YUNA
Auron is silent as he steers the limousine through the heavy traffic of rush hour. He does not even look at me in the rear view mirror, as if he is purposefully trying to make me feel guilty for my 'irresponsibility'.
"I said I'm sorry," I say quietly from the back. "I didn't mean to upset you or Father. Please talk to me, Auron."
Still no response. I sigh and lean my head against the window, grateful for the coolness of the glass.
I can handle many things in life. I can handle my father's neglect, my lack of friends, my isolation from normalcy, the absence of my mother . . . but Auron's hard silence is one of the few things that can break my heart. I've known him my whole life, and he feels more like a real father to me than Lord Braska. Since my birth he has been my guardian, my godfather, and my closest friend. I miss him terribly whenever he leaves the city for any of the tasks he feels he must take care of, for he's the only person in my life who listens to me when I need to be heard. He was my father's guardian when they defeated Sin.
"Where is my father, anyway?" I ask finally, after a few uncomfortable minutes pass.
"He went to Zanarkand to give a speech about Sin this morning," Auron replies gruffly. "He came home a few hours ago."
I nod once and go back to staring out the window.
"They aren't bad people, Auron," I tell him quietly from the back. I see his good unscarred eye glance briefly up at me in the rear view mirror. "The people I was with at the bar. I mean . . . I'm sure they do bad things sometimes, but they're good at heart. You needn't worry about me being around them."
"That's not why I was worried, Yuna," Auron says to me softly. "I don't care who you make friends with as long as you know that they are decent. I was worried because I know that area of the city very well, and what goes on there. 8-Ball's is no safe place, especially for someone like you. Anything could have happened to you, whether or not you were with that gang. You need to be more aware of just how famous you are, and how anyone would want to take advantage of your father's money."
His words silence me, and I feel my spirit cringe with guilt. He's right. It was irresponsible of me to go to such a place . . . but Tidus' eyes and smile drove away all my reservations to be careful and dutiful to my father's name. How could I refuse such beauty? How could I turn away from the first person in so long to reach out to me as a friend?
We pull up to the gates of my house and Auron presses a button on the roof of the car. The black iron bars pull back and allow us up the long winding driveway to the mansion.
By now I am accustomed to my home's size, but everyone else always finds it remarkable. It is a huge five-story high white structure, with tall pillars and a sweeping terrace reaching all the way around the perimeter. There is an enormous pool that surrounds the building like a moat, with a narrow bridge for driving over. The green lawns expanding all around are perfectly trimmed and kept neat, with designated gardens here and there, even a hedge maze in the back. there are a few peacocks strutting around, and the edge of our property is sealed in by tall thick stone walls. I swallow nervously when I see that the light is on in my father's library, where he is no doubt waiting for me.
Auron drives over the bridge and parks the limousine in front of the house. I see that he has taken the liberty of towing my Porsche home for me from the school parking lot. I sit still as he steps out and walks around to open my door, as is a custom in my house that I rarely pay attention to. Before I can walk past him he puts his large hand on my shoulder.
"I know you're lonely," he says gently, turning me around to face him. Unlike most people his looks do not frighten me, in spite of the scar through his right eye and typical unshaven appearance. "I know you want normal teenaged friends like everyone else. But don't let Tidus' charms get the better of your judgement, Yuna. If he's anything like his father, you will have to fight him with all your strength."
I look at him sharply. "How do you know his name? Who is his father?" I ask, surprised. He smirks slightly.
"His father Jecht was Braska's other guardian on the pilgrimage we took to defeat Sin. I met the boy when he was little. Looks exactly like his mother, but he takes after Jecht in attitude. Jecht was a real ladies' man, and I doubt Tidus is any different," he says with some hint of grim fondness. I am astonished. I had no idea Tidus could be linked to Auron and my father. In fact, I didn't even know that my father had another guardian besides Auron.
"And where is Jecht now?" I ask eagerly. Auron's smile fades slowly.
"Most likely drowning in liquor ," he says darkly, looking away from me towards the city, as if he can see Jecht right there.
"Yuna, there you are!" a relieved voice says behind me. I turn around to see the maid Belgemine running towards me down the steps of the terrace. She grabs me by the arms and inspects me closely, her brown hair coming out in loose strands from the bun at the back of her head.
