Author's Note: This is a multi-chapter to be of the last summer—my attempt to stay canon and still be minutely entertaining. The last summer when Asa, Manfred, and Zelda are all together—before the "math college" (which, I think, was a TOTAL cover-up) and the Idith/Inez/Joshua/Dagbert invasion. In this, Asa, Manfred, and Zelda have graduated Bloor's (even though Billy says that Zelda is 13 years old in Midnight for Charlie Bone, I think his source of information was rather misguided. Probably Asa or something) and they are going on vacation—sounds overdone, I know, but it's never been done with my trio before and this story is not merely for fun. This chapter is the next to last day of school, when they form the plan. Note—it's best to read the part when Billy is delivering the message super-fast and with no breaks. Imagine a little boy trying to utter a very, very long run-on sentence in one breath, and when he finally stops talking at the end of each paragraph, insert a dramatic, rather ragged intake of breath. It made the editing experience all the more interesting for me.

Disclaimer: I do not own Charlie Bone.


waiting for a happening

come with me

reach out; take my hand

and we'll run far, far away from here.

well?

are you coming?

--and I was too late for love--


"Pass me the pretzels, will you?" Manfred Bloor sits ramrod straight against a gnarled crabapple tree and almost-reaches up to the lowermost branch. A katydid trills in a musical thrum somewhere in the distance and Zelda wordlessly sends the crumpled cellophane bag floating down to Manfred. She is perched on a thick, stumpy branch, her black hair pulled back in a messy braid. She sucks on a cherry Popsicle that is melting faster than she can eat it and mulls distractedly over a dog-eared copy of Romeo and Juliet.

Manfred casts aside his heavily highlighted manuscript of Hamlet and licks the salt off a pretzel contentedly. Zelda groans and averts her eyes from his long sleeved shirt, black dress pants, and black dress shoes. And the thick purple wool cape. Especially the cape. He raises one eyebrow at her. "What?"

Zelda groans again. "You're making me hot," she says, fanning herself with Romeo and Juliet.

Manfred grins. "Don't I always?"

"That's not what I meant and you know it. Why don't you wear something more suited to the weather?" Zelda gesticulates at her modified uniform: the rolled-up sleeves on her button-down shirt and hitched-up skirt, minus the stockings, shoes, and cape, which lay in a pile a few meters away. "Look at Asa! Wear what he's wearing and be comfortable. You certainly don't look it right now." The two momentarily abandon their conversation and watch Asa, who is turning cartwheels amid the dry grass in nothing but his black pants.

"I'm comfortable," Manfred frowns. "90 degrees is not hot, you know."

"I know you don't think so. But I happen to, so please, please, PLEASE take off the cape at least."

"Would you rather I wear nothing at all?" Manfred casts a lascivious smile up at her.

Zelda rolls her eyes exasperatedly. "Now is not the time for that. Tomorrow's Friday, our LAST DAY of school in this…" She racks her brain for an appropriately degrading phrase.

"Hellhole," Manfred supplies helpfully.

Zelda, her Popsicle finished, sets the stick on the air and stares at it. In a moment, it snaps in two and she lets it drift to the ground. "That'll do. But we have one last final tomorrow and I'm concerned about our ability to pass it."

"Our?"

"Alright, Asa's," Zelda sighs dejectedly. "Honestly, I don't know why I even make the effort with him. You too! Remember that Calculus studying fiasco this weekend?"

Manfred scowls. The Calculus final is something he'd rather forget. He sneaks a glance up at his girlfriend, then hurriedly changes the subject. "C'mon, Zel, relax! The graduation ceremony's over, prom is over, finals are almost over… It's summer. Forget about Asa's grades and… well, with any other person I would say 'enjoy yourself' but since you're Zelda…"

Zelda sends Manfred's book shooting back into his lap. "Read. Now," she commands, then calls out, "Asa! Get over here!"

Asa turns one last cartwheel, then bounds over to the pair, running crooked as if he is slightly tipsy. He shakes the dizziness away with a jerk of his head, then flops down onto the grass, picking a dandelion. He holds it to his mouth and lazily blows away the silvery fluff.

"Asa, here's a study guide I made for you." Zelda hands down a thick sheaf of paper held together by a large, official looking black binder clip. Asa groans and covers his face with his hands.

"No, no, no, I can't study right now, it's such a beautiful day, nononono," Asa moans in protest.

