Wow. Whew. Another installment.
School is a... a... is a school. There I said it. That's all you need to understand the whole yeah, you might want to check out the Prologue... I placed the FULL SUMMARY there. You know, for effect? Hahaha.
I had a huge revelation today about FLAMES, by the way. I found out that they are given not to HURT people's feelings, but because there are concerned people who does not want the 39 Clues Archive to be all UNNECESSARILY CLOGGED. I've noticed that the 39 Clues Archive remains wonderfully facilitated. I hope people would tell me if I'm starting to become a nuisance here in the Archive. You know, because of my stories... *sighs* Thank you to the story When Mary Met Sue by Another Artist. It's nice that everybody is helping one another be better. I'm thinking of joining The Nellie Gomez Foundation. Haha.
WARNING: Long chapter ahead, so I won't mess so much with my A/N. Evan Tolliver and Kurt ahead, too. Haha.
The Standard Disclaimer applies.
Read on :)
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Chapter 11: The Awkwardness, The Class and The Guest
"So..."
Ned's attempt for a conversation was met with awkward silence. Ted rushed to help his brother. "This is a great breakfast," Ted grinned, scanning the table for any response.
It was the fourth day ever since Ian-Hamilton Clash. Not one word was exchanged between the two boys. Mostly, they shunned everybody else and would only talk when absolutely necessary.
Attending training classes assigned for each day is always awkward. During Lucian classes which are first in their calendar (because Ian and Natalie finished their lesson plan first), Hamilton would simply stare out the window. Ian, being the speaker in front, would pretend he can't see Hamilton. As long as 'the blasted mad Neanderthal' participates, everything is fine.
During Tomas classes which are the day after Lucian classes, Ian would finish the routine as quickly as possible to get out of 'the wretched scenario'. Hamilton is fine by this. As long as 'the annoying British dimwit' does every exercise they have for that day, they wouldn't have to cross paths.
The boys' dormitory lost one camper. Ian decided to sleep in the library. "Unlike some people, I have business matters to attend to and to think through," Ian said, when Amy tried in vain to convince the two of them to make up. Ian works during his free time. He sells paintings online, but compared with personal advertisement, his sales are a bit a lower. That's why he needs to work harder.
Anyway, back to the topic at hand.
Sinead saw her brothers' discomfort. "These waffles are amazing. Right, Angelle?" She stared pointedly at the blonde for support.
Angelle cringed at the sound of her name. She nodded mutely.
Natalie sighed. She had enough of these silly attempts for a poor conversation. "Yes, yes. The waffles are great. They are not soggy, browny or squishy. Hurrah and all that," she said languidly, taking another small bite.
Dan shot her a venomous glare. "You could be more grateful than that, you know. It's not like you can actually cook."
"And how do you know I can't?" she shot back.
"Can you?"
Natalie was silent for a moment. "I can make sandwiches," she decided with a huge, triumphant grin.
Dan snickered. "Yeah. Making sandwiches is such a pain in the neck," he replied mockingly.
Silence. Nobody commented on their fight. Not even Amy who is uneasily drinking her glass of milk. Not even Ian who sat there, looking bored.
"Wow, this is sooo annoying," Keightlyn bluntly commented.
"Finally!" Jonah exclaimed, raising his hands, palms up. "Someone who has enough nerve to state the obvious."
"Which reminds me," Angelle stated, looking at Amy. "Amy, why don't you tell them about the message?"
Amy shot her a withering look. "A-Angelle..." she mumbled, her voice strangely in its not-working mode.
Dan slammed his fist on the table. "Oh yeah! The Facebook message!"
Natalie glared at him. "You really had to shake the whole table for a Facebook message?" she asked disbelievingly. Then she started, realizing what it meant. "Oh." She glanced nervously at her older brother. Ian's expression remained impassive.
"What did it say?" Phoenix asked before all hell breaks loose again.
Dan scrambled in his jacket and pants pocket for his phone. He fished it out of his left pocket. He scanned through it hurriedly. "Here." He held it out for them to read. When nobody took it, he exhaled grumpily. "So lazy. Fine, I'll read it for you."
