virginity because someone put too much strong liquor into the punch at a party, and the girl was willing, and twice as drunk.

&#xu2;01DCarson, what are you doing awake?&#xu2;01D Madame Gillywort knew him better than anyone outside of the Ravenclaw dorm. He wasn't awake past eleven, he didn't sleep on his sides, and sure as hell did he remember to take off his shoes when he went to bed, however everything for him was Topsy-Turvy.

&#xu2;01DI was just......... Getting up to go back to the dorms.&#xu2;01D Carson spoke with a yawn between his words, rubbing his eyes as he managed to sit up, his muscles aching from the exertion of the dancing-Which was horrible by the way- Carson looked up at Madame Gillywort, offering her a meager smile and a wave, attempting to get her to go off to her own office to sleep. She did so, but only as soon as Carson was standing on his feet.

Trudging to the common rooms, Carson walked through the hallways to the common room, moving about as fast as a Zombie after a genocide at woodstock. It took him a while to actually manage to get to the Ravenclaw room, where he was to answer a riddle to the portrait. It was something about rivers and stuff, but after seeing Carson's face, and his uniform, the portrait actually let him in without an answer, something Carson would have scolded if it was any other night at all. With a mumble, Carson announced regulations to the common room. It was full of scared first years, terrified third through sixth years, the occasional indifferent student, and even one or two that were fascinated by the death of Annie.

&#xu2;01CEveryone. Bed. Now. Stay in the common room. The paintings will rat you out if you leave.&#xu2;01D Carson staggered in his posture, almost nodding off to sleep right then and there. His legs felt like lead, his head felt as if it was made of iron attached by a rope. Exhausted, Carson walked over to an armchair, settling himself into the cushions in front of the fire before passing out, completely ignoring all the questions that timid and concerned students asked. T-they think I... I know a-any more than.. than they do....?

[Volthaire]

Andrew was in Hollywood, unsupervised, and with his fathers credit card. You could bet that he was sure as hell going to town with those imprinted digits. Unluckily for him, he had to report to the damn glee show auditions first. Yah, it was his big break, but couldn't he experience some fun around hollywood for crying out loud? He had only been north to Colorado, where his extended family was, and their summer cottage in the mountains, and this was Hollywood! Auditions were going on, parties, bars (not that he could legally get into, but you know how that goes), and best of all, ladies. Too bad for him that more than half the ladies at Hollywood were fake, and none of them would be worthy of the young Master Sinclaire, considering he liked his ladies shy in the crowd, but exponentially outgoing in the bedroom. Hollywood treated him well, a lot better than any other place he had been to.

“I can definitely see myself in this city.”

Andrew got off the floor, his roller blades fastened tightly to his feet. With one last smack, he fastened both roller blades to his feet, and grabbed the door nob to steady himself. He was in the hallway, a few hallways back from the main door. He didn't want to get caught before getting into trouble by the concierge, did he? Andrew took a few deep breaths, one....two....three.... and got into position. With a semi-malicious grin on his face, Andrew set off, blading through the hallways like a boss.

“ON YOUR LEFT!” he yelled to a maid who had her hands full of dirty towels, dodging to her left as he rode as fast as he could. Now to the next hallway, but this one would be tricky, since turning at such a speed, especially on carpet, was not a good idea. He quickly banked to the right, attempting to turn into the corridor without hitting the wall, but it was to no avail. Thud. His landing against the wall was less than forgiving, as his entire front his the drywall, the patrons inside most likely not happy, considering that a “Do not disturb” sign was hanging from the door nob.

[******** ******** ******** ow.”

And then there were voices. “We cannot have that boy racing through the hallways! Call security!” That was his excuse to get off his ego-damaged self, and run like hell. Luckily for him, he was smart enough to dress semi-incognito, hopefully no one would notice him until he got to the front lobby where he left his stuff by the door. Its a ritzy hotel! Who's gonna steal some teenagers stuff, seriously? He had attempted to keep things under wraps, using his padlock on his suitcase, and even duct-taped the holes in the side. It wasn't the best looking suitcase and carry-on bag, but it was what he had, hand-me-downs courtesy of his ridiculously careless older brother James.

When Andrew heard footsteps, and more talking about a boy with rollerblades, Andrew bladed further, this time making an effort to be as silent as possible. He even passed a few teenagers on the way, and a door that said “Ballroom”. If this was the hotel he was going to stay for a while, he would make the best of it, especially while on television, and with the network paying for ratings. He was probably one of the prettiest faces on the show anyways, but that was his own opinion.

