Happier than Most: Yep, the twins know the score, their the ones that can see the emperor has no clothes. Fire and embers and water play a big role in this story, keep an eye on it, and their will be repercussions of Wendy ditching the role of ever watcher.

Guest 1: I'm sorry and very touch to hear about your Dad, and I'm glad you found some advise in this story. Hope it helps. Thank for the great review.

Guest 2: Heck yeah the twins are perceptive, and it won't be the last time either.

Guest 3: Yep, Connie and Wendy's relationship, or lack of one will arched over the whole plot. I'm glad you like the way I write the Curtis' cause they'll be more of them coming up

Chapter VIII

S*S

Wendy found the gaping mouths and bulging gazes of her classmates comically suitable for the weighty reading being passed out among the desks, as if they'd never seen a book before.

"This ain't a book, it's a g-damn brick," Steve Randle had hissed under his breath, fingering his copy like it was his great grandmother's unmentionables. Mr. Dickens, who had so loved exaggeration, irony and all things ridiculous likely would've have been thrilled, if he could see their class from beyond St. Peter's Pearly Gate. He would've been delighted, she was sure.

"Great Expectations," Mr. Syme blithely intoned, his tall tweet-form strolling up the aisles formed by his student's desks with a bounce in his wake, hand's folded like a gentleman's behind his back, and his voice adopting the working class accent of an Englishman. "-is the thirteenth novel by Charles Dickens it is, and his penultimate completed novel-"

"Penulti-what?" Beth Mays huffed angrily, chewing her gum harder in frustration while her pretty face pinched, like it had swallowed a rotten lemon.

"-that depicts the personal growth and personal development of an orphan nicknamed Pip," Mr. Syme finished as he returned to his desk, spinning around with nimbleness more expected of a younger man, eyes bright behind those spectacles. "Widely regarded as one of his best works, it's become timeless for its theme of class, wealth, loyalty, and forgiveness."

"And they couldn't've written it in under a thousand pages?" Johnny Cade muttered softly from his seat, eyes mildly bewildered as his hands and shoulders lifted with an old world gesture of wordless exclamation.

"Now I can understand if you feel a little overwhelmed by the size of novel. Rest assure, I want us to really take our time with this, explore every nook and cranky this jewel box has to offer."

Wendy dropped her mouth to the spine of her beaten copy, trying to dam-up the wealth of giggles determined to run amuck; certain they wouldn't be appreciated now, with the ever dropping mood of the class. It was really quite fortunately that looks alone didn't have the power to kill; otherwise Mr. Syme would be trading in his tweet suit for the famed white robe, and stringing up a harp to sing for the angels. The man had to of know this, but what made it so gosh-darn funny to her was the way it ran off the teacher's back like water on a duck's feathers. She was actually a little jealous really.

Though that mainly changed to a sinking sensation as Mr. Syme fished out a stack of white papers out of a mustard yellow folder.

"Your homework to complete over this weekend is to read the first fifty pages and answer the questions in the work packets I'm passing out now."

Oh dear. The class groaned. Which only got worse when Wendy tentatively raised her hand to mention something she'd noticed, as the packets made their way round the room. Well...most of the room.

"Um...sir?"

"Yes, Miss Allen?" Mr. Syme all but hummed back, his eye gleaming in the friendly trickster light they'd all come to know in these first two weeks of school.

"There's um, not enough for the class, sir," she ventured softly, turning her palm over in a sort of apologetic movement, like a beggar asking alms. Mr. Syme's smile only got wider.

"Course there is Miss Allen, since this will be a combined effort with your partner," lifting his head and his voice now, Mr. Syme spoke to the class like Moses come down from Sinai -Charleston Huston could take notes, since Wendy personally would rather deal with the cow-worshipping mob of stiff-necked Israelites, than a roomful of her peers. "And I want too see twenty-five questions in each partners hand-writing, or no points will be given, so I suggest you make arrangements now."

Oh dear, Wendy thought again, almost distantly as the room rocked with another collective lament against the general tyranny of the school system. But before she had the chance to sort out her thoughts, or anyone had the chance to complain, the bell rang, signaling their liberty. A few kids -Steve Randle and Beth among- just stormed out without a word to their partners, while others departed together, face to face, expressions serious or half-hearted as they started swapping numbers, addresses and meeting places.

A slight shuffle from her right brought Wendy's attention back to her own counterpart, hands shoved awkwardly into his jacket pockets, really meeting his dark gaze for the first time since their introduction. The following two weeks after that had been filled with the information on the course and the expectations for the year, nothing that really required any interaction. So there hadn't been any. And that was when he'd been present at all. Cause for six out of those fourteen days, four in one week...he wasn't; the seat besides Wendy empty and lonely looking, without it's blue jean shadow. And the absences quickly formed a knot in the pit of her stomach. When Johnny had first been missing, she'd worried that he was sick. To the point where she felt she had to ask him if he was feeling better, next time he was in class. 'Cause honestly, he'd looked rather awful. Pale and sore-moving, the little tics in his facial muscles giving away the tell-tell signs of a hurting body. She knew, because they were similar to the ones that Mama had shown before her collapse, signs that Wendy hadn't been able to read at the time...and refused to let herself miss a second time around.

