When Charlie shook me awake, I sat up in bed hurriedly, my heart pounding. She leaned over me, that hair of hers falling across my shoulder. "What's wrong?" she said gently, and I could read sincere concern in the furrowed eyebrows and creased forehead.
"Nothing," I mumbled sleepily, rolling over. "Why'dja wake me up?"
She laughed. "Harry Potter! You told me to wake you up for lunch. Now let's go."
"No, no, lemme sleep for a couple more minutes," I mumbled into the pile of pillows beneath my head.
She gave a harrassed sigh. "C'mon, up and at 'em." And with that, she climbed onto the bed and stood above me.
I stared up at her incredulously. "What are you doing?" I yelped as she started to jump. Soon the bed was screeching and rolling, and the mattress was bouncing high on its box springs. I couldn't help it. I started to chuckle.
Soon we were both laughing until we had to clutch our sides. But yet she didn't stop bouncing; the bed was still bucking and shaking. "Okay, I'm awake now," I gasped, holding tightly to the sides.
She jumped lightly to the floor. "Then let's go. You can help me with lunch."
I shook my head in amazement. Charlie was one unique girl. Her methods were orthodox, but yet… they worked. I followed her again from the room, tagging along behind her as we walked down the hallway and the stairs, through the dining room to the warm, homely kitchen.
I don't know why I'd felt the urge to sleep. I'd just gotten up a few hours earlier. At this moment right now, I would have been on the Hogwarts Express, speeding along the countryside to Hogsmeade, and it wasn't likely that I would have been asleep. I'd probably have been eating Cauldron Cakes and Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Jellybeans and chocolate frogs with Ron and Hermione, trading summer stories. A felt a pang of nostalgia as I remembered my two best friends. I hadn't realized how much I missed them until now.
Why had I slept so much though? Maybe all the pressure and stress had finally caught up with me… but I couldn't be sure. I just didn't know. Just like I didn't yet know what was going on with this Platform Nine and Three Quarters incident.
As we puttered about the kitchen, pulling out white bread, lunch meats, cheese, and other miscellaneous sandwich fixings, I asked timidly, "Charlie, do you mind if I ask you a few questions?" She shook her head as she concentrated on spreading mayonnaise thickly on a slice of bread.
I just needed to find out some more information on the subject. "Have you ever been to England?"
"No," she sighed. "But I wish I could visit there sometime."
"Do you know anyone there?"
"Yes," she shrugged. "A distant cousin. We're pretty good friends through snail mail, though I haven't seen her since I was small. She's pretty young, a couple years older than me."
"Ah," I breathed, going to stand next to her by the counter. I pressed a piece of cheese into the spreading. "Are you a Muggle?"
She gave me a sidelong glance and edged slightly away. "What's that? Some foreign slang term?"
"How did you know I was a foreigner?" I questioned immediately, jumping on her last statement.
She rolled her eyes. "For Pete's sake. I could tell you were from Britain since I first met you. Your accent is so sophisticated; crisp; precise." She gave her legendary shrug. "Besides, you don't have the typical cocky slump of an American boy. You, I don't know, glide. Almost aristocratic."
I glowered at her. "And is that a good thing or a bad thing?"
She stared at me for a long second. Finally, she just shook her head slowly and reached for a cabinet above our heads. As she rooted through it, I again noticed the belly button in her tan stomach. I colored a little bit and busied myself with ripping off some paper towels and taking the sandwiches to the kitchen table. She spoke up as she pulled out two matching light blue plastic plates and tall glasses. "No. It's not a bad thing. I was trying to compliment you. You can get all huffy about it if you wish."
I immediately felt guilty. Charlie Becker had been nothing but nice to me ever since I fell into her bedroom, and she'd even put up with my frustrating confusion. How could I have accused her of insulting me? "I'm sorry. I just run into a lot of Americans that assume that the British are 'bad'. That we're snobby or arrogant. But we're not."
She placed the sandwiches on the plates and dumped some chips next to them. Then she filled up our glasses with lemonade and sat down next to me at the table. Finally, she turned to look at me with a mysterious twinkle in her eyes. "I'm not like most people."
I gave her my trademark smile: a disheveled, crooked grin. "I think I've already figured that out."
"So," she said as she munched on the chips. "Do you have anything planned for your stay in St. Louis?"