"You have to study. It's important that you pass this one, at least."

Asa draws himself up, perching on his elbows. He twists his head to look at Zelda and squints in the sparse-but-still-rather-blinding sunlight that permeates the leaves of the tree. "Zelda, we have one final left. ONE. And it's in British lit, for God's sake! That's fucking Shakespeare, do you realize that? Why are we wasting our time studying for it?"

"Because apparently performing Midsummer, Hamlet, and The Tempest this year did absolutely nothing to hammer the information we need to have learned by, oh, tomorrow morning, into your thick head." Asa glowers at Zelda's bluntness.

Asa scans the study guide. "Ohhhh, it's all King Lear and Macbeth and I can't read it, I can't. Why couldn't it be Twelfth Night?" He removes the binder clip from the papers and throws them across the grass, where they settle like great white birds, fluttering slightly in the wind.

"If it were Twelfth Night, you'd be whining about how you wished it were Midsummer," Manfred says dryly. Asa snickers and so does Manfred. They both abruptly stop when they notice Zelda's glare. Manfred's face is a mask of seriousness but Asa's lower lip twitches madly in effort.

"What's the use?" Zelda screws up her face and shuts her eyes, leaning against the trunk of the tree. "If you want to fail, be my guest."

"It's nearly three," Manfred says, glancing at his watch. "Why don't we go down and see what's in the mail? I want a break."

Zelda hisses through her teeth but ultimately relents. She jumps down from the branch, wincing when her feet meet the imminently solid ground. "Let's go, my almost-slackers," she says, taking Manfred's hand and beckoning to Asa. The three make their way across what could, in a normal suburban outcropping, be called 'the backyard', through the garden, and across the courtyard to the front entrance, where a rusty mailbox waits.

Asa tugs the metal door open with a creak. "What are you two expecting to find? It'll just be bills and advertisements and a couple more of those 'Dear Miss Dobinski, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to… fill in the blank with the university of your choice' letters."

Manfred stiffens and Zelda pulls her hand away from him. She knows that he wants her to stay at Bloor's and become a student teacher with him—he's asked her several times—but she doesn't understand why he would want to stay at Bloor's himself. He had always complained about how he hated it, how he couldn't wait to leave—until the fall of their senior year, when Zelda began to fill out her college applications. The complaints had abruptly stopped, and Manfred had begun to work overtime at his unofficial job—working for his family, the Bloors.

Asa already has plans to go to London next year to 'explore the real world'. Zelda doesn't know what he will do there, but she is hoping that it will be something so entertaining-slash-amazing that she and Manfred will be forced to move out there to do it with him. This plan will only work, however, if Asa graduates; and she has her doubts about that. And she knows whatever he will be doing in London is more likely as not to be waiting tables at a ritzy café or spinning tunes for a smoky club. And so she has been forced to accept that Manfred one day be headmaster at Bloor's.

"Which school are you going to, anyways?" Asa asks, taking a stack of mail out and beginning to sift through it.

"Oxford, I think," Zelda answers. Manfred's head goes down and he walks away from them to stand by the road and watch a lone silver Honda pass by.

"Bills, bills, bills…" Asa mutters. Zelda isn't listening. She looks worriedly over to Manfred, but doesn't go to him just yet. Asa continues. "Ah, Manfred, here's your Playboy magazine!"

"Let me see that!" Zelda whisks the glossy magazine out of his hands. "Asa, you complete asshole," she chastises as she is left staring down at a Kingdom's catalogue ad, featuring a pink-iced cupcake studded with silver sprinkles. Manfred appears at her shoulder and peers down at it, shaking his head and grinning ruefully.

"Knew that'd get your attention," Asa remarks, coming at last to the bottom of the stack. "Here's a very personal looking letter to a Mr. Manfred Bloor…" He attempts to crack open the heavy parchment envelope with his bitten fingernails.

"Thank you," Manfred snatches the envelope. He struggles with the sealing, then finally rips off one side of the envelope instead. "Damn, you need a letter opener for these things." Nimbly withdrawing a thick sheaf of paper, he unfolds it to reveal thin, spidery handwriting slanting across the cream-colored page.

"Read it aloud!" Asa prompts excitedly. Manfred clears his throat dramatically, and begins to read.

"'Dear Master Bloor,'" he reads. At this, Manfred is cut off almost immediately.

