"It's true," Ophelia argued, poking through her pencil case. "Where the
heck is my purple pen?"
Jessica glanced over at her, and raised an eyebrow. "In your pony-tail. And it is not. It's not as if you're biased or anything is it?"
They were all flopped in various sprawling poses around Hannah's room, writing in their journals – the latest brilliant idea of their English teacher, Mrs. Havers. Jessica and Hannah had groaned in simultaneous displeasure at the new assignment.
To Hannah, it was yet another thing to take time away from choir and orchestra practice. She adored everything about music, and Ophelia had always been amused by the fact that her quiet, rather conservative cousin regularly gave an extremely wild electric guitar performance in a rock band.
As far as Jessica was concerned, it was simply further evidence of Mrs. Havers' terminal affliction of nosiness. Having once been forced to call on the teacher in her rooms, she still adamantly maintained that the woman had drilled peep holes into each of her walls. Clearly, she had told her friends with an air of wounded dignity on behalf of this vile spy's closest neighbours, it was to assist her observations of the private movements of poor Miss Beacon and Mr. Llewellyn, the languages tutor and sports coach respectively.
When asked by a skeptical Ophelia as to why on earth anyone would WANT to observe the private movements of said teachers, Jessica had merely replied, in suitably ominous tones, that Mrs. Havers no doubt had her own twisted reasons.
Upon hearing this, Ophelia had inquired, in sweetly dulcet tones, whether Jessica thought that perhaps the twelve detentions handed out to her by The Spy in as many weeks were really a clever ploy to observe her private movements also.
At which point she had found herself hit squarely between the eyes with a flying dictionary.
Reaching up to sheepishly remove the desired pen, Ophelia uncapped it, opened her journal and proceeded to suck thoughtfully on the nib.
"No, really, it's true," she insisted, turning to nod assuredly at her friends. "I'm telling you, if you look really, really closely, turn your head to the right, squint a bit and then shut your left eye, Will Carlyle looks EXACTLY like the hamster in the science laboratory."
Jessica snorted and rolled onto her stomach.
"Last week you said that he looked like the mystery meat they were serving for dinner." "NOTHING looks as bad as the mystery meat, but trust me Will is a close second."
"I don't know," Jessica said in a sing-song voice, looking slyly over at Ophelia, "I think he's actually rather yummy. You have purple ink on your lip, by the way."
Three pairs of eyes followed the progress of the purple pen as it was spat clear across the room.
"Gross," Hannah commented, picking it up gingerly and tossing it back.
"My thoughts exactly!" Ophelia snapped, rubbing viciously at her stained lip. "Jessica! That's disgusting."
Jessica giggled. "No, it's not. Everyone but you thinks that he's good- looking. And he's really pretty funny too."
Ophelia glared at her.
"He may be a joke, but he's not funny! Sarcastic mean comments at other people's expense - "
"Your expense," Hannah broke in softly.
"Yes, my expense!" Ophelia said vigorously, "Cruel little jibes are not clever! They're just Will being his usual arrogant pricky self!"
"Well, you must have thought that he was a bit all right at one time," Jessica pointed out, sailing obliviously into fatal territory, "Or you wouldn't have gone out with him."
There was a heavy silence.
Ophelia slammed her lips together into a thin line, and hunched over her journal. She pointedly turned her back and ignored Jessica, who sighed.
"I'm sorry, Fee," she said sincerely, all teasing tones gone from her voice now, "I am. I know you don't like talking about that."
She peered around, trying to see her friend's face. However amusing or irritating the constant battle of wits between Ophelia and Will could be, there was an undeniable undercurrent of real hurt and anger between the two, and it was that which prevented Jessica from continuing to torment her cross companion.
"I don't think that Will looks like the hamster," Jessica began, her voice both determined and overly cheerful, "But I've gotta say, I've always thought that there was something rather...equine...about his face."
"Oh totally," Hannah piped up, chipping in. "He looks just like a horse. The similarities are astounding. Can't think why I haven't noticed it before."
"The rear end of a horse," Jessica announced.
Ophelia's face was still averted, and she remained silent.
"Or maybe more like a donkey," Hannah suggested.
"A complete ass!" they chorused together, as perfectly as if they'd practiced it.
The silence continued for a brief moment, and then muffled snickers emerged from behind Ophelia's raised arms. She lifted her head, and gave them a watery smile.
"He is an ass," she agreed.
Jessica wrapped her up in a tight hug.
"I really am sorry," she said, biting her lip.
Ophelia shrugged. "It's ok. I shouldn't let him get to me anyway. It was a long time ago."
"What, so are you going to be nice to him now?" Hannah asked in surprise.
"I didn't say that," Ophelia retorted, "I said I shouldn't let him get to me. I have no problem messing with HIM."