"You're not hurt, are you?" she demands, searching me for any signs of supposed injury. I roll my eyes and smile, gently prying her hands off me.
"I'm fine, Bel. I just lost track of the time with some . . . friends," I tell her, patting her shoulder reassuringly.
"Oh, good," she sighs, calming down. Her face becomes serious then. "You're father is waiting for you in his library, dear."
I swallow and nod, feeling my heart begin to pound fearfully. I walk past her with my head held high in false bravery and stride up to the front door, struggling to prepare myself for my father's anger.
"I made some coffee for you, Sir Auron," Belgemine says behind me. I hear Auron sigh gratefully.
"That would be nice. Thank you, Bel," he says tiredly.
Inside, the house is quiet and dimly lit. I make my way out of the wide front hall with white marble walls and shiny wooden floors past the spiral staircase and into a smaller corridor filled with paintings and statues. The statues and paintings stare at me with blank empty eyes, offering no comfort as I slowly head towards the door at the end of the corridor. My father is just beyond that door, waiting for me to drop some imminent punishment on my shoulders.
I push the door open as quietly as I can, but it creaks anyway.
"Come in," a deep voice says inside. I bite my lip and do as it commands, inching my way across the richly designed carpet. The tall walls are completely covered by ceiling-high bookshelves, each crammed with volumes and scrolls of history and literature. The fireplace is crackling contentedly, oblivious to the graveness of the atmosphere around it. I see my father standing by the window dressed in his dark green robe, back turned to me. The table next to the window sill has a brandy bottle and a half-empty crystal glass next to it. For a man in his late forties, my father looks remarkably well. His brown hair is peppered lightly with grey, and only the skin around his blue eyes holds any sign of wrinkles. He is tall and thin, but strong and broad-shouldered. He is a handsome man, full of pride and authority.
Slowly he turns around, giving me a fleeting glimpse, his tired eyes full of anger. I hesitate.
"Father, I-"
"No," he says, cutting me off and turning to face the window again. "You are not going to say anything just yet. I am going to speak first."
I bite my lip and stare hopelessly at the back of his head, my mind screaming at him to turn around and look me full in the face for once. Why is he always so pained to look me in the eye?
"I worked hard to raise you right, Yuna," he says coldly, beginning to pace around the library. "I put my life on hold all those years ago to destroy Sin so that my future family could always be happy and safe. I taught you everything I could about right and wrong, responsibility and irresponsibility, and so forth. And for what? To come home and find that you, my only child, had run off with a band of hooligans to some seedy bar in the slums of Bevelle! I did not forfeit so much to have you put yourself in danger so foolishly!"
I hear Auron slip in behind me to witness our one-sided argument, as he often does for moral support. My father doesn't even pay him any attention, so preoccupied with his anger.
"But I-"
"Quiet, girl!" he snaps, turning his head to the side giving me a view of his stern profile. I flinch and lower my face again. "Did your mother sacrifice her life giving birth to you only to have you potentially wasted yours? She died so that you could live, Yuna, and this is how you repay her? By shaming the name of your family! What if a reporter had seen you there, and the next thing I know it's all over the news? How could you be so willing to throw away your reputation like that?"
"Why should the public care about where I go and with whom I go with?" I demand suddenly, unable to hold my silence any longer. "And who are you to tell me what to be ashamed of?"
"How dare you think so selfishly!" Father says, outraged. "You think you can throw away all my efforts to raise you properly and run off with those ruffians? Those people are not even comparable to you Yuna, why do you insist on humiliating yourself by associating with them?"
I am shocked, as I always am by his narrow-minded outbursts.
"Father!" I gasp. "How can you say such a thing? They are good people, why does it matter where they come from?"
"They are ghetto filth, and Auron tells me that two of them were Al Bhed! That is the worst part of it, Yuna. I am stunned beyond belief that you would even consider speaking to Al Bhed trash like that in public!"
"For the love of Yevon, Father!" I shout, my temper getting a hold of me. "The times are different now. The Al Bhed are our friends! Why did you work so hard to save Spira if you hate half of its people?"