"Ooooh, someone's formal," Asa snickers. Manfred gives him a look and continues.

"'As you know, Yolanda met her untimely demise less than a month ago. We appreciate your family's support during this difficult time.'"

"C'mon, c'mon, get on with it!" Asa presses.

"Shhh. It must be from Yorath," Zelda adds as an aside.

"Must be," Manfred agrees. He continues, "'She made her intent to include you in her will clear to me soon before she passed. This must be attributed to your friend Asa's great kindness to her during her time at Bloor's. I regret to inform you that your father was not mentioned in the will, for reasons unbeknownst to me. Enclosed is a check for $5,000. I know that it is a paltry sum, but I do encourage you to spend it wisely.

Sincerely yours,

Yorath Yewbeam'"

"Excellent!" Asa whoops, grabbing the envelope and withdrawing the check. "Five thousand dollars… what we couldn't do with five thousand dollars!" The three continue the conversation as they make their way back to the crabapple tree.

"We can't pay for a car, for one," Manfred says. "No, I can't have money to buy one, I have to inherit it! Damn him, the bastard, the…" He lets loose with a string of almost unintelligible curse words, making Zelda giggle and Asa grin.

Zelda smirks. She has something coming, and she has been waiting to let it loose. " 'Great kindness'?" she asks. "What might Yolanda have been referring to, hmmm?"

"I've definitely heard some rumors," Manfred puts in. "But what exactly did you do with her, eh?" He raises his eyebrows expectantly, while Asa elbows Zelda in the ribs, hard. Zelda shrieks in mock pain and Manfred reproves him with a, "None of that!"

"God, you're overprotective, you lovesick sap," Asa grumbles. "You just love playing the gallant hero, the Prince Charming… it's disgusting."

"I like it, anyways," Zelda says defensively. "And stop changing the subject. Do tell us all about you and… Belle, shall we say."

Asa stuffs his hands in his pockets and drops his head, turning almost as red as his hair. He mumbles as if his mouth is full of marbles, "We just did a bit of… snogging and…" He cuts off abruptly when Manfred doubles over, howling with laughter. Asa releases a feral snarl and says defensively, "Well, she was hot, y'know? What would you've done?"

Even Zelda is in stitches, hiccupping softly as she recovers from her bout of laughter. "But she was over a hundred years old, Asa! Didn't you think about that when you two were… oh, I can't even say it!" Zelda giggles again.

"Look, if Zelda were a hundred, and if she were in the 'shape' she's in right now, would you snog her?" Asa demands. Manfred chuckles again.

"Zelda's not a hundred, Asa!"

"But say she was…"

"God, I don't know! How the hell does this even relate to the matter at hand?" Manfred folds his arms and wrinkles his brow, his black eyes flashing. Zelda whirls.

"Are you insinuating that you wouldn't kiss me if I were a hundred?"

Manfred is taken aback. "No, no, that's not what I meant, Zel, because you aren't a hundred, you know," he stutters. Zelda feigns offense and, sticking her nose in the air, flounces away, prompting Manfred to pursue her.

"Zel!" he calls in almost-desperation. Asa looks rather relieved. Manfred dashes after Zelda and grabs her arm.

"If that's how you really feel about me, then so be it," Zelda says rather primly. "After all, there's nothing I really need from you, is there? I'm certainly not seeing anything in this relationship that's hold—"

Manfred silences her with a rather long and passionate-looking kiss. He knows that she likes to be dramatic, and also knows the right ways to shut her up. He pulls away roughly and nips Zelda's ear, drawing back to look her full in the face. Zelda, looking slightly dazed, blinks owlishly up at him. "Well, I suppose there's that, isn't there…" She trails off and grabs Manfred's face, kissing him again. Asa makes retching noises until the second kiss, which is quite noticeably longer than the first, commences.

Zelda, high spots of color in her face, takes Manfred's hand and suggests: "Why don't we go in now? I don't really believe that we're going to get any more studying done tonight."

Manfred smirks, looking pleased. "Excellent idea." Asa snorts. They have reached the tree now; Asa grabs the box of melted Popsicles and the empty bag of pretzels; Manfred, the five-odd volumes of Shakespeare; and Zelda, grumbling under her breath, begins to telekinetically gather up the sheets of loose paper strewn about the lawn.

"Don't I deserve any thanks?" Asa queries, leering at Manfred and Zelda, who look anxious to go inside and rid themselves of his presence so they can get some 'work' done.