When the lobby was in sight, as well as his stuff that was shoved neatly behind a decorative bush, Andrew sped up a little, making his way through the exiting people. It wasn't that hard, the gliding through the ridiculously nice lobby, that it, until he got distracted by a very, very brilliant looking tanned girl with long dark hair.

Thud

This time, instead of running into a wall, Andrew ran smack into the glass front door, his face making a very unflattering smear against the freshly cleaned glass. Whoever has to clean these doors, I'm so sorry.

After a second of just standing there, not wanting to move, Andrew skittles over behind the decorative bush, pulling off his skates and shoving them into one of his bags. Nonchalantly, he changed his shoes into white converse, removed his hoodie, shoved the sun glasses into the breast pocket of his polo, and took off the hat. All in all, he looked like a whole different person.

Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

A shiver went up and down his spine as the spare phone that was given to him vibrated in his pocket. His personal cell phone played “immabe” whenever he had a text, so the vibrating was just... Weird. He took the phone and responded in 6.4 seconds, anything to make the buzzing stop.

attn. middleton glee members.
meeting in acheson ballroom. asap.
don't know where your rooms are?
bring your bags. you'll need them.


[ FROM: YOUR DIRECTOR ]

“Acheson.... Acheson Ballro- HOLYSHIT, I KNOW WHERE THAT IS!” His small outburst got the attention of the people in the lobby to stare. As a rebuttal, he snapped to attention and saluted them all, a sarcastic undertone to his grin as he walked off. The other kimberly students were there, that was for sure, but he didn't really feel like finding them quiet yet. He would led them find him, and that was what he intended on doing.

As he went off back towards where he came from during his morning escapade, his suitcase and duffle bag in hand, Andrew couldn't help but snicker when the custodial staff were still talking about the “Rollerblade boy”, and how the guy escaped their grasp.

When he got to the Ballroom, Andrew nearly s**t his pants (Figuratively, of course), when he saw Mr.Davis there.
“DUDE! Mr.Davis, I didn't know you were the director of this schindig! Seriously, why didn't you tell me in CLASS? You knew I was signing up for it, but Nooooooo, you had to be all secretive! What's the deal?” To anyone else, it would have sounded like a rather rude statement, especially from someone who they would be working with on national television, however, Andrew was 100% positive that Mr.Davis knew he was kidding. He was a complete goof off in the classroom, but somehow managed to do extraordinarily well in the english classes that he had taken with him.

Flashing him a grin, Andrew literally threw his things into a seat off to the side as he went to the board to read the list.One.... two.... three..........seven... I'm Seventh on the list! God, why didn't they just forget my name! Oh well. I'll just show up whoever this chick going before me, and give this Jamison person something to beat. I wonder if Jamison is cute.... With a smile, Andrew took a seat in the front row, his stuff a few rows away, but it wasn't like anyone was going to steal his s**t. It was barely full of clothes, just a few pairs of shorts and two or three Polo shirts. Considering all his time in his ROTC uniform, he really didn't have much use for any other clothes, so he prayed to god that he would have time to go shopping before they started filming. Andrew looked around at the other Kimberly students, almost intrigued as whether or not they would recognize him without the uniform. With one last look at the list, he cocked his head, and spoke, something completely stupid (He was aware of this too), but it would hopefully be something to break the obvious tension.

“Shea..... Like the butter?”

★Thinking about how Anaily is gorgeous.
★Sitting in the front row, leaning back casually in his chair.
★Extraordinarily cavalier.
★Grinning.
★Wondering where the hell Dani is.

[Volthaire]

When Dani sung, Andrew couldn't hell but let a smile erupt o his face. No, not a smile, but a full blown out grin, teeth and everything. That girl could sing! And that b***h was hiding it from me all along. I should slap a ho. But I'm not going to do that. It's not cool. He leaned forward in his seat, putting his elbows on this knees, listening intently to the rather depressing song. When Dani finished, he swiveled around as she sat in the seat behind him. He didn't really listen to her comments about herself, since he already knew everything that she had just said, and more. Then she had to say that he wasn't missing anything by not hearing her sing. What the hell does she mean by that?!

“Dani, you're such a dork. That was awesome, you have a beautiful voice! Damn, why were you hiding that? You're even more irresistible!” Andrew flashed her a grin and a playful wink, something that wasn't unheard of in Andrew-land. “Now go make me a sandwich, because I'm sure as hell not throwing you a pity party.”