"I will not have my child trailing around after such people!" he rages, banging his fist on the table. The bottle and glass rattle dangerously.
It is then that Auron glides forward noiselessly to my father's side. I am shaking with fierce anger that I have never felt before. Auron puts his hand on Father's shoulder to calm him and whispers something into his ear. I only hear the name 'Jecht' spoken, but I see that my father's reaction is instant. His expression becomes relaxed and his posture slouches slightly. Auron steps away and turns to face me.
"Perhaps you should go to your room now, Yuna," he says quietly. Father sits down heavily in his chair, facing away from me, and leans his head back with his eyes closed as if in defeat. Again, I silently plead for him to at least look at me before I leave him. But he does nothing. He only sits there, still as a corpse.
Feeling angry and frustrated tears sting my eyes, I wheel around to storm out of the library. I cannot cry in front of Father. I will not. Crying is weak, and I would rather face any torture on Spira than have my father see these tears. Swiftly I leave the room, slamming the door behind me carelessly because I know Father hates noise. I stomp my way up the stairs as hard as I can to my room on the third floor, knowing and not caring that I am acting like a spoiled child.
When I reach my room, I again take care to slam the door loudly and fling myself down on my bed. I bury my face in my arms and cry myself to sleep, wanting desperately to disappear somewhere far away.
I wake up early the next morning, still wearing my clothes from yesterday, my makeup smudged with tears. My back is sore and my stomach muscles are aching from my violent sobbing last night, and not only that, but a fierce headache.
Still, I would rather go to school than spend another minute in this house, so empty of love or laughter. I drag myself from my bed and go to my private bathroom for a shower.
The warm water soothes me somewhat, but I still feel the quiet the deep- rooted anger inside. Somehow I feel dangerous, as if any wrong look or word can set me off into a rampage. Of course I would never indulge the urge. That wouldn't be proper now, would it? The daughter of a High Summoner must always be proper and mild-mannered, obedient and sweet-tempered.
Oh, how I wish I could be like that. Anything to have my father look at me with something in his eyes other than weariness or disapproval. Just once I want to see love inside, or pride. Anything to let me know that deep down inside I am not a failure as a daughter and a disgrace to my family's name.
I trudge downstairs to the kitchen, where Belgemine is busily stirring up some pancake mix. She smiles at me cheerfully as I sit down at the counter, and Auron walks in reading the newspaper. He greets me with by chucking me under the chin, and nods at Belgemine, who is now adding chocolate chips to the mix.
My father does not eat in the kitchen like I do. He prefers to have his meals brought up to his room, where he spends almost every waking hour reading about Spiran history when he's not sleeping.
"Feeling better today, dear?" Belgemine asks me as she hands me a plate of pancakes. I tuck in ravenously, since I did not have dinner last night before the incident with Lord Braska.
"I am, fank oo," I reply, my words muffled by food. She touches my hair affectionately and then moves to pour coffee for Auron, who appears to be transfixed by something about politics in the newspaper.
After brushing my teeth and gathering up my school things, I head back downstairs to where Auron is waiting for me at the front door.
"Don't worry, Auron," I say as I approach him, slinging my back pack over my shoulder. "I'll drive myself again."
"Are you sure?" he asks me, watching closely with his good eye. I smile at him.
"I did it yesterday, didn't I? I know the way perfectly. Take the day off, you work hard enough as it is," I tell him reassuringly. He nods once and tweaks my nose fondly before striding down the hall to help Belgemine clean up the kitchen.
It feels good to be alone in a ridiculously expensive car. I hate to admit it, but I revel in the sweet simple freedom that comes only while I'm in the Porsche with all the windows open and the CD player blasting.
As I drive into the school parking lot, I feel an excited flutter inside. Will I see Tidus and the gang again? Will they invite me into their midst the way they did yesterday? I wonder if I have proven my self to them, or if I even had to in the first place. They do not strike me as a pro- conformity group, but I know well enough that they have their own code of ethics within their closely-knit world. Nearly everything I say or do around them will be somehow turned into a test, whether they do it consciously or not.
The hallways are crowded, but I notice with interest that people move out of my way to clear a path for me. I even hear the occasional, 'Hi, Lady Yuna,' or 'Good morning Miss Ressan. I am not sure whether to be pleased or uncomfortable, for I feel a mixture of both.