Ian stood up, nearly toppling his chair in the process. "Excuse me, I have more important matters to see through," he said sharply. All of them wordlessly stared at his wake. Amy sighed dejectedly. How long is this supposed to go on?
Hamilton grunted distastefully. "What a –"
"Don't," Sinead warned, giving him the look. "Just don't."
"I don't think we should read the message," Ned deliberated as he finished the last of his bacon and waffle. "Without Ian Kabra here," Ted finished, taking a swig of his half-empty milk.
"The 'human chess' garbage they were talking about is in a month," Dan reminded ruefully. "What do we do?"
Nobody spoke. Jonah glanced at his watch. "Okay, guys! Time for Janus classes."
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"Ugh! I hate you, Daniel!" shrieked Natalie at the top of her lungs.
Jonah rushed over to his two most obnoxious pupils. The Janus room is divided into soundproof cubicles that doubled as individual classrooms. Dan and Natalie's mini classroom is at the middle; between the Starling twins and the Holt twins.
He barged inside. "What happened now?" he asked, knowing the drill.
Natalie pointed accusingly at Dan who was sitting at a stool in front of a drum set. "Why do you have to pair the both of us? I can't play my violin in peace! He keeps on making horrid beats in that godforsaken drum of his!" She mimicked playing the drums, her arms wildly swinging in front of her.
Dan didn't say anything. He simply played another ear-crashing beat a full minute long. Jonah bobbed his head in sync with the rhythm. When Dan was done, Jonah held out a fist. "That's cool, dude. Try doing it a little faster and with a little more bass drum and crash cymbal," he advised. Dan grinned tauntingly at Natalie.
"But, Jonah," Natalie tried again, this time with a little more force in her words. "I play classical and sophisticated music. I have no space for deafening tunes." She widened her amber eyes pleadingly. "I can play perfectly with Ian, though. He plays classical music well."
Jonah shook his head. "No, no, no, Natty. Ian and Amy should be paired together. It's, like, meant to be."
"Natty?" Natalie gasped horrified.
Dan stopped hitting the pedal on the bass drum, which he was doing rather mercilessly. "If I didn't know, you guys are just planning to play matchmakers on them." He pointed at himself. "Hello? Brother over here!"
"And sister over here, too. Alive and with NATALIE for a name. Not Nat, not Natty," Natalie added poisonously.
"Look, Natalie," Jonah said soothingly. "There are a lot of talented violinists out there who play for bands. Have you heard Secrets by OneRepublic?" The thirteen-year-olds shook their head. Jonah fumbled for his iPod. He handed it to them. "Look it up there. By the end of the week, I want you to play it. Perfectly," he added before leaving Dan and Natalie's cubicle.
Jonah trotted down and checked on the others. He saw Ned and Ted hitting each other with their oboes. Reagan and Madison are fighting whether to play the Dance of the Sugarplum Fairy or The Ballad of Mona Lisa in acoustic guitar. Sinead and Hamilton are faring well. They managed to combine the sound of the flute with the rhythm of Hamilton's beat box. They are on the last few bars of Canon Rock. Lastly, he checked on Amy and Ian. The glorious sound of Memories of Warmth filled the air. Since Amy and Ian are both playing the piano, they need to time their synchronization.
"Knock, knock," Jonah said, leaning on the doorway. He grinned at the two of them. He wasn't at the least bit noticed.
"Hmm..." Ian responded, looking intently at a particular bar. "Amy, don't you think this should be a little faster?" he asked.
Amy leaned for a closer look. "Yeah. So then it would be like this, right?" she demonstrated on her white piano. Ian got the black one. He nodded, hearing the perfect tempo. "From the top?" he said, smiling slightly. Amy nodded.
Jonah closed the door. "Yeah, sure guys, I'm not alive and standing in your presence," he muttered, walking towards Angelle and Keightlyn's cubicle. Then he grinned, "At least Ian's warming up to Amy. I'm such a good camp leader." He leaned towards the small window pane on the Saunder sisters. They were busy recording something. He opened the door slowly so as not to make a single squeak. Angelle's voice floated around the room.
You're not alone, together we stand. I'll be by your side, you know I'll take your hand...
Keightlyn followed, her soprano pitch-perfect.
