Chapter 2-The Kind You Forget
I love this time of day. The time when the sun greets the sky with waves of colors and the water the night has squeezed out of the air is let back in. September here is always cold, but that doesn't stop me from coming out on the roof to watch the sun climb and turn the sky a dusty shade of blue, lighting up the colors of the trees.
This is the best time to be awake. The time when you can look through the scope of the sky and see things few people would imagine.
My name is Carina Honeycomb and I am unafraid, even delighted, to say that I am a pretty odd bug. Off the bat, I've no real way with words, or at least when they cross between me and another human being. My hair is a light auburn with eyes to match. I have an interesting view of the world because I may as well be cling wrap. You can see right through me, use me, crumple me up in a ball, and there'll be way more where that came from. I don't expect you to understand just yet. It took me a while too.
"Pocahontas!" I hear a girl shout. "Poca—Oh, why didn't I guess?" She looks up at me from the green. "Get down from there! Breakfast is starting soon!" I knit my eyebrows. I don't usually see Frieda. Ever. While it is nice to view her smiling face and long, lustrous blonde locks tousling in the morning wind, I prepare myself for her presence. She only comes for one reason. "Oh, no, don't—"
I slide from my post and fall through the air, feeling the wind run over my skin as it rummages about through my robes and hair. I land hard on both feet in front of her, making the ground shake beneath me. I like that feeling. The sudden halt of acceleration, forcing the Earth to shake up through my bones. That feeling of power. I don't get it too often. Frieda doesn't understand, but that's okay. I wouldn't either if I had as many friends as she does.
"Doesn't that hurt? Honestly, Pocahontas. You've got to stop that! One day, you'll break something."
"I'll be fine," I tell her. "As long as the morning sucks the grass dry, I can get down the same way each day."
She shakes her head. "Whatever, Pocahontas."
"You know, I still have no idea who that is. I can't find her in the library."
"Forget it. It's over your head. Let's go eat some bacon! You like bacon, right? Or are you some vegetarian?"
"Is that another muggle habit?"
"Er. Sort of."
As we enter the Great Hall, Frieda's chatter fills my ears and eyes fill my peripheral vision. I want to duck my head and hide. I don't often have this many people looking in my direction, but I know it is only Frieda they see. She is stunning with flawless skin and bright eyes. She has so much energy; people can't help but gravitate towards her. It is truly odd to see her up so early, but I know it is only because of me. As we sit, I pick up what I've been expecting.
"So, Pocahontas, you're friends with Sean, right?"
"I sit next to him in potions, if that's what you mean."
"Well, has he…said anything?" She began twirling a piece of hair in her finger, the way she does when she tries to be coy
"He says things often."
She rolls her eyes. Though she acts bored with people, I think Frieda is really more patient than she knows. Otherwise, she would never bother with me. "Has he said anything about me?"
Perhaps I can dodge the question. "Well, I don't pay much attention to him. I find the hush tones of the wind outside the classroom vibrate against the window glass just right to make me think of bees in their hive. It makes my skin prickle and wake."
"Ugh. Nothing? You don't remember anything?" She doesn't even realize there are no windows in the Potions classroom.
"Do you want to be his lover?"
Her face turns red as a cherry tomato in two seconds flat. "Well, I…no! Not…that's weird, Pocahontas. No one says 'lover' anymore."
"Then you want to know if he is saying bad things about you?"
"No, I—Wait, is he?" I shrugged. "Listen, Pocahontas, I want you, for once, to start paying attention to what's around you. It'll be good for you." By that I believe she means it'll be good for her.
"I'll ask him if he likes you," I told her.
"No! Don't—Wait…will you? Oh, but don't tell him I said to."
"You didn't."
"No, but I—Ugh. You're hopeless. Just forget I said anything!"
"Why are you angry?"
"Go away!"
I just sit and stare at her for a moment, then continue to eat my bacon and eggs in silence as Frieda's other friends come in and crowd around me. One asks if she could have my place while I am still eating. I leave the Great Hall without finishing. Frieda doesn't notice. Of course, I never expected her to.