Zelda snaps her gaze over to him, then, her lips curving into a smile, says, "Oh, yes. Your action with Yolanda did get us the five thousand. I suppose that does merit some gratitude. So, thank you for screwing with an old hag."

"Hey!" Asa shouts.

"Calm down, both of you," Manfred says. "The important thing is, what are we going to do with the money?"

"I'm thinking a road trip," Asa says.

"We could go to Carthrow castle!" Manfred exclaims. When the others look at him questioningly, he continues, "It's one of the estates we have—first belonged to Lilith, I think. It's only about seven hundred miles away, at most. Mother and Father and I used to go there all the time when I was a kid. It's really pretty, and not too big, and it's right on the beach, it's amazing in the summer…" He trails off, caught up in his reminiscing.

"We don't have a car, genius," Zelda reminds gently. "Although that is a really, really good idea. I suppose…"

"What is it?" Manfred demands. There is an almost-scary obsessive blaze in his eyes that prods Zelda into answering.

"Well, if we could be packed by tonight—and Manfred, bring a road map, and Asa, do bring your camera—we could swing round to my place tomorrow after study hall in the King's room and borrow Daddy's car," she says. "He'll be passed-out drunk on the sofa anyways; he'll never realize it's gone until he runs out of booze."

Asa looks nervous. He looks from Manfred, whose eyes are gleaming dangerously, to Zelda, whose eyes are downcast. She chews on her lower lip and fidgets with the clasp on her necklace. Asa clears his throat. "I don't see why not! Let's plan to be all packed by tomorrow, and then we can leave as planned." He gives them all a too-cheerful grin.

"But Father won't let us go," Manfred says angrily.

"So?" Zelda's lip curls in disdain. "We'll just get out before they even know we're gone. Maybe we could even get Billy to create a diversion, if worse comes to worse."

"Good." Manfred lets out a long breath. "I'm dying to get out of here. This summer's going to suck some major—"

Asa lets loose an obnoxious and obviously fake cough, covering Manfred's next words. Turning round, Manfred and Zelda spot Billy Raven trotting across the grass to them. "What's with you, Raven?" Manfred barks.

"Manfred, try not to be too… strict. It's not as if he's Torsson or Vertigo, you know," Zelda admonishes while Billy is still out of earshot.

The boy skids to a halt, breathing hard and looking at Manfred nervously. "Come on boy, out with it!" Manfred orders. Billy gulps air, then starts in on his message, babbling like a loon. Zelda cringes, wishing Manfred had spared them the ordeal and saved Billy some breath.

"Cook says it's almost dinner time and it's your three's day to help set and clear, and she says that if you get in there on time for once—hey, I'm just repeating what she told me! She said to repeat it exactly! Anyways, if you get there on time, she has some chocolate cookies that she made for me 'cause you know I love chocolate and she says it's a treat for maybe finally finishing first year but she has a few extra and she said to say she knows Zelda won't eat many so there'll be about ten left for you two and—"

"Mmmm, I like the sound of that," Asa purrs, almost salivating. Billy gives a hopeful grin.

"And?" Zelda asks. She can tell by Billy's face that he has something more coming.

"Um, so, I was walking to the bathroom during English because Mr. Carp said I could go—"

"I don't care what Mr. Carp said you can or can't do," Manfred snaps. "Let's get this over with."

Billy starts up again. "—and I finished going to the bathroom and washed my hands, and I thought to myself that I should get a drink of water only the nearest water fountain is in the drama wing so I walked down there. And while I was there, I got my drink and then I noticed this classroom full of seniors and then Lydia Pieman walked out of it and said she had a message for," here Billy paused for a breath and pointed his finger, "you three. Well, actually she said it was mostly for Manfred but I decided she meant you two as well."

"Oh, God, here we go again…" Zelda moans in disgust. Manfred looks rather bemused at her reaction, but decides to let it pass.

"What exactly is it that you have to tell us?" Billy looks at Manfred for consent, then barrels on. Asa snorts in amusement. This was getting interesting.

"She reminded me that she was a prefect and all, and then she said that you three aren't allowed to be outside during study period. And she said that you," Billy gestures to Manfred, "needed to help her study for the British lit final since you were in Midsummer as Demetrius and she was Helena so apparently that qualifies you as a teacher or something." Billy furrowed his brow, trying to remember the last part. Suddenly, he brightened, and he smiled while saying the last bit. "Oh, and Blessed says that Mr. Ezekiel wants his mail now and that he saw you three get it already."