Andrew braced himself to be punched, but he definitely was not going to retract that statement, since to him it was definitely worth the pain. When the long-haired brunette went up, she had Andrews complete attention. That girl was damn fine, with the long dark curls and the set of sparkling white teeth. Her a** wasn't bad either. Then again, Andrew wasn't really looking for an outgoing girl. Dani knew that, which was probably why they would never really work. He wanted a quiet girl. Hey, some guys had a thing for brunettes with horn-rimmed glasses, some guys liked librarians, some even liked girls with money hanging from their G-string, but Andrew had a thing for quiet girls. They were more of a challenge than outgoing girls, and everyone knew that Andrew had a fetish for challenges.

Then she opened her mouth, and sung Beyonce. Okay, she's out of the running. He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, listening to the song even if he didn't like it. It's such an awful song, demeaning guys and all. Just becau- No. Andrew. Stop. Just listen to her singing. She's hot, and has a- Whoa. She does have an amazing voice. Song aside. When she wailed that higher note, Andrew's eyebrows went up, and a smile crept back onto his face. Holy hell, woman. She's back in the running. He watched her with a smile, and listened to her talk about herself. Corinna... a cheerleader who plays the drums... Good deal, good deal. Andrew watched her go take a seat next to Fletcher, and the smile instantly faded. Okay, she's out of the running again.

It only took a second for the next girl to go up for him to completely (Almost) forget about Corinna and the man-hating song. He had been watching this blond girl out of the corner of her eye, and it seemed like she could use a lesson in respect. He watched her go up on the stage, a small smile on his face, not because he was happy, oh no, but because it was just a force of habit.

She sang, and she sang well, but something about her bothered him. Was it the air around her, or the fact that she was a blond? No, that can't be it. Dani's a blond, and I love her. Maybe it's because she looks like she's got a stick shoved up her a**? Yah. Lets... lets go with that one. He couldn't help but admit that he was a little impressed, but something about her bothered him. Andrew decided that he would just shake it off and not pass any judgments before getting to know her. However, he would still keep a tight watch on her.

She wants to win a tony? Really? I think she's on her way to getting a Tucan Sam. Not quite ready for a Tony the Tiger. He smiled at his own joke, but made it look like he was grinning at her. Amelia, huh? Well, I guess I'll just have to keep an eye out on this one. Maybe. Or I could just keep an eye on the panic attack girl. She seems cute, and my type unlike the absolutely stunning spanish girl who was undressing me with her eyes. Not that I mind.

Andrew looked up at the bored as Amelia sat down, and read the list. Anaily, Shea.... Jude... Daniela... Corinna... Amelia.... Andrew...Jamison... OH s**t THAT'S ME!

Andrew jumped out of his seat the moment he realized that it was his turn next, a moment of awkward silence in between. He had, had his song planned out for the longest time, and frankly, it was one of his favorite songs. Andrew had considered a few others; Human by the Killers, The Luckiest by Ben Folds, even Lionel Richie's, Hello. However, none of those songs really appealed to him for a first impression, so he picked the one, the only, Gavin Degraw. Chariot was, by far, his favorite song to sing acapella, and that was exactly what he was going to do.


Andrew sauntered up to the front, his walk still in a semi-march, rolling his heels and all. He looked at Mr.Davis, flashing him a wink and a click before spinning on his heels to face the group of students in the chairs in front. Taking a second, he looked at each and every one of them, only pausing at Jamison to give her an extra second of eye to eye contact, accompanied with a smile. Continuing on, he looked at Dani one last time for reassurance, and opened his mouth to bellow his song

”Staring at a maple leaf, Leaning on the mother tree,I said to myself we all lost touch.” He tapped his hand against his thigh to keep time, as well as his entire upper torso dancing along with the music. Andrew looked at the crowd every time he opened his mouth, and for the upper notes added a bit more character to his voice by adding different expressions. A smile here, a sly grin there, anything to enhance his performance.


” Your favorite fruit is chocolate covered cherries, and seedless watermelon ohhhh” He couldn't help but grin as he sang, everyone looking at him, and only him, for something he loved to do. If only his father could see him now, then maybe he wouldn't have to go out to the middle east next summer and get shot to earn his fathers respect.