I'm the kind of person people usually forget. I'm not pretty, though I'm not exceptionally ugly. If you're lucky enough to see me, you'll most certainly be distracted by something shiny nearby. Only those with sturdy attention spans can dare see my face. Not ever Frieda has looked me in the eye. I doubt anyone besides myself knows their color.
I walk through the halls a bit, breathing silently. I have this odd feeling in my gut, like something is swirling around in there, trying to get out. I rub my back against a concrete pillar, smiling at a conversation beside me. "James Potter! There is a tall glass of man!"
A voice scoffs gruffly. "If you ask me, the only reason everyone's so bent on snogging those two boys is because of their father. Honestly, they're not even that good looking! Rose, though, is gorgeous. The only reason no boy's got her is because the dynamic duo will hex anyone who comes within five meters of her."
"I am not so shallow that I would only go for a boy because of his father!"
"Yet so shallow that you would only go for him because of his looks," I comment.
They jump a foot and stare at me for a moment as I lay easy against the wall. They don't appear to have heard what I said, only interpreted my presence. They walk away, giving me weird looks. I think I heard them say, "that creepy girl," but you can never be sure.
I walk down the hallway with no destination in mind. I'm often like this. Wandering. My mother says I have dirt in my brain from all the time I spend rolling around in it. Eventually, I make it to the dungeons. It's light and airy in the uppermost section where all the students scamper. I decide I'd best return soon. I'm heading towards the Slytherin dungeon and it's best they don't spot a Hufflepuff too far into the dungeons than is right to be proper.
Then, I hear distressed shouts, struggling, and laughter. I rush to the corner and turn it to see four sets of wands out: three turned against one. It was Albus Potter. Scorpius has always taken a liking to picking on him. Where the trouble stems, I'm not sure. Today, it seems as if the boy has taken his hate to the next level. He wants Albus in the hospital wing.
Not surprisingly, none of them notice me there. I tend to blend especially well into the shadows of the dungeons. Lorcan once told me that if I was in field of flowers meant for a painter's canvas, I could be wearing the brightest of colors and he would still take his thumb and press me in as a black smudge. Not that he'd ever remember saying that.
"What do you want, Malfoy?!" Albus shouts. "I didn't do anything!"
"On the contrary," he says. "You remember summer vacation?"
"Summer vacation?" Albus smirks. "Oh, is that what this is about? Daddy cut you off and is making you work at Wizard Wheezes? A store owned by my family? Honestly, how was I supposed to know you didn't want anyone to know? If you had said, 'Albus, do not write a carefully crafted and magnificent essay on the joys of watching me suck up to your uncle every day of the week and send it to every in the school,' then—."
A flash of green light emits from the end of Scorpius's wand, pinning Albus tightly to the ground. At first, I think it is just a hit, but I see Albus struggling. Scorpius's wand is pointed straight at him, acting like an invisible steel pitchfork whose rusted tines just graze Albus's neck. The light is gone, but the curse still remains.
"If you enjoy walking without limping," Scorpius warned, "I'd keep my mouth shut about that." I see a strong glow of emerald in a line from his wand to Albus's neck and Albus starts wheezing on the ground.
"Check it out," one of the boys says. "A wizard wheezing."
Scorpius ignores the two as they slap five. "Do I make myself clear?"
Albus says nothing.
The other boys look at each other for a moment and raise their wand so electric streams of light bash at the boy on the ground, lashes incinerate lines of his clothing and skin.
"No!" I flick my wand at one boy and he doubles over laughing on the ground. The other two look up just as I raise my wand for the other crony. "Expeliarmus!" I shout. But the boy deflects the spell easily now that he knows I am here. My advantage was the element of surprise. I am no dueler. These boys probably fight each other daily. Just for fun. I barely know all the spells from first year let alone their advanced techniques. Albus never had a chance. Neither do I.