Zelda looks ready to boil over. "Are you quite finished?" Manfred asks curtly.

"Yep, that's all," Billy says proudly. "So, shouldn't we go in for dinner now?"

"Okay. We'll come in a second. First, though, we've got something to discuss." Billy sits down on the grass, ready to listen to Manfred's proposition. He knows that he can't be in trouble, though. Manfred's face is too kind-looking at the moment for that. He probably needs me to give Lydia a message back, Billy thinks.

"What the hell was she… conceited, over-imposing bitch… I'm head girl! We're allowed to be outside during study period! What the… what the…" Zelda is growling in fury; stray twigs sporadically fly into oblivion with every furious toss of her head.

Manfred takes this little speech into account. "Tell Lydia that she doesn't have any right to order us around, because we're head boy and head girl and what we say goes."

"Don't forget to mention the werewolf that could rip her pretty little head off," Asa says. Billy swallows hard, looking stunned.

"Okay…"

Manfred chooses to ignore this. "Also that there's no way in hell that I'm helping her study. Here's the mail. Give it to great-grandfather." After a cursory glance from Manfred, Asa thrusts the thick pile into Billy's waiting arms—sans the envelope, of course. "Now, the important part. You see, Zelda, Asa, and I have a little errand we need to run tomorrow night at eight thirty."

"Isn't that when we're all dismissed for the year?" Billy asks.

Manfred nods assent. "But there's a slight problem. My father won't let us run this errand if we tell him about it in advance. So we need you to keep tabs on my father, my great-grandfather, and the matron, and if you do this right, all three of them will be none the wiser until we… return," Manfred says. "You'll do this by deploying Blessed and that disgusting rat you keep around, of course. If, however, they do discover what we're up to, you will do everything in your power to keep them from following us. And if you do this all correctly, when we get back you will be heavily rewarded."

"Okay," Billy agrees, nodding. "What'll the reward be?"

"You can go home with anyone you'd like, anytime." Manfred smiles in satisfaction.

"I can already do that." Billy's red eyes narrow.

"Then if you don't do it right, I will take that privilege away. And there's one last thing," Manfred says, pausing for effect. "You will not, under any circumstances, repeat any part of the conversation that just took place to anyone, especially Charlie Bone. Do we have an understanding?" Billy nods, frightened. "Good." Manfred grins rather privately at Asa and Zelda. "Let's make our way inside, shall we? And Billy, do go give Lydia my message."

Billy scampers back across the grounds to the castle. Asa holds up his hand to Manfred. "High five!" he cries triumphantly.

Manfred, for a moment, looks disgusted. Then, a look of pure exultance on his pale face, he slaps Asa's hand in victory. The two throw their composure to the wayside and jump up and down in celebration, pumping their fists and cheering like ten-year-olds.

"Boys." Zelda shakes her head, smiling to herself as she makes her way back to the school.


"DISPERSE!" The unmistakable voice of Doctor Harold Bloor thunders across the cafeteria, sending children in blue, purple, and green capes scattering.

Manfred yawns loftily before rising from his spindly seat at the head of the drama table and retreating to the cafeteria to fetch the dish-cart for clearing. Asa fairly skips off to the restroom with an informative shout of "I've got to go!" causing Zelda to wince as she gets up from her seat and pushes in her chair.

She notices, as she begins to telekinetically stack the dishes and sort the silverware (It's really disgusting, touching other people's used cutlery, she thinks) that she and Lydia Pieman—Oh God please kill me now—are the only two left in the cafeteria. Lydia thrusts her shoulders back, emphasizing her bust (Why does she even bother? Manfred's not around, thank God) and struts toward Zelda in 3 inch stiletto heels.

Oh, excellent. This should be interesting.

"What do you need, Lydia?" Zelda snaps. She's not about to start a long conversation with this girl, this girl who has made it her mission to make Zelda's life even more hellish than it already is since first year. No, this needed to be quick and painless and utterly scathing.

