AUTHOR'S NOTES:

It's been a while since the last update, hasn't it? Sorry about that, but I've been incredibusy lately (I'm sure it's a word; don't try to tell me it isn't). But I will make more of an effort to update my stories more often.

I will also take this opportunity to thank everyone for your reviews, and I hope you all enjoy this chapter.


Chapter 3: In the Forest


"No, Coraline, if you want best marks for essay, you need all facts," her tall and plump Russian neighbour insisted. He was jogging at a slow pace next to her as she walked down the road the next morning to fetch Wybie for school. "And fact of matter is that war was not between Bolshevik Red Army and anti-communist White Army. All was actually caused by evil monk, Rasputin. Is amazing, yes?"

The blue-haired girl in question sighed and scuffed her black school shoes as she kicked a stray pebble down the road. "No offence, Mr Bobinski, but what you're saying is crazy."

"Is it? Rasputin corrupts Tsar's rule to get him out of power. Bolsheviks simply take advantage of it!"

The teenager found herself cursing her mother for casually mentioning to their Russian neighbour that she was writing a history essay about the Russian Civil War. Now, the bushy-moustached former acrobat would not leave her alone, constantly badgering her to make sure she had "all the facts".

"And you believe that the Tsar's daughter, Anastasia, is still alive..."

"Of course! Rasputin's black magic." The big man's tone implied he was highly pleased with his deduction of a great conspiracy.

"Okay, well, spasiba for the history lesson," Coraline said lightly, keeping her sarcasm out of her tone.

"Pazhalooysta," he replied, snapping a two-fingered salute as he turned and jogged away to continue his morning exercise routine. "Dasvidaniya!"

Despite her present annoyance, the teenage girl would be lying to herself if she did not admit that she enjoyed his kooky antics. The Pink Palace would be way too normal without having him around. "Oompah, oompah, toodle toot, toodle toot," she whistled to herself as she walked along.

"Hey, Jonesy," Wybie called as she approached his house. "No raincoat today?"

"It's not raining, genius," she shot back, gesturing up at the relatively cloudless sky.

His face lit up like sun. "So that means...?"

"Yes. We can take your motorbike to school, if you want."

"Do I ever!" he exclaimed, turning and rushing into his garage. "I'll be right back!"

A begrudging smile crossed Coraline's face at seeing his excitement. It surprised her how contagious his enthusiasm could be. Given how quiet and reserved he was being lately, it was nice to see him openly excited again.

Even if it was over something as dumb as being given an excuse to ride his motorbike.


Fortunately for Coraline, her teachers seemed to ease up on the workload over the week. She even managed to submit all of her homework on time on Friday, and was in a very good mood that evening.

At least until she went over to visit Wybie at his house, to be told by his grandmother that he was in the garage.

"Son of a bitch!" Coraline cursed, lifting her foot and grabbing it in pain. She had sidestepped a minefield of hammers and wrenches lying scattered all over the garage floor, only to stub her toe on a red toolbox. To add insult to injury, she also managed to step right into a puddle of what looked like oil. The once-bright purple colour and thick white soles of her Converse shoes were already faded with age and dirt, the white laces were beginning to fray, and now she had to go and add oil to the equation.

"Coraline? Is that you?" Wybie called, poking his head out from behind his grandmother's old van.

She huffed in annoyance and brushed her hands down on her jeans. "I swear to god, Wybie, I fear for my life every time I have to come looking for you in here."

"Sorry," he muttered sheepishly, wiping a spanner on his oil-stained overalls. "I was just working on my bike."

"Well, come on. We're going out."

"Where to?" he sighed. He was used to Coraline being the instigator of all their little adventures.

The young woman in question smirked. "To the 'cinemas'. That's what I told my mum, anyway."

After insisting that he change out of his overalls, Coraline dragged her friend down the road to a party in the woods, where a crowd of people from her class were gathered around a roaring campfire (that was probably illegal). There was also smoke from something else in the air (that was definitely illegal), and she wrinkled her nose at it.

Coraline was not popular – she was a blue-haired tomboy with weird interests after all – but she was still an attractive girl, which meant she was invited by default.

Wybie, on the other hand, could already feel the disdainful stares he was getting. He hunched his head forward and did his best to try and become invisible.

The blue-haired girl looked around, but Miranda was nowhere to be seen, which puzzled her. She had said she was going to be there. However, Wybie spotted Jackson sitting on a log with some guys he recognised from class, and pulled Coraline over.

"Hey guys," the black-haired boy greeted, proffering a hip flask.

"Oh, ew!" Coraline recoiled at the pungent odour wafting from it. "What is that?"

"It's my dad's whiskey," Jackson shot back indignantly, pushing his glasses up his nose. "I managed to sneak it out right under his nose. It's from Scotland."

"Are you sure it wasn't brewed in a bathtub?"

"Oh, haha."

Several cups of beer and several swigs of whiskey later, Jackson was trying to talk to a group of girls who obviously had no interest in whatever he had to say. Coraline noticed that Wybie seemed withdrawn, staring absently into the fire.

"Hey, Wybie? Is everything alright? It seems like something's been eating at you lately."

He broke his gaze away from the fire to look at her. "H-Huh? What makes you say that?"

The two were silent for a moment, before she coughed awkwardly and planted a hopefully inviting smile on her face. "You know, you can talk to me if something's bothering you."

"Sure, but nothing's wrong," he replied, turning back to the fire.

His dismissive answer put a frown on Coraline's face.

I probably shouldn't pry too much...

"Alright, well if everything's okay...?" she said. Her open-ended question went unanswered, and she huffed in annoyance. "Whatever. I'm going to grab another drink. Want one?"

"No thanks."

