Disclaimer: I am not Rainbow Rowell. I don't own anything but my computer and my pajama pants.

Author's Note: This is a little piece that found its way into my head when I was sitting on a plane. The flight attendant thought I was texting. I don't know how he thought that, it isn't even possible if you're on airplane mode. Anyway, forgive if the writing isn't British enough or something. And also, it's written from Penny's perspective.

Also, if you don't mind losing a moment of your life to take the tiny poll on my profile page, I would be very happy. (So take the poll!)

I am terrified. So much so that I can't even move.

We're in Simon's room, and it was completely peaceful –well, not peaceful, but quiet– until about two minutes ago, when Baz walked in. He either didn't see me or didn't care that I was there (both responses are really odd for him), but began to rant and yell and shout at Simon for something he'd apparently done at football practice this afternoon. I didn't quite follow along (actually, I had no idea Simon did anything wrong at football practice today besides watch), but insults were exchanged and the whole thing escalated at lightning speed.

I didn't exactly catch what Baz said that made Simon so angry. It must have been nasty, though, because I've never seen him in worse shape.

Simon's face is turning a rare shade of purplish-red. His pupils are shrinking, and his eyebrows have sunken so that I can't tell where eyebrow ends and eyelash begins.

Baz, on the other hand, is completely composed. He acts as if he never said whatever he did, and can't possibly fathom what has gotten Simon into such a rage.

"You- get back here! Get back and say that to my face, you- you arsehole!" Simon's knuckles are losing color by the second.

Baz merely laughs. "Oh dear me, is our little prince upset? Does the poor little Chosen One have such strong feelings for his mother, who abandoned him because of his freakish magic? Well, I can't say I don't sympathise. Imagine holding your newborn baby and seeing nothing but the backside of merwolf! It's enough to drive anyone to insanity!"

Simon is shaking with rage -actually shaking- and it jars me out of my frozen spectating position. I try to interject: "Basilton, stop this now! You fool, can't you see he's going to-"

But Baz has gone completely mad. He cackles like a madman, and I worry for a moment that the catacombs have run out of mice and he's going to turn his fangs on Simon. "I won't stop, Bunce!" He spits my name out as if it is acid in his mouth. "Did you not see, the bastard insulted-"

But then Simon charges.

"Anathema!" I yelp, leaping between Simon and Baz, hoping against hope that they will see reason.

Instead I feel myself being thrown to the side with considerable force. Baz, too, has started to run in full speed towards Simon.

All of us are saved by the smallest luck. The two boys had been arguing from opposite sides of the room, and when they charge at each other I have enough time to point my ring hand at Baz and yell, "freeze, dirtbag!" Baz is rendered immobile in mid-sprint and falls to the floor.

My heart catches in my throat, for I see that Simon has nearly reached Baz and is wearing a look of absolute madness. Oh god, I've killed them. In a desperate attempt to keep my best friend at Watford, I turn my hand on him and shout, "stop right there!"

Simon's legs can't move from the spot, but the frightening, manic expression hasn't changed. I will my magic to be strong enough to hold the two in place for a few more seconds.

Taking deep breaths, I glare at Simon. "What were you thinking? Did you want to kill him? Did you want to get expelled from Watford?"

He throws a loathing glare at Baz. "That – git – just – insulted –"

I feel bad for Simon. I can't imagine being him, defending his mother whom he doesn't know and can't love, seeing as she gave him away. But then, that's just Simon. Defending everyone who can't defend themselves.

Baz stirs against my spell.

"Simon," I say, "if I let you go, do you promise not to attack him?"

He looks at me, then gives the tiniest nod.

"And you, Baz." I address the figure on the floor. (The spell lets him hear and see me, but not answer me.) He can't say anything, obviously, but I think he's gotten some sense back.

"Be free!" I release them with a wave of my hand. Baz gets up, grumbling under his breath. Neither of the boys moves yet.

Simon is the first to speak. "Don't ever, ever, insult my mother. I don't know why she gave me up, but it has nothing to do with my magic. I know it." He looks at me. I don't say anything, but shake my head in a way that I hope he interprets as this isn't my fight.

I know that Baz sees countless opportunities to provoke Simon further, but for some reason he seizes none of them. He just gives Simon a cold stare and says, "If you try to pull another stunt like the one at football, I will personally get you expelled. Don't think you haven't given me plenty of reasons." He adds a sneer for good measure, then walks out the door.

I look at Simon. "Is he alright?"

He blows out his cheeks and flops on his bed. "Something's not right with him today. I've never known him to be so upset at something like that. The 'stunt' I pulled at his football training wasn't even a big deal. I just made a banner saying 'Pitch rules the pitch' to him repay him for making me look like a cheat in Magic Words."

I don't know why they are at each other's throats all the time. If it were me, I wouldn't do anything to 'repay' Baz. I would just talk to Miss Possibelf.

But I don't have a nemesis. I wouldn't know. All I know is how to keep my friends alive and safe from their nemeses. I like to think I do it decently enough.