Lydia pauses a moment, a dangerous 1000-watt smile making its way onto her overly made-up face. Zelda knows that she is assessing her every flaw; the rip in her black tights and her riotous, uncombed hair is made all the more prominent by Lydia's assessment. Lydia meets Zelda's accusatory green eyes with her glassy blue ones, twirling a strawberry blonde curl around and around her perfectly manicured finger. Snapping her gum voraciously, she takes a tentative step nearer and fixes Zelda with a look of disdain.

Zelda glares right back and Lydia flinches. At this, Zelda allows herself a small, private smile before raising her eyebrows expectantly. "Well, if you don't have anything to say to me, you'd best get to your homework." Relishing her powers as head girl—Manfred's head boy, you know, she wants to say—she turns away and continues stacking dishes with a sort of glittering euphoria.

Lydia clears her throat. "You were outside during study period today," she singsongs. "I don't think you'd want Doctor Bloor to find out about that, do you?"

"You forget, Lydia, that his son is my boyfriend." Lydia's pretty face takes on a maniacal air, veins throbbing in her temples- Zelda thinks it looks rather painful. This, Manfred Bloor, is Zelda's primary weapon against Lydia, and she loves to dangle her 'ownership' in front of Lydia's face.

"I think we all know that Doctor Bloor doesn't approve of you," Lydia reminds. The sad thing about this is that Zelda is all-too-aware that this statement is true. Zelda has been reluctant to help with the overall scheme of Bloor world domination of late, and, as a result, Doctor Bloor has begun to hint that Manfred and Zelda should—quote—'reconsider their options'. Zelda has no intention of reconsidering any options, Doctor Bloor's wishes non-withstanding.

"Look, Lydia, we've had this argument several times too many. Why don't you just accept that one boy prefers me over you and settle for one of the million others who almost literally worship the ground you walk upon?" Zelda finally gets out.

"Because why should someone like Manfred, who is handsome and talented and rich—" Lydia places emphasis on this word, knowing as many of the seniors do that Zelda's family is indebted to the Bloors "—settle for someone like you, an ugly, flat-chested, telekinetic bookworm freak?"

Zelda ignores Lydia's extensive and awkward adjective choice. "If that's how you want to play, Lydia Pieman, so be it." Before Lydia can get another word out, Zelda has sent Lydia's own barely-touched plate floating through the air, ending up poised right above her head.

"No—m'sorry—I just got my hair done!" Lydia ends on a shriek as the platter twitches fitfully.

"That's too bad. What can you do for me that will make up for your careless comment? Be quick about it, or…" Zelda lets the platter speak for her, making it shiver. At this moment, Asa arrives back from the restroom and Manfred emerges from the kitchen with the cart. Asa laughs uproariously, surveying the scene and understanding within moments. Manfred does not look amused. Zelda relinquishes her power and sends the plate to the stack with the others. Lydia looks relieved, flushes red at the sight of Manfred, then flees, disappearing in seconds.

"What was that all about?" Manfred inquires irritably. "Oh, just another argument with Cook, nothing to get in all worried about," he adds, noticing his companions' questioning faces.

"Nothing," Zelda answers.

Asa snorts. "You keep on telling yourself that, Zel."


The King's room is near-empty that night, silent save for the scritch-scratching of pencils and the frustrated sighs of overworked students trying in desperation to cram in last-minute information. Emma Tolly's exams are finished; she and her Aunt Julia have already left for the seashore. Tancred has pleaded a stomachache and is currently in the kitchen, a thermometer shoved under his reluctant tongue by Cook. Gabriel Silk and Charlie Bone are rehearsing for the end-of-term concert, leaving Manfred, Asa, Zelda, Lysander, Dorcas, and Billy hunched over the round table.

Asa tears a sheet of notebook paper from his binder, delighting in the resulting rip. He scribbles something down, then passes the note to Dorcas, who is sitting beside him.

Say Zelda, Manfred and I found a copy of Yolanda's will. Any ideas why she might not have included Doctor Bloor in it?

Dorcas' plump face lights up. Asa does a jittery polka with his toes on the wood floor while waiting for her reply.

Well, I have a few. But are we speaking theoretically or literally?

Gripping the pencil hard, Asa scrawls a reply down. If only she'd just spill whatever she knows…!

Let's play it safe and say theoretically.

Dorcas gives Lysander Sage a glare as he leans over her shoulder to try to read the note. He offers a devil-may-care grin and, shaking his head, buries himself in his studying once more.

All right. I'll tell you. But it's best not to tell many people, excepting Manfred and Zelda.

