Hey there! It's Emi (yes, I changed my name ^^; ) with her 4th fanfic! Please read and review! I've always wondered if asking people to R&R works..... Well, enjoy!
\\ REMEMBER!
The week of September 5th is Balamb Garden's first-annual open house! Each student is allowed two visitors (parents or guardians only, please). Visitors may tour from 12:00pm on Monday to 5:00pm on Friday. No one will be admitted before 12:00pm or after 5:00pm on any day. Visitors may not stay in Garden over night. Please make reservations at the Balamb Hotel if necessary. More details will be given at a later date.
If you know of someone who would like to come, please fill out the following form. Note: Return the form even if no one will be visiting you. //
"Last name of guest, first name of guest, relation- Hmph." Squall rolled his eyes and proceeded to crumble the notice into a wad. He decided the first garbage can he passed would be given the honor of housing the giant spit ball.
"What'cha got there?"
Caught off guard by the sudden appearance, he stood up to hide the fact that he was startled. Squall nodded a hello to the bubbly SeeD and stuck the wad in his pocket.
"Is that the open house form? Who are going to invite?" Selphie smiled, hoping for the answer she wanted, but knew she wasn't going to get.
"No one."
"There must be -someone- you want to invite. What about La-"
"No!......Thank you, but I think I'll skip it this year." Not bothering to say goodbye, he walked past Selphie and casually tossed the paper in the trash.
-_-_-_-_-_-
"Do you think Squall would be angry if I invited Sir Laguna to the open house next week?" Selphie fiddled with her french fries, continually dipping them in the same glob of ketchup.
"Can I say the eulogy at your funeral? I've always wanted to write one of those things," Zell smirked.
"So, you -don't- think it would be a good idea?"
"Selphie Tilmitt was one of the best Garden Festival committee members, considering she was the only one. She also had a wond- well, she had a website--"
"All right! I get it."
"I think it's very nice of you to think of Squall," Quistis began. "But -he- needs to be the one to mend his relationship with his father."
"Couldn't I just.....help him?"
"Do what you want, but don't expect a miracle. And don't expect Squall to thank you, either." She laughed lightly. "Let's send it in."
-_-_-_-_-_-
A knock at the door broke the silence of the President's office. Being in deep thought, Laguna did not respond immediately, causing the servant to knock twice more. Totally oblivious to the pounding, Laguna tightened his fist and took a deep breath, trying to decide which form of action would benefit him in the situation at hand.
"Mr. President? Sir?"
"Hm?" he grunted automatically.
"Mail, Mr. President."
".........Come in."
The boy opened the door the best he could, considering both of his hands were full with sacks of letters.
Laguna was so absorbed in what he was doing, he didn't bother to look up. "Close the door, there's a draft," he ordered softly.
"Yes, sir." The servant attempted to close the door with his hands, but when that failed, resorted to his feet. Despite the servant's cautious movements, the wind caused the door to slam closed.
Laguna's eye's bulged as each one of the Jenga blocks fell from their position on top of the tower and hit his wooden desk with a thud. He lunged forward to catch the remainder, but found it was futile.
"I-I'm sorry, sir! I didn't mean to close the door so loudly! Honestly, sir!"
"That's," he held his breath, trying to suppress a whimper. "Okay," he choked out.
"I truly am sorry!"
"No, no. It's....fine...."
The servant boy timidly handed Laguna the mail bags. "H-here."
"Thanks. You can go," he squeaked.
"Sorry again, Mr. President," he apologized before exiting.
The President sighed, finally accepting the tragedy, and opened the bag nearest to him.
"Nick and Mary-Jo Williams want me to cut taxes on.....meatloaf? There's a special tax for meatloaf?" He shook his head and threw the letter on the carpet, then rummaged through the bag again. "Another one of those long-lost relative notes, a declaration of war from some high school kid, a letter to Santa, a letter from Balamb Garden....Huh?" Laguna ripped open the envelope, expecting nothing more than a plea for funding, or perhaps a request for a speech to the students.
His eyes skimmed its contents as he quietly read aloud.
'He wants me to come?' A smile crept up his lips as he read the letter over again. When he was sure of what it said, he sped out of his office to tell Kiros and Ward of his plans for the next week.
"La la la la la!"
No longer worried by Laguna's odd behavior, Kiros stood quietly, waiting for him to stop running in circles.
"Guess what!" he panted.
"You tried out for a Lollipop Kid in Esthar's live production of The Wizard of Oz?"
"They're touring again?"
"I was being-" Kiros shook his head. "No, Laguna, they aren't touring."
"Squall invited me to Garden for open house!"
"-Squall- invited you?"
"His name's on the return address, see?" Laguna proudly pointed to the upper left corner of the letter and brought it close to Kiros' face so he could get a good look.
Kiros shrugged and patted him on the back. "Congrats, man, he's accepted the unacceptable."
"Er.....thanks...."