Her friends rolled their eyes.
Jessica sighed. "Speaking of guys...and preferably non-pricky ones, the masquerade ball is next week. Dates or just go in a group?"
"Hmm," Ophelia mused, "I don't know. I think most people are just going in groups, so it might be more fun to just do that. Then we could dance with whoever we want, instead of having someone trail around after us all night. And we wouldn't need to pull our date out of the fountain."
"Or have them throw up on our new dress," Hannah sighed.
"Or find them in the coat room, snogging the new Home Ec tutor," Jessica added.
There was a thoughtful pause.
"Wow, last year's dance really sucked, huh?" Ophelia said, glumly reminiscing.
"Yep," agreed her equally dismal companions.
"There's no one that I really want to ask anyway," Jessica said more chirpily, "So going in a group works for me."
"What!" Ophelia gasped, clutching her chest theatrically, "Jessica Montgomery doesn't have a crush on someone? It's like an alternate universe."
Jessica threw a pillow at her.
"Hey!" Hannah said, laughing, "Watch out for my favourite pillow, thank you! That's the only one that's nice and lumpy."
"There's no one that you want to invite, is there Hannah?" Ophelia asked almost carelessly, still laughing herself.
The silence that followed the question was heavy.
Mouths dropping open, Jessica and Ophelia swung around to stare in amazement at a furiously blushing Hannah.
They immediately scooted over to her and shoved their faces in hers.
She rolled her eyes and leaned back to put a few millimeters of breathing space between them.
"Who is he?" Ophelia demanded, delighted.
"Tell!" Jessica exclaimed at the same time.
While Hannah was the object of many a Harrigon boy's unrequited devotion, she herself hadn't, to their knowledge, expressed interest in anyone since her crush on MacGyver at the age of four.
"It's no one!" she said defensively, avoiding their gazes. Hannah didn't need to give twitching alerts to the fact that she was lying. She was terrible at it all on her own.
"Who is it?" Ophelia and Jessica repeated, not giving an inch.
Hannah folded her arms, and stared stubbornly at the floor.
"It's not a teacher is it?" Ophelia suddenly thought to ask.
"No!" Hannah snapped, looking a little disgruntled.
"Oh my God! Is it Will?" Ophelia shrieked, not wanting to question why the thought bothered her so much – other than the fact that the irritating sod wasn't nearly good enough for her cousin, of course.
Hannah's eyes rolled almost to the ceiling.
"No, Ophelia, it's not Will," she retorted, "We don't all have a Will fixation."
Ophelia thought about taking offense and reverting to the sulks, but decided that she was too interested in finding out which manly paragon at Harrigon had managed to catch her cousin's usually averted eye. She settled for poking her tongue out at Hannah instead.
"So it isn't a teacher, it isn't Will," Jessica said thoughtfully, eyeing Ophelia with amused tolerance, "I'm assuming that it is a guy?"
"IF I was interested in someone," Hannah said cagily, "And I'm only speaking hypothetically, of course..."
"Of course," her friends chimed in, grinning.
"Then it is a guy, yes." She gazed fixatedly at her hands.
"Hannah, tell us," pleaded Jessica, "We're your best friends, we won't laugh."
"Actually we can't promise anything," Ophelia said, mentally running through a catalogue of the male specimens that their school had to offer. "But tell us anyway."
"Well," Hannah said reluctantly, "I've liked him for a long time..."
"Really?" Ophelia interrupted, "Why didn't we know that?"
"Shhh!" Jessica snapped, "I want to hear!"
She slapped Ophelia on the arm. Ophelia slapped her back, and a small war commenced.
"Ahem!" Hannah said crossly.
"Sorry."
"Please. Continue."
"I'm sort of...well...in...you know...love with him, I guess," Hannah mumbled, then rushed over her friends' shocked and thrilled exclamations, "But he doesn't like me back. I don't think." "Who is this thick twerp?" Ophelia demanded crossly, still reeling from Hannah's admission.
"It's Rmrbhrlt Bmropt," Hannah finally admitted, looking torn between relief at revealing her feelings at last – at least to her friends – and depression.
Silence.
"Sorry?" Ophelia asked blinking. "It's WHO?"
Hannah took a deep breath and cleared her throat. "It's Robert Brent."
Silence.
"Who?" Jessica asked in shock.
"Rob-!" Hannah was beginning to sound impatient.
"No, we heard you," Ophelia cut in, dazed.
"Robert Brent," Jessica repeated.
"Yes."
"Will's friend?" Ophelia clarified.
Simultaneous eye-rolling.
"YES."
Hannah looked at the floor. Jessica looked at Ophelia. Ophelia looked at Jessica.
