I wonder how many will be scared off by the title? Oh, well.
This story is round-abouts two years old. I posted it on a now-defunct forum that was mostly just for friends, and never posted it anywhere. So far as I know, there really isn't anything in here that contradicts canon, but if it does-sorry! I don't expect too many reviews for this one. I, myself, am generally not a fan of OC fanfics, so I have no reason to expect anything for this one. Still, I do like it personally, and I don't think it's terrible, so why not post?
Also, forgive me if this is not how London teenagers spoke in the Nineties. I'm an American, and my knowledge of British youths comes from Harry Potter and BBCAmerica.
Harry Potter and all related matter is the property of J.K. Rowling. I came up with the Muggle of this story, though.
At age sixteen, Alice Hooper felt on top of the world. Grey eyes were bright as she looked down at Frieda, crammed into the seat before, laughing at a joke from Jacob. Alice should have felt annoyed-he cracked the joke at her expense-but she felt too ecstatic to be angry.
"So Noel Spencer, huh?" Jacob asked, all joking aside.
"He's a year old than us, ain't he?" Frieda quipped as the bus turned and Alice held on to the handhold for dear life.
"Yeah, he is," Alice said, pushing curly auburn hair out of her face. "In Bell's class. Do you know him, Jake?"
"No," he said simply, his arm around Frieda. "I'll ask as Matt about him, if you like." His brother Matthew was in Bell's class.
"Please," Alice grinned. She felt as giddy as a schoolgirl, which, as Frieda pointed out back in school, she wasn't anymore—not for a few months, at least. She hadn't dated since her breakup with Clark Davis in January, though it wasn't as if she tried, what with the end of term to keep her sufficiently occupied.
"So, I know what I'm doin' all summer," Jake said, leaning his head against the bus window. "Sleep, eat, telly." Alice rolled her eyes at him.
"What about me?" Frieda asked, giving him a pouty face.
"You can sleep, eat, and watch telly too," Jacob said plainly, then grinned as Frieda elbowed him in the ribs.
"You, Alice?" Frieda asked.
"Dunno. Probably the same. Only hopefully I'll be doing it all with Noel."
As Jacob muttered "Back to the boy talk," Frieda grinned wickedly.
"Even the sleeping part?" she asked evilly.
"Frieda Jones!" Alice exclaimed, and aimed a playful kick at her shins. Frieda kicked back.
"Do I have to separate you two?" Jacob asked as the bus stopped. "Our stop, babe."
Frieda got up and grabbed her bag from underneath the seat. "Call you later!" she yelled as she and Jacob hopped out of the bus.
Alice took the empty seat left by her friend before anyone else could claim it. An elderly woman sat down next to her. "End of the school term?" the lady asked her with a knowing smile.
"Oh yeah," Alice grinned back, and pulled her Walkman out of her jacket pocket and slipped the ear buds in. Music blared as she let her head rest against the window as Jacob had done. Out the window, she could see the river Thames sparkling ahead, and Alice sat up and looked away.
She had had a mild phobia of bridges ever since the bridge collapse last summer. She was nowhere near the collapse when it happened, but just the thought of the bridge coming down like that, in a split second with no apparent cause, was enough to frighten her. She did alright if she was walking across them, but she hated being driven across. She turned up her music and shut her eyes until they were across. When she opened them, the old lady was looking at her once more with that knowing smile.
"Thinking of that old bridge collapse, eh?" the woman asked.
"I'm not scared of bridges," Alice explained. "They just make me a little…ugh!" she said, motioning with her hands as an explanation when she couldn't think of the right word."
"I wish I could tell you that nothing like that's ever going to happen again," the old woman said, shaking her head sadly. "But I can't. Something bad's going to happen; I can feel it in my bones."
"Uh-huh," Alice's dad claimed that his knees could tell when the weather would be bad.
"I mean it. Watch yourself, dearie," the woman peered into her eyes, as if making sure this warning would stick with Alice.
"Uh-huh," Alice mumbled, suddenly nervous. The way this woman's eyes, dark brown and surrounded by lines, were boring into her own youthful eyes…it was if she were trying to get inside her mind. Luckily, the next stop was hers.
"Well, 'bye then," she said, jumping up from her seat. She darted to the exit, but when she turned around to look at the old woman once more, she was gone. Alice blinked and looked to the seats around where she had sat, but there was no sign of anyone who looked like the woman.
"That's weird," she said to herself. Someone jostled her from behind and she realised she was blocking the exit. She stepped down, embarrassed, and exited the bus.