”Nothing from the ground is good enough. Body rise, look what's over me!” Andrew took a deep breath before getting to the chorus, and that was where he let them have it. ” Oh chariot, your golden waves, are walking down upon this face. Oh chariot, I'm singing out loud! To guide me, Give me your strength” He paused when he needed, and gave another look at Dani for a bit more reassurance, even if he definitely didn't need it.

”Remember seeking moons rebirth. Rains made mirrors of the earth. The sun was just yellow energy. It is a living promise land, even over fields of sand! Since it's filled my body, covered me, bringing back, more than a memory!”

Andrew's eyes wandered more as he began to sing the chorus, his gaze landed on Jamison, his eyes locked on her with a smile as he sang, letting everyone know exactly what they were up against. He might be a bit of an overly-energetic flake, but he wasn't dumb, and he was not going to let anyone forget it.

”Oh chariot.... Give me... Your …. Strength.” He finished the song with a decrescendo and a rallandtando, giving it a bit more effect, hoping that it would make up for the fact that he cut out an entire verse of the song. Well, you can't exactly blame him. It's a slow song, and he didn't want everyone to have to sit through a five minute audition when he could just as easily show off his talent in half the time.

Andrew kept his eyes on Jamie, smiling as he gave his introduction.
”Hello everyone! My name is Andrew Sinclaire. I'm an up and coming senior at Kimberly Highschool. I'm Brigadier General in ROTC, I play guitar, piano, and saxophone, I haven't watched television in two years, my favorite color is orange, I love Chuck Norris jokes, and I've never gone more then ten minutes in my life without smiling.” He stood at attention for a brief second, and saluted the crowd, just like he had been trained for, for years. With one last glance at Jamie, Andrew opened his mouth to mention one more thing before sitting down.

”Oh, and ladies. I'm single.”

★Wondering what this Jamie girl will bring to the table
★Thinking about whether or not Dani will punch him in the face for being so full of himself
★Feeling bad for making ROTC sound cool, when he's terrified of getting shot over in Uzbekistan.

[Volthaire]

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxSeth Andrew Hastings
( ♛ )
I SHOULDN'T HAVE TO TELL YOU WHO I AM, YOU SHOULD ALREADY KNOW.

Seth liked the smell of the library more than the books. He liked that old, dusty smell that accompanied everything that the library was. He liked the personalized carvings in the desk and shelves that had been etched In with magic, he liked reading the names of the people who had taken out a book before him. The library was one of the few places where he could be a snoop in secret. Seth loved the thrill, the knowing that he could learn so much about a person by just what books they took out from the library. For instance, there was a sixth year hufflepuff who had a small affinity for divination, her name was recorded in the slip on the inside cover on nearly every book. He noticed that she was going down the list, and was currently reading about types of tea in relation to divination. Seth loved being able to know so much more about an “acquaintance” than they would really like you to know. One thing he noticed was that most people had a pattern. Matthew Woodword, a gryffindor, checked out books related to quidditch, and books related to sports. Isha preferred books about food, Tilden liked books about fish, it was just miraculous what you could find out about a person just by that little cover of a book. If they sent back the book within twenty four hours, they didn't like it. If they renewed the book, that means they liked it. To Seth, that was his way of being a peeping tom.

Seth sat in a chair at a table, a text book in front of him, a sheet of parchment for his herbology assignment later that day. The textbook was just a cover for the librarian, for beneath the table a magazine was hidden. Herbology was his least favorite subject, frankly, it was a waste of time. To him, dealing with plants was work better left to others, better left to those who had nothing better to do. Seth liked handling money far more than handling plants. He liked talking with business partners of his fathers, the same partners that would be there for him when he took over the job. It was his duty as eldest son to take over for his father, and he wanted it more than anyone. Mr. Hastings senior, Seth's grandfather was the CEO of one of the largest manufacturers of magical cars, and created an easier way to fix them, manufacture them, and get them to work. No, it isn't a charm, it's actually a series of parts added onto regular muggle standard cars. Seth's father, Warren, took over that business when his grandfather retired, and Seth wanted that job just the same. Those cars were expensive, and because of so many laws regarding the patents on the product, only two other manufacturers made the parts to convert muggle cars into flying cars. However, what customer would trust a company that came out eight days ago over a company that came out eighty years ago? Exactly. They had an empire, and made enough profit margins to have every member of the Hastings family set for life. So why still work, oh, probably because retirement is boring, and more power means more money. It's a never ending cycle, a dog eat dog world.

