Chapter Five: Gift Wrapped Guilt Trap
Don't know if I should lick my wounds or say woe is me instead
And there's an aching inside my head
It's telling me I'm better off alone
They say that girl ya know she acts too tough
They say that girl you know she act so rough
Well who's gunna turn off the light,
And I say follow me down till' you see all my dreams
Not everything in this magical world is quite what it seems
I raised my arm, forcing the bell of my robe sleeve back for the sixth time as I did some left over homework Sunday night. The stupid things were so large they hampered everything and I was constantly having to raise my arm and shake the sleeve down. I'm afraid it made me look terribly odd in class to be sighing and repeatedly struggling with my own robes.
However, humility was becoming something I was learning fast here. I had accidentally called Harry "Daniel" the other night as I asked him to pass the buttered asparagus stalks at dinner. I did hope it wouldn't happen again.
These were the slip ups that made me cringe and those around me stare. Made them whisper. My steady and apt hand had stopped its scribbling and was still now as my thoughts yet again consumed me, blinding me of the work laying just in front of me. These people were wonderful to read about in books…but at the end of the day they simply were not my real friends. Whether they were real now or not.
What were my friends doing right at this very moment?
If the time was the same there as…well, what ever "here" was, then my best friend Mary-Elizabeth would be studying homework before bed with the hope of pulling an 'A' on some quiz she would surely have tomorrow. No doubt that Jessica would be doing something Harry Potter related as she was more obsessed than any one I knew (including myself). And Cassi was probably terrorizing her cat…or visa versa.
And Josh? CJ? Mary? Kevin? Rachel?
I was sick of not seeing them. Running dry on the social attention I was used to being spoon fed. Was I gone from their world? Was their world still spinning? Were they alright? Lament spilled into my heart all at once, at the thought of my family. I hadn't seen my younger brother in days. A pathetic longing to tell him how much I loved him, just as I did when I came home from school everyday, fueled the grief that much more.
What if I never saw them again?
No…I couldn't think like that.
The thoughts were brushed away as I tried to forget them. But what would replace them? More depressing reflection on Oliver? Things were getting worse than when I didn't know him. If I was ever going to get close to him I really had to start acting sane.
Hard to do that however when I couldn't talk things out with him. It seemed Alicia would not besatisfied until she was completely and 100 sure that her boy-toy wasn't tied down and that I was miserable. She hadn't left his side, or shut up for that matter since the meeting on Saturday morning. And it looked as though Jemma and herself were suddenly the best of friends like nothing before. The girl honestly had to get over herself before I got tempted to knock her into Slytherin.
Speaking of which…I'd had an interesting run in with their quidditch team that afternoon.
I had snapped at Marcus in the library for egging Oliver to start a fight neither of them could afford. A suspension from quidditch was the last thing the Gryffindors needed of their team captain this season. The rebuttal hadn't been that big of a deal, I'd thought. But even if Jemma wasn't exactly an ally anymore, she'd been right when she'd warned me that Slytherin liked picking on Gryffindor reserves.
"Isn't that cute, boys? The reserve thinks she knows what she's talking about. What's your name again?" his disregard was obviously for the sake of the team behind him. Monkey see, monkey do. Or in this case, ugly half-wit brutes.
"Chase Trenton. And whether I know what I'm talking about or not, at least I don't need a pack of trolls behind me to say it."
Marcus' smirk didn't fall to the irritation I'd raised in his eyes.
"Looks like we've got a smart-ass on our hands, eh boys?" he took a few steps closer as if to challenge me to keep going and see what would happen or else back down. I didn't bother stepping up and making a dramatic idiot of myself, but instead gathered my things.
"Better a smart-ass than a dumb-ass." my own smirk was ringing as clear as I'd been sure to annunciate my words. I could tell I'd just made some new enemies. Stupid move, seeing as I could hardly afford any. Still, he only chuckled at my reply.
"You're a quick one Trenton. Shame it's only in the mind. Quidditch is a sport, not a name calling contest."