She started on the walk home, but then suddenly turned around to watch the bus as it continued on. She only started moving again as the bus turned a corner and disappeared. It didn't really disappear, she corrected herself as she resumed walking. It just went out of sight. Like the old woman. She must have moved seats now that she had no one to talk to, or else had exited the other way. But if she had done that, Alice would have spotted her on the sidewalk, which she did not. No, she must have moved or else Alice's vision was blocked by another person or something or other. She rolled her eyes at herself for thinking the old woman had just disappeared.
But what was with that weird warning? she asked herself. "Something bad's going to happen. Watch yourself, dearie." It sounded so ominous, so…personal. Like the woman was taking the special time to warn her. These thoughts Alice dismissed as well. She was a loony, plain and simple. The buses were famous for them. Alice thought nothing more of the woman.
"Mum, Dad, I'm home!" Alice called out as she opened the door to the ground level flat. She picked up the mail on her way in and sifted through it. Nothing for her. It was mostly bills, but there was one letter that caught her eye. It was addressed to "Mr and Mrs Andrew Hooper" in fancy lime-coloured script, and sealed with green wax, pressed with a stick and a bone. The image looked familiar, but Alice couldn't place it. Still, Alice had to admire the elegance of the letter. It was very pretty. It must have been a wedding invitation or something formal like that.
"In here, sweetheart," her father's voice rang out from the kitchen. Alice kicked off her shoes and slung off her shoulder bag, leaving them by the door. She entered the kitchen to see her father and Mary at the table, eating peanut butter and apples. She waived the mail at her father, who shook his head, his mouth full of apple. Alice set the mail on the counter and sat down next to Mary.
"You're mother's working late tonight," her father said after he had swallowed and drank a sip of milk. Alice nodded and was about to tell him about the letter when Mary, ever the seven-year-old, cut in.
"Want some?" she asked, pushing the plate of apple slices towards her. Alice smiled and took two slices, not bothering with the peanut butter. She was about to speak when Mary cut in again. "Are you excited as I am that's school's over?" she asked, wide-eyed.
"It couldn't of come sooner," Alice agreed, tipping her chair in relaxation. Her father admonished her, and she set it back down on all fours, but not because of that. Thinking of school made her think about Noel. "Hey Dad, can I go out this Saturday?" she asked.
"With who?" he asked, smiling at the tone of her voice.
"With...a boy," she tried to say this as casually as she could, but she was grinning and could feel her face get a little warm.
"What boy?" he pressed, ever the father.
"A boy from school," Alice replied simply. She got up from her chair to pour herself a glass of milk. She saw the raised eyebrow on her dad's face and gave in. "His name's Noel. He's a year ahead."
"You know I've warned you about those older blokes," her father joked. Alice rolled her eyes.
"He's barely a year older, dad."
Her father regarded her for a moment, scratching at his unshaven chin. "Hmm, I'll have to ask what your mother thinks about it, but it's alright with me."
Alice grinned. "Thanks Dad."
"Does Ally have a new boyfriend?" Mary asked, looking from one to the other.
"He's not my boyfriend," Alice said, though she rather liked the thought. "He's just a date."
"What's the difference?"
Alice was spared answering by the front door opening. "Anybody home?" her mother called out.
Her father maneuvered his wheelchair out to the hall. "I thought you had to work late," he said.
"I was," her mother replied, taking off her court shoes and hanging her purse on the hook by the door. "Ally, don't leave your bag in the middle of the floor. The large order I had to work for called at the last minute to cancel. Said they found a similar arrangement for half the cost down in at the competitor's. Well!" She bent down to pick up Mary, who was hugging her legs. "How was your last of school girls?" she asked.
"You smell like flowers, Mummy," Mary said, ignoring the question.
"I work in a flower shop, Sweetie. It's only natural. Oh, Alice, did you pick up the mail?"
"Yeah, it's on the counter," Alice said. "I think there's a wedding invite or something in there. Looked pretty formal."
"I'll look at it later," her mother said, carrying Mary into the family room. Mary followed, after letting her father and his wheelchair go first. "Hey Mum, can I go out Saturday?"
"With a boy?" her mother looked back at her with an amused smile, similar to her father's.
"Ally's got a boyfriend!" Mary exclaimed as they sat down on the couch.
"I do not!" Alice countered.
And with that, her mother pressed her for information, much as her father had. The discussion of dates turned to school, which then turned to work, which then turned to dinner.
The elegant letter, much like the old woman, was forgotten by Alice.