Of course no one except Freddy and Zel! And what the hell kind of word is excepting anyways? Asa wondered as he wrote back. Time to find out…

A secret? This'd better be good.

Dorcas, simpering slightly at Asa, finally surrenders the crucial piece of information.

Venetia and Doctor Bloor were 'together' when they were in Bloor's.

Asa's jaw literally drops. Open-mouthed, he turns to give Manfred and Zelda a bug-eyed oh my god stare. They look back at him incredulously—as they very well should, thinks Asa. I am note-passing with DORCAS LOOM (blaargh get me out of here) after all. What in hell's name caused me to stoop to this level? Oh yeah, my rather inappropriate relationship with a much older woman. Right, then. Let's proceed.

WHAT?! Shit, I had no idea… but how does that relate?

Blushing to the roots of her pale hair, Dorcas writes down the reply, hoping Asa will know what she's talking about without having to go into a long, gory explanation. I would die if I had to explain that to Asa, of all people! Please God let him know what I'm talking about…

See, he was only using her for… y'know…

Asa makes a horrible hack-hack-gurgle-gulp noise as he chokes on his own spit. Oh yeah, he knew exactly what Dorcas was trying to insinuate. Here's a clue: I haven't had it, but my two best friends have it nearly every night. Wait a second. Did anyone really need to know that? Ok, back to (gag) Dorc. (And that's a major, major good one. Points x 1 million, Pike. Congrats.) Asa tosses Manfred an I'm the man! wink before sliding the note over to Dorcas. Manfred frowns reproachfully, but Asa takes no notice.

Sex.

Dorcas blushes even redder than before, the rosy glow tinting her sallow skin and giving her face the overall emergence of a bruised apple. Did he really just say that? I wonder if he's ever done it... omigod, Dorcas, not now! She shakes the improper thoughts from her head with a toss of her curls and passes the note back to Asa.

Um… yeah. And she told Belle and I that she'd always wanted to have an official relationship and maybe get married, but he never asked, and one day she realized that he'd been using her all along. Her sisters had warned her over and over, but she'd never listened to them.

Okay. What the hell are we talking about anyways? Yolanda's will, right? I don't give a werewolf's hairy… alright, if she wants to be difficult, fine. I've got two hours to listen. After this unpleasant interlude within the rather scrambled recesses of Asa's head, he scratches in a prompt.

So…

Ooh! I think Asa is trying to talk to me! Why else would he act so clueless? He obviously wants me to write more!! Maybe… Dorcas tosses aside all thoughts of romance and sets in to explain.

Belle was mad, majorly mad, on behalf of Venetia, who, after all, had been raised by her. She was totally on Venetia's side in everything, so she told us that Doctor Bloor wasn't getting a penny out of her when she passed. I'm not sure how she knew it'd be all that soon, though.

Asa scribbled down what he thought was an almost-goodbye-hint-hint type phrase and then passes the note back for (hopefully) the last time.

Holy shit! That explains a hell of a lot. Mind if I pass this to Zelda and then Manfred?

Dorcas scans the note with a concerned frown line marring her forehead. Then again, maybe he is just clueless… well, I might as well try to relinquish my pride *cough* flirt some more.

Sure, no prob, A.

A? What's with the familiarity? Whoa, slow waaaaay doooownnnn. I was counting on the Doctor Bloor and Venetia shocker being my last spit-choking inducement of the day, but it's clear that I was wrong. Asa notices Zelda's prudent get-studying-face and, suddenly, an idea hits him with all the force of a gate-crashing meteor. This should do the trick…

Good. Thanks. What's the square root of pie?

Dorcas wrinkled her brow. What the… maybe he's just nervous to talk to me. She sighs. Yeah, right. She passes the note back to Asa with what she hopes is a sexy pout.

What are you talking about?

Asa wants to pound his fist on the table in agony. This. Has. Got. To. Stop! And what's with her face? Is she supposed to be sucking on a lemon? Okay, I'm going to end it all right… here. His canines bared in a gleeful grin, he slides the note back to Dorcas and pretends to be overly interested in his horrible, boring, sleep-inducing, volume of Macbeth. Zelda gives him an approving nod.

Zelda's giving me that look. Got to study. Bye now.

Ooh, Zelda! She already has a boyfriend! Why does she want to make my almost-one study? Humph. She's probably jealous. Dorcas wrote a last reply down for Asa, passed the note to him, and then buried her nose in an Art History textbook.

