Coach Ahlgren had already been waiting for them after lunch. Tall, blonde, and ghostly pale with his trademark violet eyes, he began immediately preaching about the importance of accuracy in a Seeker's performance. It apparently didn't matter how fast you could fly or how quickly you could dive, if you couldn't detect and properly catch a Snitch, you were rubbish. Plain and simple.

He'd forced everyone to form two groups, all while releasing hundreds and hundreds of Snitch sized balls into the air. They were every color Dominique could possibly think of, though only one was golden. Their job was to take turns against each other to find and return the golden Snitch colored ball as quickly as possible. This seemed like a particularly daunting task given the inordinate amount of yellow balls in the mix that looked suspiciously like gold.

No one seemed to particularly excel at this task, whether it was because people wanted to seem quick and then returned with the wrong ball, or whether it was because they were being too cautious and refusing to even attempt to catch the incorrect ball. Dominique played both angles, but it wasn't until about a half an hour in that Giggleswick—and she hated to witness it—finally returned with the correct ball. He seemed particularly smug about it, but it at least ended the drill for all of them. She could at least be happy about that. Unlike the others, Ahlgren didn't dwell on his tasks. It appeared he had a lot of tests for them over the course of the next few hours.

He made them pick out a Snitch from a lineup of ten dummy ones from across the pitch, saying that a good Seeker should never mistake the Snitch for some other random object. He made them study two different Snitches—one slightly different from the other—and then proceed to hunt the correct one. It wasn't until the very end of their session that he let them run a drill that actually felt like real Quidditch. It unfortunately was short lived, for Wagner appeared shortly after it had started.

Wagner called for all of them to take a break while she chatted with Ahlgren, and while Dominique could only speak for herself, it seemed they all happily obliged. Of all the sessions of that day, she'd hated Ahlgren's the least. Yes, a lot of his methods had been dumb, but she'd gotten to enjoy some of the process. She'd actually gotten to play a bit of Quidditch.

Once they were called to attention once more, Wagner had them all split into pairs or groups of three. She placed the invitation athletes together, but gave everyone else a choice as to whom their partner would be. A cold prickle danced at the back of Dominique's neck as she realized what was about to happen right now. Sure enough, the Durmstrang kids all grouped off into a trio and she was sure the Beauxbatons' pair would do the same. That meant all that would be left would be—

She glanced at Giggleswick, who was also looking at her. This wasn't a silent shared interest in partnering up; rather he also seemed to be realizing where this was going. They both looked over at the two Beauxbatons' kids—both boys, one being Adrien the awful. Her only chance at not getting stuck with Giggleswick or Adrien would be to speak up that moment to the other kid.

"Hey, you!" she yelled, just as Giggleswick called out, "Hey, Gabriel!"

Shit, he knew his name. She really should do a better job of talking to people.

The boy called Gabriel turned to look, his gaze on Giggleswick considering he'd actually gotten his proper attention. Without missing a beat, Giggleswick asked if he wanted to partner with him. Gabriel seemed to jump at the chance, which said more about not being stuck with Adrien than anything else. When Adrien looked shocked, Gabriel shrugged half-heartedly.

"If we're all decided," Wagner said, "everyone up on your brooms."

Dominique looked at Adrien, already annoyed. He threw her a friendly, but stupid smile that didn't evoke much confidence in her. He better not fuck this up.

Wagner explained that while Seekers are a lonely and solo position, learning to be in sync with the rest of the team was a vital part of Seeking. With that, she insisted on team building drills. She'd brought broom connectors—a device mostly used by parents when they were teaching younger children how to fly—but these were much larger. She insisted on everyone connecting up to their partner and learning to fly as one unit; seeking the Snitch together and communicating strengths.

This was without question the dumbest exercise of the day. Dominique hated every moment of it. She'd soon find that Adrien wasn't as fast as she was; he wasn't as willing to take risks. He always had to be shown where the Snitch was on the pitch, never finding it on his own; once he would spot it, he had no real drive to get it. Hate Giggleswick as she may, at least he was doing his bloody job out there. Adrien felt like a large weight that Dominique couldn't shake.