Seth sat alone for most of the morning, staring at the blank piece of parchment as his mind wandered off to the possibilities of his future dictatorship. Okay, that was a bit farfetched, but a man could dream, right? When a book slammed on the table next to him, Seth jumped, startled at the sudden noise.

”Dude, why the hell are you so ******** jumpy?” It was Anton, a classmate of his that he had been friends with since first year. Okay, friends was a bit of a stretch, but they were close acquaintances.

”Anton, I was doing homework, and you drop a two thousand page textbook onto the table in front of me. Of course I jumped.” His words were stained with sarcasm, something Anton was severely used to. ”I assume that Jude and Aaron are close be- Speak of the devils.” Right as he was about to mention their names, the twins Aaron and Jude came shuffling around one of the bookshelves, pushing each other and bickering about some trivial nonsense like normally.

”Aaron, I told you! Death Eaters are Slytherins!” ”Nuh-uh! They can be Ravencl-” The back of Seth's hand had met with the back of both their heads, hitting them hard enough for both of them to swear in their native language and look behind them with murderous glances. When they realized who exactly smashed them over the head, both of their eyes opened wide, their bodies braced for another lashing.

”Keep your voices down. Now.”. Every word came out In a fierce stage whisper, his brows furrowed together in anger as they both silenced themselves. Seth hadn't even noticed when he stood up to hit them on the back of the head, but he waited for the twins, and Anton, to take a seat before staring them down. ”What would your father do if he caught you talking about Death Eaters in school? The library no doubt!? He would beat you harder than he beats your house elf. You are not to speak of thi-” Seth was promptly interrupted by Aaron, who absolutely had to blurt his statement out without waiting for Seth to finish his lecture.

”Seth. We know the rules, but seriously. DE's aren't only Slytherins, right?”

Seth took a deep breath, and took his seat again, slamming closed the herbology book, hiding the magazine underneath. Loosening his uniform tie, Seth glanced from left to right, even standing up to look around and see how many people were occupying the library.
”As of now, there hasn't been a Ravenclaw inducted,” he leaned back into his chair, letting out an exasperated sigh, and placed his hand underneath his chin. ”However, there are many uses to other houses joining us.” This subject was not something often discussed between students, especially Slytherins. All, spare a few, refused to even entertain the idea of a Ravenclaw joining the forces of the dark lord. What they didn't realize, was that whomever that dark lord was, past, present, or future, a follower was a follower. It was just the selfish slytherin that wanted the dark lord all to themselves, and Seth found that absolutely appalling.

”Seth, what the hell are you talking about? The Death Eaters were formed by slytherins, for slytherins. No outsiders should be allowed! With just slytherins we'll be lead to victory!” this time it was Anton's turn to speak, and the slytherins all looked at him. Jude nodded, agreeing with him, while Aaron glanced over at Seth pleading with his eyes.

”Victory huh? Well, how has that worked out for us in the past? Every house brings something to the table. Every. Single. House. That is something you cannot deny. Gryffindors, they're the brave ones, the ones that can be shoved into the front lines. Hufflepuffs, they're so loyal we can stab them, feed them to the dementors, and they'll still be on our side. While Ravenclaws... They're the brains... They're the ones that think through things.”

”But it's our right, Seth. Ours. Not theirs. Let them play their own game, get their own leader. Let them die for honor. I know your induction is coming up, and dammit Seth am I pissed that you get to get the mark before I do, but at least get your head in the game. Lets go guys, we need to let Seth think about a few things.” Anton got up, and Jude followed without looking back. It was Aaron that caught his attention, and all that took was a friendly nod before turning around to follow his twin.

Seth ran his fingers through his hair, a sigh escaping through his tortured lips. He loosened his tie once more, before closing his eyes.

”Alright Abbi, I know you're hiding back there. Front and center.” Seth didn't need to look up to know it was her, she would be the only one to hide in that section of the library at this time of day. She knew he spent his mornings before herbology there, she knew it quite well, but that never seemed to bother him. Using his middle finger and thumb, he rubbed his eyes, and wearily looked up at Abbi, waiting for an explanation to her spying.