How does that even… um, okay, bye.

Relieved, Asa passes the note to Zelda and throws his head onto the table, almost sobbing in gratitude. Finally! Finally, thank God and Satan and all the miscellaneous deities that hold court at Bloor's academy! Thank you, Red King! Thank you, Easter Bunny! Thank you… okay, I really do have better things to think about. Like… Macbeth, for example.

Arrrrg! Way to get inside my head, Zel. Damn you.


"Wow. Wow, wow, wow. And Asa, the square root of pie? Is that your misguided attempt to make me think you were studying?" Zelda shakes her head, sipping a china teacupful of coffee and nibbling on a cookie. She, Manfred, and Asa have decided to use their remaining fifteen minutes before lights out in the kitchen, to congregate and confer on both the note-passing marathon and the 'errand'.

Manfred still looks slightly dazed. "But… that's impossible… she's his aunt or something!"

"Not entirely impossible, mate. Stranger things have happened," Asa says.

Zelda remembers something, pouring herself another cup of coffee. "That explains all of the comparisons to Venetia from Grizelda, the you're-a-slut looks from Eustacia and the constant reminders of how horrible Bloor men are from Venetia! They think I'm like her."

Asa guffaws. "That's not too far off the mark, Zel. The pale skin, the black hair, the beaky nose… the ridiculous excuse for fashion sense…"

"Oh, shut up. By the way, are you two packed?"

"Yes," says Manfred.

"Asa?"

"Almost. I'll just pack up the camera tomorrow, I wouldn't want it to get damaged or anything."

"Good. Leave it all in the passageway behind the tapestry."

"Which?" Manfred asks.

"The one in that little stairwell behind the theater. Y'know, the tapestry with the unicorn that has the bloody horn," Zelda supplies.

"Okay then," Asa says, a crazy look in his yellow eyes. He swallows hard, feeling the twinge of his adam's apple in his throat, nothing going down. It is beginning, the strange humming starting as a barely-there flutter and building to a fearsome crescendo, right now merely tinny and niggling in his ears, but sticky and magnetic all the same. "Ahem." He clears his throat. Manfred has become distracted by Zelda and Zelda is beginning to acquire her singular two-cups-of-coffee-power-surge-overload-lets-get-out-of-here-Manfred-I-want-you-now air.

Asa clears his throat again. His throat is thick; he knows he has mere moments left. It's hard to speak. "I guess I'll… turn in now." He doesn't wait for an answer, leaping up from the table and out the back door of the kitchen, which is his secret exit. Zelda rises from her stool and drains her third cup of coffee, her intense gaze and pale façade slightly frenzied.

Manfred's black stare is for her and her alone. A word escapes him as he pulls her to him, closer-and-closer-and-closer-until—

"Zelda." This one word excites her to no end. His voice is dry and horse, cloying and heavy like smoke. He kisses her then, romancing her with his mouth. She tugs hard at his hair and he moans into her mouth; she smiles. It is too sharp, so poignant for these two, a knife-like blade of lust and fire and, most unexpectedly, love.

And we find and we fall and we forget, oh we forget—

"Bed!" The Matron's voice crackles like tired static. Her command is meant solely for Zelda—not Manfred, oh no, not the headmaster's son. The couple breaks apart lazily, slowly, like a sticky-sweet caramel pulling into two pieces. Zelda kisses Manfred again, all rosewater and sugar now, petite and innocent and completely adult-approved. Manfred looks rather put off as she brushes past the Matron, her purple cape whirling and her thin hand coming back to tease her hair out of its rampant braid. The Matron gives Manfred a censorious glare, then about-faces and marches up to the dormitories to check up on the other children. Contrary to popular (Asa and Zelda's) belief, Manfred does not enjoy being the only one immune to orders from the Matron.

It is only once Manfred reaches his small bedroom and fumbles into his pocket for the matchbox that he finds a crumpled slip of paper. He smoothes it out after lighting the long tapers on his desk and squints to make out the words.

M-

Meet me in the costume room at 12. I'll find some way to slip past the Matron. Be ready. I've all sorts of things I'd like to show you.

All my love,

Z

Manfred grins hungrily, the fire in his chest growing immense once more. For him, the night is far from over.


Ackkkk. That was rather difficult to keep T.

End Chapter One. Will this make its way anywhere? Only time will tell.