Chapter Ten – Doesn't Feel Good

"I think I peaked already."

"What?" I ask, confused. My brush stops midway through my hair, and I turn away from the mirror to glance at Sharon. She bounces her dark curls around, still staring at the mirror. She frowns at her reflection, and Winona and I share a confused glance. "Sharon," I say. "Everything alright?"

"No!" Sharon exclaims, tossing her comb down. "Do you remember how great I was when we were younger? I think I peaked around the third year. I was toward the top of the class in Transfiguration, and I always killed during Care of Magical Creatures-"

"Well," I say smirking. "I hope you didn't literally kill any magical creatures-"

"Velma, shut up," Winona scolds, but smirks back at me. She finishes tying her boots and walks over to Sharon. "What's wrong, Sharon?"

"What's wrong is that I reached my height when I was thirteen!" Sharon groans. "And look at you guys! Velma's top of Defense Against the Dark Arts. You're Head Girl and potions goddess, Winona. Walt is Head Boy and the best at charms. Even Kane is all about Quidditch and Divination. I'm the worst."

"No, no," Winona hushes her. "What's really wrong?"

Sharon looks sadly between Winona and myself. She looks distraught, but Sharon likes the fact that Winona has asked her about her issues. It's always been very Sharon to throw a dramatic tantrum to get attention. "I'm barely anyone anymore," Sharon huffs. "Just last week two people referred to me as Darcie Whitt's older sister, and a different person asked me if I was the Gryffindor whose little sister is the Slytherin. God, Darcie's making my entire family look bad."

"Is your brother pissed at her too?" I ask.

"Orson doesn't talk to me about Darcie anymore," Sharon responds miserably. "I don't know what to do." Sharon drops her head into her hands, and it suddenly occurs to me that this isn't her typical complaint or whiny mood; this has been weighing on her.

"Does she…" I begin cautiously. "Does she like being... one of them? I mean, not one of them, I meant just being a Slytherin?"

"I don't know…" Sharon moans through her hands. "Whenever we talk about her being in Slytherin it always ends up with us fighting. When she was first sorted… I thought she didn't like it, but now… I don't know, guys. I just- I don't."

I plop down on the bed next to Sharon and pat her on the back awkwardly, but affectionately. "You're being dumb," I tell her.

"Wow, you really know how to cheer a girl up."

"Sorry," I apologize. "But that's how dumb you're being. You haven't peaked. You're still fantastic at Charms and Care for Magical Creatures."

"Yeah," Winona agrees, smiling her soft smile at Sharon. "And between the three of us, you're definitely 'the fun one,' Sharon. Now finish getting ready. We told Ridley and Ellis we'd be at the Three Broomsticks five minutes ago; we're late."

Winona tosses Sharon her beanie; we all wear our muggle clothes since it's the weekend. I pull on my winter jacket and wrap my Gryffindor scarf (my new one, not the one Calix has) around my neck. With December approaching, the days have gotten snowier and colder. I'm beyond excited for Christmas break even though Dad's letters have been getting more and more sporadic and scatterbrained.

Two weeks ago, I got a letter that said like this:

Dear Velma,

How's school? Good, I hope. Work has been shit. I broke one of Leigh's old broomsticks the other day; Iris was furious. Iris keeps nagging at me when I can't keep the house together. She's a real pain sometimes. Been having loads of brilliant ideas. That's why I can't keep the house together right. Truth is I can't think when the house is too put together. It clogs my thinking – that's why work has been shit. I can't think straight some days, but I think I've been getting better. You and Leigh are doing fine in school, I trust. How are your classes? Good, I hope. It's lonely at the house without you all here to nag me about my lack of cleanliness.

Love always,

Dad

The following week was radio silence.

Then this week I received three letters. The first one said this:

Dear Velma,

I can't believe I almost forgot; it's Marissa's birthday this week! Make sure you tell her that Mom and I wish her happy birthday and that we love her. I'll send her a cake or a few pounds in the next few days. Can you believe your big sister is nineteen? I trust you and Leigh'll do something nice for her while you lot are at school.

Love, Dad

The second letter said this:

Velma,

I realized what the letter said as our owl left the window. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I don't know how I could've let myself slip like that. I have been getting better, but I slipped. I wish you and your brother would come home soon. I want you both to consider trying out muggle school instead of Hogwarts. That way we could all be together, like a proper family. Wouldn't that be nice? I think it'd be nice. Just think about it.