"What can we do to help?" they asked in unison.
Jessica glanced over at her, and raised an eyebrow. "In your pony-tail. And it is not. It's not as if you're biased or anything is it?"
They were all flopped in various sprawling poses around Hannah's room, writing in their journals – the latest brilliant idea of their English teacher, Mrs. Havers. Jessica and Hannah had groaned in simultaneous displeasure at the new assignment.
To Hannah, it was yet another thing to take time away from choir and orchestra practice. She adored everything about music, and Ophelia had always been amused by the fact that her quiet, rather conservative cousin regularly gave an extremely wild electric guitar performance in a rock band.
As far as Jessica was concerned, it was simply further evidence of Mrs. Havers' terminal affliction of nosiness. Having once been forced to call on the teacher in her rooms, she still adamantly maintained that the woman had drilled peep holes into each of her walls. Clearly, she had told her friends with an air of wounded dignity on behalf of this vile spy's closest neighbours, it was to assist her observations of the private movements of poor Miss Beacon and Mr. Llewellyn, the languages tutor and sports coach respectively.
When asked by a skeptical Ophelia as to why on earth anyone would WANT to observe the private movements of said teachers, Jessica had merely replied, in suitably ominous tones, that Mrs. Havers no doubt had her own twisted reasons.
Upon hearing this, Ophelia had inquired, in sweetly dulcet tones, whether Jessica thought that perhaps the twelve detentions handed out to her by The Spy in as many weeks were really a clever ploy to observe her private movements also.
At which point she had found herself hit squarely between the eyes with a flying dictionary.
Reaching up to sheepishly remove the desired pen, Ophelia uncapped it, opened her journal and proceeded to suck thoughtfully on the nib.
"No, really, it's true," she insisted, turning to nod assuredly at her friends. "I'm telling you, if you look really, really closely, turn your head to the right, squint a bit and then shut your left eye, Will Carlyle looks EXACTLY like the hamster in the science laboratory."
Jessica snorted and rolled onto her stomach.
"Last week you said that he looked like the mystery meat they were serving for dinner." "NOTHING looks as bad as the mystery meat, but trust me Will is a close second."
"I don't know," Jessica said in a sing-song voice, looking slyly over at Ophelia, "I think he's actually rather yummy. You have purple ink on your lip, by the way."
Three pairs of eyes followed the progress of the purple pen as it was spat clear across the room.
"Gross," Hannah commented, picking it up gingerly and tossing it back.
"My thoughts exactly!" Ophelia snapped, rubbing viciously at her stained lip. "Jessica! That's disgusting."
Jessica giggled. "No, it's not. Everyone but you thinks that he's good- looking. And he's really pretty funny too."
Ophelia glared at her.
"He may be a joke, but he's not funny! Sarcastic mean comments at other people's expense - "
"Your expense," Hannah broke in softly.
"Yes, my expense!" Ophelia said vigorously, "Cruel little jibes are not clever! They're just Will being his usual arrogant pricky self!"
"Well, you must have thought that he was a bit all right at one time," Jessica pointed out, sailing obliviously into fatal territory, "Or you wouldn't have gone out with him."
There was a heavy silence.
Ophelia slammed her lips together into a thin line, and hunched over her journal. She pointedly turned her back and ignored Jessica, who sighed.
"I'm sorry, Fee," she said sincerely, all teasing tones gone from her voice now, "I am. I know you don't like talking about that."
She peered around, trying to see her friend's face. However amusing or irritating the constant battle of wits between Ophelia and Will could be, there was an undeniable undercurrent of real hurt and anger between the two, and it was that which prevented Jessica from continuing to torment her cross companion.
"I don't think that Will looks like the hamster," Jessica began, her voice both determined and overly cheerful, "But I've gotta say, I've always thought that there was something rather...equine...about his face."
"Oh totally," Hannah piped up, chipping in. "He looks just like a horse. The similarities are astounding. Can't think why I haven't noticed it before."
"The rear end of a horse," Jessica announced.
Ophelia's face was still averted, and she remained silent.
"Or maybe more like a donkey," Hannah suggested.
"A complete ass!" they chorused together, as perfectly as if they'd practiced it.
The silence continued for a brief moment, and then muffled snickers emerged from behind Ophelia's raised arms. She lifted her head, and gave them a watery smile.
"He is an ass," she agreed.
Jessica wrapped her up in a tight hug.
"I really am sorry," she said, biting her lip.
Ophelia shrugged. "It's ok. I shouldn't let him get to me anyway. It was a long time ago."
"What, so are you going to be nice to him now?" Hannah asked in surprise.
"I didn't say that," Ophelia retorted, "I said I shouldn't let him get to me. I have no problem messing with HIM."