Before I can reach my locker, a figure moves in front of me, barring my path. I look up into a pair of cold grey eyes, staring at me from a pale blue-veined face with a sly smirk.
"How are you this morning, Lady Yuna?" Seymour Guado asks in a chillingly pleasant voice. His typical party gathers behind him, watching me.
"Fine, thank you," I reply civilly, trying to step around him. He moves in front of me once more, cutting me off.
"You know, I must admit I was more than a little surprised to see you of all people mingling with that particular group yesterday," he says to me in a condescending tone. "I would have pegged you as more of an elite socialite. Are you that desperate for companionship?"
I feel the stirrings of snobbish pride inside. I have never had such arrogance shown to me by someone who is supposedly my 'inferior', and though I despise flaunting my status in other people's faces, I realize now that sometimes I must do it for the sake of my dignity. My father always taught me to be proud of who I am, and never to let people talk down on me.
"I am neither desperate nor willing to be pegged. I 'mingle' with whomever I want, Seymour, and I will thank you to keep out of my business," I say, mustering as much grace as I can.
"You will always have a place with us, Yuna," Seymour says, ignoring my statement. He gestures to his group behind him. "There's no need to cling to Tidus and his little rat pack."
I stiffen. I do not like the way he chose to make that comment.
"They are not rats, Seymour," I say icily. "It seems to me that the only rat in sight is someone who would talk down on others without the courage to say it to their faces."
Seymour's jaw tightens. I can see the muscle clench as he pierces me with his gaze. His friends glance uncertainly from him back to me. Then, the Guado forces a small smile onto those reptilian lips and backs away.
"Have a nice day, my lady," he says in a disturbingly polite tone. I watch as the clique fades away into the crowd of students, leaving me to stand alone with a pounding heart.
It is only then that I feel something tap my shoulder. I turn around, startled to see another face so very close to mine, and find myself lost in the depths of those crystalline azure eyes, swimming in a golden voice that says to me,
"G'morning, Yuna."
Auron is silent as he steers the limousine through the heavy traffic of rush hour. He does not even look at me in the rear view mirror, as if he is purposefully trying to make me feel guilty for my 'irresponsibility'.
"I said I'm sorry," I say quietly from the back. "I didn't mean to upset you or Father. Please talk to me, Auron."
Still no response. I sigh and lean my head against the window, grateful for the coolness of the glass.
I can handle many things in life. I can handle my father's neglect, my lack of friends, my isolation from normalcy, the absence of my mother . . . but Auron's hard silence is one of the few things that can break my heart. I've known him my whole life, and he feels more like a real father to me than Lord Braska. Since my birth he has been my guardian, my godfather, and my closest friend. I miss him terribly whenever he leaves the city for any of the tasks he feels he must take care of, for he's the only person in my life who listens to me when I need to be heard. He was my father's guardian when they defeated Sin.
"Where is my father, anyway?" I ask finally, after a few uncomfortable minutes pass.
"He went to Zanarkand to give a speech about Sin this morning," Auron replies gruffly. "He came home a few hours ago."
I nod once and go back to staring out the window.
"They aren't bad people, Auron," I tell him quietly from the back. I see his good unscarred eye glance briefly up at me in the rear view mirror. "The people I was with at the bar. I mean . . . I'm sure they do bad things sometimes, but they're good at heart. You needn't worry about me being around them."
"That's not why I was worried, Yuna," Auron says to me softly. "I don't care who you make friends with as long as you know that they are decent. I was worried because I know that area of the city very well, and what goes on there. 8-Ball's is no safe place, especially for someone like you. Anything could have happened to you, whether or not you were with that gang. You need to be more aware of just how famous you are, and how anyone would want to take advantage of your father's money."
His words silence me, and I feel my spirit cringe with guilt. He's right. It was irresponsible of me to go to such a place . . . but Tidus' eyes and smile drove away all my reservations to be careful and dutiful to my father's name. How could I refuse such beauty? How could I turn away from the first person in so long to reach out to me as a friend?
