Chapter 7 - I was afraid
I groaned as the first ray of sunlight hit my eyes. I got out of bed slowly and lazily, as if each movement caused me pain. I remembered what today was and sighed.
Doomsday.
In other words, detention day with Marcus Flint. I doubt I was really looking forward to it, even though my feelings towards him were for the better. Still... detention? Bah. I hate detention.
Literally crawling to the bathroom door, I stopped at the mirror. Yeech. I looked like crap. If I was going to see Marcus Flint for three hours, I damned well should at least look good.
Funny I didn't see the danger of my words.
I looked at Marcus. He looked back at me. We sighed.
"Let's start cleaning," I muttered, pointing at the trophies behind him. There must be a zillion there. But it was all new to me, of course. Wizards' trophies seemed to shine even longer. I don't even know why they have to call us to clean trophies. This is entirely boring, and it's all Marcus's fault.
Marcus took a trophy, sat down beside me and started to polish it. A thick silence hung over us.
I cleared my throat. "Are you ready for Quidditch later?" I asked him politely.
He nodded and smiled confidently. "I'm sure we will beat Gryffindor." He frowned just then. "I do wish Malfoy would be quicker in getting the Snitch."
I broke into a grin. "Oh come on," I teased. "Admit it. The Gryffindor Seeker is better, swifter and just... plain better."
Marcus gave me an annoyed look. "Harry Potter," he spat. "Is not better. He's a goddamned teacher's pet."
I nearly jumped his surprise at the venom in his tone. "What happened between the two of you?" I asked concernedly.
The mutinous look in Marcus's eyes disappeared. He smiled back at me. "Nothing," he said. "Nothing worth remembering."
I shook my head in exasperation. Boys.
I stood up to return the trophy I was polishing back to its original position and took another one off the shelf. I was about to head back and sit when I tripped and fell...
... Right into the surprised arms of Marcus Flint who caught me by instinct.
"You okay?" he murmured.
The heat rose up my cheeks but I continued to look him in the eyes unfalteringly anyway. "I don't know," I said, huskily, much to my embarrassment.
Marcus started to close the gap between us when suddenly something dropped.
The stupid trophy from my stupid, clumsy hand.
He stepped back immediately. "Sorry," we both said at the same time. The uncomfortable silence settled again, and this time I didn't bother making conversation, and neither did he.
I stared expressionlessly ahead as Cho talked excitedly next to me, pointing to the Quidditch players in both Gryffindor and Slytherin teams. I found out that the commentator, Lee Jordon, was an incredibly bias person.
Boys.
"Excellent Bludger sent by Fred Weasley," Lee yelled into the microphone. "Hit Montague right in the face-"
"Spare us the details, Jordon," Professor McGonagall said irritably.
"Sorry, professor. Marcus Flint, captain and Chaser of the Slytherin team is heading for the hoops and..."
My head snapped up as soon as I heard Marcus's name. I watched with bated breath as I saw him throw the Quaffle... and missed. Oliver Wood, Keeper of the Gryffindor team blocked it easily.
My eyes continued to follow Marcus, almost hearing him curse, almost feeling his anger. He was conversing with a Slytherin Beater, when suddenly, he grabbed his Beater bat and smacked the Bludger towards Oliver Wood. I gasped. How dare he!
None of the professors or Lee Jordon, as a matter of fact, saw that. At that instant, our eyes met. I looked at him for a while before turning away in disgust.
"Making eyes at a certain Chaser, Ling?" Cho teased. I gave her an annoyed look. "He doesn't look all that cute to me, but I supposed I ought to respect your choice. Moreover-" she broke off.
I glanced up at her and followed her eyes to the Quidditch Field.
Marcus had fallen from his broom!
I let out a cry of surprise as I hurried down the steps to the Quidditch Field. "Marcus," I whispered as soon as I was beside him. "Marcus, are you alright?"
He looked awfully pale to me. I followed the stretcher carrying him out of the field without any hesitation.
Please let him be alright, I thought, biting my fingernail sub-consciously. Please.
I managed to come to the audition after much coaxing from Cho. I stood onstage, clutching my - Chang Ling's - guitar tightly as I tried to calm myself down but to no avail. You try being calm when all the professors are staring at you.
I smiled tightly at the professors. "I, um," I began stupidly, wincing as I heard my voice magnified across the hall. I cleared my throat nervously. "I wrote this song and I composed it on a guitar."
I sat down on the chair they provided and took a few deep breaths, adjusting the guitar strings. A few seconds of silence passed.
Professor Snape looked annoyed. "Are you going to play or not?" he snapped.
Out of nervousness, my hand 'twanged' the guitar. The professors, including me, grimaced at the awful noise.
"Sorry," I said sheepishly, and positioned my hands to play.
And then I remembered I forgot the lyrics.
"Are you ready, Miss Chang?" Professor Snape asked irritably.
"I can't do it," I muttered to myself, ignoring him. "I still have the dreaded stage fri-"
"Yes, she's ready!" a voice shouted from backstage. Marcus Flint. He walked out as quickly as he could considering he had to use crutches and turned to me.
"Mr Flint," a professor called. "You are not allowed here. How did you-?"
Marcus and I ignored them all. He looked at me. "You can do it, Ling," he said. "I know you can. Trust yourself."
"Are you ready, Miss Ch-?"
"Yes, I'm ready," I interrupted, a smile breaking onto my face when I realised Marcus had ceased calling me by my last name. It was as though I suddenly had a source of confidence and I began to play with renewed energy.
[A][N]
In the next chapter... Zhang Lin bumps into Marcus's dear friend and gets a shock.
I got a shock myself for updating at last. Sorry, didn't want to write the Quidditch part at first. Please join my new site: s2.invisionfree.com/alluvia