Chapter Eight

Heart Skipped a Beat

The more I see, the more I understand

But sometimes, I still need you


Answers finally come to me, although not in the way that I (or anyone else, for that matter) expect. And after all is over, I don't know if I've been left for worse or for better, because suddenly, it seems as if everything has begun to unravel.


It's the beginning of October now, and the entire world seems intent on knocking me down. Between the gale-force winds and the knowledge that my MIT interview is just around the corner, I can't seem to stay upright, whether physically or mentally.

My guidance counselor, Mr. Fuery, is always well-intentioned, but his obvious inexperience manifests itself in his general clumsiness. Seriously, that man has a penchant for breaking everything he comes into contact with.

Today, halfway through my ten o'clock appointment (luckily scheduled during P.E.), he manages to get his tie stuck in his paper shredder. Suddenly, an audible clunking and shuddering noise rises above his groans and occasional apologies. I grab his arm, and together, we manage to tug the tie out of the shredder's hungry teeth, but not before it's taken a considerable chunk out of the fabric.

"Sorry about that, Winry–"

With a sound like a firework taking off, the shredder explodes into a haze of billowing smoke.

"Kain, what the hell–" Riza appears, thank God, with a fire extinguisher in hand. White foam rushes from the nozzle, covering everything in sight… including my application paperwork. Together, the three of us stare at the mess in two parts shock and horror.

"I never would've guessed that paper shredders were so dangerous," Mr. Fuery ventures, voice faltering.

"Must have been an electrical short-out," Riza sighs. "I have no idea how these things work.

"And as for danger," she continues, "you're only a danger to yourself, Kain. I'll get Denny on the line and ask him to send for a custodian."

That's when Roy appears in the doorway of Mr. Fuery's tiny office. At first, I think he's about to reprimand the poor guidance counselor, but then I notice how… upset he looks. It's strange, because that's never been an emotion I associated with him.

"Hawkeye… I need to talk to you for a moment."

Riza seems to notice it, too. Her eyes widen slightly, taking in the principal, whose normally cool and collected composure has utterly vanished. His tie has disappeared, his hair is unkempt, and he's as out of breath as a person who has just run a marathon.

"Okay," is all she says, albeit very quietly. So quietly, I wonder if I imagine it.

"Nice to see you, Winry," she adds more loudly. "Good luck on your interview."

I give her a slight nod, and the two disappear from the office.

"Well," begins Mr. Fuery with a slight cough. "Let's try to get back to business… Oh, what a mess."

"It's alright," I say, as reassuringly as I can. "But…" I point to my now-foamy application.

He seems to immediately understand. "Don't worry, Winry. The papers are just a formality at this point. We set up a database this summer that inputs everything electronically, which helps to speed up the Common Application anyway. All of your files are safe."

I breathe out a sigh of relief. "That's good to hear."

"So…" He pulls over a trashcan and tries collecting the foam in his arms and depositing it there. "Your first choice is MIT? That's an American school, isn't it?"

"Yes," I respond, watching his unsuccessful efforts. "Aren't you not supposed to touch that stuff?"

His eyebrows fly up into his hairline, and he drops the foam immediately… right into his lap.

"Should I come back another time?"

"No, no! It's okay! I, uh... Let's just finish this. Your interview is on October twentieth over Skype?"

"Yeah," I answer. My hands tremble slightly, and I already know that I won't be sleeping well the night before.

"Alright, I trust you'll be ready. I noticed that you submitted your main application essay as well." He looks conflicted as he adds, "Is it all really true?"

I know what he means, and I don't want to talk about it with him, even though that's what he's here for. So all I say is, "I wouldn't make that up, Mr. Fuery."

"O-of course!" he immediately replies. "I'm… I'm very sorry, Winry."

I just shrug.

"Well, if you have any more questions, I'm happy to answer them."

"No, it's okay," I say hurriedly. Suddenly, I really want to get out of there. "I'm meeting with you next month again anyway, right?"

"Yes! You are! Do you want me to send a reminder–"

There's a harsh knock at the door, and I nearly fall out of my seat.

"Custodial services. Open up." The man on the other side of the door, however, doesn't even wait for a welcome, and enters the office on his own accord.