We pull up to the gates of my house and Auron presses a button on the roof of the car. The black iron bars pull back and allow us up the long winding driveway to the mansion.
By now I am accustomed to my home's size, but everyone else always finds it remarkable. It is a huge five-story high white structure, with tall pillars and a sweeping terrace reaching all the way around the perimeter. There is an enormous pool that surrounds the building like a moat, with a narrow bridge for driving over. The green lawns expanding all around are perfectly trimmed and kept neat, with designated gardens here and there, even a hedge maze in the back. there are a few peacocks strutting around, and the edge of our property is sealed in by tall thick stone walls. I swallow nervously when I see that the light is on in my father's library, where he is no doubt waiting for me.
Auron drives over the bridge and parks the limousine in front of the house. I see that he has taken the liberty of towing my Porsche home for me from the school parking lot. I sit still as he steps out and walks around to open my door, as is a custom in my house that I rarely pay attention to. Before I can walk past him he puts his large hand on my shoulder.
"I know you're lonely," he says gently, turning me around to face him. Unlike most people his looks do not frighten me, in spite of the scar through his right eye and typical unshaven appearance. "I know you want normal teenaged friends like everyone else. But don't let Tidus' charms get the better of your judgement, Yuna. If he's anything like his father, you will have to fight him with all your strength."
I look at him sharply. "How do you know his name? Who is his father?" I ask, surprised. He smirks slightly.
"His father Jecht was Braska's other guardian on the pilgrimage we took to defeat Sin. I met the boy when he was little. Looks exactly like his mother, but he takes after Jecht in attitude. Jecht was a real ladies' man, and I doubt Tidus is any different," he says with some hint of grim fondness. I am astonished. I had no idea Tidus could be linked to Auron and my father. In fact, I didn't even know that my father had another guardian besides Auron.
"And where is Jecht now?" I ask eagerly. Auron's smile fades slowly.
"Most likely drowning in liquor ," he says darkly, looking away from me towards the city, as if he can see Jecht right there.
"Yuna, there you are!" a relieved voice says behind me. I turn around to see the maid Belgemine running towards me down the steps of the terrace. She grabs me by the arms and inspects me closely, her brown hair coming out in loose strands from the bun at the back of her head.
"You're not hurt, are you?" she demands, searching me for any signs of supposed injury. I roll my eyes and smile, gently prying her hands off me.
"I'm fine, Bel. I just lost track of the time with some . . . friends," I tell her, patting her shoulder reassuringly.
"Oh, good," she sighs, calming down. Her face becomes serious then. "You're father is waiting for you in his library, dear."
I swallow and nod, feeling my heart begin to pound fearfully. I walk past her with my head held high in false bravery and stride up to the front door, struggling to prepare myself for my father's anger.
"I made some coffee for you, Sir Auron," Belgemine says behind me. I hear Auron sigh gratefully.
"That would be nice. Thank you, Bel," he says tiredly.
Inside, the house is quiet and dimly lit. I make my way out of the wide front hall with white marble walls and shiny wooden floors past the spiral staircase and into a smaller corridor filled with paintings and statues. The statues and paintings stare at me with blank empty eyes, offering no comfort as I slowly head towards the door at the end of the corridor. My father is just beyond that door, waiting for me to drop some imminent punishment on my shoulders.
I push the door open as quietly as I can, but it creaks anyway.
"Come in," a deep voice says inside. I bite my lip and do as it commands, inching my way across the richly designed carpet. The tall walls are completely covered by ceiling-high bookshelves, each crammed with volumes and scrolls of history and literature. The fireplace is crackling contentedly, oblivious to the graveness of the atmosphere around it. I see my father standing by the window dressed in his dark green robe, back turned to me. The table next to the window sill has a brandy bottle and a half-empty crystal glass next to it. For a man in his late forties, my father looks remarkably well. His brown hair is peppered lightly with grey, and only the skin around his blue eyes holds any sign of wrinkles. He is tall and thin, but strong and broad-shouldered. He is a handsome man, full of pride and authority.
Slowly he turns around, giving me a fleeting glimpse, his tired eyes full of anger. I hesitate.
"Father, I-"
"No," he says, cutting me off and turning to face the window again. "You are not going to say anything just yet. I am going to speak first."
