.
.
It's a rainy Monday. Another one.
Will suppresses a yawn, glancing at the clock. She presses her face against the cold windowpane impatiently, fogging up the glass. It's another hour of Mathematics before school ends for the day, and their week-long break begins.
Nobody really knows why it's happening after Monday morning classes, their hallways buzzing with excitement, but… Will overheard the school principal, Mrs. Knickerbocker, grumble to the vice-principal about a new teacher's strike. They decided on sending "these little snot-nose hooligans" home with mountains and mountains of papers due by next week on Monday instead.
"Irma must be feeling good," Taranee whispers, nodding to the rain drizzling on the glass.
Will nods absently.
It's true: Irma brightens up during the gloomiest of downpours. Her ability to conjure strong bursts of water, or propel herself from bodies of water, or mess with her temperature or someone else's… comes in handy for faking a sick day.
Taranee's use of pyrokinetic constructs and the full range of her thermokinesis heightens in the summer.
She's less afraid of her fire, or fire in general, but Taranee still backs away cautiously, gripping Will's jacket and shrinking herself, during the Sheffield Institute's homecoming bonfire. Will feels a rush of Quintessence whenever an electric thunderstorm crackles on the horizon.
Glancing over Taranee, it hits Will how proud she is of her. Taranee faced her fears, of fire and monsters and death itself, standing beside and defending the other Guardians in their battles. Cedric never stood a chance against all of them.
Sometimes… sometimes, Will feels more.
More than their friendship.
It's like a tug of familiar inevitability.
"Will?" Taranee mumbles, leaning over Will's desk and softly snapping her fingers inches from Will's nose. "You there?"
"Huhhh?" Will breathes, her eyes unfocused with dreamy and loving memories.
"The bell rang?"
Taranee scoops a little of Will's red hair behind Will's ear, appearing concerned but her lips quirking up.
Will's face reddens.
Gosh, Taranee's pretty. She's always been pretty in her long, cozy hoodies and rainbow hair-beads and bold pink dresses.
Will lets out a laugh, awkwardly smiling.
Half of the class is already gone, cheering, stampeding to their lockers and Sheffield Institute's buses.
"Right. I knew that."
Taranee's eyebrows furrow.
She leans away from the desk as Will gets to her feet. "You sure you're okay, Will?"
"Definitely," Will says, nodding cheerfully. "I got lost in my head for a second, that's all—wow, Taranee, is that a new earring?" She 'oohhs' in excitement as Taranee's finger pushes out her little, brown earlobe. "It's like a tiny star! Is it gold and silver?"
"Looks like it, doesn't it?" Taranee beams, hugging her Mathematics textbook, walking with her through a row of desks.
Over Taranee's shoulder, Will spots Martin sneaking a picture of them. He winks, playfully puckering his lips. Anger echoes in Will like a thunderclap. Behind an unsuspecting Martin, the rainstorm's lightning crackles across the dark purple skyline.
When Taranee, happily babbling, steps out of the classroom first, Will halts and gestures threateningly to Martin.
He pales.
On the second-floor corridor, Will steers her and Taranee towards Irma's classroom.
More high schoolers flood past them.
Will clutches the strap of her neon-green frog backpack, hopping up on her toes. Waiting for Irma to leave only goes on for another minute, as Irma herself wanders out, a carefree grin plastered to her expression. "How'd you do?" Will asks.
"Flunked," Irma blurts out, cracking up.
She holds out her test paper. Even from here, Will can see the red marker print.
Taranee gasps, her eyes widening dramatically huge.
"Irma, this isn't funny!"
"Oh, c'mon—it is a little—"
Will stifles an amused noise behind her hand. "Your dad is gonna ground you forever, you know," she points out. Irma shrugs, lacing her hands behind her head and strolling on. They follow her. Irma really is in a good mood, despite the F grade.
"I'll be scrubbing the toilet if Christopher goes through my stuff again and tattles!"
"Professor Mitchell tells your dad everything, Irm."