"Whoa," he comments, seeming almost pleased by the mess. "Nice."

"I think I'm going to go. Have a good rest of your day, Mr. Fuery."

He doesn't even seem to hear as the custodian begins untangling some kind of nozzle device from a large air tank on wheels, so I finally duck out into the main office, hugging my books tight to my chest as a form of protection–

–and bump straight into Fuhrer Bradley.

"Miss Rockbell!" he exclaims in pleasant surprise. "Good to see you again!"

I can't form a single coherent thought, so I just nod as quickly as possible.

"I've been trying to track down your principal, but I can't find that man anywhere! Would you happen to know where he is?"

I snap out of it and point down the hallway, hoping I sound more confident as I say, "The last door on the left. He's in a meeting with Vice Principal Hawkeye right now."

"Even better! I want to talk with them both, actually." He smiles widely. "Thank you very much for your help, Miss Rockbell."

"Of course," I respond, smiling in return. "Good-bye," I add on quickly, and then I bow my head politely because it seems right. "Have a nice day!"

And with that, I finally escape the main office.


"You look kinda shook up," Paninya comments over her Pad Thai. She slurps a noodle thoughtfully. "Did your guidance meeting go well?"

We're eating our lunches outside on the green enclosed by the track circle, trying to soak in the last bit of sunshine before it disappears forever. The wind has died down, which makes me feel a lot better, because I don't feel like my face is being scorched off anymore. Not one of the nicest sensations.

"Yeah, I guess. It involved a lot of smoke, a fire extinguisher, and an encounter with the Fuhrer." I bite into my turkey and mustard sandwich, reveling in the taste of Granny's homemade sourdough bread. There's nothing like it in the entire world. "Oh, and my MIT interview did come up once."

"The Fuhrer!" Out of everything, that's the detail she latches on to, with an awestruck look on her face. "Wow! What was he doing here?"

"Wanted to see Roy and Riza," I respond around my food. I gulp it down to quickly then, and it feels like my chest is going to explode.

"Medic! Medic!"

She throws me her half-finished water bottle, and I chug it like there's no tomorrow. I then proceed to collapse onto the grass and let out a loud belch.

"Smooth," says a new voice.

"Ed!" I sit up violently, and he begins to laugh. He then crouches down next to me and gently raises a hand towards my face. I stiffen, not knowing what to expect, but all he does is swipe his real thumb across my cheek. The heat transfer disappears all too quickly for my liking.

"You had some white stuff," he says by way of explanation.

"Yummy," says Paninya from somewhere next to me.

"Shut up, Paninya–"

"I was talking about the Pad Thai!"


We begin the walk home together, trying to beat the rain that's suddenly appeared overhead in the form of ominous gray and black clouds.

Good-bye forever, sun, I think woefully.

"Where's Al?" I ask.

"He's trying out for the basketball team," Ed grumbles.

"Why's that a problem?"

"Too tall…"

I giggle. "Oh, get over it. You're taller than him–"

"For now," he counters fiercely. "And only just barely."

I think back to our encounter on the field. "Why were you skipping Calc, anyway?"

"Okay, Mom, don't be like that. Roy pulled me out of class for a few minutes, and by the time we finished talking, the period was almost over."

I blister at my new nickname. "Why would he do that?"

His face darkens, his golden eyes narrow. As per usual lately, he doesn't respond.

"Hmph." I cross my arms over my chest, feeling both annoyed and defeated. "Does this belong under the ever-expanding category of 'things-we-can't-tell-Winry?'"

"Have you ever considered why we're trying to avoid telling you?" he suddenly asks, quite calmly.

"No… I guess not." I grab his hand, the metal one, without thinking. "But that doesn't stop me from wanting to know."

He looks down at our connected hands, and I'm surprised when he doesn't pull away. "The truth can be dangerous, Winry."

"Oh, stop being a drama queen–"

"I'm not." He says it with such serious finality that I can't help but believe him.

"I'm not."

Suddenly, the skies tear open, and what seems like a year's worth of rain drenches us, effectively cutting off the conversation. I release his hand, running across the hill towards home as quickly as possible.

I don't check to see if he's following.