A/N:

Well, here's the second chapter.

Heaven peeps, this is where you come in! grin Hope you guys won't be displeased or offended by the way I portray you, if it isn't what you pictured.

And Adellys, thankies for betaing!

Sarah, Meg, Jess, Cassy, Starry, you guys are gonna come in next chappie, I promise!

Readers, do review again, please; having reviews make my day!

Well...

Let the madness being, then!

CABOT ACADEMY

Chapter 2

"Well," Paul announced as the two of them landed in a Renaissance-themed hallway with another sprinkle of multicoloured lights, "We're here. Welcome to the Cabot Academy of Prose and Fiction."

But Evanne barely heard him, distracted as she was. Neither did she notice the grandiosity of the seemingly endless passageway she was currently standing in too. No, she was too busy staring at Paul as though he had, to use a clichéd statement, grown another head. On his stomach. That were covered with pus-oozing warts. That were a disgusting shade of purple in colour.

"Did you just Apparate?" Evanne breathed in a mixture of awe, perplexity –because Meg's character was displaying characteristics that Rowling had invented for Pete's sake-, and plain old curiosity. "I mean... We disappeared from my house a second ago, and appeared here a second later, my chest felt as thought it was squeezed by bands of something... All the symptoms are there! Blimey, if that isn't Apparating, what is?"

Paul scowled and shoved his hands into his pockets in exasperation. "No, I didn't Apparate! I dematerialised. There's a difference! Why are you so obsessed with Harry Potter when you're writing Mediator fanfiction, huh? We shifters and ghosts, according to Meg, de-ma-te-ria-lise. It's stated in all the books of the Mediator series."

Evanne waved her hand at him dismissively upon hearing his last sentence and rolled his eyes. "Apparating is the act of disappearing from one location and appearing at another location. Which was basically what you just did. Therefore, you know how to Apparate. Stop denying it." She shoved up her spectacles –which had slipped down again- and peered at him in interest. "Can you teach me?"

Paul lifted his eyes skywards and pulled his hands out of his pockets in a gesture that screamed Why me? Sucking in a deep breath, he said in a resigned voice, "I. Do. Not. Apparate. I. Dematerialise. Can we drop it now?"

Evanne blinked in confusion, and then shrugged. "Well, okay. You should have said that in the first place."

When Paul gaped at her in disbelief and starting making strange noises in his throat, she leaned forward and banged him hard on his back. Too hard, as a matter of fact, because he started choking on his spit. "Hey, are you all right? Did you swallow a fly? Because I could've sworn that I saw one buzzing around a second ago, and now it's gone. What does it taste like, anyway?"

Paul reached behind him and yanked off her hand with a little more force than necessary. He straightened up –well as straight as he could managed at the moment, seeing how he was doubling over in coughing spasms a moment before- and sagged against the wall. Evanne moved closer, her face wrinkled in concern, and made to thump his back again. "Are you okay? Did the fly go down the wrong way?"

Paul cleared his throat and managed a "I'm fine. And no, I didn't swallow a fly. God, I just..." Upon seeing Evanne's hand nearing his back again, his composure broke and he pushed away from the wall, yelping, "No!"

Evanne paused, her hand in mid-air as she considered his strange attitude in puzzlement and a tinge of worry. "What's wrong? Did your swallowing of the fly mess up your constitution?"

Paul resisted the urge to bang his head against the wall, irritated and incredulous as he was, and managed to emit a strangled, "I didn't swallow a fly."

Evanne cocked her head in mystification. "I could have sworn you did. Swallowed a fly, I mean. Which was certainly buzzing around a little while ago. And which is most definitely not around now."

Paul closed his eyes and counted to ten, swallowing his impulse to inform her that the goddamn fly may have flown off to another place in the Academy. "What you saw –and swore to— was wrong. I didn't swallow anything at all; dead or living." On seeing that Evanne was opening her mouth —presumably to argue the fact on whether a fly had entered his digestive system or not; personally, he was betting that she was going to say that he didn't realise that he had swallowed it, but he wasn't really particularly keen to extend the discussion, so he added hastily, "And, c'mon. I gotta bring you to your room."