When it gets cold, and it feels like the end. There's no place to go, you know I won't give in... No, I won't give in...
"Keep holdin' on, 'cause you know we'll make it through," Jonah continued, his own million dollar voice blending with their voice. Angelle's head snapped up. She removed her headphones.
Phoenix' head popped up from the recording box. "Dude!" he complained. "You really have to sing every song, is that it?"
"Long time since you sang, huh, Wizard?" Angelle said, right eyebrow raised.
"Huh?" Has she not seen me in Who Wants to be a Gangsta? Or heard any of my hits? Or seen me and my music videos?
Angelle saw the look on his face and understood what he was thinking. She tossed a pair of headphones at him. "Sing, as in what Phoenix does. Sing with meaning, remember?"
Jonah remembered his mornings when he was young. When all he wanted was to impress his parents, especially his mother. When he and his father would make up silly songs. When he and Angelle would spend hours trying to find words and notes that like each other.
He smiled at the headphones. "Sing with meaning, and mean what you sing," he said, taking a seat beside her. "Yeah, I remember."
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Fifth day.
The next day is Lucian classes, headed by Ian and Natalie Kabra. It goes without saying that again, it would be awkward (with Hamilton), and sure enough it was. As the Holt trio entered the room with Ian's back turned to them because he was 'fixing important documents', everybody felt the air stiffen, if that was even possible.
Sinead leaned forward to whisper in Amy's ear. "I don't know about you, but I think they are so immature."
"It's not like we can do something about it," Amy whispered back. True, it has been five days since they have been like this. Apparently, there was an assault to 'pride' or something like that.
As everybody settled down, the Kabras (mostly Ian) started with their lecture. Hamilton resumed looking pointedly outside the window and making sure he makes Ian feel that he hates being in his class.
"Looking at the smallest of things is what you must do," Ian is saying, while the others listen or take notes. Ned and Ted tried doing their lecture with drawings. They drew an eye for 'looking', the computerized version for 'at', a nearly-invisible dot for 'smallest' and so on.
"For example, you will know someone is lying if their pupils dilate or their pulse," Ian touched the base of his neck lightly, "quickens." He picked up a white chalk and wrote on the blackboard; under the huge LIES: How to know.
"If the person is a horrible liar," he continued, "he will avoid looking into your eyes. Out of guilt, maybe."
"Wouldn't the person have swallowed all his guilt before lying?" Reagan asked, raising a hand up. "I would've," Madison added.
Ian nodded. "Yes. Although, the guilt sometimes makes him think that somehow if he looks into your eyes, you will be able to read his mind. Guilt makes you think things. Irrational things mostly." He shrugged. "It's all in your manner of speaking to him, I guess."
"I can relate," Dan spoke up. "I lie to Amy all the time. I tell her, I didn't send Evan that email, and all I have to do is act stupid."
"Was it hard?" Natalie sneered.
Amy paled at the meaning of Dan's words. "So you did send that email!" Amy whacked him on the head. "Are you stupid? You could've ruined my life! You are such a dweeb!"
Dan stood up and bowed like he had done a magic trick. "See? Am I being a good spy or what?"
The others are busy noticing a certain name rather than paying attention to Dan's usual and everyday activities. "Who's Evan?" Ned asked, grinning wickedly.
"Nobody," Amy said quickly. "Please continue, Ian."
Ian cocked an eyebrow. "It's not polite to avoid a question, Amy," he reminded her. Seriously, he just wanted to know who this Evan guy is. A cousin should know, right? I mean, no matter how distant the cousin is, Ian thought, trying to hide the fact that he was trying hard not to clench his fist. Yeah, just keep telling yourself that, an inner voice mumbled deep inside his consciousness. Natalie pretended she didn't see how weirdly her brother's fingers are twitching. Nothing gets past her Sherlock-Holmes-worthy eyesight.
Amy blushed. "He's... a..." A what? Friend? Schoolmate? Lab partner? All of the above?
"Suitor," Dan finished, twirling a pencil. "Evan Tolliver is a suitor."
There was an uncomfortable silence.
Amy could feel the boiling heat in her cheeks and neck. "Really, Amy? Is this Evan a suitor of yours?" Hamilton asked, forgetting that he shouldn't even pay attention to Lucian lessons. Classes could get interesting from time to time, after all.