".........?"
"Ward wants to know if Garden has an open house."
"I......just said that, Ward."
"He thinks you wrote that letter yourself."
Laguna was pleased to rub the envelope in Ward's face too.
"He says Squall doesn't have bubbly handwriting."
Laguna quickly pulled his hand back and stuck the paper in his pocket. "How would you know?!" he huffed.
"Usually girls have bubbly handwriting."
"What's THAT supposed to mean?!"
"Ask Ward! He's the one who said it!" Kiros defended himself.
The ex-Galbadian soldier backed away from his teammate and headed toward the other man in the room. He mustered up the angriest expression he could manage, and stared Ward straight in the face. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"........."
"He says, It looks like your handwriting......Only not in crayon," snickered Kiros.
Laguna strolled back into his office. "Yeah, whatever!"
-_-_-_-_-_-
September 5th finally came, and despite the truckload of visitors that would be touring Garden, classes and missions carried on as usual.
"Are you excited, Squall?" Selphie and Zell tailed along behind their commander, regardless of the many attempts he made to lose them.
"Why should I be?" he asked in his normal tone.
"Oh, uh....I just thought you'd be happy to see all those new faces." She smiled sweetly, but Squall didn't return the gesture.
"Hey," Zell spoke up. "It's almost twelve o'clock. We'd better-"
Squall halted. "You're not wearing a watch," he observed.
Zell paused, unable to think of a plausible excuse.
Selphie attempted to help by blurting, "The voices told him!"
"Um, y-yeah." He dramatically flung his hands over his ears. "Stop the voices!"
".....Er...Zell hears 'the voices' often. Don't you, Zell?"
He stood silently, waiting for her to continue. She also returned the gaze, expecting -him- to continue. When he didn't, she jabbed his side.
"DON'T YOU?"
"All the time!............Wait. I hear them again!" He bobbed his head up and down. "Stop the voices!"
"But they DON'T talk to you THAT often. RIGHT?"
He removed his hands cautiously. "Yes, they've stopped now."
Squall was very confused and had to double-take a few times before shrugging it off as another one of their bizarre idiosyncrasies. "What's going on? You've all been acting strangely since the beginning of last week. If it's just nerves or excitement, leave me out of it."
He continued walking, but Zell and Selphie did not follow.
"So....." Zell balanced his weight on his heels. "The part of eulogy writer is still open, right?"
-_-_-_-_-_-
End part one! ^o^ If you'd like to see more, please review! I won't write unless someone's going to read it....
iJust wondering if html works..../i
\\ REMEMBER!
The week of September 5th is Balamb Garden's first-annual open house! Each student is allowed two visitors (parents or guardians only, please). Visitors may tour from 12:00pm on Monday to 5:00pm on Friday. No one will be admitted before 12:00pm or after 5:00pm on any day. Visitors may not stay in Garden over night. Please make reservations at the Balamb Hotel if necessary. More details will be given at a later date.
If you know of someone who would like to come, please fill out the following form. Note: Return the form even if no one will be visiting you. //
"Last name of guest, first name of guest, relation- Hmph." Squall rolled his eyes and proceeded to crumble the notice into a wad. He decided the first garbage can he passed would be given the honor of housing the giant spit ball.
"What'cha got there?"
Caught off guard by the sudden appearance, he stood up to hide the fact that he was startled. Squall nodded a hello to the bubbly SeeD and stuck the wad in his pocket.
"Is that the open house form? Who are going to invite?" Selphie smiled, hoping for the answer she wanted, but knew she wasn't going to get.
"No one."
"There must be -someone- you want to invite. What about La-"
"No!......Thank you, but I think I'll skip it this year." Not bothering to say goodbye, he walked past Selphie and casually tossed the paper in the trash.
-_-_-_-_-_-
"Do you think Squall would be angry if I invited Sir Laguna to the open house next week?" Selphie fiddled with her french fries, continually dipping them in the same glob of ketchup.
"Can I say the eulogy at your funeral? I've always wanted to write one of those things," Zell smirked.
"So, you -don't- think it would be a good idea?"
"Selphie Tilmitt was one of the best Garden Festival committee members, considering she was the only one. She also had a wond- well, she had a website--"
"All right! I get it."
"I think it's very nice of you to think of Squall," Quistis began. "But -he- needs to be the one to mend his relationship with his father."
"Couldn't I just.....help him?"
"Do what you want, but don't expect a miracle. And don't expect Squall to thank you, either." She laughed lightly. "Let's send it in."
-_-_-_-_-_-
A knock at the door broke the silence of the President's office. Being in deep thought, Laguna did not respond immediately, causing the servant to knock twice more. Totally oblivious to the pounding, Laguna tightened his fist and took a deep breath, trying to decide which form of action would benefit him in the situation at hand.
"Mr. President? Sir?"
"Hm?" he grunted automatically.
"Mail, Mr. President."