"Then perhaps you'd better be practicing both if you want to start fights with an opposing team?" Aggravated I walked away from him, not wanting to go any further and end up with a suspension of my own. Be sure though, the event wasn't lived down quite so easily. Not only was I getting mocked every time the Slytherin quidditch team saw me, my own team was also upset over my provoking Marcus.
Needless to say I was getting so frustrated I was seriously contemplating taking up Voodoo. Sadly they don't teach hokey things like Voodoo at Hogwarts.
Peals of laughter echoed up the stone staircase from the common room. Shaking back to reality made me suddenly realize it was about 9:15 and still I was the only one in my dorm. What was that all about? A small, nerdy sort of voice told me to stay put. Curfew was soon and with my luck I would most definitely be caught out of bed. But most of all, I didn't want them to think I cared. That I was desperate to be included. That I was scared for being left out. I didn't want to give them the satisfaction. But I certainly had a good excuse to at least pass through the common room and see what was going on. I needed to return some books to the library and I needed even more to try and find a book on…what ever it was that had happened to me. Because even though I didn't want to think about it, I was floundering under the stress of suddenly not knowing what was going on. Not being able to trust anything. Not even the world beneath my feet nor the steady time table I'd never dreamed could be broken.
Grabbing two books off my desk, I stood and jogged down the staircase. I stopped short of turning the corner that would let who ever was in the room sprawling from the staircase know my position. I felt like a spy, or a soldier trying to infiltrate a base.
'Such a drama queen…'
I half expected to hear Katie or Alicia chortling to a group about my antics on a broomstick. How I held on for dear life instead of actually playing quidditch half the time. How I shouldn't be on the team at all. How Oliver only lets me stay because he thinks I'm pretty. That that's all I was now. Just a pretty face that aggravated people and had no real talent.
'Such a paranoid drama queen…'
Of course I heard nothing of the sort. Only the Weasley twins half performing, half telling comical stories and the laughter from their adoring and well deserved audience. I contemplated not even going down to the library. I tried to come up with reasons to make the journey. The books I wanted (but wasn't very hopeful) to find and the fact that my entire dorm had to be missing for a reason came to mind.
Taking a deep breath I walked out into the fire and candle-lit common room.
'Casual…just be casual…you will walk, you will talk, and you will smile like this is the way it's supposed to be. Like you have no worries. Just like every one else in this castle…other than Harry Potter.' He was playing wizard's chess with Ronald Weasley at the moment. Cute to watch actually, little stone pieces smashing each other to bits. Silent, yet brutal warfare on a coffee table. Adorable.
My footsteps led me across the room to the portrait hole. I had surveyed every inch I could see, but not a trace of the team or the occupants of my dorm room. 'Onward.'
Thankfully, upon my irritating conversation with the painting who liked to take walks but not give good directions, I had since found the library on my map and was eager to test the path. Down the staircases, ground floor, turn right, go left at the corner, and there you are. It worked well, excepting the fact that it took me almost fifteen minutes to get to the ground floor because I kept forgetting that the staircases there liked to move. A lot. Mental note: Hitting the banisters and shouting doesn't help your case much.
There weren't many people still about in the library at this hour. But all I had to do was walk in and I'd found not only the residents of my dorm room but the entire quidditch team, minus Harry and possibly a few others. They were assembled rather close together around a single table and seemed to be quite enjoying themselves. Madame Pince was trying very hard to ignore their hushed laughter, but it seemed just the mere presence of a semi-large group in her domain was making her grit her teeth as she looked up every few moments to glare. Walking up to the front desk only distracted her for a few moments as she checked my books back in with the tap of her wand. When I stood my ground she afforded me a stern glance of regard.
"Can I help you?" her gaze didn't seem annoyed, more like deeply afflicted by the presence of more children.
"Erm, yes. I was wondering if there were any books on…uh…alternate universes…maybe?"
At first I got a bit scared she was going to say no, just so I'd leave, such was her look.
"What do you need it for?" the words were slow and highly suspicious. I had to clear my throat to talk. I had never met some one quite as…intimidating.