Love, Dad

The third letter said this:

Disregard other letters that you got (unless you never got them at all, then disregard this letter too). Tell Lei-Lei to write me sometime. Lots of love, Dad.

There's no doubt in my mind that Aunt Iris has been taking care of Dad, but I know that he needs Leigh and I to visit more. Marissa, Leigh, and I were his anchors when Mom died, so when Marissa died, everything was thrown off balance. Leigh and I aren't enough to keep Dad grounded.

I close my eyes for a moment, trying to leave behind all the stress and anxiety my family brings and trying to focus on the day I'm supposed to enjoy. Supposed to enjoy. When did having a good time with my friends become something that feels like a chore?

"I should take my role as 'the fun one' more seriously," Sharon says as the three of us head out. "Vel, you've been getting gloomy a lot. You really should work on that; I think it might be contagious, and Winona, I think a few days without the stick up your ass would be good for you."

At that comment, Winona and I share another glance. We both know not to take it personally; Sharon just doesn't think before she speaks sometimes. I love Sharon, but remind myself to make Kane a shirt that says 'the funnest one' someday soon.

v

The next Monday after Defense Against the Dark Arts, I march into the Room of Requirement like any other day, but today I have a clearer incentive set in mind. Before setting my bag down or giving any casual greeting, I walk up to Ames.

"I need a favor."

"What kind of favor?" he responds, not missing a beat.

To be honest, I hadn't expected Ames to respond in such a deadpan way. I thought at least he be surprised a little bit with my straightforward tone. "An easy one," I quickly answer.

"That's what I like to hear," Ames muses as he slides his wand into his back pocket. He pushes his blonde hair to the side and looks down at me. "What's wrong, Velma?"

The expression in my eyes hardens with determination. I'll get Ames to do this even if it kills me, honestly. "Are you familiar with Darcie Whitt?" I ask him, arms crossed, shoulders square, eye contact unbreakable. "First year Slytherin?"

Ames keeps fussing with his hair. "Is that the tall black girl?"

"Yeah."

"Whose sister is Sharon Whitt?"

My mind replays all of Sharon's complaints. Is this a coincidence or proof of her point? I wiggle my toes in my boots, pausing for a bit before I answer. "Yeah."

Ames nods, "I'm familiar."

"Well, listen," I say to him, touching his forearm lightly. "Sharon's been really worried about her sister… being a Slytherin or being in Slytherin or whatever. I guess they're in a fight or not talking about it or something, but in any case... Could you keep an eye on Darcie, and just tell me if everything is alright with her?"

He jerks his arm away from me then and gets the oddest expression on his face. His mouth wound up, and his eyes squinted and looking at the ceiling. "I hadn't..." Ames forces out. He clears his throat and tries speaking again. "I hadn't realized you've told your friends about our... About us... About this."

"What?"

"Sharon Whitt knows?" Ames asks with a new anger, almost accusingly. He looks at me again, frustrated and borderline disappointed. "If she knows I assume Winona Hurst and Kane Long know about it then, don't they? Have you told Walt Stay as well?"

I level my anger with his, once I realize what he's assuming. "I haven't told anyone about our... this," I say, gesturing around the room. Our this. Was there anyway other way to explain whatever we were? "I'm asking you to help Sharon, but she doesn't know about it. The favor is just for me."

I watch as the frustration slows out from his face. He steps away and relaxes his body. "Oh," he breathes.

It was unexpected to see Ames have such a strong reaction, but even for Ames, a strong reaction is understandable to what he thought I had done. If the roles been reversed, and I thought he had told Dwight and Holt about the two of us, I would have lost it on Ames. There's going to have to be a point when Ames and I are either going to have to tell our friends, or they're going to find out on our own. Or we stop meeting up like this.

My head reasons that telling our friends and being honest is the best way to go. Them finding out on their own or, worse, rumors spreading about school would be terrible for everyone.

My heart convinces me that the secret should be able to stay a secret so long as Ames and I stay smart.

Both parts of me agree that either way, I don't really want to stop meeting up in here with Ames.

After I while, I clear my throat and resume our conversation. "And I suppose you don't like the kids too much, so I know that you'll want a fair sized restitution," I offer. "I don't know how many galleons I can get you, but I can help with your nonverbals or-"

"I don't want anything from you," Ames interrupts.

"Oh," I say, surprised. Favors. Friendship. Kindness? Is that where I am with Ames Fremont? "But… Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. I'll keep an eye on Darcie Whitt; it won't be hard," Ames says. "Besides, the younger students like me fine."

