A/N:

First of all: A big sorry to my readers for having delay updating for so long.

Anyway. Some idiot tattletale caused Heaven to be deleted. But... let's just hope third time's the charm, hmm, Escape peeps?

Whatever.

Note for the special Someone: I hate you. This is the 5th draft of Chapter 3, do you know that? It was because of your antics that made me lose my inspiration, among other things. For that, I hate you. Why are you such a busybody? Mind your own business, really. Or are you so desperate to get into Her Good Books? Pathetic.

Anyway, dear, this is from Ad, Cl, St, Ca, La, Sa, Br, Ja and others. As an early special Yuletide present to you, we've decided... to give Eleanor hell in CA.

This is why I love writing so much. You have absolute power over your characters.

Note to Meg: I need your email for something, dear... Remember to give it ter me when ye review. 

CABOT ACADEMY

Chapter 3

The ice was broken between Evanne and her new friends when Adel revealed the fact that her roommate's escort had been Paul Slater, and pretty soon, all of them were chatting like old friends. At the moment, they were musing over the various modes of transport used by their respective escorts.

"Paul. Dematerialisation," Evanne offered.

Hayley just slumped on Alex instead of James, and sighed despondently, "Stupid David and his stupid limousine and stupid Air Force One. All I want is Paul. Only Paul. Is that too much to ask, hmm? One currently twenty-year-old, previously fictional, male shifter hottie. I ask ya'll, how hard is it to deliver one male shifter? One. Huh?"

Alex patted Hayley's head absently as she examined her nails carelessly, and then pulled a thick-looking romance novel –Evanne could see that it was Historical— seemingly from thin air; flipping to the middle of the book and started reading. "David Ackerman, and some weird-looking spaceship he told me he invented. I always get the little kiddies that I can absolutely not have any future with. Though... I'm pretty sure he'll grow up into a nerdy little hottie. He has nice eyes."

Lauren fidgeted in her chair impatiently as she gazed around the cafeteria, pretending to stick a finger down her throat to mime vomiting. "Brad Ackerman and a car plastered with posters that feminists over the world would considered very offensive. And no comments, please. I'll really like it if y'all allow me to forget the whole thing; it gave me quite a few mental scars, ick. Anyway, where d'you s'ppose Stella and the others are? They've been gone for a really long time."

James drummed his fingers against the hard varnished wood of the table and wrinkled his brows, pointing out, "At least you guys had normal, male characters as escort. I got Lilly Moscovitz, of all people. Can you imagine the torture I went through? She kept muttering about quarks, Contact Processes and God-Knows-What the entire time from my dorms at school all the way to here."

"Poor James. I had Rob from Missing, and he was just so cool. God, the way he pronounced my last name... And that motorcycle of his! It was awesome," Adel giggled dreamily as both Hayley and James threw her sour looks. Lauren merely rolled her eyes and bounced impatiently in her seat, her gaze flicking about the cafeteria. While Alex... well, Alex looked both bored and amused –though Evanne had to wonder if it was even possible— at the same time.

"You know, all of your reactions reflects the fact that humans always feel that 'the grass is always greener on the other side'. Well, besides, Adel's answer, of course, but we all know that dear Adelyna's really a humanoid alien in disguise, so she's not counted." The girl in question combed her fingers through her hair and said contemplatively; drawing chuckles and nods from the others and an offended "Hey!" from the topic of her statement.

Adel sniffed and opened her mouth, no doubt to rebut, but an excited yell from Lauren startled her as the later jumped up and started waving her arms like a pair of windmills... Or perhaps, a better comparison would to liken her to the air control technicians one always see in airports. "Hey! Over he-ere! Hey, you three! We're over here!"

"Laursie, stop that. You're acting like you're stranded on deserted island. Whoever are you waving to, anyway? I can't see anyone who know through this throng," James complained, rolling his eyes dramatically at her. Lauren, however, ignored him, flapping her arms until a little group of girls –five, actually— headed over to their table. Evanne stared in curiosity; she couldn't help it. Of the five, three girls were of normal height, with cute, lovely features, whereas the other two... Well, one of them was cute and pixie-looking; the only thing that was slightly abnormal about her was that she sported a cap of chin-length purple hair. As for the other— the only way to describe her was to say that she looked like a model. It was like looking at the cover of Vanity Fair. In person.

"Hayley! Oh, my God, d'you know which room they reassigned me to, after that fiasco in the boys' dorm? Do you?" One of them, a pretty Hispanic with wild-looking, curly hair beamed at Hayley. Without pausing to allow Hayley to respond, she answered her own question by shrieking, "Yours!"