"Just an extra credit project for Charms class."
It took her a second or two but she gave me a section name and let me go.
'Charms class? What the hell was I thinking?' I mused as I scanned the rows of books. I'd had to pass the table at which my supposed team mates were gathered to reach my destination. They grew hush for a moment as I passed before I heard the girls giggle even harder.
'It's not about you, the whole world doesn't revolve around you, it's not about you…' I was desperate to talk myself down. Although I hadn't seen Oliver and wondered were he was. Was he off somewhere with out Alicia? Was I wasting precious moments of possible communication?
My footsteps continued through the shelves and settled between a line up labeled: Magical Bindings of The Universe. Not much was here really, it was only one isle. Never the less I set to work. Scanning book titles was monotonously boring until I neared the end of the book case and got a bit worried I wasn't going to find anything. I turned to the opposite side of the isle.
Corporeal Coplanar Existences was staring me in the face. A thick book I dare say. Unsteadily I pried it from its tight space compressed between Corner Stone Charms: The Foundations of the Wizarding World and The Cosmic Almanac And Encyclopedia.
Figuring this was enough light reading for the week I got myself in gear to leave. As I walked towards Miss Guardian of the Tomes herself I was stopped by an arm reaching out and grabbing a hold of my wrist. Oliver. He was indeed with the rest of the group but off to the end of the table with two full stacks of parchment that matched each other in height at around half a foot. One pile was blank, the other full of chaotic drawings of what looked like a cross between hockey plays and enchanted stick figures trying to butcher one another. He looked up at me curiously, his brown eyes clad in a pair of reading glasses. His grasp on my wrist freed.
"Hey."
"Hi." I tried to sound perky before leaning over to inspect his latest creation with the same disposition one would hold when examining a bunch of scribbles illustrated by a four year old. You know the ones, the kind with which you always say "Wow,
that's so cool." And follow up with a "So…what is it?"
"What're you workin' on?"
"Quidditch plays."
'Of course.' I thought. "Oh, neat. So, I haven't seen you around much, been busy?" Alicia's stares were ignored with hidden merriment.
"A little, yeah…" he yawned. I'd always been bad about that. The second some one yawns, there I go as well. About three
times over, too.
"Don't do that." I laughed after having my own yawn. "You'll make me go into a fit of them."
"Sorry." His smile was tired. "Yeah, I haven't seen you much either, love."
'Shit…' being a sucker for that endearment meant I was not successful in hiding my smirk.
"Well I was kind of hoping to talk to you…a-about the team you know." His turn…
"Um,…" he shifted through some papers, "Here it is, Angelina and I are almost done with the quidditch schedule. We're pretty sure there will not be practice tomorrow, so I'm free just after supper."
I liked how he said 'supper'…
"Sure thing. I'll eat fast." I smiled.
"So, what do you have there?" he pointed to my book.
"Oh, just some reading." I shrugged.
He wrinkled his nose while I fought the pre-pubescent urge to giggle.
"You fancy reading?"
"What you don't?"
"Hate the stuff. Art, literature, theatre. Nope, it's the quidditch pitch for me thank you."
"Oh, I see." Great, so now, not only do I suck at what he likes, but he thinks what I like sucks. This is turning up roses more and more. Madame Pince glared our way again.
"I'd best get going. You might should do the same, it's almost curfew. See you tomorrow then."
"G'night love."
Dinner was all but swallowed whole the following night. Beef stew wasn't really my thing anyway. And God do I hate rhubarb.
I was hindered from running back to the common room by the fact that Mrs. Norris seemed to be morbidly following me. This practically made me start spasming as I was ready to begin sprinting down the hall towards Gryffindor tower. Needless to say, I was glad to reach the portrait of the Fat Lady. I found Oliver still absorbed in his parchment beside a window. The weather was kicking up a healthy breeze which explained the paper weights now holding down three stacks of paper and another for the one he was working on. I pulled a chair over to sit beside him.
"Hey, did you eat?" I asked, always the concerned type.