Her friends rolled their eyes.
Jessica sighed. "Speaking of guys...and preferably non-pricky ones, the masquerade ball is next week. Dates or just go in a group?"
"Hmm," Ophelia mused, "I don't know. I think most people are just going in groups, so it might be more fun to just do that. Then we could dance with whoever we want, instead of having someone trail around after us all night. And we wouldn't need to pull our date out of the fountain."
"Or have them throw up on our new dress," Hannah sighed.
"Or find them in the coat room, snogging the new Home Ec tutor," Jessica added.
There was a thoughtful pause.
"Wow, last year's dance really sucked, huh?" Ophelia said, glumly reminiscing.
"Yep," agreed her equally dismal companions.
"There's no one that I really want to ask anyway," Jessica said more chirpily, "So going in a group works for me."
"What!" Ophelia gasped, clutching her chest theatrically, "Jessica Montgomery doesn't have a crush on someone? It's like an alternate universe."
Jessica threw a pillow at her.
"Hey!" Hannah said, laughing, "Watch out for my favourite pillow, thank you! That's the only one that's nice and lumpy."
"There's no one that you want to invite, is there Hannah?" Ophelia asked almost carelessly, still laughing herself.
The silence that followed the question was heavy.
Mouths dropping open, Jessica and Ophelia swung around to stare in amazement at a furiously blushing Hannah.
They immediately scooted over to her and shoved their faces in hers.
She rolled her eyes and leaned back to put a few millimeters of breathing space between them.
"Who is he?" Ophelia demanded, delighted.
"Tell!" Jessica exclaimed at the same time.
While Hannah was the object of many a Harrigon boy's unrequited devotion, she herself hadn't, to their knowledge, expressed interest in anyone since her crush on MacGyver at the age of four.
"It's no one!" she said defensively, avoiding their gazes. Hannah didn't need to give twitching alerts to the fact that she was lying. She was terrible at it all on her own.
"Who is it?" Ophelia and Jessica repeated, not giving an inch.
Hannah folded her arms, and stared stubbornly at the floor.
"It's not a teacher is it?" Ophelia suddenly thought to ask.
"No!" Hannah snapped, looking a little disgruntled.
"Oh my God! Is it Will?" Ophelia shrieked, not wanting to question why the thought bothered her so much – other than the fact that the irritating sod wasn't nearly good enough for her cousin, of course.
Hannah's eyes rolled almost to the ceiling.
"No, Ophelia, it's not Will," she retorted, "We don't all have a Will fixation."
Ophelia thought about taking offense and reverting to the sulks, but decided that she was too interested in finding out which manly paragon at Harrigon had managed to catch her cousin's usually averted eye. She settled for poking her tongue out at Hannah instead.
"So it isn't a teacher, it isn't Will," Jessica said thoughtfully, eyeing Ophelia with amused tolerance, "I'm assuming that it is a guy?"
"IF I was interested in someone," Hannah said cagily, "And I'm only speaking hypothetically, of course..."
"Of course," her friends chimed in, grinning.
"Then it is a guy, yes." She gazed fixatedly at her hands.
"Hannah, tell us," pleaded Jessica, "We're your best friends, we won't laugh."
"Actually we can't promise anything," Ophelia said, mentally running through a catalogue of the male specimens that their school had to offer. "But tell us anyway."
"Well," Hannah said reluctantly, "I've liked him for a long time..."
"Really?" Ophelia interrupted, "Why didn't we know that?"
"Shhh!" Jessica snapped, "I want to hear!"
She slapped Ophelia on the arm. Ophelia slapped her back, and a small war commenced.
"Ahem!" Hannah said crossly.
"Sorry."
"Please. Continue."
"I'm sort of...well...in...you know...love with him, I guess," Hannah mumbled, then rushed over her friends' shocked and thrilled exclamations, "But he doesn't like me back. I don't think." "Who is this thick twerp?" Ophelia demanded crossly, still reeling from Hannah's admission.
"It's Rmrbhrlt Bmropt," Hannah finally admitted, looking torn between relief at revealing her feelings at last – at least to her friends – and depression.
Silence.
"Sorry?" Ophelia asked blinking. "It's WHO?"
Hannah took a deep breath and cleared her throat. "It's Robert Brent."
Silence.
"Who?" Jessica asked in shock.
"Rob-!" Hannah was beginning to sound impatient.
"No, we heard you," Ophelia cut in, dazed.
"Robert Brent," Jessica repeated.
"Yes."
"Will's friend?" Ophelia clarified.
Simultaneous eye-rolling.
"YES."
Hannah looked at the floor. Jessica looked at Ophelia. Ophelia looked at Jessica.
"What can we do to help?" they asked in unison.