"Okay?" Evanne said uncertainly. Rolling his eyes, Paul grabbed her arm and moved to pull her alone, only to be stopped by her yelp. Paul sighed in forced patience and muttered, "What is it?"

Evanne was staring in awe at her surroundings; she had registered them at last. The hall was decorated in shades of white, gold, and other colours that she couldn't named. There were paintings and murals and sculptures... By right, the hallway should look overwhelmed by the humungous amount of decorations, but instead, it looked just... right. Wandering along the length of it, she let out an admiring sigh at one particularly beautiful painting of Venus de Milo. "They're just so beautiful..."

Paul heaved yet another long-suffering sigh and resisted the temptation to shift Evanne to the Shadowland and leave her there; an action that earned him the condemnation of many Mediator readers when he had did that to his younger brother as a joke three years ago, in the fifth book of the Mediator series. Although this time, he was tempted to do it for real. Shaking his head, he rolled his eyes and tugged her arm and pulled her along, ignoring her protests that she hadn't finish viewing the whole of the passageway, and just where was he dragging her to?

"I'm taking you to your room," Paul announced as he continued down the hallway, eager to escape from his duty as Student's Escort, and head for the Staff Room... He was suddenly seized by a longing to see Suze; not that he needed any excuse to flee from the company of Evanne Remington; she seemed a little touched in the head, and he was more than a little worried that he would go round the bend himself if he spent more time around her and her convoluted sentences. "Term starts in two hours... I'm sure you need time to freshen up and unpack all your stuff. Your schedule will be handed out to you later at nine in the morning in the cafeteria."

Evanne nodded absently, his words only half-heard as she gaze longingly at a portrait of Byron, the Lord of Poets.

Paul led Evanne to a room with "666" on the brass plaque. Noticing Evanne's alarmed expression upon sighting the number of the room she was assigned to, Paul assured her as he fitted the key into the keyhole of her room and twisted, "Don't worry... You won't be having Satan as a roommate, I promise. We at the Cabot Academy don't believe in superstitions."

He swung open the door to a pleasant room wallpapered in woodland scenery, with two beds –one to the left and the other on the right— with a large window flanked by filmy curtains in the middle, and a spacious desk below it. A huge wardrobe stood to the right side of the door, and another door to the left, which probably led to the bathroom.

Evanne noted that her roomie seemed to have arrived, judging from the turned-down covers of the bed to the right and the posters of... surprise; a broom-wielding Cedric Diggory from Harry Potter plastered over the right wall – the snog marks were evident all over them— and an "I love Paul Slater" banner hung crookedly across the wardrobe and a folded sweatshirt that said "The Holy Infant Girls' Convent" sat on top of a wooden desk in front of the window.

Paul smirked at the sight of the banner proclaiming the affections of Evanne's roommate to him and said, with barely suppressed laughter while passing the key –an antiquely thing, what with it being made out of brass and all, "Well, this is your room. I think you'll be meeting with your roommate soon, I suspect she's out scouring the campus grounds for me," (And with that his smirk widened.) "But anyway, hurry up and unpack, because you'll have to be down at the Entrance Hall sharp on nine. Don't lose your way navigating through the passages, okay? Bye then, I have to get back to the Staff Rooms."

And with that, he strode off. Or started to, because a "Wait!" from Evanne brought him up short again. Sighing impatiently, he arched his eyebrow and leant back in through the doorway. "What is it?"

"Will you be teaching me?" Evanne asked him nervously, fingering the zip on her duffel bag, a first sign of awkwardness from her since Paul arrived in her bedroom via her computer the night before.

Paul twisted a corner of his mouth wryly. "I'll most definitely be teaching, but it depends if you'll be in my class."

And with a wave of his hand, he was gone.

Evanne stared after him, a knot of anxiety starting to build in her stomach. Disbelief over the fact that this... encounter was not something that you'll get into every other day –in fact, a small part of Evanne was still convinced that she was dreaming— aside, she was now at a new school.

Where nobody knew her.

And she knew no one.

Dumping her bag onto the left bed, she slumped in one of the mahogany chairs—there were two— placed in front of the desk. How to start making friends? How to ensure that she would not become a social outcast? How to make sure that she wouldn't become the butt of everyone's jokes? How to—

"I know with just one breath, You created the whole earth, I know if I don't praise You—Oh!"

