Eri sighed. "Kagome, she's staring at us again."
"Just ignore her, Eri." Kagome shielded her brown eyes from the sun and stared out to the football field, where some sort of play was occurring. She was aware of Ayame, just on the edge of her vision, sending her a seriously nasty look.
Eri looked at the action as well, obviously bored, and then tugged on Kagome's sleeve. "Look at her eyes. I'm surprised we haven't burst into flames."
Kagome cast a glance at Ayame, who was not looking like a happy camper. She waved nervously; Ayame glared harder.
"And it's not like I even want Kouga. She can have him," muttered Kagome.
A whistle blew, and Kagome and Eri joined the huddle led by Kouga.
"Okay, team," he announced, scooting closer to Kagome, who subtly endeavored to place Eri between them; she could practically feel the heat on the back of her neck.
"So what happened?" asked Eri, covering a yawn. "We score a hit?"
"It's not a 'hit' in football," Kouga said, rolling his eyes, "and they scored a touchdown because they've got Sango. Now, I've got a strategy. Kagome, can you pass the ball?"
"A few feet, maybe…"
"Well, can you catch?"
"Um… no?"
Kouga sighed and shook his head. "Don't take this the wrong way, because I still love you and all, but I really wish Sango was here."
-----
Ayame heaved a heavy sigh. This was not, to Kagome's unexpectedly perceptive eyes, a good sign. She'd already been tapping her fingers for a minute or so; sighing was the next step up on what Kagome had privately dubbed the "Ayame Histrionics Scale."
"And so the team set up the defensive line like this, so the quarterback could go here," Kouga explained to Sango, gesturing wildly in the air. The girl followed his motions, seemingly as absorbed in the conversation as he was. Next to them, Ayame loudly cleared her throat; Kagome noted with some surprise that she'd skipped the exaggerated yawning phase.
"You okay, Ayame?" Kouga asked. "You've been making noises over there."
"I'm fine. I just don't know why you're wasting my valuable time talking about football!"
"But no one's making you listen." At this point Sango, who was in many ways less oblivious than Kouga, backed off to a point of relative safety. A low growling noise began in the back of Ayame's throat; Kagome subtly began edging toward Sango.
"Kouga," Ayame began, "you're my true love. As my true love, you ought to be talking about things that interest me, not the damn World Series or whatever!"
"I am not your true love!"
"And the World Series is baseball," added Sango.
Ayame stomped her foot. "Why can't you just admit that you love me!"
"Because I don't!"
"Well, why the hell not?"
"Because you're childish, self-centered, annoying, and the pushiest person I've ever met!"
Ayame stopped in her tracks, seeming almost to shrink into herself. Kouga sighed in exasperation. "Great, what do you want now?" The girl said nothing, but her lip began to tremble. "What is it? Oh, crap…" he muttered as realization dawned. "You're not going to cry, are you? Look, Ayame, I didn't really mean all of that… Well, kinda, but not like…"
Ayame shot him a misty-eyed glare, then turned and ran down the hallway at a rather impressive speed.
Kouga stared after her, scratching his head. "Well, damn."
Sango walked back to his side. "That was weird."
"Poor Ayame," added Kagome.
Kouga threw up his hands. "What was I supposed to say?"
"I don't know, but I just feel bad for her." She paused. "You know, I always thought the World Series was soccer." Sango and Kouga exchanged identical aggrieved expressions. "What?"
-----
"Kikyou, I'm here!" yelled Clarice brightly as she skipped into the Honors Botany garden. "Sorry I'm a little late, but you know I have to work—what?" She glanced from Kikyou's seated figure, engrossed in a book, to Ayame, who was curled up next to her irises, sniffling. Kikyou was displaying her own sort of compassion—she was close enough to Ayame to show camaraderie, but far enough away to give the girl her space, and silent because silence would be the most comforting.
Clarice bounded over to Ayame, proffering a lacy white handkerchief. "There, there. What's wrong?"
"It's nothing. Go away," Ayame replied, not looking up, but she took the handkerchief. Clarice stood next to her for a moment before joining Kikyou.
"Kikyou, what happened?" she whispered.
Kikyou shrugged. "I thought that for our Literature project we might set up some sort of chart detailing the major themes of Tennyson's work, some of his more famous poems, and other information."
"What about Ayame?"
The girl sniffled and blew her nose loudly, pigtails falling forward to obscure her face. "I can hear you, you know. If you don't shut up I'm going somewhere else."
Kikyou laid a gentle hand on Clarice's arm. "Let her be. We are here to discuss Tennyson."
"Tennyson isn't crying right next to us!"
Ayame sighed, cast a red-eyed and baleful glare at the two of them, and stormed out in a huff. Clarice sighed as well, out of frustration; Kikyou simply nodded with a knowing expression.
"Now. Tennyson, if you would?"
-----
The school library was a homey sort of room, despite the high, vaulted ceilings and rows upon rows of bookshelves. In contrast with the rest of the school, the designers had aimed for comfort rather than opulence. Ayumi was currently seated on one of the overstuffed red couches, scribbling away in her kitten notebook and seemingly oblivious to the rather loud and hostile conversation a few feet away from her.
She wasn't really paying attention to the words; after spending enough time with Eri, Yuka, Kagome, and Sango, one learned to predict the course that arguments would take. Eri would make a comment about Sango's lack of femininity, Sango would respond by calling Eri shallow, Yuka would leap to Eri's defense, and Kagome would put herself in the middle trying to smooth things over because she never learned.
A few moments later, Sango stalked off through one door, Eri and Yuka through the other, leaving a rather upset Kagome to fall onto the other couch and brood.
"That was a heated little discussion," announced a feminine voice from behind Ayumi. There was the slightest hint of giggle in the smug tone. "So disrespectful in the sanctity of the library."
"Oh, I agree."
The girl pulled herself over the back of the couch and sat down, smirking a bit at Ayumi's sincerity. "I, of course, am Yura. Who might you be?"
"Ayumi," the girl replied, still not looking up. Yura peered over her shoulder, disregarding both manners and personal space. Almost absentmindedly she began braiding a section of Ayumi's hair as well.
"Interesting little misspelling there," she said with a laugh, pointing to a line which compared the heroine's face to that of an angle. "Tell me, was she acute or obtuse?" Ayumi laughed as well, erasing the offending word.
Yura reached over and pulled the notebook from Ayumi's unresisting hands, flipping idly through the pages. "Let's see… Plundered? Plundered? Her mouth?" She burst into a fit of giggles. "Dear God, this is the worst make-out scene ever!"
A few heads turned; Ayumi blushed an interesting shade of red. "Did you have to announce that to the library?"
"Everyone in here's a loser, anyway. Except me. Now…" Yura scratched out a bit and began rewriting. "Let's make this witty banter actually witty. And we'll tone down this nauseating sanctimony of hers, hmm?"
"So why are you helping me?" Ayumi asked, reading with interest the amended love scene. "And she doesn't use that sort of language."
"Now she does. And I'm here because I currently have nothing better to do than meddle in the affairs of the little people."
"I think you actually have a kind heart."
"Oh, do you? Now that's amusing." She giggled. "I must be going—classes and such—but perhaps I'll see you later. Don't talk to me when I'm around anybody important. Ta ta."