".........Come in."
The boy opened the door the best he could, considering both of his hands were full with sacks of letters.
Laguna was so absorbed in what he was doing, he didn't bother to look up. "Close the door, there's a draft," he ordered softly.
"Yes, sir." The servant attempted to close the door with his hands, but when that failed, resorted to his feet. Despite the servant's cautious movements, the wind caused the door to slam closed.
Laguna's eye's bulged as each one of the Jenga blocks fell from their position on top of the tower and hit his wooden desk with a thud. He lunged forward to catch the remainder, but found it was futile.
"I-I'm sorry, sir! I didn't mean to close the door so loudly! Honestly, sir!"
"That's," he held his breath, trying to suppress a whimper. "Okay," he choked out.
"I truly am sorry!"
"No, no. It's....fine...."
The servant boy timidly handed Laguna the mail bags. "H-here."
"Thanks. You can go," he squeaked.
"Sorry again, Mr. President," he apologized before exiting.
The President sighed, finally accepting the tragedy, and opened the bag nearest to him.
"Nick and Mary-Jo Williams want me to cut taxes on.....meatloaf? There's a special tax for meatloaf?" He shook his head and threw the letter on the carpet, then rummaged through the bag again. "Another one of those long-lost relative notes, a declaration of war from some high school kid, a letter to Santa, a letter from Balamb Garden....Huh?" Laguna ripped open the envelope, expecting nothing more than a plea for funding, or perhaps a request for a speech to the students.
His eyes skimmed its contents as he quietly read aloud.
'He wants me to come?' A smile crept up his lips as he read the letter over again. When he was sure of what it said, he sped out of his office to tell Kiros and Ward of his plans for the next week.
"La la la la la!"
No longer worried by Laguna's odd behavior, Kiros stood quietly, waiting for him to stop running in circles.
"Guess what!" he panted.
"You tried out for a Lollipop Kid in Esthar's live production of The Wizard of Oz?"
"They're touring again?"
"I was being-" Kiros shook his head. "No, Laguna, they aren't touring."
"Squall invited me to Garden for open house!"
"-Squall- invited you?"
"His name's on the return address, see?" Laguna proudly pointed to the upper left corner of the letter and brought it close to Kiros' face so he could get a good look.
Kiros shrugged and patted him on the back. "Congrats, man, he's accepted the unacceptable."
"Er.....thanks...."
".........?"
"Ward wants to know if Garden has an open house."
"I......just said that, Ward."
"He thinks you wrote that letter yourself."
Laguna was pleased to rub the envelope in Ward's face too.
"He says Squall doesn't have bubbly handwriting."
Laguna quickly pulled his hand back and stuck the paper in his pocket. "How would you know?!" he huffed.
"Usually girls have bubbly handwriting."
"What's THAT supposed to mean?!"
"Ask Ward! He's the one who said it!" Kiros defended himself.
The ex-Galbadian soldier backed away from his teammate and headed toward the other man in the room. He mustered up the angriest expression he could manage, and stared Ward straight in the face. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"........."
"He says, It looks like your handwriting......Only not in crayon," snickered Kiros.
Laguna strolled back into his office. "Yeah, whatever!"
-_-_-_-_-_-
September 5th finally came, and despite the truckload of visitors that would be touring Garden, classes and missions carried on as usual.
"Are you excited, Squall?" Selphie and Zell tailed along behind their commander, regardless of the many attempts he made to lose them.
"Why should I be?" he asked in his normal tone.
"Oh, uh....I just thought you'd be happy to see all those new faces." She smiled sweetly, but Squall didn't return the gesture.
"Hey," Zell spoke up. "It's almost twelve o'clock. We'd better-"
Squall halted. "You're not wearing a watch," he observed.
Zell paused, unable to think of a plausible excuse.
Selphie attempted to help by blurting, "The voices told him!"
"Um, y-yeah." He dramatically flung his hands over his ears. "Stop the voices!"
".....Er...Zell hears 'the voices' often. Don't you, Zell?"
He stood silently, waiting for her to continue. She also returned the gaze, expecting -him- to continue. When he didn't, she jabbed his side.
"DON'T YOU?"
"All the time!............Wait. I hear them again!" He bobbed his head up and down. "Stop the voices!"
"But they DON'T talk to you THAT often. RIGHT?"
He removed his hands cautiously. "Yes, they've stopped now."
Squall was very confused and had to double-take a few times before shrugging it off as another one of their bizarre idiosyncrasies. "What's going on? You've all been acting strangely since the beginning of last week. If it's just nerves or excitement, leave me out of it."
He continued walking, but Zell and Selphie did not follow.
"So....." Zell balanced his weight on his heels. "The part of eulogy writer is still open, right?"
-_-_-_-_-_-
End part one! ^o^ If you'd like to see more, please review! I won't write unless someone's going to read it....
iJust wondering if html works..../i