The air is hot and humid, the same as the blazing red waves of anger in my mind. The kitchen floor seems like fiery coals against my feet as I angle my fury away from them so as not to run before shouting my father out.
"I REFUSE—ABSOLUTELY REFUSE—TO GO TO THAT CRACK-POT COUNTRY!" I scream.
My father may tower over me but my anger is equivalent to the size of a full grown troll and I see with satisfaction that his shoulders are in a defensive stance. As they should be.
"Now Editha,"—
Oh no he di'in! "Don't call me that!"
--"It is a perfectly respectable country, and I have been assured that the school is of equal quality to your school here—if not better!" he said in a cheery voice. I wanted to slap that grin off his face and use it to clean out the toilet bowl.
"Are you kidding me? Seriously, you are a joke. There is NO WAY that any school is better than Junisize Wreck. They probably all sit there saying Abra Kadabra and whatnot while drinking their stupid tea."
I had been assured many times that English people drink tea like normal people breathe air. They even have this thing about pinkies. Anyways, I have seen pictures of the queen. For Gods' sake, she's sitting there looking demanding and stuffy on the back of every single fricken penny that makes up the sixty three cents in my piggy bank. I refuse to be in a country where coffee has been upped one by tea where I could potentially be knocked out by a rogue little finger or where the people are lead by someone who looks like she's had something unpleasant stuffed up her nose.
Or very well where people have a queen at all. I am perfectly happy with my Prime Minister what's-his-face over there; he's doing great for our country. Well...I think. Seeing as I have never once watched the news in my life I may, by chance, be mistaken.
"No. They are just like you Editha darling. They practice the same wizardry; they are in the same standard wizarding world as you are. And not everyone in England likes tea, that's very stereotypical of you."
"MY NAME IS EDDY," I say through clenched teeth, "The English can shove my stereotypes up their pasty asses—or as they so eloquently put it, 'arses'—and no, there is no place in the world that can match up to the witch and wizardry level of Junisize Wreck. I'm not looking for standard here old man. I'm looking for above and beyond, and I've got it."
"Enough of this Editha. You are going to England. You will stay with your aunt Gertrude over the summers and you will attend Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. Most importantly, you will go without another word in objection, and for your previous insolence you will go to your room. I will hear no more of this."
It's robot dad again. Everything is in a straight line, black and white, and there is nothing you can do or say against him. It didn't always used to be like this, but when mom left robot dad came. He used to be nice and funny and sarcastic. And then mom left and he became robot dad. He can't even look at me anymore because he just remembers mom. I look like dad, but I'm my mom's girl through and through. He's even sending me to a different country, a different continent just because of my personality and how much it resembles her.
It would make me sad for Dad that he feels this way, but then I remember the different continent part and I get over it. And into a whole new degree of rage I didn't even know I possessed.
"Mom would have never sent me away." I said before turning—whipping him in the face with my loose hair—and running up the stairs.
Before slamming the door I yelled down to him, "THE NAME'S EDDY."
--/\--
"Get up. Get up! GET UP NOW!"
"Get out of my room!"
My voice is hoarse and scratchy, but I manage to scream at my father anyways. The sun is blindingly coming out of nowhere. It should be illegal to have a sun this early. I didn't even know the sun existed before twelve o'clock.
"GET UP!" My father is stomping around my room throwing things into my Junisize Wreck suitcases while muttering things about why I insisted on unpacking everything. He kicked many of my important possessions out of the way. When he kicked my fine black leather CD carrying case, one of a kind, I had to draw the line.
"NO YOU DIDN'T JUST DO THAT!? BUT YOU DID, SEE I THOUGHT YOU DID. GET OUT. GET OUT! YOU HORRIBLE, HORRIBLE BASTARD GET OUT OF MY ROOM!"
I didn't even wait for him to protest. I got myself out of bed, the morning air hitting me like that of freezing polar ice winds, and used my strong, quidditch honed upper arms to push him out of my room. I slammed the door in his face and locked it. I quickly ran over to the suitcase to check if anything was damaged.
While my father pounded and screamed on the door I checked that every single CD was perfectly cushioned in their holders. I opened up the cases delicately and checked for scratches or cracks. Once I was satisfied with the state of my CDs I zipped it up and ran my hand delicately over the brilliant leather material, feeling the slight ridges of concert stickers that had been stuck onto it. Finally, when I was completely 100 sure that my most valuable possession was intact I unlocked the door again.
