Chapter 9

"So what have you girls been up to?"

"Not too much," Amy reported as she sat down next to Michael, "just trying to keep Tara here in line."

Tara sent a lopsided grin Michael's way, pulling up a rolling desk chair. "It's a lot of work. I'm rotten to the core."

This brought a chuckle to the young man, who was propped up in his bed facing a big-screen tv. He held his ribs gingerly, but with good humor. "Hey, quit that, I'm injured here," he said with a grin, exposing the space where his incisor used to be. This brought an uncomfortable silence, reminding them that things were not all well. She hated to admit it, but he looked pretty bad. Kind of like she used to every so often, Tara imagined. The bruises on his face and around his eye were a reddish purple; the ones on his arm the same, though some were fading out to a yellowed hue. The cuts were not as visible, straight red-brown lines here and there.

"It, it looks like they're taking pretty good care of you," Tara said delicately, breaking the stillness.

Michael nodded. "Yeah, they patched me up good. I have to go get a new tooth in a couple days, that should be a lot of fun. But once that's done, it's mostly just stuff that'll heal on it's own. They said I was pretty lucky."

"You were! And don't you ever go out alone again, you hear me?" Amy demanded. "If anything happened to you, I'd be like … I dunno, a, a mouse without cheese!"

"Actually, isn't cheese bad for mice?" Michael winked. "Nice analogy."

She gave him a withering look. "You know what I mean! You're my best friend. And I'd hug you right now if it wouldn't hurt you."

"Go on, hug me anyway. You know you want to." He opened his arms and Amy carefully leaned in, enfolding the spikey haired young man in a warm hug. Tara wasn't sure what to do, so she sat in her chair, feeling like she was intruding on their moment. "Tara, get over here, would ya? You're missing out on the love of a straight woman," he piped up. She grinned and knelt on the edge of the bed, adding her arms around both Michael and Amy. After a moment, the three friends separated. "Okay, now that we've got the group hug out of the way, we've arrived at the part where you regale me with tales of your misadventures."

Amy gently swatted his arm. "Who says 'regale' anyway!"

"Well, um, I fell out of my chair at lunch two days ago." Tara had returned to her chair, and held the armrests securely. "I figured you were probably one of the only people in the world who missed it, so I might as well get it out of the way before you hear about it from other sources."

Amy giggled. "Right in front of Mary and everything! I mean, she was okay, and poor Mary was all worried it was her fault. It was so cute, she just totally fussed over her."

The light-haired witch leveled her blue gaze at Amy. "I hope you realize I was trying to kick you. You know I don't like Mary that way, and I don't want her to get the wrong idea!" She crossed her arms. "And I still can't believe you didn't tell me sooner!"

Michael looked from one girl to the other during their exchange. "You mean you didn't know?" he said with disbelief. "That poor girl practically spelled it out for you! And don't make me laugh, I told you!" He shook his dark head in amusement. "So if I could ask, Ms. Maclay, exactly who would happen to be the object of your affection? You must have someone in mind to reject Mary, who is, I may add, perfectly sweet."

Tara looked down and swiveled back and forth in the chair. "I know Mary's nice, and she is kind of cute, but she's not…"

"Ooh, not who? You were right, Michael!" Amy squeaked excitedly. "Tara's got a cru-ush," she added in a singsong voice.

"Hey, that was unnecessary! And if you're so smart, then you figure it out," the blonde challenged her friends.

Michael smiled. "All right, we can figure this out easy! What's the word, Amy? I've missed out on three days of school here. Fill me in."

Amy adopted a thoughtful expression. "Well, oh, there was one a few weeks back, but I'm sure you already heard it."

"Wait, one what?" Tara says anxiously.

"Oh, just what people say," the Goth explained. "Lots of times it's obviously nothing, but sometimes there's a little bit of truth behind it. I think she means the one about you and Willow Rosenberg in the girl's room."

Tara's face immediately went fire engine red. "People were saying stuff about me and Willow? What, when?"

"Aww, Tara! You know people talk … they want to read things into stuff," Amy said gently. "It was Harmony Kendall, I think, she says she walked in on you and Willow making out in the first floor girl's room by the library, the day after Oz broke up with her."

"We were not!" Tara insisted, her face still red. "She was upset, about Oz, and I was, I was taking over as Kleenex-box holder 'cause Buffy had to go! We weren't kissing!"

A grin split Michael's face, again displaying the missing tooth. "But that doesn't mean you didn't want to be, right? Yeah, you know, it's all coming together now. Those times I caught you looking out the window at her in lunch, and how you sometimes do this little sigh when her name is mentioned."

"You like Willow Rosenberg!" Amy exclaimed. "Oh my gosh, weren't you at her house last night? Woo hoo! Go Tara! Did you two, you know, make any magic?" she asked suggestively, wiggling her eyebrows.

"No!" Tara squeaked, hiding her head in her hands.

Michael put a hand on Tara's shoulder. "That's right Amy, 'cause our Tara's a perfect gentleman. She probably slept in the bathtub or something." Looking over to see blush crawling up towards the blonde's hairline, his eyebrows jumped up. "Oh, oops, she only does that when I either hit the nail on the head or am so totally off it's not even funny. Well, which is it? Tell me you didn't sleep in the bathtub."

"I didn't sleep in the bathtub," Tara muttered, looking down, a golden curtain between her and her friends.

Amy beamed. "Where'd you sleep, Tara? You know we won't tell anyone – hell, we don't have anyone to tell besides each other!"

"Innerbed," came the muffled reply.