I shook my head as I took a gigantic bite out of my sandwich. I hadn't had anything for breakfast this morning, expecting a huge feast of treats on the train. "No," I said through a full mouth. "Do you suggest anything?"
"Heck ya!" she yelped, bouncing in her seat. She gave me a huge, genuine smile. "I know all of the best hot spots downtown, seeing as how I've lived here my entire life. We'll pick a day and I'll show you around all the regular tourist attractions, but then that night we'll go see what the Lou's life is really like."
"The Lou?"
"Forget it."
Excitement began to brew slowly in me. That sounded like a lot of fun. More than a lot: the most I'd had in the longest time. A grin began to grow on my face until I was smiling as large as she was. "That sounds like a really good idea," I choked out through my happiness. It wasn't just the fact that I couldn't wait to have some real fun; it was that I would be with Charlie. She seemed like such a great person: sharp and funny and unique. I was overwhelmed to have her as a new friend.
"So what day should we plan it for?" she asked, finished off her sandwich.
"Doesn't matter to me. Whatever's good for you," I answered.
"Tomorrow okay? My two best friends are on vacation, and my mom's still in Chicago at some sort of bed and breakfast equipment convention. None of them will be back till this weekend. We have three full days all to ourselves here," she explained, picking up our dirty dishes and taking them to the sink. She rinsed them off and set them in the dishwasher. "How bout it?"
Those three words reverberated in my head for a few seconds. Did I want to? Risk letting down my guard for this amazing girl I'd just met? Then suddenly a pang of guilt shot through me. Cho. My Cho. Gone now. How could I go out and have carefree fun when…
And then another thought spun through my head. Tomorrow I had a lot of work to do. I had to not only send an owl to Dumbledore, but I had to do some research and try to get a hold of Ron, Hermione, or Sirius. The next day was shot because of how long even Out of Country Owls took. Disappointment coursed through me as I shook my head reluctantly. "Sorry, Charlie. Can't do it tomorrow. I've got some work I've got to get done."
"That's fine. How about Wednesday, then?" she said, glancing over her shoulder from the sink.
"Sounds good to me," I replied, watching her as she started the dishwasher which was now filled with other dirty odds and ends. She moved so gracefully.
"Until Wednesday, then?"
"Wednesday it is."
"Nothing," I mumbled sleepily, rolling over. "Why'dja wake me up?"
She laughed. "Harry Potter! You told me to wake you up for lunch. Now let's go."
"No, no, lemme sleep for a couple more minutes," I mumbled into the pile of pillows beneath my head.
She gave a harrassed sigh. "C'mon, up and at 'em." And with that, she climbed onto the bed and stood above me.
I stared up at her incredulously. "What are you doing?" I yelped as she started to jump. Soon the bed was screeching and rolling, and the mattress was bouncing high on its box springs. I couldn't help it. I started to chuckle.
Soon we were both laughing until we had to clutch our sides. But yet she didn't stop bouncing; the bed was still bucking and shaking. "Okay, I'm awake now," I gasped, holding tightly to the sides.
She jumped lightly to the floor. "Then let's go. You can help me with lunch."
I shook my head in amazement. Charlie was one unique girl. Her methods were orthodox, but yet… they worked. I followed her again from the room, tagging along behind her as we walked down the hallway and the stairs, through the dining room to the warm, homely kitchen.
I don't know why I'd felt the urge to sleep. I'd just gotten up a few hours earlier. At this moment right now, I would have been on the Hogwarts Express, speeding along the countryside to Hogsmeade, and it wasn't likely that I would have been asleep. I'd probably have been eating Cauldron Cakes and Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Jellybeans and chocolate frogs with Ron and Hermione, trading summer stories. A felt a pang of nostalgia as I remembered my two best friends. I hadn't realized how much I missed them until now.
Why had I slept so much though? Maybe all the pressure and stress had finally caught up with me… but I couldn't be sure. I just didn't know. Just like I didn't yet know what was going on with this Platform Nine and Three Quarters incident.
As we puttered about the kitchen, pulling out white bread, lunch meats, cheese, and other miscellaneous sandwich fixings, I asked timidly, "Charlie, do you mind if I ask you a few questions?" She shook her head as she concentrated on spreading mayonnaise thickly on a slice of bread.