The look of relief, mingled with excitement look almost comical on Hayley's face. Even her gum was temporarily forgotten as her jaw gaped open, and she stared dumbly at the other girl. But the spell of silence didn't last long. Grabbing the latter's hand, Hayley pulled her down, crowing, "Omigawd, Cassy, really? Oh, God, this is awesome!"

"I know! We're so lucky!"

Adel rolled her eyes slightly at the extreme display of feminine glee and turned to Evanne. "Evie, the loony that is currently squashing Hayley is Cassy, another Paul fanatic. She's a female version of James;. you should see the two of them in action together. It's Attack of the Lust Machines crossed with Hunting Techniques of the Tyrannosarus Rex."

Waving to the other new arrivals, she continued, "Ladies, this is my roommate, Evanne. Evie, this is Stella—she's the most multi-linguistic Korean I've ever had the honour of knowing; and this is Sarah... don't let her kawaii façade fool you, she may look like a twelve-year-old, but she's actually sixteen."

"It's a pleasure," Evanne grinned at the two, who offered her friendly smiles and nods as greeting. Unable to contain her curiosity, she nudged Adel and inclined her head discreetly towards the remaining two girls, who were standing off the side kind of awkwardly until they were tugged down onto the chairs by Sarah and Stella respectively, "Who're they?"

Adel never got the chance to answer her, because Alex –whom Evanne was rapidly recognising as the unofficial leader of the group; perhaps it was because she was the eldest, at nineteen (they had compared their ages earlier, and found that Alex and James were the adults in their group, what with James being only a few months younger than the former)— sighed in resignation and pulled Hayley and Cassy apart, and murmured, "Sarah and Stella have brought their roommates along, ladies."

"Oh, yeah, I forgot. Sorry." Cassy tilted her head and sent a slightly abashed grin at the newcomers' direction.

It was Stella who made the introductions. "Guys, this is my roommate, Jess, (And here she slipped an arm around The Model), and that's Meg. She's Sarah's roommate. We met up by accident on the way back to the cafeteria."

A chorus of "Hey"s, "Hi, there"s and "How ya doin'"s immediately sounded from everyone at the table, while Jess and Meg wore affable, if a little overwhelmed –by the warm reception— grins as the friendship-bonding began all over again.

"We have another Southern belle!" Lauren, Hayley and Cassy shrieked together and burst into maniacal laughter, as Jess revealed her Alabama roots with her "y'all"s and "somethin'"s. Highfiving each other, they started singing an extremely loud –not to mention slightly off-key— rendition of the Black-eyed Peas' My Humps.

But the others at the table paid them no heed, because Adel, Stella and Sarah were listening raptly to James regaling about his gorgeous Russian roommate ("God, those abs! They are so defined that a dictionary can hardly make them any clearer. And the funny thing is, he either thinks I'm straight, or he isn't a homophobe, because he strips in the room before going to shower!"), drawing "Oh, my God, he didn't!"s and delighted shrieks from the three girls.

As for Evanne, Meg and Alex, they were involved in a heated discussion—or rather, a bashing session about Bush. The comments went like this:

"Gawd, the only good thing he did was to be ridiculous enough for us to laugh at. What good ever came of his political decisions, huh? He shoulda become a... clown or something."

"Haha! Oh, yes, I do agree with you. For an amateur, he is rather good at stand-up comedy. You must admit, the politicians nowadays... Lord, our Blair is almost, if not worse than Bush."

"He's a hijo de puta, is what he is. Look at how he fcked Iraq over. The puto better not touch Mexico, I tell you, else there'll really be hell to pay."

Meg snorted and shook her head, the purple highlights in her hair glinting under the fluorescent lights of the cafeteria. "What an asshole. Oh, wait, I forgot. Another good thing is that he'll be leaving in 2008."

Cue derisive laughter from all three, as they rocked back and forth in mirth, when tea –which she made with the help of a teabag and a cup of hot water from the vending machine- sprayed accidentally from Evanne's nostrils as a result of a snort. Blushing, she dabbed at the stain on her T-shirt, while the other two continued howling in laughter.

"It isn't funny! Not a'tall!" Evanne protested, faking a slightly injured air. Meg and Alex simply laughed harder, as the former gasped, "Oh, my God, Alex, I think I can safely say that we're really lucky not to be British."

"H-how so?" Alex hiccupped, holding on her sides and leaning on the smaller girl. Evanne simply continued her mock-glaring at them.

"B-because if we w-were," Meg clutched her stomach as she doubled over and pointed at the cup of tea –which was now slightly tepid- that Evanne was nursing, "We would be so addicted to t-tea that we wouldn't h-have been able to d-do anything without holding a cup of i-it in our hands! I-it's a c-conspiracy!"

Evanne merely sniffed and continued sipping at her Earl Grey.