"Really?"

"Yeah, the first years adore me."

"You don't seem like the babysitter type," I say cautiously, unsure if my tone should be friendly or sarcastic.

"Well," Ames says slyly. "You don't actually know me all that well, do you?"

I thought of my last six years with Ames. Ames with a sulking expression off to the side on his own or surrounded by other Slytherin boys. A younger version of myself armed with at least two Gryffindors at my side or being distracted by a flashy boyfriend. I frown at Ames, "That's true, but whose fault is that?"

He frowns back at me. Really, he frowns. Not even an Ames version of a frown, he uses his whole mouth. "Maybe neither of us," he answers.

v

"Leigh," I call out to my brother during breakfast Great Hall. Leigh looks up from his plate of untouched pancakes and sees me. I signal for him to follow me, and he slowly gets up from his seat at the table and walks towards me. When he's close enough, I ruffle his hair. "You ready?" I ask. Leigh nods.

We stand under Marissa's portrait together. You'd think that this would get easier, but it doesn't. I thought the pain would eventually plateau after three years, but the slope just keeps going up. From looking at my brother and me, you'd probably think we're both really well adjusted to our situation. We're not. It's just that neither of us really like to talk about it.

I keep my eyes up at her portrait, scanning her face, hoping that there'd be something about her that I missed the last time, but of course, there isn't. "Did you see the letters Dad sent?" I ask Leigh.

"Yeah," he answers.

We both let that hang in the silence for a bit. Dad. Oh, Dad. Dad must've cried for a month straight once Leigh and I returned from the Battle of Hogwarts without Marissa. After the battle, Leigh and I had been apparated home by McGonagall and Sprout instead of taking the Hogwarts Express since we were far too young to apparate ourselves. Leigh and I had vomited after the apparition, making a bad situation worse. Aunt Iris was at my house already, having heard about the Battle of Hogwarts already. She joined our teachers when they had to break the news to Dad.

I remember it vividly. Leigh and I were sitting at the dining room table. There was a seat left open between us, where Marissa would have been sitting; Leigh and I used to fight during dinners, so she sat in the middle to keep the peace. Aunt Iris had made us macaroni and cheese, and both my brother and I spent majority of that dinner staring down at our food and poking at it.

There was soft talking at first. Then there was a crash. Then Dad was yelling.

"How could this happen?!" Leigh and I heard Dad yell. I had closed my eyes and would've covered my ears if I were able to do it without Leigh seeing. Leigh was crying, but he cried without making a sound. Tears streamed down his face, but he was too stubborn to get a tissue or wipe them away. Another crash. Dad's voice shouted, "What kind of place are you running over there?!"

"William, please it wasn't their fault," we heard Aunt Iris say to Dad.

"Not their fault? Not their fault?! My daughter is dead! Who the hells fault is it then?" Dad had roared. Leigh looked up at me then. Through his tear stained, eleven year old face was the meanest glare anyone could ever give their sister; Dad wanted to know who to blame, and Leigh blamed me. Leigh has always blamed me.

"I can't express how sorry I am," we heard Professor Sprout say, her voice brimming with tears. "Everyone loved Marissa. Everyone just adored her. I myself am feeling the pain of her death, so I can't even begin to imagine the suffering you must be going through."

"Well, what the hell am I supposed to do? What do I do? Do I… Oh, God. What are we supposed to do without Marissa? How are we supposed to get by without Marissa? Oh my God…" Dad was spiraling. "I don't understand how could have this have happened."

Dad's voice dissolved into sobs and shouts of anger, and Leigh and I just sat there. I was ashamed to find myself embarrassed for Dad. Crying like a child in front of McGonagall and Sprout. What were they going to think about Leigh and myself after seeing our Dad like that?

"How'd you react to his letters?" I ask Leigh, turning away from Marissa's portrait to look at him. Aw, Leigh. Baby bro, little Lei-Lei, my shit little brother. Wavy dark hair and too bright, too awake grey eyes. A sincere smile akin to Marissa's. Brave and stubborn and enthusiastic.

Leigh shrugs at me, still facing Marissa, feigning indifference. "I mean I'm not that worried about Dad making us go to muggle school. Dad's dad. When we go back home for Christmas, he'll snap back," he says. "The letter with Mom and Marissa was… less than great, but, you know, it's not like Dad can help it, so whatever." I frown at him, even though he refuses to look at me. I know he's lying. Thatcher, one of Leigh's closest friends, told me that Leigh had skipped a class and cried for an hour after he read the letter about Marissa's birthday. I can't say that I'm disappointed in Leigh for not opening up to me; it would be hypocritical of me if I were.