[Volthaire]

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxPeter Matthew Finch
( ♛ )
THE OVERLY NICE, OVERLY AIRHEADED GRYFFINDOR








Peter felt like he had just been whiplashed. He said something nice, and he makes her mad. Why do I have to open my mouth? I mean, what if she didn't want to be the DA leader thinggy? What if she was just suggesting it to see if someone else would take the reigns? What if she was just trying to subtly tell me to take it over? Damn. If that's the case, no way in hell. I can't instruct people, I can barely instruct myself! Yah, I can heal, and I'm willing to do things other students wont, but.... no.... I... I couldn't. Peter sat back in his seat as they waited for the train to get into the station, letting them get off and ride the thestrals. The years were separated, so it wasn't like he could question Rain about it in the ride over, so he would just have to wait until he got to school.

With his uniform all on, the hand-me-down robes dragging along the floor, Peter went from the train outside, his carry-on bag dragging along besides him. Unfortunately for him, Peter got the short end of the stick when it came to genetics. Literally. All his older brothers were six feet three, or taller, all taking after their father. However, Peter got more traits from their mother. He got the height, and the hair, the only thing of his fathers he got was the eyes. Being an average 5'10”, Peter found it difficult to wear his older brothers robes, since they were all too big for him. John was the only other Gryffindor in the family, all the others were in Ravenclaw. That was one thing him and John did share that the other two wouldn't. Their mother had been a Gryffindor, just like them.

–

The hallways were crazy when he got in, crazy, but still empty. Rumors were floating about, students were already afraid of what would happen. Peter just walked, not really caring about going to the feast. Yah, he would see everyone there, his friends, but it wouldn't be the same. With Dumbledore dead, where was the backbone of the school? Where was it?

Amidst in his thoughts, Peter walked at a snails pace through the hallway, alone with his thoughts, when something caught his attention. Literally.
”Hey! You, There!”

Peter spun around, and no one seemed to have yelled. ”I'm here, dimwitt! Keep looking!” Peter spun around again, this time so quickly his cloak went around him and tangled his arms up. Swearing, Peter looked up only to see that a painting had caught his attention.

”Are you talking to me?” He asked, pointing to himself while looking around to see if the man in the painting was trying to get the attention of anyone else. No one looked, no one said anything. It was just Peter, and the man in the painting reading a book upside down. I would hate to be perpetually upside down.

”No, I'm talking to the pansy growing out of your ears.” Peter reached up to his ears to feel is anything wa- ”Of COURSE I was talking to you, dumbass! You have something stuck to your back.”

Peter reached behind with his right arm, looking like a complete idiot as he spun around in circles trying to simultaneously look at what was on his back, and grab it. The Painting laughed, and left, walking upside down through all the other paintings.

When he finally grabbed it, he realized that it was a piece of candy. A piece of Rain's candy. He had lost track of time, just like he always did, and had completely forgotten about the dinner. s**t. s**t. s**t. Running back through the hallways, the now empty hallways, Peter made his way back to the great hall, and slid in through the doors as nonchalantly as he could, slipping into the first empty seat. He was behind a great big huge Gryffindor, a fourth year that was part giant. Lucky him, all big and everything. Now I can't even see what is going on! Peter pouted, but began to eat, only eating what his father would be alright with him ingesting. Sorry stomach. I know you wanted some goodies, but I just can't do it. I'm not in the mood for sweets.

When Professor Snape walked up, and announced that he was the headmaster, the fork in Peter's hand fell to the floor. P-professor Snape!? What the bloody hell!? Peter stared, his mouth agape, as the speeches were made. Oh, yah, now Snape is the headmaster, McGonnagal is thrown to the curb basically, and school is Canceled! How the hell am I supposed- Ok... Okay... Calm down, Peter. Calm down...

Things were moving so quickly, and just as fast as he had entered, he left. He didn't say hello to anyone, he didn't comment. He just left. Peter's appetite was as rapidly changing as his attention. In the hallway, Peter took a seat, not wanting to wait out the remainder of the dinner. He just wanted some time to himself, something.

Pulling the piece of candy out of his pocket, where he shoved it in his haste. Twirling around the licorice wand, Peter debated eating it, but after a minute or two, he just kind of shoved it in his mouth, for once not giving a damn about how bad it was for him, or where it had been.

After a minute, and after hearing people get released, Peter got up, half the licorice wand in hand, and went towards the common room. He didn't care about curfews anymore, he didn't care about punishment. What could they do? Expel him? School was ending anyways, so it didn't matter.

Towards the common room, Peter saw a girl walking far, far slower than the others. It was Rain. Running up to her, or, fast walking, Peter plastered a smile on his face. The same smile that vanished as quickly as he put it on. Something was dripping down her face. s**t. Rain was crying. Instantly, Peter stopped her in her tracks, putting a hand on her arm, and swinging around in front of her to stop her. With his other hand, he brushed back a piece of her hair, offering her a meager smile.