Dad started to say something but I cut him off, "You are damn lucky you didn't hurt any of my CDs otherwise many bad things would happen to you consecutively with no mercy on my part."
I know, I know. Nobody is supposed to order their fathers around, but my music is past a certain line. My father would be lucky to even hear any one of my CDs, let alone touch one of them. This was a major offence.
Father figure grumbled something incomprehensible and continued gathering my stuff.
I cross my arms, "I'm not going you know. There is nothing on earth you can do that will make me."
"Yes," father figure grunted as he lifted one of my heavy suitcases into a sitting position, "you are. There is no way I can handle you on your own. You have gotten yourself into trouble one too many times. I am done, done with cleaning up after all of your messes."
"I haven't even done anything that bad!"
"Editha, you beat up somebody a year younger than you,"
"Eddy and he had it coming! He insulted the Flammen Quidditch side. And that's a lot coming from him, he's a Notharian! We've schooled him since he learned how to fly. Not to mention he tried hexing Lexa in the hall. Right in front of me! What am I, blind? I had to do something."
"And when you set fire to the common rooms,"
"Accident!"
"Impersonated somebody else and revealed personal secrets across the school,"
"I was simply practicing how to make a polyjuice potion and since it worked I thought I would try it out, give it a test run if you will."
"Snuck off campus and set snap bombs through Gwidon,"
"Friendly wake up call."
"Back talked your teachers multiple times in class,"
"Excuse me; have you seen the work load? It's like child labour in there."
"Dropped five large bags of tickling sand on the main entrance way,"
"There is nothing more rewarding than the sound of a child's laughter."
"Let loose all of the Magical Creatures from your Care for Magical Creatures class and let them run amuck across school grounds and even inside the school,"
"I'm an animal rights activist. They shouldn't be locked up like that, I saw Free Willy."
"Terrorised the younger students in your section,"
"Terrorised? Is that what they've been telling you? I am on very good terms with the first years. They help me test my schemes before I do them."
"There you go Editha!" Father figure threw his hands up in exasperation, "You just said it. 'Your schemes' are what are getting you sent to Hogwarts. I have had enough of 'your schemes' they are just too much for me. I am not getting younger and I cannot handle you anymore. You could have stopped when I warned you, but you didn't, and now you are going to England, whether you like it or not!
"Eddy." I said weakly.
I just couldn't find my way around it anymore. There were no more loop holes. I was going to the land of tea and crumpets.
Yippee!
Sarcasm people don't get excited.
--/\--
I was wearing a simple black off the shoulder top, jeans and chunky black kicks. I actually got the kicks from the muggle boys' section. The girls' were much too small for my wide spread toes and annoyingly enough they didn't have just plain black sturdy sneakers. No, I don't want the one with pink stripes going down the side. No, I'm just not that much of a polka-dot person, but thanks for your help anyways.
The only thing that was even remotely noticeable about me was my beige, black and blue poor boy cap. It's a necessity. Eel gave it to me first year; I've been wearing it even since. The hat is now dirty, worn and has a small rip in the corner where the flap starts to reach out. On the inside is Eels name in huge letters with the words 'So you'll always think about me,' and then in significantly smaller letters was my name, also written by Eel, with the caption 'So you'll never forget about you.' The hat means a whole lot to me. Not only is it extremely comfortable but that hat has seen me through my best and my worst. It's been there so that I can pull the front over my eyes, it's been there to keep the rain out of my eyes in quidditch, it's been there through every single one of my "schemes", and has made it out of every single one of them with me.
And its gunna be there as all the scheming I've ever done backfires on me. Its gunna take me right through this and everything's gunna be okay. It always is when I have my poor boy cap.
I almost laugh out loud. It was so horrible and morbid because I'm not. There is no way out of this one. No Way. I'm stuck like a fat boy to cake. A dog to a fire hydrant. Bad luck to me. I'm stuck as stuck can be.
"Editha—"
"Eddy"
"Your flight is here."
I looked up from my shoes, which I had been examining remorsefully in detail for what seems like forever. Maybe it was forever. I've lost count now.
I realized that the ladies at the gate had been calling me up a few times, and father figure was decent enough to realize it was wrong to yell at people in public places.
I got up, bringing the one carry-on I had with me (the rest had gone to the luggage spin around machine thing) and started walking dream-like slow to the gate counter and the annoyed looking ladies at the gates.
