A/N- Sorry this took so long to get out. Stupid teachers and their tests. I'm warning you now, the next bit might take a while- I've got midterms soon, so.. sorry in advance. But I hope you like this!
Disclaimer: Nope. Those stupid stars still didn't make me J.K. Rowling.
She's a Liability
I am Going to Kill Alicia Spinnet
Thump. Whump. Thump. It sounded as though someone were about to break down my door. Groaning, I shoved my head under my pillow and buried myself beneath a mountain of blankets. There were only a handful of people who had the nerve to come knocking my door in before ten in the morning. I held very still, hoping the noise would go away. But as pre-awakened logic often does, the idea didn't work. The sound only grew louder and more persistent. Of the handful of brave people who had the stupidity to beat on my door, all of them were extremely determined. Staring blearily at the alarm clock by my bed, which read seven am, I growled and very nearly hid under the bed. I didn't need to be awake and functional for another hour. It was Saturday- late practice day.
"I'm coming," I shouted hoarsely as my feet met the cold hardwood floor and recoiled. I should really consider investing in a rug, I thought, not for the first time. A big shaggy one.I shoved my feet into some socks, and fell with a crash as I tried to put the second one on. Grumbling, I dragged myself into a standing position and wrestled a sweatshirt on my head. The assault on my door continued as I got stuck in the neck hole. "Keep your shirt on!" I bellowed, raking a hand through the disaster that was my hair. Feeling less than hospitable, I ripped the door open.
Angelina and Alicia stood on my front doorstep. Alicia's delicate fist was still raised, as if she was about to slam my door another time. I blinked in the morning light. "Oh good, you're up," Alicia said brightly, skipping past me into the house. "I thought we were going to have to blast your door open."
"It would have saved me the trouble of getting up," I told her dryly. Alicia was illegally perky in the morning. I offered them seats at my table. Angelina grunted her thanks, still half-asleep, like me. Judging by the pajama pants hidden beneath her coat, she too had been asleep five minutes before. Alicia was the only one that seemed to be fully awake. But then again the girl was a certifiable lunatic. She was a healer after all, and as a rule, all of them are off their rockers. Especially those nutters they call physical therapists. But you've already heard my opinion on them.
I shuffled about, busying myself with making tea, and for myself, coffee. I'd been turned onto the stuff by Peter, who was pretty much addicted, and now I see why- it comprised vast amounts of wonderful caffeine, a lovely aroma, and an exceptional excuse to consume huge amounts of sugar and cream. I set a mug of tea in front of each- made the way they liked. Angelina, who was slumped over the table, took hers black, while perky Alicia took hers with five sugars and a boatload of cream. I think I understand the correlation between their energy levels now. I sat down across from them, cupping my own steaming cup with grateful fingers.
"Don't you have to work today?" I demanded, not bothering to be polite. It was early, and I hadn't consumed my daily amount of coffee. They were lucky I was forming coherent sentences. Angelina was hunched over her tea as if she were trying to absorb all the heat it contained. I took a swig of my coffee, only to find it scalding hot and burnt my tongue. Alicia shook her head. I smacked my tongue angrily against the roof of my mouth, only to find that I'd thoroughly demolished all my taste buds.
"I have Saturday's off," she reminded me cheerily. "But I saw these on my way out this morning." I brushed away thoughts concerning the exact reasoning behind her early morning journey as I realized what she was carrying. Magazines. Bright, candy colored magazines. A good five or six of them, each with my grinning face on the front.
This is bad. I blinked several times to make sure I wasn't still dreaming, Meanwhile, Angelina began to snore next to her cup of tea. Unfortunately, I was conscious and definitely not dreaming. Eyes wide, I picked up the top issue, Magic Miss, which was a horrid shade of baby blue. The headlines was "Playing with the Boys: an Exclusive Interview with the New Puddlemere Chaser", underneath a picture of my grinning face, cropped from the group shot. Various headlines floated around my head and shoulders. Still gaping, I peeled open the first page and hurriedly flipped past all the pictures of beautiful, grinning witches, to the article, which was written by a witch named Dominique Meridian. Alicia was watching me with an amused smirk, thinking the whole thing hilarious and not bothering to hide it. Angelina snoozed indifferently next to me.