I just needed to find out some more information on the subject. "Have you ever been to England?"
"No," she sighed. "But I wish I could visit there sometime."
"Do you know anyone there?"
"Yes," she shrugged. "A distant cousin. We're pretty good friends through snail mail, though I haven't seen her since I was small. She's pretty young, a couple years older than me."
"Ah," I breathed, going to stand next to her by the counter. I pressed a piece of cheese into the spreading. "Are you a Muggle?"
She gave me a sidelong glance and edged slightly away. "What's that? Some foreign slang term?"
"How did you know I was a foreigner?" I questioned immediately, jumping on her last statement.
She rolled her eyes. "For Pete's sake. I could tell you were from Britain since I first met you. Your accent is so sophisticated; crisp; precise." She gave her legendary shrug. "Besides, you don't have the typical cocky slump of an American boy. You, I don't know, glide. Almost aristocratic."
I glowered at her. "And is that a good thing or a bad thing?"
She stared at me for a long second. Finally, she just shook her head slowly and reached for a cabinet above our heads. As she rooted through it, I again noticed the belly button in her tan stomach. I colored a little bit and busied myself with ripping off some paper towels and taking the sandwiches to the kitchen table. She spoke up as she pulled out two matching light blue plastic plates and tall glasses. "No. It's not a bad thing. I was trying to compliment you. You can get all huffy about it if you wish."
I immediately felt guilty. Charlie Becker had been nothing but nice to me ever since I fell into her bedroom, and she'd even put up with my frustrating confusion. How could I have accused her of insulting me? "I'm sorry. I just run into a lot of Americans that assume that the British are 'bad'. That we're snobby or arrogant. But we're not."
She placed the sandwiches on the plates and dumped some chips next to them. Then she filled up our glasses with lemonade and sat down next to me at the table. Finally, she turned to look at me with a mysterious twinkle in her eyes. "I'm not like most people."
I gave her my trademark smile: a disheveled, crooked grin. "I think I've already figured that out."
"So," she said as she munched on the chips. "Do you have anything planned for your stay in St. Louis?"
I shook my head as I took a gigantic bite out of my sandwich. I hadn't had anything for breakfast this morning, expecting a huge feast of treats on the train. "No," I said through a full mouth. "Do you suggest anything?"
"Heck ya!" she yelped, bouncing in her seat. She gave me a huge, genuine smile. "I know all of the best hot spots downtown, seeing as how I've lived here my entire life. We'll pick a day and I'll show you around all the regular tourist attractions, but then that night we'll go see what the Lou's life is really like."
"The Lou?"
"Forget it."
Excitement began to brew slowly in me. That sounded like a lot of fun. More than a lot: the most I'd had in the longest time. A grin began to grow on my face until I was smiling as large as she was. "That sounds like a really good idea," I choked out through my happiness. It wasn't just the fact that I couldn't wait to have some real fun; it was that I would be with Charlie. She seemed like such a great person: sharp and funny and unique. I was overwhelmed to have her as a new friend.
"So what day should we plan it for?" she asked, finished off her sandwich.
"Doesn't matter to me. Whatever's good for you," I answered.
"Tomorrow okay? My two best friends are on vacation, and my mom's still in Chicago at some sort of bed and breakfast equipment convention. None of them will be back till this weekend. We have three full days all to ourselves here," she explained, picking up our dirty dishes and taking them to the sink. She rinsed them off and set them in the dishwasher. "How bout it?"
Those three words reverberated in my head for a few seconds. Did I want to? Risk letting down my guard for this amazing girl I'd just met? Then suddenly a pang of guilt shot through me. Cho. My Cho. Gone now. How could I go out and have carefree fun when…
And then another thought spun through my head. Tomorrow I had a lot of work to do. I had to not only send an owl to Dumbledore, but I had to do some research and try to get a hold of Ron, Hermione, or Sirius. The next day was shot because of how long even Out of Country Owls took. Disappointment coursed through me as I shook my head reluctantly. "Sorry, Charlie. Can't do it tomorrow. I've got some work I've got to get done."
"That's fine. How about Wednesday, then?" she said, glancing over her shoulder from the sink.
"Sounds good to me," I replied, watching her as she started the dishwasher which was now filled with other dirty odds and ends. She moved so gracefully.
"Until Wednesday, then?"
"Wednesday it is."