”Hey.... Don't worry about it... they couldn't really close hogwarts..... You'll see... So many kids don't have a place to go. They can't just... send us home, right? Please don't cry...” Peter offered her a friendly smile, even if he was lying through his teeth. He didn't know any more than she did, but there was no way in hell he would let her know it.






♛ Trying to figure out WHY he ate that licorice wand.
♛ Wondering what he can do to get Rain to stop crying.

[Volthaire]

The smell of coffee was the only reason he got out of bed. John set the pot to start making coffee every morning at five o'clock with absolutely no fail. The sizzling, dripping, steaming drove him out from the covers of his bed. His small, very small, three room apartment was hidden from view, but it was still the biggest mess in the entire planet. There were papers everywhere, pens, spilled ink, eraser shavings, wrappers, clothes, everything just lying everywhere. Frankly, it looked like a library got attacked by a tornado. His bedroom was, by far, the worst. The small brown desk had sticky notes, torn paper with writings, even pen carvings directly onto the desk. The walls were grubby, the lights covered in spider webs. Even his bed was covered in papers in his sleep. Crumpled pieces of paper, pen caps, closed pen bottles, all that good stuff.It was a mess, and John made absolutely no effort to clean it up. Every day he told himself only one more day in this hell hole, then I get to go home, but then weeks passed, and months, soon that day turned into eight years. He wasted his youth, he lost his family, lost his appreciation for life, he basically lost everything. However, the only thing keeping him from committing suicide and actually dying was the fact that he was already in, he might as well finish the job.

John pulled a sicky note off the wall, sticking it to another area. Apparently there was a calendar beneath it, but no one would ever notice due to the massive amounts of mess everywhere. Every date had something written on it. Today, January 5th, was just another day. The DE's still hadn't revealed their plans, and he still had to pretend that he was one of them. John dug around a pile of pens, picking one after another. Red one's dead..... blue one's dead...... Black one's dead.... Another black one's dead.. John threw every unworking pen right back into the pile, not really thinking ahead to tomorrow and how he would go through the exact same routine. It took him a moment to find a pen that actually worked, but when he did, he scrawled something onto the sticky note, and put it onto the calendar once more.




John stuck the sticky note onto the calendar, every page with a sticky note similar, all as depressing as the last. On the floor in front of him, there was a pile of calendars, all exploding with sticky notes. I swear, half the money the ministry gives me to survive went to paper. Yet I never throw anything out.... John looked around his room, and went over to the window, peeking out at the neighbors that could not look back at him. Sometimes he wished he could hire someone to clean, but that would mean reading, and someone reading the mass amounts of notes crowding the walls of his room could be dangerous. Some were happy messages, some were depressing messages, some were just notes scribbled about plans, some were just random words. Love life, Water the plants, feed the fish, don't lose your scarf, bring an umbrella, all of those were notes that were written, scribbled out, rewritten, and plastered all over his small flat. Every day he added more, the little notes to make so he wouldn't forget. The notes so he wouldn't forget his past, himself, his life, and his friends. Layers upon layers of notes, everywhere all over his house. Some should have been torn away, but under no possible way could he condone throwing anything away. None of his thoughts, none of his feelings. Nothing. That probably explained the rightful mess that his flat was, but frankly, he didn't give a damn. He needed every little piece of himself, past and present. However, there was one note that never was touched by layers, the same note that kept him going every day. “She will forgive you.” that was all he needed to write on a note, and it's the same note that he put there eight years before.

He meandered to the kitchen, the sorry excuse of a kitchen. It was just two squares of counter-top, a stove, a sink, and a fridge, the opposite side of the room had a table, the entire house covered in papers. The coffee pot took up one square of the counter, one of the places in his house that wasn't ridiculously covered in post it notes. I did that on accident before, and it ended up in flames. I had to go get a new coffee pot. John had become a complete wreck after the ministry screwed him over, the loss of friends, family, and the love of his life was a sure hit to his pride. On the positive side, John had the right attitude when he went to Wes. He'd been with him ever since, and that wasn't what he wanted.