The picture bearing the headline was the group shot. We all waved and grinned at the camera. I looked up. "Dominique Meridian?" I asked, noting the author's name. "Which one's that?" I strained to remember. None of them had properly introduced themselves. No, they just demanded personal details of my life instead.
"The blonde one," Alicia answered unhelpfully. I tried to remember.
"The one with the curls and the huge boobs?" I asked, vaguely remembering one such reporter. She rolled her eyes.
"You are such a guy, Katie," she accused, sipping her tea in a lady-like fashion. "What were you doing, looking at her chest?"
"She kind of stuck them out there," I defended hotly. "And her shirt was like…"She raised an eyebrow, and I decided to shut up and hide behind my magazine in dignified silence. She snorted.
"Well, read it out loud then" she ordered, leaning back in her chair. "I haven't gotten to read that one yet." She took a sip of her tea. "Mmm, perfect," she declared. I smiled begrudgingly, feeling a little more awake and therefore less hostile. And so, I began to read.
"Quidditch Newcomer Katie Bell, 17, has a lot to live up to. In the past 20 years, only the legendary Josclind Wadcock has survived the brutal tactics of the notorious reserve team. Wadcock's talent and ability is nearly unmatched in any female player in the league at the present time, and that begs the question: what does little Katie Bell, young and untried, have to offer?" I paused in my reading. "Ouch," I said. Alicia urged me onward as Angelina continued to snore.
"That, indeed, is the million dollar question. And so, who better to ask than her teammates to weigh in on the boyishly figured chaser?"
"BOYISHLY FIGURED?" Alicia protested. "That's not true! You've got boobs!" I glanced down at my chest, feeling uncomfortable. "Sure, you're athletic, but you've got assets, "Alicia continued. I coughed awkwardly.
"Thanks, Alicia," I muttered, continuing before she could embarrass me more. "We spoke to Chase Reiner first, known for his blunt personality. 'Little Bell?' he asked, using an endearing nickname for the diminutive chaser. 'Yeah, she's good. She dodges bludgers pretty well, anyway. And she's quick too,' he added." I stopped reading to massage my ribs gingerly where I'd suffered a huge bruise just the day before, compliments of the huge blonde bear.
"It appears that the bludger smacking machine approves, although he is not known for his depth and words. Perhaps Dirk Springer will have some dish for us. 'She's kind of clumsy,' the tall, dark player commented, before pausing to smile at his legions of fan girls. 'But she's half decent, I suppose. She doesn't give up, anyway. She's stubborn, I'll give her that.'
The quietest of all, Will, remarked that 'she doesn't complain much,' and called her 'nice', while Ryan called her a 'real team player', and 'easy to fly with'. The reserved chaser seemed to approve of the blonde. 'She's good,' he shrugged. 'She shoots well, she flies well, and she trains hard. She wants to be here.' Do I smell a hint of attraction between these two? Our readers want to know! I frowned deeply, liking the author of the article less and less as the writing continued.
And how can we forget Jason, one of the country's most desirable bachelors, who slung an arm around her with practiced ease? "She's funny," he commented. "Kind of quiet at first, but once you get her talking she's hilarious," he smirked, perhaps at a private joke the two had shared. "She throws the meanest right curve I've ever seen- I've got the bruises to prove it!" The notorious opportunist with lucky hot pink boxers may have chosen Katie Bell as his next object of affection. Sorry ladies. It seems the chaser has go them all wrapped right around her pinky finger. Am I the only one here who smells the love potion here? Although, that spawns the question: is the plain, although admittedly athletic chaser brainy enough to whip up enough love potion to get what she wants?