Evanne turned around in her chair, interrupted from her worried musings, too see an Asian girl with long, wavy brown hair that reached her waist gapping at her, an MP3 held loosely in her fingers. Since she seemed incapable of speech at the moment, Evanne smiled tentatively and stuck her hand out, before withdrawing it because the girl obviously could not shake it from such a great distance, "Hi... You must be my new roommate. I'm Evanne. What's your name?"

The girl emitted another "Oh!" again before walking closer, tucking back a piece of dark brown hair that had fallen across her eyes. She grinned shyly as she neared Evanne and stuck out her own hand, "Hi there... I'm Adel. Short for Adelyna; what's yours short for?"

"Nothing, it's just plain old Evanne." Evanne shook her hand, glad that she had an amiable roommate, at the very least. "Where're you from?"

"Kuala Lumpur," Adel said, retrieving her hand to tuck back another curl behind her ear. Her brown eyes twinkled as she studied Evanne with friendly interest and added, "The capital of the Federation of Malaysia. It's in South East Asia. You're British, right? I can tell from the accent."

"Bingo." Evanne stood up as she started to unzip her duffel bag, dumping her clothes and accessories onto her chosen bed. Sorting her belongings into piles of clothing, cosmetics, books, stationery and others, she spoke over her shoulder, "We learnt a little about Malaysia in fourth form. Mostly it was about your leaders being brave enough to stand up towards the racist prats that had governed us at that time and fight for your independence."

Catching Adel's puzzled look, Evanne added, "That's sophomore year in the American system." Comprehension dawned on Adel's features and she sat crossed-legged on her own bed, staring at Evanne in curiosity. "Racist prats? You don't think that we were stupid in that matter because we rejected the comfort and protection the British hand and would have go on giving us?"

"Hell, no." Evanne blasphemed as she dumped her clothing messily into the wardrobe and hung her sweatshirts and jackets up beside Adel's neat stacks of folded garments and pressed pullovers. "Only the people that are citizens of a particular country would be able to rule it well, because they understand it. If we have continued having Malaysia as our colony, I think it'll be ruined to the extent of being unsalvageable. Why?"

"Oh, it's nothing. Just that... My mother is a diplomat, and well, I hear stuff... Let's just say the British government officials that my mother knows aren't feeling that way about us running our own country." Adel grinned ruefully at Evanne as she tried to smooth out the wrinkles of her T-Shirt.

"Sod them, then. After all, it's none of their business." Evanne rolled her eyes and added forcefully while shoving her now-empty duffel bag under her bed. Adel laughed slightly and continued to gaze at her in interest. "You feel really strongly about this kind of thing, don't you?"

To which Evanne replied, her voice muffled as her head was currently under her bed, "Not really strongly... I'm just speaking the truth, that's all."

Adel's expression grew a touch warmer at Evanne's staunch defence of her country, and tilting her head to one side, she peered under the bed at Evanne as she asked, giggling dreamily, "Say, who was your escort? Mine was Missing's Rob Wlikins. He is so tall... And—and sexy, with his leather jacket, motorcycle and the way he spoke my last name; I almost melted! God, he almost made me forget about my crush on Mediator's Paul."

"Well..." Evanne started, crawling backwards from under the bed and looking up to grin sheepishly at Adel. "I don't know how you'll take it, seeing how you're obviously a Paul fan, but... my escort was Paul."

Adel just gaped at her.

Evanne's sheepish grin widened, and she sat down on her bed to await Adel's reaction. She didn't have to wait too long for it, actually.

"Oh, my... God." Adel breathed, finding her voice at last. She blinked rapidly, as though she could hardly believe, and went in a strangled voice, "You got escorted by Paul? Paul? Paul Slater? Oh... My... God. I can't believe it. What does he... What does he look like?"

Evanne scratched her head. "He looks exactly like how Meg described him in the books; tall, tanned, blue eyes... And he was dressed in khakis and a black polo T-Shirt when he came to get me."