"N-N-No, th-that's not i-it," Amy stammered, thinking of any excuse.
Dan nodded. "Of course, he's not a suitor!" He beamed. "He's one of the suitors. 'Cause there's Kurt, too."
"Kurt?" Ted echoed, glancing pointedly at Ian. "So Kurt is another suitor... Wow..."
That was just crossing the line. "No! No, no, no," Amy said, standing up. "Wrong road! It's not like that."
Angelle and Jonah nodded at each other. Jonah leaned closer to look at Amy's face. Angelle placed two fingers above Amy's neck. "Her pupils are dilated, sir," Jonah declared. "And her pulse is amazingly quick, Professor Ian," Angelle winked at all of them.
"Ten bucks, Amy's palms are sweating," Dan called out. Keightlyn reached out and touched Amy's shaking hands. "Shaking and clammy," she confirmed.
Ian clapped his hands. "Well, we had a lecture and a practical application of our lesson." He 'fixed' yet another stack of 'important papers'. "All of you get an A+ for active participation," he eyed Amy with pursed lips. "Especially, Miss Cahill. That's it for today. Good day."
Natalie giggled. "Cheerio!"
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Sixth day. Tomas Classes aka Physical Torture and Embarrassment.
Last meeting they were asked to do twenty laps. In a swimming pool. In. A. Swimming. Pool. To make things clearer, it was 7 feet deep and 100 meters. Enough said.
"Okay, troops!" Hamilton bellowed. "Give me fifty laps. Let's go, go, GO!"
"Fifty?" Natalie asked, tying her long black hair in a ponytail. "Are you bo – I mean, crazy?" She was wearing a shiny pink Prada tracksuit.
"We'll be dead before we have our Ekat classes tomorrow, you know?" Sinead put in.
Hamilton, Reagan and Madison sighed. "Fine," he conceded, "forty laps, then. This is why you have such low stamina."
Amy pursed her lips thoughtfully. "How about thirty?" she suggested.
"Thirty-five, Little Miss I've-got-boys-running-after-me, and it's a deal," Hamilton replied, an evil glint in his eyes.
"For the last time, they're not –" Amy started exasperatedly.
"Sis," Dan interrupted. "Do you want them to check your pupils and pulse again? Didn't think so."
Amy glared at him. This is all your fault!
Dan smirked. Why? Did I make you look bad in front of your recent boyfriend, Ian Cobra? Or was it Evan today? Or Kurt. He shrugged good-naturedly. I'm sorry, I'm just your brother, and I can't remember all your suitors.
That's not it! They're not 'courting' me and you know it!
Should I produce proof? Emails, letters, pictures?
Amy's bright green eyes widened. You didn't.
I am a ninja, aren't I? So, yes. Yes, I did.
"You are so dead!" Amy screamed, chasing Dan around the oval.
Natalie looked up from detecting a scratch from her manicure. "Oh! Have we started yet? Okay," she started running at an average pace. The others followed, groaning while thinking of the thirty-five-lap torture ahead of them.
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"Hey, Amy. I'll go get the pasta, so could you put the salad on the table for me?" Sinead asked, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand.
"Sure." Amy gingerly took the delicate salad bowl from her and walked out of the kitchen. Not long after she left, the kitchen door opened.
"Look, you two," Sinead said blandly, "I don't have time for your idiocy. I'll gladly tolerate your stupidity if you help scoop up some of this..." she gave an exasperated tug on the stuck noodles, "pasta."
A hand reached out and scooped the pasta (the whole casserole) into a huge bowl. Apparently, Sinead and Amy's cooking powers are not enough to make the pasta not intact. Sinead looked up, already having an idea who this person was. Hamilton was still looking at the strange looking lump Sinead called pasta. "I may not be that much of a cook, but I am sure that no way in idiocy is this called pasta," he said flatly, his voice sounding strangely absent-minded.
Sinead huffed. "If you're here to insult my and Amy's cooking," she pointed at the door, "you are so free to leave. Besides Gustavo called in sick and it's not like you boys would cook."
"Maybe, but I thought you'd 'gladly tolerate my stupidity' if 'I help you scoop some of this... pasta'," he quoted, raising an eyebrow. "I may not be two, but still."