"Huh? Oh yah, I got some fruit earlier." He only bothered to put down his quill and look up at me when he'd finished talking and the drawing was to his satisfaction.
"So, what did you want to talk about?"
I cleared my throat. My gaze focused out the window onto the sprawling grounds. Dusk was near, my favorite time of day. So quiet, calm and collected. Did I really want to bring up Alicia again? Perhaps I could sneak into it…sort of beat around the subject a bit before working up to it.
"Oliver…" I frowned first at the window, then at him. "Why did you let me on the reserve team? It was because of talent, yes?"
"…Yes. What other reason could I have?"
"I dunno…the girls, they just…I thought I heard them in class the other day. Everyday." I looked down at my lap. "Oh well," the words were a sigh "I guess I shouldn't worry too much about what they think, eh?" I turned to look at Oliver with a small smile, knowing he'd back me up for being so mature about the situation.
"Erm, no, actually." he seemed apprehensive to say it, but he was certainly serious.
"What? No see, that's not what you're supposed to say. You're supposed to agree with me and be proud of me for being the bigger person." I was convinced he was just mistaken or there was a lack of communication going on. This wasn't how it happened in books and movies.
"Yes, well, I would agree with you if you were right."
"I don't...I don't think I follow you."
"Chase, if you can't learn to get along with your team how are you supposed to work with them to win games?"
"But I get along okay with the rest of the reserve team."
"That's not the point. If you get called in you won't be playing with the rest of the reserve team. I need you to settle your differences with the girls. I need you on good terms with them. We can't afford grudges holding us back from a victory this year."
I stared at him helplessly for a moment.
"That really is all you bloody well think about, isn't it?"
"What, quidditch? Chase I'm the captain, I have a duty and a responsibility to my team! Don't you understand?"
"There is more to life than quidditch! It's just a game!" I pleaded with him to understand.
"Like that, that's what I'm talking about. You have no incentive to do anything for your team! You don't even care about the cup and you know how much this means to me!" he shouted, probably meaning every damn word.
"What the hell! That's not what I said"-
"Well, it certainly is how you act. Your practices have been horrible and what have you done to improve? Nothing! All you can do is pick fights with other teams."
I couldn't even begin to believe after all the hard work I'd put in, the focus, the worry and paranoia, that he still couldn't get it through his thick head-well fine, I could play that game better than anybody else I knew. If he wanted to start directly attacking feelings that was so not a problem.
"You bastard, I can't believe you." he looked at me with an unbelieving frown, trying to get the full meaning of my harsh words. "Yah, that's right, I just called you a bastard. Did that hit a nerve?" I spat through saline tears. I'd learned to ignore tears a long time ago. But somehow I just couldn't learn when to draw the line when it came to fighting fair. He glared as he shook his head in disgust and left.
I was up on a battlement that evening watching the light make some last conversation with the rolling hills before tucking in under the horizon. My abrasive and rash footsteps had subconsciously led me up there. The whole time only brought thoughts of how much I hated myself for saying what I had. For not knowing when to stop, not holding back when I knew I would hurt the feelings of the people I cared about the most. About how fucking ironic it was that Mary-sues where known for being spit-fiery young girls, and how perfect they were. But what no one seemed to understand was that the bursting and persistent ability and will to defend yourself well wasn't usually a good thing. Because that power was hardly ever used for good. Sure I could tell off Marcus Flint. Sure I wasn't that intimidated by authority figures. But I was also good for firing up at my friends and turning my easily offended feelings into fuel for arguments with anyone-be it enemies, friends, family or even love interests. It was reckless and immature and not exactly graceful or attractive.
Who was I supposed to get mad at now? Who was I supposed to get snarky with and tell off when I had no one to blame but myself? How could I have brought something so personal as Oliver's mess of a family situation into any of this?
The sky was growing dimmer and darker by the second. The sun of today was loosing time. She was running out of things to say to the hills. She was growing too tired and weak to carry on. And so there was no one to bail her out now. She was gone and no known force could pull her back. Paying your dues is a bitch.