I press my lips together, but decide not to say anything. We stare up at Marissa's portrait together. Marissa loved making wishes on her birthday candles, and even though she always told us what she wished for, they always still seemed to come true for her.

v

"I think she's happy," Ames says to me as the door to the Room of Requirement disappear.

"Who?" I ask. "Darcie?" Ames nods. I frown down at my books, but nod as well. "Good," I say. "That's… It's good."

Ames frowns at me. He strides over and sits down on the floor next to me, something he's never done before. "Well, don't sound too excited, Velma," he scoffs. "What's wrong? I thought you'd want to be able to report to Sharon Whitt that her little sister is happy."

"I do!" I respond defensively. I feel my feet start to sweat, maybe from both the Darcie situation and the fact that Ames has never sat this close to me in our six years of knowing each other. My eyes close and my chin tilts up to the sky. "It's just…" I sigh. "I think part of Sharon wants her sister to be unhappy there. I think it's partially because her sister just caused all this tension in her family, but… Sharon also just didn't want her sister to like the Slytherins, you know? The whole, 'you were wrong, and I was right' thing or maybe she was holding out hope that the Sorting Hat was wrong. That Darcie isn't one of them."

My eyes reopen and I glance at Ames, only to find him staring at me. He quickly averts his gaze down. His hands stay folded in his lap with his legs outstretched in front of him; even just in his sitting position, Ames has found a way to make himself look indifferent and completely in control. "One of them…" he repeats in a whisper. Ames closes his eyes and shakes his head. A blush spreads throughout my body. What kind of insensitive person am I to have actually said that? Ames sighs, "I know you and all your friends don't like Slytherins. We all know, but you-"

"I didn't mean you," I quickly interject. At the last moment, I catch myself from saying you're not that kind of Slytherin, but isn't he 'that kind of Slytherin'? He's Ames Fremont: the eerie Slytherin who was practicing Dark Magic in the Room of Requirement. Someone who I'd previously thought to be callous and shallow and arrogant, but what did I make of him now? Definitely none of my previous assumptions. Creative? Kind? An enigma?

That boy with the blonde hair and blue eyes who helped me survive the Battle of Hogwarts?

"You meant me. When you say 'Slytherin' you mean me," he says, running a hand through his hair and his voice giving off hints of anger. "But even you, at least part of you, has to admit… I'm not terrible. We've shared this dusty room together for a few weeks, and for the most part you haven't wanted to kill me.

"And I know Dwight, Holt, Renata, and the rest of that lot can be a handful at times," he continues. "But your so-called perfect Gryffindors have flaws. Lorelei Malecot is a God awful nightmare, and I know she's your friend, but Sharon Whitt can be annoying. Ridley Furstenberg is a cheat, and your boyfriend, Kane Long? He's even more of a hothead than-"

"Excuse me?" I exclaim, more shock than disdain in my voice. Ames listing the flaws and faults of the people I consider my family is more than enough of a reason to get mad at him, but he's accurate on most accounts. Besides, my focus is on a different topic. "What did you say about Kane and me?"

"Oh…" Ames mutters. He coughs, "I thought… Um, never mind."

I turn to face Ames more directly and tilt my head at him, "Um? You thought what?" He everts his eyes again and looks down in his lap.

"It's really nothing, but I just… just thought you and Kane Long were…" he trails off as he rises from his position on the ground. He takes a few steps away from me before awkwardly pacing back and forth.

"… Ames?" I ask after a beat.

He looks back to me, his eyes slightly crinkled. Ever since Ames's whole 'feel, don't show' speech, I've found myself taking note of (what passes as) all the expressions on his face. Slight crinkle of eyes. Confusion? Surprise? Ames clears his throat. "I just thought you guys were a thing," he mumbles. Maybe embarrassment?

"A thing?" I say, half teasingly, half serious.

"Yeah, I thought you guys were dating," he answers. I give him a questioning look. Ames looks at me sheepishly, but continues, "What? I see you guys all the time together."

"Kane and I are just really good friends," I clarify.

"Then what about Winona Hurst and Walt Stay?" Ames asks.

I groan loudly. "Officially they're not together, but everyone wants them to date. I'm hoping it's only a matter of time before they're together. If even you've noticed them, Ames, they're just wasting time at this point."