Even at night, John slept with a long sleeved shirt on, the sight of the dark mark was not something he wanted to see at all, especially in the mornings. His arm was red, bright red, for at night he had dreams of pure terror whenever he had an actual dream. Some times he dreamt that the mark was going to come alive and eat him, but mostly his dreams consisted of Wes finding out about john before his mission was complete. John knew Wes's reputation. He knew what horrible things he had done, and John was NOT going to let that happen to him. Under no way could he. John was almost sure that he would rather commit suicide before he faced Wes again. On the inside, John wished that the ministry run operations, like undercover missions, just like NASA did back in the day. Oh how he wished that he had a suicide pill.

Taking a cup of Coffee, John opened a cupboard and pulled out a pen, catching fifteen others that fell out of the cupboard along with it. John knew that his mission was going to end soon, very soon, and that was the one thing he hoped more than anything. Wes had been putting together a plan, and any day now it was going to be revealed. The abra side situation was going just fine as well. He knew what the Adiuvo Efflectum did, and where Abra kept her piece. It was only a matter of time before he could go back to the ministry for good. No more notes, no more insane Easter hunts for the detectives. None of that s**t was going down. John swore at himself, looking at the fail Christmas tree in the corner that had been shoved and fallen over. He had bought a plastic one seven years ago, before Christmas time, and he never bothered to touch it. The fishbowl on the shelf was cracked and dusty, filled with broken pen caps and empty ink bottles, the family pictures were all blotted out, none of them moving anymore. There were pictures that still had life to them. One was a picture of him and his girlfriend, Naomi. He was holding the camera and they were both smiling into it, his arm around her waist, both of them in full winter wear. He was happy, and he wished he could go back to that moment every single day.

John downed his cup of black coffee in one go, not caring in the least about the scalding heat trickling down his throat. With that, he slammed his mug down on the table, and went off to go take a shower. He did the usual, wash his hair, his body. Even in the bathroom there were notes everywhere, however, he had become a lot more creative. He kept white board markers in the shower to write notes on the top, the notes in the bathroom were bewitched so they wouldn't get wet, and the towels all had little notes written all over them. The most important one was the one he had written in white board marker on the mirror. “Shave.” That was all it said, but he knew he couldn't shave. He kept a clean-shaven face for school, and before he became a deatheater. John also used to keep his hair a little longer, which helped in the anonymity of the case Even if someone who knew him, saw him, they probably would recognize him. Only those who knew him in the morning before he shaved, or knew him to well that they could point him out in a crowd from miles away would be able to realize it was him. John finished in the shower, and over to the sink, also covered in water resistant marker notes, he brushed his teeth and trimmed his beard, only keeping it from becoming unruly instead of making his face cleanly shaven.

Out of the bathroom he went, not bothering to step around the papers to get to the floor (Not like the floor could be seen beneath the layers of loose paper), and went back into his room. Right where he left it, was his wand. He got dressed, slipping on some navy blue trousers, a gray shirt, and a black vest, then his gray blazer and scarf.

Back over to the desk, John grabbed a red pen, threw it across the room because it didn't work, then grabbed a green pen from the bottom. On a sticky note, John wrote “Planning- January 5th.” He pulled that one off, and shoved it into his pocket. On the next one, he wrote “Erase,” and did the exact same thing. John loved the various colors of sticky ones, the ones that he placed all over the ministry. “Gone,” “Dust,” “Ashes,” “Vanish,” each term on a different sticky note.

Slipping on some shoes, and pulling his death eater mask and cloak over himself, John pulled out his wand, and with a crack he was in the ministry. Not too many people were there, but luckily to a rightfully done invisibility spell, no one could see him. Into an office, John went and stuck a note onto the doornob. The first one, “Planning- January 5th” went in Nathan's office. With another crack John was in Max's office (He knew their names because of a plaque, of course). This one said “Erase.” He repeated this another four times. “Gone[” went to Marcos, “Dust” went to Charlene, “Ashes” went to June, and “Vanish” went to Scorpius. His daily, yet cryptic, job was done, and with that, he apparated to the Tudor manor, exactly where he knew he was called to.
He kept his Death Eater mask on as he went inside, not bothering with the door. Abra knew him well enough as not to kill him the moment he walked in, and so did the house elves, even if he didn't necessarily like them.

Into the room he went, just in time to be greeted by Wes. With a nod, John removed his mask and flipped off the hood, instantly regretting not trimming his beard. Nodding to Abra, John Gander stared at the group, his back leaning against the wall as they waited for everyone to get on with the business. Oh wait, John Banter. John Gander died eight years ago.