"You are so lucky!" Adel was practically writhing with envy. Grinning, she shot off her bed and grabbed Evanne's arm. "C'mon, I'll introduce you to my friends; they're all in the cafeteria. You're the only one of us that got escorted by a Mediator character! The rest of us had Princess Diaries, Missing and All American Girl ones. No fair!"

A matching grin blossomed on Evanne's face, as she was tugged out of the room that she would be living in for at least a year by her very first friend in the Cabot Academy of Prose and Fiction.

"There they are," Adel said excitedly, pulling Evanne over to a table where two Caucasians girls, a Hispanic girl and a Caucasian guy were sitting. Plopping down beside them, Adel tugged Evanne down onto the empty place next to her and announced to the table in general, "Guys, this is Evanne. She's my roommate. Evanne, these loony androids masquerading as people are Hayley, Lauren, Alex and James."

Evanne smiled nervously at the boisterous lot, who were currently introducing themselves to her very loudly and simultaneously:

"Hey, Evanne! How're ya doin'? (pops bubble gum) I'm Hayley, from Texas, America. (pops gum again) Where're you from?" This was from Hayley, a rather gorgeous blonde –Evanne could see her roots peeking out from under a shade of shoulder-length wavy, red hair that was obviously dyed—with a lovely smile and a Texan drawl. And a piece of gum in her mouth.

"Evanneeeeeeeee! Okay, bugga boo, tell me, is it Jesse or Paul for you? If you say Paul, I'll kill you, understand? Don't worry, I'll make it painless. And can I call you Evie? Huh? Pretty pleaseeee?" Lauren, a sweet-faced girl with her long, light brown hair pulled back messily into a ponytail, shrieked into her ear and squeezed Evanne until she saw black spots dancing in her vision.

"Hello, Evanne! I'm Alejandra... But you can call me Alex, Clavie or Claves, if you want. I'm not really particular with my name," Alex, or rather, Claves(ie) grinned at her, a hint of Spanish accent evident in her voice. She extended her hand to Evanne, but withdrew it again, raising both eyebrows at the interlocked limbs of Lauren and Evanne in amusement.

"Laursie, stop it. You're strangling the poor girl," The only guy sitting at the table laughed, his brown eyes twinkling at the two girls. Catching Evanne's gaze, he waved merrily and smiled, "Hey, I'm James. Ignore them, they're just... a little (and here he twirled his fingers in a circle beside his head) in their heads."

"Um," Evanne croaked when Lauren finally deigned to release her. Straightening, she smoothed her wrinkled black T-shirt and jeans –which she had worn to dinner yesterday, and had forgotten to change out of them in all the excitement, "Hello to you too."

"You're a Brit, right?" Hayley cracked her gum again and grinned genially at Evanne. Turning towards the others, her grin morphed into a smirk and: "Betcha that Eleanor's gonna have a fit. One of her coveted Anglo treasures's now our friend."

Evanne was slightly touched that Hayley referred to her as a friend within five minutes of their meeting, but she was also slightly baffled by Hayley's smirk and her statement, not to mention the others' answering snickers. "Er, if you don't mind my asking, but... Who's Eleanor? And what do you mean by 'coveted Anglo treasure'?"

James took it upon himself to explain. "Y'see, once upon a time, there lived a little girl named Eleanor. Enraged that both her Daddy dearest and ickle Mummy were both American, and not born of a country where princes smoke pot, she grew up in life with only one goal... To surround herself with as much British influence as possible. Once she gets any hint of the fact that you're from the UK, she will go into hunting mode and wear you down until your head is mounted on a plaque in her living room. But unluckily for her, we got to you first."

Evanne blinked. "So... You mean that she's just like bloody Voldermort, then."

Alex beamed at her. "Well, basically, yes, it can be compared to being a half-blood and preferring pure-blooded company while renouncing the rest. Except that Eleanor is a lot bitchier. "

Evanne frowned in puzzlement as another thought occurred to her. "But... this is the first day for everyone, isn't it? So... how would you know so much about this Eleanor then?"

Twirling her hair between fingers, Lauren spoke up in slightly calmer tones compared to what she had used to greet Evanne with. "It's my second year here, actually, but it's the first for the rest of them. The Heads said that I need to cut down on my exclamation marks, but who talks in fullstops all the time in real life, huh? Anyway, we -unfortunately- knew Eleanor through the MCBC and FFN."