With anyone.

In response -after a startled round of blinking- he'd hedge his answer, in a way most people probably wouldn't have even noticed...but living in her house, Wendy couldn't help but noticed.

Well, at least he hadn't lied to her, was the only positive thing she could take from that...with everything going on with Connie -who was disinclined, at the moment, to exchange even two words with her sister due to her night spent outside- Wendy wasn't sure she'd be able to handle dealing with another liar. And he hadn't lied...he hadn't.

Hedging wasn't the same. People hedged when they weren't comfortable talking about things, so Jesus and Mary knew the majority of her own conversations in the past year alone were ninety-nine percent just that. She could respect hedging, and understood better than she wished she did...and if the subject in question wasn't directly tied with grades, she'd wouldn't have let it trouble her at all.

Wendy winced. But as it were...

S*S

Well, someone had to say something. And it really ought to be her, since the main problem now came from her end. But first things first.

"Hi Johnny," she greeted, unbothered with being one of the last two people in the room. Fiddling with her bookbag, she stood just as he was; half leaning against her desk, and squinting in the sunlight that leaked through the window binds. "How...how've you been?"

She considered it progress that while he still ducked his head slightly, he didn't blink this time like he was surprised she was talking to him. Instead his shoulders lifted in a liquid shrug of anything, that dark coal gaze flickering to meet her own cobalt, before dropping again, apparently finding the checkered tiles beneath their feet oddly fascinating.

"Uh, alright," he drawled in that quiet rasp again, the one that still reminded her of autumn...though her brow furrowed with the realization that something in it sounded more...crunched than it had the other times they'd spoken. Biting her lip, she had the sudden urge to offer him something to perk him up -like the unopened Baby Ruth Peggy had given her today at lunch, sympathetic as to how her stupid schedule ran Wendy ragged. She tapped down on that impulse though, reminding herself that if Johnny wasn't comfortable with barrowing pencils and paper from her (though he gotten his own after the first class), food was likely out of the question.

That didn't stop her hands from fidgeting against her skirt, far to use too reaching, offering, working, soothing, and just plain giving to be comfortable remaining still.

"Feeling better then?" she asked instead.

His head lifted at that, fully this time; and maybe it was just her, but the coals of Johnny's eyes lit into warmer embers for briefest half-second, before his shoulders gave another roll, quicker and with slightly more conviction this time. It gently whistled into his voice, like it was trying to show her that his autumn still had plenty of leaves clinging to his trees.

"Better than I was, yeah," he said, with a small nod that went a ways in making her feel better. She nodded at that, pleased, and smiled to show it.

"Good," she answered. For a second, they both let comfortable feel of their replies flutter between them, before Johnny shuffled again, this time his gaze on the ceiling.

"So, um...'bout the homework..."

Snapping to, Wendy felt her own stare widen as it got back on track. Then she wilted, remembering the problem.

"Yeah, about that," she nearly repeated after him, a hand reaching up to tuck a stray lock of her hair behind her ear, before smoothing it flat against her neck. And cause she had her eyes down, she didn't see how Johnny followed the movement. "I um...do you think we could um...try and get through it now please?"

He blinked, and she really couldn't blame him. "Don't we got all weekend-?"

But Wendy shook her head. "Not really. My family's headed out to Windrixville, we're visiting my Aunt and Uncle so I won't be here...now's really the only time...though if you got somewhere to be, I understand."

"Nah I don't," he said, before using his foot to drag his chair out and sit back down. "Might as well get 'er it done now right?"

Now it was Wendy's turn to blink, slightly discombobulated at the ease in which he agreed with her, leaving her with her mouth slightly open like a goldfish. Things...normally weren't that easy in her world. But good Lord if it wasn't a welcomed change up.

She hurried to join him.

S*S

It was mutually decided that under the circumstances attending them, they wouldn't tried the mad task of actually reading through the first fifty pages. Having read the book before, Wendy knew quite a few answers off the top of her head, and could recited them like the Pledge of Allegiance. Much to Johnny's astonishment that is, and Wendy could admit she took some pride in openness of his mouth and the way his pencil had paused over the paper, midway through answering the twentieth of their separate twenty-five questions.

"Glory hallelujah," he muttered, and Wendy couldn't help but playfully puff up like Prissy, the Looney Toon chicken, had finally laid her egg. "How'd ya do that?"

Giggling, Wendy lifted one shoulder back at him for a change, but didn't decline to answer the boy. "Like I said, I read the whole thing through when I was twelve."

If Johnny was confused before, now he was uncomprehending," Glory twelve?"

"Uh-huh," Wendy nodded. "Start to finish."

It was funny...she'd never really considered that an accomplishment of any kind. She'd read the "brick" of a novel purely for fun back then, quietly falling in love with immature Pip, cold Estella, good Joe Gargery, and Miss Havisham, frozen in time over her heart being broken. In her mind's eye, she could see herself curled up under her covers in a self-made tent, eager to get lost in Charles Dickens' England and the world of gentlemen.