"Editha—"Can't he just take the hint and run with it?
"Eddy."
"You could walk a little faster you know,"
"I could."
Father figure was getting angry now. His temper was always so close to tapering. Like a crazy robot through and through I always say. The point is that at least I can leave knowing that I still know how to push his buttons.
"Well this is it Editha,"
I ball up my fists and spit through clenched teeth, "ED.DY."
"I'll see you soon I guess."
Father figure looks around uncomfortably. I don't help him out. Let him suffer. What do I care? I look him straight in the eye and don't say anything.
"Well... Good-bye then Editha. I...I love you."
I walk to the gates, completely ignoring him. That's nice that he loves me. Nice in a sickeningly phony sort of way. The feeling isn't mutual.
Just as I am about to go down a ramp sort thing and out of his view, I put a hand up lazily in a good-by-wave sort thing and say coldly, "Name's Eddy."
--/\--
King's Cross station is big stuffed and noisy. People jostle me left right and center as I try to find my position.
If you are wondering why I am at this noisy confusing place instead of my aunt's, it is because my father had ordered a cab driver to take me straight to King's cross instead of going to Aunt Gertrude's. I would be seeing her in the summer, so as to inconvenience her for the shortest time possible.
The station is filled with lots of fast moving muggles on cell phones or in suits all on their way from somewhere or to somewhere or with someone or to do 'lunch'. It's always such an oddity thinking of muggles. I wonder how they even survive that way. How could they keep living without magic? I barely make it through summers without it, and they have to go their whole lives. It's pitiful I suppose and I should feel quite sorry for them, but really I'm just glad I'm not them. They're so clueless.
I am pushing two carts each loaded with suitcases. My father believes they are filled with clothes, and he should because a) he packed them and b) I enchanted them so it looked like clothes. Truly, in most of these suitcases are almost every item you can find in Helena's Shop of Magical Oddities and Useful Trickery on Gone Street in Gwidon, the magical town not too far from Junisize Wreck. Just so you know the Wreck is a short form for Wreckretory, which in my anatomy of words Junisize professors say, means Insane or out of the ordinary, which is true. Junisize is not like any other school, even other Wizarding schools. Anyways, when it comes down to be packing my suitcases for home I take all of my important weapons of mass destruction and transfigure them into a whole set of clothes. Poor clueless father figure hasn't clued into the fact that they give you uniforms at school.
At Junisize Wreck the Uniforms are of comfy black cargo pants or sweat pants, depending on what you ordered, and either a collared black blouse with short sleeves and your house symbol in the corner or a long sleeved black shirt with your house animal in house colours across the stomach and back. You are also given a wonderful long black cloak and you are allowed to add accessories to your uniforms so long as they're within reason. By "Reason" I mean my friend Jess had to change when she had her thong kept riding up and you could completely see it pretty much every which way she moved. Also no chains. Not ever since what happened to the first year in Steedmore...enough said.
And I guess since I've mentioned it a few times I should elaborate about the houses. There are four houses in Junisize Wreck. Steedmore, whose colours are brown and dark green and whose animal is a deep brown stallion. Steedmore's are usually the ones who make good friends. They are good listeners, but they're not quiet, they are outgoing actually. Honestly Steedmore's are altogether friendly people. Then there are Soarbans, whose animals is an owl and whose colours are sky blue and mellow yellow. Soarbans are insufferable. They have to know everything. When they don't get what they want they go berserk. They are all and all perfectionists, which annoys me to no end. Some of them are okay; it depends who you're looking at. After that are the most despised group of them all. Notharians. They are horrible! They're animal is a sea monster and to tell you the honest to goodness truth, they are monsters. They are extremely annoying. They just want every single thing and think that they own everybody. It gets on my nerves. And then there is Flammen. Our animal symbol is a tiger. Flammen's are daring and brave and work through it all for what needs to be done. Our colours are gold and red. We rule, enough said.
Somebody bumps me from behind.
"Hey. Watch it!" I hear somebody call.
I look up in time to see a head of shocking silvery blond disappearing into the crowd.
"Loser," I mutter to myself.
I look down at my ticket. It's for the Hogwarts Express. I'm supposed to go to platform nine and three quarters. I don't know about you, but there is no such thing as a platform nine and three quarters. In my old school you would just have to go into some transportation soup and you'd end up outside the gates of the school. They give you three cans of transportation soup at the end of each year. Obviously nobody introduced this concept to the British folk.