A sigh escaped from her lips. "So what is this stupidity I'm obligated to tolerate?"
"Why can't that Kabra just APOLOGIZE?" he blurted out, sounding a lot demanding.
"E-Excuse me?" Sinead took a step back at the tone of his voice.
Hamilton shot her an exasperating look. "It's totally HIS FAULT! Thinking he knows EVERYTHING and saying STUPID things, and... and..." he trailed off, realizing how pointless his words are.
"Should I say something or should I let you blow off steam?" Sinead asked cautiously, not wanting to cause another verbal explosion from Hamilton.
Hamilton rested his face in his palm. "Say something," he said, his words slightly muffled.
"Hmm..." Sinead weighed the facts. What should she say at a time like this anyway? She thought hard. "Do you want me to be honest?"
Hamilton glanced at her unsurely. "Nothing good comes after those words. But sure... I guess."
"The two of you should apologize," Sinead said simply while she started preparing the pitcher of juice. "Both of you have good points, but, and I'm going to say this frankly," she warned, tipping an entire sachet of mango juice in the pitcher of cold water. "The two of you have such immature drawbacks." She mixed the contents with a ladle. "That said, we can conclude that both of you should just apologize."
"I really don't do apologizing," Hamilton snorted, crossing his arms.
Sinead handed him the pitcher and took the huge bowl of pasta in both hands. "Then, you can't expect anybody to apologize to you. Especially not Ian." She walked towards the door, ready to leave. She looked back. "Tell me when you have finally decided to, will you."
After lunch, Amy set about tending the garden. She remembered how long it was since she last did so. Uncle Fiske, and Nellie for some reason, had not come back from the Madrigal meeting they were talking about. Her shining red hair was pulled into a messy bun, playful strands of it hanging just beside her neck. She tugged at her gardening gloves which was sizes too big for her, since Dan picked it out for her. And in case you're wondering, yes it has ninja star prints on it.
She started with her petunias. Some were deep purple in color, some very light near the color of lavender. As she dug up little holes for different clusters of petunias, she can't help but wonder how amazing their colors are. The main purple is found in the middle, and it stretches out to different petals.
Her little spade struck something hard. She glared at the nuisance. It was a huge rock deep in the recesses of the soil. She tried scooping it with the spade to no avail. She tried tugging at it with her fingers, again to no avail. "Ugh. Just budge already," she groaned nearly giving up on the annoying rock.
"I don't think that rock is a very good follower," Ian commented, looking down at Amy's frustration with amusement. "Here, let me," he offered, taking the spade from her. With one quick flick of his wrist, the rock popped out from its hiding. "There."
Amy looked at him with narrowed eyes. "Why do you always seem to pop out of nowhere?" she asked.
Ian shrugged. "It's a talent," he replied cheekily. Then, came the smirk.
Amy sighed, thinking that would be the best answer she'll get from him. "What do you want, Ian?"
"Talk."
Amy stared at him. "Huh?"
"Mrrp?"
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Woohoo. Here comes the action (We Are The Champions tune is that even right?) We are nearing the end. Woohoo! Nine chapters to go... I think.
I love singing chapters. Good thing Jonah Wizard is here. And Nellie, don't forget Nellie.
QUESTION of the DAY:
Who is your favorite singer and WHY?
Sneak peek for the next chapter:
Ian sighed, massaging his temples. "What my sister meant was," he started. "'With that odd behaviour, maybe something bad happened to them'," he translated.
"Oh."
"I doubt it," Angelle interjected. "They are at a Madrigal stronghold. They can't be in danger."
"Uh... guys. I think Cat-Dude just said something," Hamilton said, wide-eyed.
"Holt, he's just a talented cat, but a cat nonetheless. Cats don't speak," Sinead said, raising her eyebrows exasperatedly.
Hamilton looked at her, his eyes as big as golf balls. "I know that. But that does not mean he can't do Morse code, right?" He pointed at the Persian rug.
All of them gasped at the sight of it all. A message. In Morse code.
Read and Review.
'Cause there is more imagination where this came from,
MuchLove, PeaceOut!
AngelicSpring.