I bite my lip and stare hopelessly at the back of his head, my mind screaming at him to turn around and look me full in the face for once. Why is he always so pained to look me in the eye?
"I worked hard to raise you right, Yuna," he says coldly, beginning to pace around the library. "I put my life on hold all those years ago to destroy Sin so that my future family could always be happy and safe. I taught you everything I could about right and wrong, responsibility and irresponsibility, and so forth. And for what? To come home and find that you, my only child, had run off with a band of hooligans to some seedy bar in the slums of Bevelle! I did not forfeit so much to have you put yourself in danger so foolishly!"
I hear Auron slip in behind me to witness our one-sided argument, as he often does for moral support. My father doesn't even pay him any attention, so preoccupied with his anger.
"But I-"
"Quiet, girl!" he snaps, turning his head to the side giving me a view of his stern profile. I flinch and lower my face again. "Did your mother sacrifice her life giving birth to you only to have you potentially wasted yours? She died so that you could live, Yuna, and this is how you repay her? By shaming the name of your family! What if a reporter had seen you there, and the next thing I know it's all over the news? How could you be so willing to throw away your reputation like that?"
"Why should the public care about where I go and with whom I go with?" I demand suddenly, unable to hold my silence any longer. "And who are you to tell me what to be ashamed of?"
"How dare you think so selfishly!" Father says, outraged. "You think you can throw away all my efforts to raise you properly and run off with those ruffians? Those people are not even comparable to you Yuna, why do you insist on humiliating yourself by associating with them?"
I am shocked, as I always am by his narrow-minded outbursts.
"Father!" I gasp. "How can you say such a thing? They are good people, why does it matter where they come from?"
"They are ghetto filth, and Auron tells me that two of them were Al Bhed! That is the worst part of it, Yuna. I am stunned beyond belief that you would even consider speaking to Al Bhed trash like that in public!"
"For the love of Yevon, Father!" I shout, my temper getting a hold of me. "The times are different now. The Al Bhed are our friends! Why did you work so hard to save Spira if you hate half of its people?"
"I will not have my child trailing around after such people!" he rages, banging his fist on the table. The bottle and glass rattle dangerously.
It is then that Auron glides forward noiselessly to my father's side. I am shaking with fierce anger that I have never felt before. Auron puts his hand on Father's shoulder to calm him and whispers something into his ear. I only hear the name 'Jecht' spoken, but I see that my father's reaction is instant. His expression becomes relaxed and his posture slouches slightly. Auron steps away and turns to face me.
"Perhaps you should go to your room now, Yuna," he says quietly. Father sits down heavily in his chair, facing away from me, and leans his head back with his eyes closed as if in defeat. Again, I silently plead for him to at least look at me before I leave him. But he does nothing. He only sits there, still as a corpse.
Feeling angry and frustrated tears sting my eyes, I wheel around to storm out of the library. I cannot cry in front of Father. I will not. Crying is weak, and I would rather face any torture on Spira than have my father see these tears. Swiftly I leave the room, slamming the door behind me carelessly because I know Father hates noise. I stomp my way up the stairs as hard as I can to my room on the third floor, knowing and not caring that I am acting like a spoiled child.
When I reach my room, I again take care to slam the door loudly and fling myself down on my bed. I bury my face in my arms and cry myself to sleep, wanting desperately to disappear somewhere far away.
I wake up early the next morning, still wearing my clothes from yesterday, my makeup smudged with tears. My back is sore and my stomach muscles are aching from my violent sobbing last night, and not only that, but a fierce headache.
Still, I would rather go to school than spend another minute in this house, so empty of love or laughter. I drag myself from my bed and go to my private bathroom for a shower.
The warm water soothes me somewhat, but I still feel the quiet the deep- rooted anger inside. Somehow I feel dangerous, as if any wrong look or word can set me off into a rampage. Of course I would never indulge the urge. That wouldn't be proper now, would it? The daughter of a High Summoner must always be proper and mild-mannered, obedient and sweet-tempered.
Oh, how I wish I could be like that. Anything to have my father look at me with something in his eyes other than weariness or disapproval. Just once I want to see love inside, or pride. Anything to let me know that deep down inside I am not a failure as a daughter and a disgrace to my family's name.