Ames nods in agreement. "I thought he was dating Lorelei Malecot for a bit," he says. He corners of his mouth turn up just enough to make a recognizable smile. "Your friend is a step up."

"Thanks," I respond, with a soft, unsure grin. "I would return the favor by engaging in some Year Two-esque gossip, but I don't keep tabs on which Slytherin is interested who. I mean, besides you and Renata." He nods at me, but goes back to pacing. I stand up and walk over to him. "If- If you don't mind me asking, what did actually happen between the two of you?" I ask.

He glances at me. For a moment, I think he's looking at me dismissively, but remember this is Ames. He snatches his wand from his back pocket and examines it instead of making eye-contact. "I mean, what went around school has some truth to it," he admits. "Watching her flirt with Walt Stay probably infuriated me as much as it infuriated your friend."

"But you guys stayed together after a good amount of flirting time before you broke up," I say to him. Ames idly swishes his wand around, humming under his breath, causing swirls of light to appear. I stand near him, watching him and waiting for an answer.

"There were outside circumstances that… made it kind of inappropriate of me to break up with her," Ames says softly. "Even when I did break up with her I probably shouldn't have."

Slytherin. A small part of my brain reminds me. Ambition. What would he have to gain by staying with her? I take a moment before talking, but go against my instinct and refrain from being rude. "Well," I say awkwardly. "Um, I think you're a step up from Renata… or a step up whoever Renata dates next." Ames stops focusing on his wand and looks at me funny. I rock back and forth on my feet and feel my feet sweat. "Um," I clear my throat. "I'm trying to compliment you."

"I got that," he nods. "I just think it's kind of funny seeing you get nervous." He grins at me. "But really, Renata wasn't bad."

Not that bad, hah. Renata's always had something against me. She's always been horrible to me. Always. Last week. Last week had been bad.

I was sitting in the stadium of the Quidditch pitch, watching the Quidditch practice. Ellis was back to perfection (apart from a clicking in his jaw that he wouldn't stop complaining about) and soaring about, shouting at all the players. Kane practiced with Finn to send the bludgers flying, and Winona and the other Chasers flew around practicing new formations.

I was sitting in the stadium of the Quidditch pitch when Renata and her friends took a seat behind me a few bleachers back. I twisted around in my seat to glare at them. "You guys can't be here," I said. "Other teams can't watch."

Renata rolled her eyes at me and waved her hand dismissively. "We're just waiting for our practice to start, Velma. Just calm down, alright?" she said condescendingly. I realized she was right. Ellis and the others were finishing up their practice, and the girls with Renata, Violet and Marie, are chasers on their Quidditch team. My cheeks burned red and I faced myself forward again.

At that point, I could've just moved seats. I could've just left the stadium all together, and it probably would've been easier for me in the long run, but even something as trivial as a gesture like changing seats felt like retreating to me. The last thing I wanted to do was give Renata the satisfaction of scaring me off, so in all my Gryffindor pride and stubbornness, I stayed where I was.

I'd estimate that it took Renata and her friends about 45 seconds to start bothering me again.

"Hey!" Marie had called out to me. "Velma, your brother is Leigh, right?" I gritted my teeth and turned back around to them. I frowned at Marie. She was a sixth year, which made her a year behind me and two years older than Leigh. With shoulder length, shiny black hair and brown, almond shaped eyes, Marie was the kind of person that even I couldn't deny that she was pretty, no matter how much I hated her. "He is," I managed to say through my clenched teeth.

"He is so cute!" Marie had exclaimed. Marie smiled at me with a false sincerity. Violet smirked at my obvious discomfort, but didn't say anything. Meanwhile, Renata just wouldn't shut the hell up.

"Yeah, your brother is so normal, Velma!" Renata had jeered. "You'd never think that someone like him could be related to you!"

"Wow, Renata," I said, forcing out a laugh. I stood up from my spot and grabbed my wand. "It's almost like you want me to start a fight with you! Would you prefer it to just be you who I hex, or do you want your little lapdogs to me part of it as well?"

"No really, Velma!" Renata continued in her sarcastic, condescending voice. She stood up as well and began stepping down the bleachers towards me. "How'd you end up so screwed up when your brother ended up so normal? Isn't your dad bat-shit crazy? You think it'd be genetic or something, right?"

The mention of my Dad had hit me almost as hard as the mention of my 'loser Hufflepuff sister' Renata had said to me in the beginning of the year. Renata can do things like that; she can strike you right where she knows you're the weakest. Dad. Am I crazy like Dad? God, Dad. What would be worse in this situation: to lie and convince myself that Dad isn't crazy, or to condemn him and convince myself that I'm nothing like him?