She did not cast him a second glance as she stood up and went over to the keg to refill her red cup. The whole exchange left the fiery blue-haired teen feeling even more annoyed with her stupid friend than usual.

"That idiot... What's his deal?" she grumbled, sitting down on a log at the edge of the party. Why did it feel so awkward between them these days? Could it be that they were simply growing apart as friends?

After everything they had been through together, Coraline refused to believe that was true.

"Penny for your thoughts?" a voice cut in.

She started, and glanced to her side to realise that she was sitting next to a stocky boy with spiked black hair that looked like it had way too much hair gel in it. She recognised him as one of the more popular boys in her grade, but had never bothered to learn his name.

"You wouldn't be interested," she said, barely paying him a glance.

He seemed to regard her for a moment. "You're trouble," he finally said.

Coraline frowned at this. "What do you mean?"

"You might have everyone else here fooled with your nice girl act, but we both know what's really going on here," he replied with a smirk.

She chuckled at that. "Buddy, you must be listening to the wrong stories, because I'm anything but nice."

"I think I can take your word for that," the guy replied well humouredly.

He was tall and kind of cute, she had to admit. And, unlike most of the other boys in her grade, Wybie included, he seemed to be less of an idiot too. "Coraline Jones," she said, extending her hand.

The boy looked somewhat disinterested for a moment, before taking it. "Michael Vladich."


Wybie took a sip from the flask that Jackson had offered him. The whiskey tasted terrible, but it had one hell of a kick. His thoughts were interrupted when he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. He pulled it out and gulped when he saw that the caller was Coraline's mother.

"Hi Wybie," she said when he answered. "Are you still with Coraline? She has her phone turned off."

"Uh, n-not right now," he stammered, staggering off into the woods – and away from the loud and incriminating noises of the party – as fast as his legs could carry him. If Mrs Jones found out they were at a party in the woods, instead of at the cinemas, Coraline would probably be the first victim of her postal episode.

"Well, where is she?"

"Uh, M-Miranda took her home a little while ago, but they were going to stop by her house to pick up some books." Wybie said as he ran further and further into the woods. He hoped the cover for his friend would be convincing enough. He had never been good at lying.

Fortunately, Mel seemed to accept his story. "Okay, well thanks for letting me know," she replied, before hanging up.

He breathed a sigh of relief and gazed around himself at the dark forest, and contemplated just staying here for the next hour or so. He did not feel comfortable in situations like that party, he did not like a lot of the kids there (and they certainly did not like him), and Coraline's probing questions were starting to grate on his nerves a bit. Was he not entitled to have a few secrets of his own?

However, a nagging voice at the back of his head suggested that perhaps it was the universe's way of telling him to quit being a chicken and admit his feelings toward her. The main thing that was stopping him was his fear of how she would react, and whether their friendship would be irreparably damaged.

In the end, he knew he had to head back to the party, because Coraline would come looking for him eventually.


At that moment, the hazel-eyed teen in question was finding herself pleasantly surprised at how easily the conversation flowed with Michael. And he did not say really immature or brainless things, unlike Wybie or Jackson.

The two spoke about all manner of subjects, ranging from local indie bands they had heard of, to which restaurants were better to eat at, to what sports they liked. That was when Coraline mentioned that she played on the school field hockey team.

"Oh yeah? The Ashland Starlings, right?" Michael asked.

"Go Starlings," she said, pumping her fist into the air half-heartedly. "We practice every Thursday."

"I always enjoy watching hockey games when the Olympics are on."

"You should come and check out one of our games," she said, a small smile on her face. "If you enjoy watching a klutz blue-haired idiot flailing around with a hockey stick, taking out the shins of opponents and teammates alike, that is."

Michael laughed at that, impressed that this easy-going girl was able to poke fun at herself. "Maybe your friend Wybie isn't the only spaz around," he said slyly, to which he received a dark look. After a beat, "You know, I might have to take you up on that offer sometime."

Coraline raised an eyebrow. "On what? Catching me at a hockey practice, or me taking out your shins?"

"You tell me."

She smiled in spite of herself, and then climbed to her feet. "Well, Michael, it's been fun, but I'd better go and find my friends. I'll see you around."

With that, she made her way back toward where she last remembered seeing Wybie, only to find that he was no longer there. The group of kids nearby that she asked had no better idea where he was than she did.

"He ran off into the woods to answer a phone call, but that was a while ago," Jackson shrugged. "Maybe he went home?"

Coraline's eyes narrowed. He left without her? He had never done that before.

Seriously, what was his problem? His mood swings and unpredictability were getting even worse than when he was going through puberty! Could it be a second puberty? Was Wybie dorky enough to have one of those?

"If you like, I could walk you home – " Jackson began.

"No thanks," Coraline said immediately.

In the end, she stalked off in the direction of home. Unbeknown to her, Wybie would re-emerge from the woods ten minutes later, only to have a similar reaction when he realised that she left without him.

The walk up the road through the woods was dark and silent, and Coraline angrily kicked a stone along the road, imagining it was Wybie's butt. The next time she saw him, he had some explaining to do.

Her train of thought was cut off when she noticed flashing blue and red lights over the crest of the hill, and she worriedly broke into a run. Had something happened?

Coraline's eyes widened as she arrived back to see an ambulance parked in front of the Pink Palace, its blue and red lights flashing.

"What the hell?"

She dashed up to the front porch and found her parents, Mr Bobinski and Ms Forcible standing there, dressed in various nightclothes and bathrobes. The latter of the group was utterly distressed, looking on as the paramedics closed the rear doors of the ambulance.

"Mum? Dad?" Coraline called out. "What's going on?"

Her mother turned toward her, her expression stony and grim. "It's Ms Spink. She's had a stroke."