I trudge downstairs to the kitchen, where Belgemine is busily stirring up some pancake mix. She smiles at me cheerfully as I sit down at the counter, and Auron walks in reading the newspaper. He greets me with by chucking me under the chin, and nods at Belgemine, who is now adding chocolate chips to the mix.
My father does not eat in the kitchen like I do. He prefers to have his meals brought up to his room, where he spends almost every waking hour reading about Spiran history when he's not sleeping.
"Feeling better today, dear?" Belgemine asks me as she hands me a plate of pancakes. I tuck in ravenously, since I did not have dinner last night before the incident with Lord Braska.
"I am, fank oo," I reply, my words muffled by food. She touches my hair affectionately and then moves to pour coffee for Auron, who appears to be transfixed by something about politics in the newspaper.
After brushing my teeth and gathering up my school things, I head back downstairs to where Auron is waiting for me at the front door.
"Don't worry, Auron," I say as I approach him, slinging my back pack over my shoulder. "I'll drive myself again."
"Are you sure?" he asks me, watching closely with his good eye. I smile at him.
"I did it yesterday, didn't I? I know the way perfectly. Take the day off, you work hard enough as it is," I tell him reassuringly. He nods once and tweaks my nose fondly before striding down the hall to help Belgemine clean up the kitchen.
It feels good to be alone in a ridiculously expensive car. I hate to admit it, but I revel in the sweet simple freedom that comes only while I'm in the Porsche with all the windows open and the CD player blasting.
As I drive into the school parking lot, I feel an excited flutter inside. Will I see Tidus and the gang again? Will they invite me into their midst the way they did yesterday? I wonder if I have proven my self to them, or if I even had to in the first place. They do not strike me as a pro- conformity group, but I know well enough that they have their own code of ethics within their closely-knit world. Nearly everything I say or do around them will be somehow turned into a test, whether they do it consciously or not.
The hallways are crowded, but I notice with interest that people move out of my way to clear a path for me. I even hear the occasional, 'Hi, Lady Yuna,' or 'Good morning Miss Ressan. I am not sure whether to be pleased or uncomfortable, for I feel a mixture of both.
Before I can reach my locker, a figure moves in front of me, barring my path. I look up into a pair of cold grey eyes, staring at me from a pale blue-veined face with a sly smirk.
"How are you this morning, Lady Yuna?" Seymour Guado asks in a chillingly pleasant voice. His typical party gathers behind him, watching me.
"Fine, thank you," I reply civilly, trying to step around him. He moves in front of me once more, cutting me off.
"You know, I must admit I was more than a little surprised to see you of all people mingling with that particular group yesterday," he says to me in a condescending tone. "I would have pegged you as more of an elite socialite. Are you that desperate for companionship?"
I feel the stirrings of snobbish pride inside. I have never had such arrogance shown to me by someone who is supposedly my 'inferior', and though I despise flaunting my status in other people's faces, I realize now that sometimes I must do it for the sake of my dignity. My father always taught me to be proud of who I am, and never to let people talk down on me.
"I am neither desperate nor willing to be pegged. I 'mingle' with whomever I want, Seymour, and I will thank you to keep out of my business," I say, mustering as much grace as I can.
"You will always have a place with us, Yuna," Seymour says, ignoring my statement. He gestures to his group behind him. "There's no need to cling to Tidus and his little rat pack."
I stiffen. I do not like the way he chose to make that comment.
"They are not rats, Seymour," I say icily. "It seems to me that the only rat in sight is someone who would talk down on others without the courage to say it to their faces."
Seymour's jaw tightens. I can see the muscle clench as he pierces me with his gaze. His friends glance uncertainly from him back to me. Then, the Guado forces a small smile onto those reptilian lips and backs away.
"Have a nice day, my lady," he says in a disturbingly polite tone. I watch as the clique fades away into the crowd of students, leaving me to stand alone with a pounding heart.
It is only then that I feel something tap my shoulder. I turn around, startled to see another face so very close to mine, and find myself lost in the depths of those crystalline azure eyes, swimming in a golden voice that says to me,
"G'morning, Yuna."