Irma scoffs at Taranee's remark, giggling.
"Dad dropped out his last year of high school. He didn't finish his GED until I was born—I don't think he has any room to talk—"
"And yet," Will teases, swinging and hanging onto the staircase banister leading to the first floor, "He's still everyone's favorite sheriff. Mister Heatherfield himself, descended of the original line of Heatherfields who cultivated these here lands for—"
"Ughh!" Irma sticks out her tongue, grimacing. "Don't even get me started on that—WHHHHHOOOOAA!"
One of Uriah's cronies runs into Irma, shoving her aside and nearly throwing her off her feet.
"Slow your roll, you jerk!" Irma shouts, fuming.
Will shakes her head.
"Are we still doing punishments in the group for flunking?"
Irma ppfftts!.
"Nah, what are we? Kids?"
"Uh, yeah," Will says knowingly. "We are." She grabs onto her locker first, twirling the dial. "How about the sleepover tonight? Mom says she's gonna be working late, but there's a couple of pizzas in the freezer. We got vegan burger patties, too."
"As long as Irma's dad doesn't see her chem test," Taranee mutters.
She squeals and wiggles when Irma retaliates in tickling.
"Chem, schem!" Irma declares, slinging her arms to Taranee's middle, setting her chin on her. "You know I'm gonna be there, girly!" she tells Will, eyeing her as Will dumps her thermos in her frog-bag. "It's tooo~oooo bad we can't invite any cute boys~"
"No," Taranee and Will deadpans, as well as Cornelia showing up.
"Did she flunk?" Cornelia asks, glancing to a wincing Taranee busying herself with shutting her own locker-door, and then to Will, flashing a brilliant smile. Will's heart flutters, and so does the movements of the Heart of Kandrakar tucked under her shirt.
"Corny!" Irma pretends to see her for the first time, throwing up her arms.
The hem to her baby blue top rises to Irma's navel.
"She joins us from her cloud!" Irma yells. "How ya been, Your Royal Highness—give us a big ole kiss—!"
Cornelia lurches away from a grinning Irma, screeching when Irma's arms snatch her up.
Irma's mouth presses loudly, wetly against Cornelia's cheek.
"Hiya, Will!" Hay Lin calls out, skipping up to them. Her hot pink-painted, alien eye goggles skewed. "Taranee, your earring looks like starlight!"
Taranee ducks her head shyly when Hay Lin wraps Taranee's arm in hers, and Will feels Hay Lin's hand slip over hers.
Typical Hay Lin adoring her friends.
"Erm… are they okay?" Hay Lin asks, jabbing a finger at Irma and Cornelia.
Both girls, now screeching high-pitched, wrestle each other.
At first, Will panics, thinking it's a fight—she settles, pulling on Hay Lin's hand when the other girl tries to approach the others. Cornelia screeches out another laugh, thrashing and tickling Irma already in the middle of a vicious tickle-attack on Cornelia.
"Hey!" Mrs. Knickerbocker hollers, glaring from across the first-floor corridor. "Break it up, ladies! Now!"
Irma pouts, whining in defeat. Cornelia straightens, primly smoothing her long, blonde hair. She wipes Irma's lip-gloss off her jaw with the back of her hand. Will gazes between them, biting down a smile. Taranee clucks her tongue in disapproval.
"You're both gonna start an earthquake and a flood one of these days."
Hay Lin giggles, hugging Taranee's arm closer.
Will checks her wristwatch, blanching. "Darn it! I'm gonna miss my ride home! See you guys later!"
"Eight o'clock?" Taranee yells after her.
"Yeah!"
Irma scratches her head, and Cornelia elbows her, and Hay Lin scribbles out the time on her palm dutifully.
Will never had friends like this. They loved Will so much that the air vibrated with it. Her friends from Will's hometown, attending school in Fadden Hills with her… they drifted away from Will. They loved being popular more than Will, a known outcast.
She loves her friends, her Guardians.
It's love.
Will has never been more certain of anything else in her whole life.
.
.