"The Meg Cabot Book Club and FanFiction. Net," Adel clarified at Evanne's perplexed expression. "Mainly through MCBC, actually. Eleanor doesn't really agree with our... views."

"That's an understatement, and you know it." Hayley snorted in derision and cracked her gum again. "She hates us because we, according to her, are "sick and perverse" enough to befriend a gay guy, a.k.a. James. If you ask me, she's the sick one, with all her ideas about people being better because of the place they come from. But enough of that. Evanne, just take our word for it when we say that you're way better off without her."

"Um, thanks for the tip." Evanne grinned awkwardly, unsure of just how should she replied to the information that was just told to her in such a matter-of-fact tone. Luckily, she was saved by Adel, who blurted out, unable to keep it to herself any longer, "Did I tell you who Evanne's escort is? It's Paul, of all characters!"

The mood of the group lightened considerably as Hayley and James both assumed Tell-All-Or-ELSE expressions, while Lauren made a gagging sound, and Alex merely sighed and muttered, "Here we go again."

"Well?" James demanded urgently. "What was he like? Is he hot?"

"James! Stop drooling, you'll scare the poor girl," Hayley nudged him and turned to Evanne eagerly. "Ignore him. He's a lust machine. But anyway, what does he look like?"

Grinning, Evanne prolonged their torture by drawling, "We-ell... he's... Hmm, how should I say it? He's... Well, he's..."

"Spit it out, woman!" James groaned, propping his chin up with his hand, and motioned for Evanne to hurry with the other.

"He looked... Exactly like how Meg described him in Darkest Hour and Haunted." Evanne grinned at the wretched looks on their faces.

Hayley collapsed against James as she sighed dramatically. "Omigawd... You're so lucky, Evanne. Gawd, I'd do anything, anything just to see Paul...I'd even gouge out my left eyeball to see him, in a bid that would let me see him with my right. I'd stare into those beautiful, gorgeous, unbelievably blue eyes until I become blind; my poor, poor heart sings a symphony every single time his name is to be mentioned... Its beat quickens at his very presence! Gah. I love him so..."

Lauren wrinkled her nose at Hayley as she mocked light-heartedly, "Hayley, you can't sing a symphony. It's a piece of music, played usually by an orchestra!"

"Whatever," The girl in question waved her hand dismissively, her head against James' shoulder. "A ballad, then. Or a rap. Hymn. Mantra. Whatever. As long as it can be sung, my heart will be happy to sing it. Oh, Paulie, Paulie, wherefore art thou? My life has no meaning without yoooouuu..."

Alex mused to no one in particular, "Can a rap be sung? Or should be considered as 'shouted' or 'chanted'? Ah, semantics. Will unrequited love conquer all? Do tune in to the next episode of "Hayley's Insane Ramblings: Living for Paul Slater."

"Ignore them, Evie –I can call you Evie, right? Anyway, they're always like this when it comes to Paul... Hayley's madly in love with him, James lusts after him, Lauren hates him because she's a Jesse-supporter and Alex's indifferent because she thinks he's selfish." Adel rolled her eyes in laughing exasperation as she explained to Evanne over Hayley's tortured moans, Alex's musings, Lauren's continued gagging and James' resigned sighs. Raising her voice, she asked the others, "Hey, you guys, where did Stella, Cassy and Sarah go off to, anyway?"

Alex broke off her reflections to reply absently, "Meeting their roommates, I think."

"Who are they?" Evanne asked Adel curiously, scanning the cafeteria vaguely. It was eight in the morning, and the cafeteria was filling up rapidly. Students of all nationalities and generally of teenage age were either standing around or sitting in groups at tables, chatting. None of the characters –or teachers; Evanne supposed she should start calling them that— had shown up yet.

Adel brushed back another dark brown curl that had fallen over her eyes again and answered, "Oh, they're the last of our group. I'll introduce you later when they arrive with their roommates. You're gonna love them, they're a few screws short as well."

Evanne grinned back at her. "I'm sure I will."

A/N: We-ell, what are you still doing here? GO REVIEW, FOR PETE'S SAKE! SHOO! Go on, my little wickle ickle precioussssssssssss...