I just step back to run when a flash of red channels through the air and blocks my vision. I'm enveloped in pain.
Then, I come back to life.
There, on the roof, I take breath, noticing the colors have left the sky. I am shaking as I always do. I can never tell if it's real. I press my forehead against the roof's shingles, feeling the cold grains against my skin. Merlin, heart, slow your beating. Just go a bit slower for me so you don't jump out my chest and land in my hands. Ribs, I entreat you to stay in place. Don't shift. Don't spread apart like feathers on an eagle and fly off. Then, what will protect my fragile vascular organ? What will keep it from pressing itself through my skin to land on my sleeve?
I slide from the roof and land hard to a scream. "Hello, Frieda," I smile.
"Merlin, Pocahontas! Don't do that! You could land on top of me! Or break something!"
"I won't," I promise her. "Do mind if we head towards the Dungeons? I left some books in Potions the other day."
"I don't know. I'm kind of hungry." But if we go to the Great Hall, she'll never leave with me. Too many friends, foods, colors. Too many distractions.
"You're right. So am I. Besides, I'd hate to bump into those Slytherin boys again. They're always around there at this time."
Her face flushed. "Um, you know, do you have homework to do before potions?"
"Yes," I lie.
"Then we should get them," she smiles, grabbing my hands as she pulls me forward.
We traipse along as I coax my body to calm itself. I still haven't gotten used to it. After all these years, all these mornings, it still shakes me to my core. I think one day I may skip the roof and let myself walk into the unexpected. I never do. If I try, my eyes might float out the window, carrying my soul with it, and I'll crumble. And when I wake up, everyone around me will see the torture of leaving a vision.
We're in the dungeons, but I have a feeling and cut a different route for us, a longer one that will take up time.
"Isn't the Potions classroom that way?" she asks me.
"I like this route better," I say, though we're past where the route would be to get there.
I hear squeaks against the cold stone floor, just as I expect. Albus rounds the corner, crashing into Frieda. He looks back, about to skitter off when three boys turn the corner, the Slytherin insignia decorating their garments in emerald. Their smiles falter when they see us.
"What's the matter, boys?" Frieda asks. "Haven't you ever seen two attractive young women before?"
"Still haven't," Zabini snears. "Now, back off. It's five against three. Potter is ours."
"Well, let's see," Frieda says. "We've got a third year Ravenclaw, fifth year Gryffindor, and sixth year Hufflepuff against a group of flobberworms."
"Don't," Albus warns her. "They want me. Don't worry about it."
"That's exactly why we will," I tell him, looking him in the eyes. "We're just as much a part of you as you are of yourself."
He stares back into my charcoal irises for a moment before knitting his eyebrows and saying, "What? That makes no sense."
"One day, it will," I promise him.
"Back off, you filthy excuses for Slytherins. You're supposed to be sly. Cunning. All I see are little boys who can't duel well enough individually."
"Fat chance you can duel better than us. We're older than you," Zabini tells her.
"It doesn't show," she retorts.
The boys don't say a word for a moment. They know Frieda isn't as advanced as them, but that's what makes her fat mouth stick. Ravenclaws are smart enough to know what they're getting into. I brought her because she knows the obscure spells that hide in the backs of books and wait to be set on unsuspecting Slytherins.
"I'm not fighting a little girl," Scorpius decides.
"Good thing none are here," she says. "It'd be a shame to see her kick your arse."
Malfoy grips his wand tight, but I point mine straight at his neck. His eyes don't leave hers for a minute, but he must see me in his peripheral vision because he smirks. "Come on, guys," he says. "This was fun, but let's grab some breakfast."
We watch them leave and Albus breathes out, thankfully. He looks at Frieda with curious eyes. "Thanks for that," he tells her.
"Those guys are jerks," she says.
I walk down the hall, towards Potions as they head to the Great Hall together. I'm hungry, but don't follow. This is their moment. I want them to be friends. They won't notice me anyway. Like I said, I'm the kind of person you forget.