My hands began to shake with rage as I fought to contain the urge to hex the magazine into a million pieces. Is a relationship with professional keeper, Oliver Wood, giving her a leg up? When asked, Bell predictably denied the claims. "Wood ran his team ragged; he was always relentless,' she said. 'If you mean the training... then yes." I for one am skeptical; even more so when the infamously private and quiet Peter rushed to her rescue. "… Katie wouldn't have survived this long if she didn't deserve to be here… she's smart, clever and athletic, even if she scares me sometimes. She flies like a maniac, but in a good way." The chaser, known for his poker face, was seen goofing off, laughing and grinning uncontrollably around the lucky Miss Bell. As it is well known, all three are side-effects of love potions. Or physical attraction. The poor Puddlemere Reserve Team is in for it; big time."
I threw the magazine with an angry flip of my wrist; it hit the wall with a loud smack, which woke a groggy Angelina. "Love potions?!" I snarled dangerously. "She thinks I'm using love potions to- no she can't possibly-"my voice rose hysterically as I stood up and began to pace. I ground my teeth. 'Jason, Ryan, Oliver and Peter! Seriously?" I turned abruptly on my heel as I reached the wall; my movements were furious."That's such a lie! How could they think- we're just friends!" My pacing was rapid and edgy and Alicia began to track my movements, alarmed. Angelina watched me blearily, head still on the table. "That devil woman made me sound like some sort of- of" I searched for the right word. "Slut! Hussy! Scarlet Woman!" I punctuated each exclamation with a flail of my hands. I was livid. I wanted to kill this prissy little "Dominique', with her huge boobs and fake blonde hair.
"But I know you're not a hussy," Alicia tried to soothe me. "And Angelina knows," she tried to be stealthy about how she kicked Angelina under the table, but I heard it land and Angelina jumped.
"You're not a hussy," she agreed hastily. "You like food too much to be a hussy!" Alicia rolled her eyes.
"Not helping, Ange," she said in a low voice. I felt a small smile pull at my lips.
"Well she does!" Angelina protested, before nestling her head in her arms again.
"Oliver knows you're not a hussy," Alicia continued matter-of-factly. I raised an eyebrow, "and so does your team, and the twins and-"
"But the rest of the world thinks I'm easy!" I snapped. "I'm never going to be able to show my face again," I wailed. "Guys are going to slap my ass!"
"No one's going to slap your ass, honey," Alicia tried again. "You'd beat the crap out of them." It was true, but I couldn't get past the horror of some stranger touching my butt. "Like that guy at the bar."
"My mom reads this stuff!" I realized in terror. "She's going to think I slept with the whole team!" I considered the implications of that for a moment.
"No she's not," Alicia told me calmly. "She knows you better than that. She handed me a different magazine. "This one liked you," she told me. "And so did these two," she added, placing them on the pile. One more sat on the table. I felt a little more civil, but I stared at the remainder.
"What about that one?" I asked darkly. She shrugged.
"Well, that one thought you and Peter had something going on, but other than that it liked you," she said simply. "Dominique just loves to run people down, Katie," she told me. "If you hole yourself up in here you'd be giving her exactly what she wants."
And so, they managed to convince me to go to practice. Well, it was mostly Alicia- what Angelina was doing involved a lot of snoring but not a lot of convincing. And when I say 'convinced', I mean blackmailed and shoved by any means necessary. There are days where I really hate my friends. This was one of them.
Still angry, I stomped off to practice, dragging my training back moodily behind me. I muttered as I wrestled the puddlemere shirt over my head, fumed when I banged my head on my locker, shouted as I flipped over the bench, and by the time I had snatched my broom and stormed onto the pitch, cursing to myself, my head was throbbing and I was furious. As always, we ran laps to begin. I fell into my normal place next to Peter and behind Ryan. I was stewing about the article. Peter smiled bracingly at me as coach demanded extras. I pulled on my mouth, but it didn't seem to want to smile. I think I managed a weak one in return. He didn't say much for the rest of practice, except to call for passes. I felt guilt brewing in my stomach, but I pushed it into my passes. Several of them were thrown a little harder than was necessary. I think I added to Jason's collection of bruises. by the end, I was feeling slightly less angry, and feeling a great deal more guilty. I apologized to Jason, who waved it away with a smile, and helped Ryan to put the practice materials away.