Alex looked like she was going to say something else, but a sudden hush over the whole cafeteria halted all conversation at their table. Turning, Evanne saw that the attention of everyone in the cafeteria was focus on a podium in the centre—Wait a minute, there wasn't a podium there a minute ago!

Evanne shook her head and rubbed her eyes, but the podium still remained. Strange! But perhaps this was how things worked... well, in the Cabot Academy of Prose and Fiction. Curiouser and curiouser, as Alice from Alice in Wonderland would say.

A short—no, opulent, wait, that's not the correct adjective either... Evanne frowned as she stared at the little, round lump (really, that was the most literal description she could think of) of a man –his gender was only discernable from the large, sweeping moustache on his face, otherwise, he simply looked like a flesh-colour ball- as he climbed with some difficulty to the podium, which was slightly raised off the ground, courtesy of a dais.

The man rapped the microphone placed onto of the podium, sending high-pitched signals from the speakers situated near the ceiling, and almost all in the cafeteria clapped their hands to their ears in agony. He leaned towards the microphone and, "Testing. Test, test, testing. Can everyone of you hear me? Test. Testing."

"Stop it already, ya ol' freak! Ya tryin' burst our eardrum, ain't it?" Some guy shouted from another table, and snickers erupted from over the cafeteria. However, the little lump of a man ignored the mutterings of the crowd, and pulling two things out inside his coat—a pince-nez and a stack of thick-looking paper. Unfolding the pince-nez, the little man settled it onto the bridge of his nose and held up the stack of the paper in his bloated-looking hand, letting it unfold and unfold and unfold...

Until it dangled perhaps an inch from the floor.

A buzz of whisperings swept over the cafeteria again; no doubt everyone was speculating on just what the contents of the paper were, to render such a long length of it to be needed. The little man cleared his throat right into the microphone and intoned in a nasal voice, "Good morning to all of you, my dears. I am Mr. Indiana Bloomington, the Assistant Headmaster of the Cabot Academy of Prose and Fiction. And I am also here to inform you of the rules and regulations of our esteemed institution."

James whispered mockingly to their table in general, rousing sniggers from all of them when he said, "Betcha this guy has watched all the old Indiana Jones movies."

Mr. Bloomington continued, seemingly oblivious to the reaction of the "students" towards his full name. "We, of course, welcome you and hope that you will have, at the very least, a fruitful year here. Now, as you can see, the lady currently standing by the cafeteria doors is your Assistant Headmistress, Ms. Janet Leung."

Almost every head in the cafeteria swivelled towards the closed doors, in front of which a petite Asian woman was standing. However, she was too far away in the distance for Evanne to really discern her features. Mr. Bloomington cleared his throat again with a phlegmy "Ahem!", which returned everyone's attention to him again.

"As I was saying, welcome. One important thing you should know, is that there is no such thing as 'grades', 'forms' or 'years' in this institution. Age does not give you superiority here.. Your level of competence in a subject determines whether or not you need to attend the class. So I hope to see no such incidents where the elder students –and by right, the more mature ones- bully the younger ones. Is that clear?"

Nodding approvingly at a low murmur of assent from the students, Mr. Bloomington cleared his throat forcefully before continuing, "Now, first of all, the Staff Rooms are forbidden to all students. Any student found sneaking into the Staff Rooms will be subject to a 6 foot essay; topic is for Professor David Ackerman and the Professors Moscovitz (and here a collective groan sounded from the students) to decide. Other than that, however, all other rooms in the Academy are accessible by all."

"You are also encouraged to take up extra-curricular activities, though not more than two per person. For those who take two extra-curricular activities, you are advised to take one that stimulates you intellectually, and the other, physically. However, the extra-curricular activites are not to be used as excuses to miss classes."

"Now... moving ontowards the matter of appropriate attire. Although uniforms are not needed, and informal attire is permitted, please take note that scanty clothing is alas, forbidden. That is to say, neither mini-skirts or dresses, shorts that end at the top of the thighs, nor tube tops are allowed. Offenders will be punished by receiving a five-day detention with Professor Clarisse Renaldo as overseer."

"Moving onto the subject of dormitories: the dorms from Floor 1 to Floor 6 are female dorms, and those on Floor 7 onwards, male. Visiting hours for the female dorm will be from 9 in the morning to six in the evening. For the male dorm, it is to be 9 in the morning to 10 in the evening—"

"No fair!" Hayley hissed softly at James, scowling discreetlyin the direction ofthe Assistant Headmaster. "Why is it that you boys get longer visiting hours than us?"

James merely grinned cheekily as a reply.

