ONE
Maggie rolled over and opened her eyes. In the darkness of her room, her cobalt blue eyes shone with fear.
It's that dream again.
Her recurring dream showed her best friend telling her to run away. And then he'd vanish, leaving her in the darkness. And the darkness choked her with its ceaselessness. It scared her. Absolutely frightened her.
With a jolt, Maggie realized that today was the day her best friend would be returning from that school. That boarding school somewhere north, with a name her best friend had eluded telling her for six years now. They had agreed on meeting at King's Cross and going for dinner afterwards last September, before he left, and Maggie had been waiting for this moment ever since then.
Slightly fuming because of her frustration in not knowing even the name of her best friend's school and knowing full well that she wouldn't be able to fall back into the peaceful arms of slumber, Maggie scrambled out of her bed and decided to have an early breakfast.
She checked her reflection once again through the stationary train, trying to see whether her face betrayed any emotion. She didn't want to look too excited or worried.
Sometimes, she wondered if her best friend attended such a grand place since he never wrote once. Not one freaking letter from him turned up in her mailbox while she attended a snobbish private school, up to her earlobes thinking of how she could reach him when he didn't leave any school address or telephone number. Just how sad is that?
Maggie took a deep breath and risked a look around. A few groups of people milled around the platforms where she was waiting, possible waiting for the train coming from the north.
She noticed their clothing: it was either too old-fashioned (some gentlemen were wearing cloaks and buckled boots), too warm for the weather (again with the cloaks, and Maggie was already feeling a tiny bit woozy from the heat), or a little odd (as though they didn't know which piece of clothing went with another). But that was for the most part. Some looked, well, inconspicuously normal enough. A family of three, a beefy father and son with an oppositely bony mother, stood a little farther from everyone else, as though they were trying to avoid some kind of grave disease. They looked at people with apparent distrust and suspicion.
The people came and went, however, Maggie noted. Or maybe she just lost everyone she tried to follow with her eyes to the crowd, as they passed through Platforms Nine and Ten. She judged it of little consequence.
There was something similar about everyone she saw, though she couldn't quite point a finger to it until she witnessed one odd-looking man in an orange balaclava stumble and scurry to the nearest platforms.
A moment later, he was gone, and Maggie knew.
They all looked terrified, as though someone behind them was going to jump on them and maim.
Stop being paranoid.
She tried a smile. After all, she was finally going to see him after ten months of total nothing. She should be humming, for goodness' sake.
A little woman with flaming red hair and knitted pink bonnet passed by her and, as their eyes met, gave her a tiny smile. For some reason, it made Maggie uneasy. She broke eye contact and feigned examining her shoes. She realized there was fear in the woman's eyes too, and that was what made her uncomfortable, but her smile said everything will turn out just fine. For one moment, she felt like the redheaded woman's daughter.
Stop being so observant.
It was only her second time here. The first time was when they were eleven, after her best friend's first year. She waited with both their parents then.
She checked her watch and sighed. Just what the hell was taking him so long?
"Excuse me, miss. Are you waiting for someone?"
The smile broke through before she knew it.
Maggie turned and there he was, grinning. She was about to do the same when she noticed an ugly gash on Pierre's cheek. It looked just a little more than a week old.
"What's that? Where did you get that? Just what have you been doing at school? Ohmygoodness, Pierre, can't you be a little more careful?"
He rolled his eyes theatrically. "Come on, Margaret, don't I get a hug first?"
She gave in to a one-armed hug, as Pierre was holding the cage of his pet Great Grey owl, Prince. Behind him was his huge school trunk, covered with his jacket.
"I've missed you, magpie," he told her. Maggie relished at how his whole body relaxed and how he buried his face in her hair and inhaled.
"Shut up," was all she could muster even though she wanted to tell him how she missed him too.
His embrace tightened for a moment before he let go and looked at her from head to toe, as if checking for injuries like his own. Maggie felt a little self-conscious, but he grinned again, and Maggie lightened up. It was something he never could stop himself from doing. And Maggie liked that.
"They're letting you out in the kitchen after midnight again!" He laughed, his head falling back, as annoyance showed on her face.
"I am not fat!"
"Of course not," said Pierre, and, still chuckling, draped his arm around her shoulder before they made their way out of the station.
"So are you gonna tell me now where you got that ugly cut?" asked Maggie as their orders were placed on the table.
"You never miss anything, do you?" Pierre looked to the window, and it seemed to Maggie as though he was seeing beyond the busy London street outside. "A fire broke out in our school, and I was hit by broken glass," he sighed.
"Did something else happen?"
"Our headmaster died."
She gasped. Even though he didn't tell her about his school, Pierre always had stories about his headmaster, whom he admired. He always told her about how wise the headmaster was, how just and kind, how the headmaster always listened to the pupils and it almost seemed like a perfect authority any kid would want to have. Maggie remembered him telling her the headmaster's name once, and it seemed funny to her then, but she couldn't recall the name at the moment. And she doubted it would sound funny now that she heard the news.
She covered his hand, which was on the table, with hers. "Are you quite alright?"
He didn't look at her. "Yes."
"Are you sure?"
Maggie would know if he's lying. Thankfully, he didn't. He just shrugged. She decided to let it pass and wait for him to tell when he's ready.
Dinner passed without much talking afterwards. Then Pierre insisted on taking her home, instead of the other way around since he was the one burdened with an obnoxious traveling case and a not-so-gently awakened owl that glared at them while making raucous noises. Prince was clearly not happy with the taxi ride home.
"Well, it's lovely seeing you again," said Maggie as they reached her front door.
"Lovely? It was magical." The he chuckled as though he enjoyed some kind of private joke.
"We'll talk more after this?"
"We'll have all the time in the world to talk, Margaret." He hesitated, and then kissed her on the cheek.
Her cheek burned and she wished the night was dark enough to hide the blush from him. Although she would never admit it, their time together today was too short for her liking. She thought of how they could catch up with ten months' worth of stories in just two months of vacation.
"Can I come over later?"
"Why?"
She frowned and Pierre did too. "Do I have to have a reason to come over now?"
"No, it's just that…"
"How about we watch telly? I know you miss your favorite shows, and I'll come over with your favorite blueberry cheesecake too."
Pierre ran his hand through his tangle of russet hair, and Maggie looked at anywhere but him. "How about this, magpie: I come over and you get your cheesecake ready?"
Her eyes lit up instantly. "Okay."
He grinned, and the calm in the air was almost tangible. That is, until Pierre's beautiful light green eyes darkened a little as he said, "Please promise me you will not come over alone, and especially without telling me."
"Why?" Her turn to ask.
"It's dangerous out. Swear, Margaret."
The look he gave her made it hard to argue. She promised. Only then did his grin reappear and he started his way out of the driveway and onto the sidewalk, dragging his trunk behind him. Prince hooted.
"Hurry up!" called Maggie to his slowly retreating back.
He waved and shouted, "I live two houses away, Margaret. You better hurry up with the cheesecake."