"What's wrong?" Peter asked later, looking concerned. I nearly killed the kid in practice every day, and yet he was still nice to me. I managed a real smile this time.
"PMS," Dirk yelled, before I could answer. "Happens to girls once a month, mate!" he guffawed heartily, thinking himself hilarious. The smile melted off my face like Stink sap. "Turns even the nicest girl into a rabid bitch," I rolled my eyes and pelted one of my chaser's gloves at him. "See?" he shouted, catching it easily. I was disappointed. I had wanted it to smack him in the head. "That was a deliberate murder attempt!" Rolling his own eyes, Ryan picked my glove up and tossed it back to me. I nodded my thanks, while squelching the temptation to whip something heavier at Dirk's head. He disappeared around the corner, and I lost my opportunity. Peter still stood next to me.
"He's a good seeker, but he's a real prick," Peter said, shaking his head. His close cropped hair had grown out somewhat, and little curls adorned the base of his neck. "You're not…err… right?" he asked cautiously, with a very un-Peter-ish wicked little grin. I jokingly punched his shoulder.
"No," I told him, laughing for the first time that day. "You'd know." He relaxed.
"So what's wrong then?" He fell into step beside me. Obviously he doesn't read Magic Miss. I was relieved.
"Bell! Oi! Katie! KATIE BELL!" Wood was flying down the hill, his legs like a windmill. I stopped to watch his progress; half hoping he'd fall on his face. It's be amusing, at the least.
"Heads up!" Dirk yelled from atop the hill, a smirk in his voice. "She's PMSing! Might kill you, mate!" I glowered at the back of his head and briefly considered hexing him into oblivion. You'd probably get kicked off the team. I settled for flexing my fingers menacingly in my pockets.
"How fast would coach bench me if I hexed Dirk?" I asked Peter in a low voice. He snorted.
"Pretty fast," he replied, smirking. Wood skidded to a halt in front of us, not even breathing hard.
"Hey Wood," I greeted him. "I promise not to PMS on you."
"Oh good," he replied, with a broad grin. He pretended to wipe sweat from his forehead. "I had enough of that in Hogwarts." I scowled at him. He noticed Peter. "Hey Pete," he said, shorting the chaser's name. "What's up?"
"Not much," Peter replied, smiling politely. His voice was slightly quieter than seconds before when he'd been talking to me. I wonder if Oliver had noticed. "You?"
"Just quidditch," Wood replied briefly, before turning to me. He had that look on his face. The look that meant he knew something I didn't. Uh oh. It was a dangerous look. "Selmanresigned," he said. It hit my ears in a rush. I crinkled my brow as my brain tried to sort out what he'd just said. It couldn't be- he- but that means….
"I'm sorry?" I said my voice higher than usual. He was grinning.
"He announced it today," he said. "Selman's retiring." I couldn't breathe. The world was spinning. My eyes widened as I tried to get a grip on the dancing world. "He said he was too distracted by his family to give the game his all, and he wants to spend more time with his kids." Wood shrugged, as if he couldn't understand how anyone would be crazy enough to give up quidditch. "He's staying on as an assistant coach." I was quiet for a long moment. My heart raced happily in my chest.
"If you're joking Oliver, I swear-"I threatened. Selman was their center. He held us arms up innocently. He looked sincere. Wood never was very good at disguising his feelings. I'm the reserve team's center. I felt a smile spread over my face. "So that means…" I was on the verge of a very girly squeal.
"You're on the team." I am so going to pay for this later. But I didn't care.
The squeal slipped out, and I think I hugged them both.
Oliver stared up at the sky and held very still, before coughing awkwardly; Peter said nothing and gently squeezed me back. He smelled of soap and the slight sting of chlorine from the training pool. When I pulled away, his face was empty, and he threw a smile on too late. Damn it, I realized. I'm going to miss him.