"— I trust that all of you here will be honourable enough to uphold this rule. This rule is one of the most important in our Academy, indeed. Breaking of this rule once will earn you a month's worth of detention, which will be oversee by Professor Renaldo, the Father Dominic and the Monsignor Constantine. Breaking of this rule twice and more... well, we won't talk of the consequences now, but I assure you that they are certainly dire."

"Fan clubs, 'harems' and 'wives clubs' are also prohibited here in the Cabot Academy. This rule was specially requested by your professors, for it intrudes into their privacy. Culprits responsible for stealing of their belongings, love potion attempts and so on, when once caught, will also be given a month's worth of detention on the first attempt. Again, we will discuss the penalties for these offences only when the occasion arises, however, again, I must ask you not to take my warning lightly."

"Last of all, we have come to the issue of your classes. Please note that missing of classes is not to be tolerated, unless accompanied with the excuse of a severe ailment etc. The missing of a class will bring about a day's worth of detention, the missing of two will bring about two days' worth and so on and so forth."

Mr. Bloomington looked up from the notes at last, pushing up his pince-nez –which had slid down his bumpy nose— and frowning at the students. "Any questions?"

He seemed not to have notice—or perhaps, refused to notice that the majority of the teenagers and young adults in the cafeteria appear to be either staring off in space, inspecting their nails or slumped onto the tables with eyes closed and mouth drooling.

"Well?" He asked again, his already nasal voice raising another notch and pitch. "Students, do you have any questions?"

A classical-looking, blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl sitting a few tables away from Evanne's raised her hand. Evanne noticed that the rest of her companions, with the exception of Jess and Meg, had frowns and sneers on their faces. Even Stella, whom Evanne had pegged as mild-tempered, had an uncharacteristically ugly look on her face.

Adel leaned towards Evanne and murmured, "No need to wonder who that is; she's the infamous Eleanor that you've been hearing stories from us about."

Evanne blinked. She had expected Eleanor to be an ugly-looking, cruel, sardonic... well, bitch. This angelic-looking creature was the complete opposite of what she had in mind.

Eleanor stood up and did a pretty little bow, causing the admiring little smile on the Assistant Headmaster's face to widen a little more. "Mr. Bloomington..."

Even her voice was pretty, tinkling, like the tunes that musical boxes, when winded up, would play. Evanne started to doubt what Hayley and the others had told her earlier. Could someone who looked so beautiful and angelic really be that ugly on the inside? Or where were the tales of her venomous doings spun out of sheer jealousy?

But Evanne quickly discovered that Eleanor wasn't as innocent as she looked.

"Mr Bloomington," Eleanor sang again, "What about teacher-pupil relationships? Are they allowed, seeing how our, well, teachers are barely older than us? I mean, it is there's nothing wrong for a...say, twenty-year-old professor to get together with an eighteen-year-old student, no?"

A wave of disbelief swept the cafeteria, and the little smile on the Assistant Headmaster's face froze. Adel and the others snorted, while Lauren started to clap, a smirk looking utterly foreign on her face. Alex shook her head slightly and muttered under her breath, "Trust Eleanor to choose such a lovely layer of icing on a cake. Asking such a question, indeed. Doesn't she know that the staff have their own canon pairings?"

Mr. Bloomington cleared his throat repeatedly and attempted valiantly to recover his composure, while Eleanor waited patiently, a sweet smile on her face. Looking over at the cafeteria doors, Evanne could see that the Assistant Headmistress had a hand over her eyes.

"I—ah, that is, we never.. I mean, ah..." Mr Bloomington stuttered and forced himself to continue. "My dear girl, we ah, of course, ah... Disapprove of staff-student relationships. Regardless of ah, how old you may be, I'm afraid that we, er... That is to say, we do not approve. Of staff-student relationships, I mean."

"But why?" Eleanor countered gracefully. Mr. Bloomington swiped a hand across his forehead as he stammered, "There is no, er, why to it. We just—We just disapprove. That is all. Yes. That is all."

Eleanor opened her mouth to counter-argue, perhaps, but Mr. Bloomington raised a hand towards her, forcing her to clamp her mouth shut and sink down into her chair sulkily, albeit with some elegance, nevertheless. Looking rattled, The Assistant Headmaster blinked rapidly and fished a handkerchief out from inside his coat. "An-Any other questions?"

Without pausing for any student to ask any of the said questions, he tucked his handkerchief inside his coat pocket and went briskly, if a little unsteadily, "Very—very well, then. No more questions, heh... Well, Janet will give out the timetables to all of you then. Good day, a very good day, to all of you."

And with that, he stepped off the podium.

And Evanne also learnt that one must really not judge a book –or in this case, a beauty— by its cover.

A/N: I just finsished watching King Kong, so— Grunt grunt wheeze rumble grunt snarl ROARRRRRRR.

(The English translation: Review, or I'll bite your arse off.)