"There's no way Leigh is fully blood related to you, right?" Renata had continued relentlessly. "I mean, Leigh's so cute and you look like… you. Let me guess. Different Dads, same Mom? Was Mommy a whore while she was still alive, Velma? Is that how it happened?"

"Shit, Renata. Taking a shot at my dead mom too? Talk about kicking a horse while it's down," I had thought to myself. I became really numb in that moment. The only alternative to numbness in a situation like this is crying, and I really did not want to cry in front of Renata, but I did let myself cry all that night once everyone else was asleep.

"Velma!" Winona shouted, coming up the stairs. She reached us, but her smile instantly disappeared when she saw Renata, Marie, and Violet. "Velma… and others, I suppose," she said. "Are they bothering you, Vel?"

Now that Winona was with me emotion started creeping back into my brain, but instead of sadness, only hatred filled me. Renata. There's no one I've ever hated more than Renata. "Yeah," I nodded. "Renata's being a real bitch."

"Listen, Caplan!" Renata said angrily as she took another step down closer to us. "If you think you are-"

"Stop!" Winona had shouted. I stood up next to Winona and when I did, Winona put a death grip on my arm, ensuring that I wouldn't grab my wand. "We don't really have time for this today, Renata."

Renata's focus left me and landed right on Winona. "Hey Winona," Renata purred, her eyes narrowing. "You and Walt Stay bang yet?"

At that, I was ready to destroy Renata, but the death grip Winona had on my arm force me to stay put. With an elegance and poise of a princess, Winona stood her ground against Renata, but I could feel the indignation and resentment radiating off of her. I had imagined how this confrontation would have gone if Kane were to walk over. Even if both Winona and I had death grips on his wrists, Kane would have exploded long ago.

Winona held her head up high. "I don't think it's your place at all to speak to me like that," she seethed.

"I take it that's a no," Renata had laughed, which prompted Violet and Marie to laugh as well. "It makes sense though," Renata sneered. "The only thing flatter than your hair is your chest."

Winona's fingers dug deeper into my arm, and I bit my tongue to keep from crying out in pain. I had glanced up at Winona. Her eyes are a shade of brown so dark you can't differentiate her pupil from her iris, and when she stared at Renata I finally understood the idiom 'glaring daggers'. "I think it's time for you all to go," Winona practically spat.

Violet and Marie had glanced at Renata, obviously unsure of what to do. Renata merely laughed at us, "Why? Is Kane Long on his way over? Are you two going to have him get rid of us for you?"

"Do you really think that Velma and I need Kane to fight our battles?" Winona said back, still holding her in control voice. "If the two of us were to start a fight right now, I'd be very worried about you three," Winona warned gravely. "I think it's time for you to go."

Renata looked Winona over. Renata stood stiffly as did Violet and Marie, all three of them clearly shaken by Winona's threat. A tense laugh escaped Renata's lips and she fought to keep her voice nonchalant. "If you insist, Winnie," Renata said as she moved out of the bleachers with Violet and Marie trailing close behind. "I'll see you both later."

"Tell your brother I say hi, Velma!" Marie called over her shoulder as they made their way down the stairs. Winona released my arm, and relief flooded through me.

The memory fills me with anger. "Seriously?!" I ask Ames indignantly. "She's been bitch to you and me both."

"Don't," Ames says harshly to me. "She has her reasons and I know her-"

"She consistently flirted with other guys right in front of you," I argue, stepping towards him again. I feel all animosity I've had for Renata rising up my chest. "She treats me like shit. She's said disgusting things to me, taking digs at my sister, at my family-"

"Don't act like your friends don't take digs at our families."

"God, we're not talking about my friends, Ames!" I shout at him. "We're talking about Renata, who I hate and you should hate too."

"Renata has issues."

"We all have issues, Ames," I hiss. "That excuse is cliché and meaningless."

He looks up at me, sincere blue eyes and tight mouth. "Just because we all have pain," he says to me, something glimmering in his eyes, "doesn't mean it's negated for anyone."

The bell in the tower rings.

I take a staggered step away from Ames and feel the mood between us fall. The mood dissolves as fast as the light from one of Ames's singing spells. "You can leave first," I say quietly. "I'll wait a few minutes after."

Ames's eyes linger on mine for a moment, his entire face unsure. I smile faintly at him, and he gives me the Ames-equivalent of a smile back.