"It's not really that hard you know," she said, twirling her pencil in hand, "I mean...it looks longer than it is, but it's not a boring book. It's...it's like you get to know the characters, like their the people who live down the street that you've know all your life. You want to know and understand what's happening to them. And when they pull through in the end...you feel like you did."

That confusion in Johnny's gaze faded and drew back, replaced with the quiet sharpness as he nodded, a thoughtful expression narrowing his gaze and pursing his lips as he rolled that round his head. Wendy waited patiently at his side, having moved her desk against his own so they could more easily work together. That was preciously how she could see the wealth of answers they had manage to write up in little under half an hour.

What are the names of Pip's parents: Phillip and Georgiana Pirrip.

What are the names of his siblings buried besides them: Alexander, Bartholomew, Abraham, Tobias, and Roger.

Who accosted Pip in the graveyard: A convict.

Who brought Pip up and how: His older sister...by hand.

What way is that really: Rather harsh and unfair, since she is a temperamental woman.

Who is the other sufferer in Pip's family: His brother-in-law Joe.

How is Joe related to Pip: Look at answer above.

How does Joe treat Pip, though he's only related to him by marriage: Real good, like they were brothers. They look out for each other. There all they got.

What is one example of this: When Pip is in trouble with his sister, Joe will try to lessen the blows...figuratively or literally.

What is Joe's response that the convict ate his food: That the man can have it, since he needs it more than they do.

And so on and so forth for another ten rounds, which really wasn't bad for the time they had...or didn't have. Actually...it was kinda fun, searching both her memory and occasionally the pages for answers, partly explaining to Johnny what was what within the novel, and answering his curious question back best she could. All while the warm black of his eye would occasionally catch her own, flickering there a moment before dropping to the paper, and then coming back.

It was rather sweet, and made a small half-smile curl up on her mouth, like a long cooped up cat finally getting too stretch in the sun, purring away.

S*S

Corse, nothing so nice could last forever. Of that, Wendy knew far too well. Her responsibility to the twins had her keeping one eye the clock, and she repressed a sigh when she saw that she had to leave now, in order to be home in time before her brothers. Johnny was disappointed too, though he did his best not to show it when she told him. He bottled it up like an ouster though, and only nodded as Wendy began to pack up her papers into her bag.

She swallowed a sigh, not looking forward to the walk home.

"So, what'll we do with the rest of the questions?" he asked her. Justifiably too.

Wendy bit her lip as she considered.

"Well..." she drew out slowly. "We only got five each right?"

"Right."

"So...how about one of us copies the next set of questions in a notebook, and uses the book to find them, and the other takes the work packet and does the same? Sound good? We can put the other person's answers in before next class if we get here early."

Johnny nodded and flipped open his dog-ear, well used notebook and bent to start scribbling the questions. His handwriting was legible, though slightly crook, and occasionally he'd miss-spell a word like Wendy would (in her mind, she could see and hear Mama throwing her hands up and growling to the saints in heaven that the devil must've invented the English language and all it's contradictions).

"I don't wanta risk losin' the packet, so why don't ya keep hold of it Wendy, alright?" he asked her, and a strange sort of bubble of warmth sprouted in her toes as she realized that right there, was the first time Johnny had ever called her by name.

"That sounds fine by me," she said, hoping her voice hadn't raised itself to an inappropriate level of giddy like she felt. Apparently it didn't, cause he didn't look up as he finished writing and handed the packet back to her.

"I marked the ones I picked, so ya don't end up doin' 'em by mistake."

"Thanks," Wendy said, tucking the work packet away. Pausing, she waited for Johnny to gather up his own stuff before walking out the silent halls at his side.

"And um..." she shuffled a bit, "Thanks for staying after to do that with me Johnny. I know it probably wasn't what you were hoping to do with your Friday afternoon."

The embers in his eyes lit again, and this time spread to his mouth as it gave the faintest of self-pleased twitches.

"Wasn't to bad," he assured her, maybe just a tad bit drily. "So ya welcomed."

He paused a little before adding, "Have fun this weekend, I guess. With your family."

Wendy couldn't help but brighten with the fact that he'd even remembered, and even gave a little skip to her step.

"You too," she beamed at him.

But as soon as she said it, soon as the words flew from her mouth, Wendy knew something her answer was wrong. Very wrong. Cause the reaction she got...was not the pleasure or annoyed joy she was looking for. Instead of either, Johnny blinked; a brief puzzlement traveling across his tan features like a ragged gypsy caravan. Something in the words didn't compute correctly. Then he caught himself and smiled back at her. A tighter, wry smile stretched like a taunt wire, and offered more irony than happiness.

"Thanks," he said finally, and for the first time, the rasp to his tone turned to winter, his branches cold and alone. Without conscious thought, Wendy's hand started to reach up, to the crook of his arm -to do what though, even she couldn't say. She didn't know. But her partner had turned and left before she could take hold of him, walking back to the east side with his head down, but his shoulders back.

Review make me happy so tell me what you thought and I'll update sooner.

Okay, second interaction, and I like to think some good character development is going on here. Hope you enjoyed.