I see platform nine and I see platform ten. There are large white sticky outy numbers that alert me that these are platforms nine and ten, just in case I'm completely retarded. In between is a bricked barrier. I sit staring at the barrier as if I expect it to do an exciting trick.
"Jump barrier, good boy, sit, stay, roll over" I say to no one in particular.
From somewhere behind me a voice asks, "Excuse me?"
I turn around. A tall boy with dark brown hair and hazel eyes is looking at me in an are-you-okay kind of way, which I suppose is fair because I had just been commanding a solid brick wall to do doggy tricks.
I shrug. "You know, just talking to the wall. You have a problem?" I ask, tilting my head a bit to keep his eyes in view. He was really tall. That and my cap is pulled down quite a bit.
"Nope. None at all. I was just wondering if you were planning on getting onto the platform. You are blocking the way." He said pointing behind him to where I saw a man with messy black hair, bright green eyes and glasses, a woman with fiery red hair, a little girl who must be their daughter for she looked just like the woman, another tall boy with black messy hair like his fathers and bright almost toxic looking green eyes. They were all looking at me. Some with agitation (little girl) or some who were openly giving me the once over (tall kid). And then the twice over. Three times. I am feeling very uncomfortable.
I look at the barrier again trying to put two and thirty seven together and coming up blank. I pull my cap down a bit farther so nobody can see my grey eyes or my cheeks, just in case they give away my embarrassment.
"I have absolutely no clue what you are talking about," I say strongly and surely, hiding my confusion and humiliation.
The boy was obviously shocked "What? Have you never been to platform nine and three quarters or what?"
"Well, I was hoping it wouldn't be that obvious, you know. Blend in or whatever but yup, you got me. Never been here before in my life."
"Oh."
I felt very ashamed and stupid. I should know this stuff. Thanks father figure. I blame you. Tall guy number one must think I am such a loser. It's probably the easiest thing ever, getting onto platform nine and three quarters. It's probably right in front of me and tall boy one and his family are thinking I'm a total idiot. Great going Eddy!
Despite the thoughts going through my head, I keep my voice and my face completely void. It's one of the many benefits of being Eddy Jones. I don't show emotions. I don't show weakness. If you weren't my friend you wouldn't know I had either of those.
"Well, take your trolley and head straight at the wall," Tall boy one says slowly as if explaining what one plus one is to a rowdy two year old, " If you don't go through it's because you're nervous, so run a bit first if you think you're gunna choke. 'Kay?"
I nod my head as if this makes perfect sense. Then I stand unmoving in the same position.
"Um...did you hear me?" Tall boy asks.
"Yeah...but I have two trolleys. I can't run with them both. Losing control is inevitable."
"Oh...Well, I'll just take this one," Tall boy reaches for the trolley I am handling with my right hand. I hold on tight to it. It has my CDs on it. "Or not..."
"Sorry," I say looking up again so Tall Boy can tell I am being sincere, "But that one has my music on it. Could you just take this one?" I point to the other trolley.
"Oh, yeah, sure." Tall Boy says 'yeah' weird. He says it like theirs an 'r' at the end. "Yeahr". English people and their strange accents.
He takes my other trolley and we face the barrier. Tall Boy casually, me like you would face the man who had murdered your best friend.
"One..." Tall Boy says. I find it strange calling him Tall Boy in my head. He should have a name. People in England have names right. Mentally slap self. Of course people in England have names! They're not another species. Just think of them as Canadians with OCD for tea and a lisp. Mentally slap self again. A lisp that turns their h's to r's?
"Wait. Do you have a name?" I ask, rather stupidly in my opinion.
"Yeah," yeahr, "Does it matter?"
"Well, I am trusting you with a) my luggage and b) my consciousness if I were to run into a solid wall."
"True. My name's Albus Potter. What's your name?" Albus says sticking out a hand to shake.
"The name's Eddy. Just Eddy," I look down at his hand. I grab it in a brief shake, "White man," then wrap my thumb around his and clash palms, "Black man," pull my hand back and do the spider man sign, "Spider man," curl my fingers into a fist and bump his still extended hand, "Superman."
Albus looks at me like I've truly lost my mind and then says with a slightly crooked smile, "You are the strangest person I have ever met Just Eddy."
"Why thank you Albus Potter."
We turn and face the wall.
"One...Two...Three!" We run at the wall and promptly disappear.