The Durmstrang trio surprisingly did the best, probably because they all seemed to be friends. The invitation duo did well, but only a bit better than Giggleswick and Gabriel. It was the first time all day that Dominique had seen them really struggle at anything, which was probably due to the fact that like all proper Seekers, they were used to working alone. She and Adrien were barely finishing tasks, and she was doing all of the heavy lifting. If this kid ruined her chances, she'd personally break his broom over his head.

"At your school," Dominique barked at him after their fourth feeble attempt to catch a Snitch together, "have you actually ever caught a Snitch?"

"No," he said, sweating as though he was leaking from somewhere. "My house team isn't very good this year. Or most years, actually. We're more concerned with academics."

"Fucking fantastic," she muttered, hearing Wagner blow her whistle to signal everyone to return to the ground. Thank Merlin. Hopefully that meant this drill was over forever.

They were told to dismount and rest once more, which seemed strange considering they'd just had a break an hour before. This would make for the quickest workout between breaks all day—not that anyone was complaining. Dominique welcomed it now that she could slowly feel the adrenaline of the day starting to wear off in waves with each passing hour. Her body was sore and bruised. Her muscles ached and she'd probably lost her body weight in sweat no matter how fast she rehydrated. She was dreaming of a shower, something to eat, and her bed. There was absolutely no way she was going to possibly be able to do anything more than walk to the canteen and walk back to the dorms after this. If she made it to the shower—and she really needed to—that would be considered a win.

Wagner had called all of the Beauxbatons' athletes—both the former and current—over to where she had sat herself on the ground. They were having a conversation about something. Hopefully she was lecturing Adrien about how rubbish he was and how he bogged down that poor, determined, naturally talented Hogwarts' girl from being her best.

After observing for a moment, she plopped down in the grass and used her arm to shield the mid-afternoon sun from her eyes. She wondered if the other positions were having a day as hellish as she was. They had to be. This was what this camp was all about for the newcomers. Like Annabelle said, they wanted to see who would break and who could hack it. Professional Quidditch wasn't an easy life, but she thought she could do it. This was exhausting, but she could get used to it. She'd probably have to start working out more regularly.

"Hogwarts," Wagner called out all of the sudden, causing Dominique to drop her arm and look up. Giggleswick was looking, too. She was beckoning the two of them to replace the Beauxbatons' students who had since retreated to their own spot in the grass.

Dominique stood—slowly and achily—brushed herself off. Giggleswick had gotten the jump on her and was already now sitting down in front of Wagner, so she had to hustle a bit to join him. She wasn't aware this was a conference until taking her seat.

"Good afternoon," she said, scribbling down some things in a notebook in front of her. "Good day so far?"

Dominique blinked. She noticed Giggleswick beside her also awkwardly shuffling his weight a little. Were they actually having a chat? None of the coaches had casually addressed them since Lynch that morning, and that had only been first thing. She'd sort of gotten used to them being nothing more than authority figures who barked tasks at them and lectured them at great length about their personal definition of what made a great Seeker. This didn't seem right.

Wagner looked up at them, awaiting a response. She was older than the others, her hair a salt and pepper color and her skin wrinkling around the corners of her eyes.

"Yes," they both said in mixed unison.

"Nice to hear," she said, returning to her notes and writing something down. "So, tell me about yourselves. From a Quidditch perspective, that is. I'm not looking for the name of your cats or places of birth." She looked back up at Dominique. "Go on. You first."

She took a deep breath. She wasn't sure where to begin. She'd been playing since she was a small child and loved the sport more than anything, but perhaps she wanted more concrete stats. "Um, I've been playing on my house team for four years now, going into my fifth—"

"How old were you when you made your team?" she interrupted.

"Thirteen."

"And you?" she asked Giggleswick.

"Thirteen, as well. I've played just as many years."

She nodded, but didn't look up from her notes. "And at Hogwarts, you start school at eleven, correct?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She hummed as if to acknowledge that. "I always assume it's the same as Durmstrang. We started at ten." She stopped writing and looked up once more. "And how would you say you are as a Seeker? Simple answer, please. Good, bad, somewhere in between?"

"Good," they both answered, neither hesitating.

She smirked at them both. Her expression seemed to say she'd heard that before, but it wasn't always the case. "And your teams at school, do they play each other often?"

"Twice a season, not counting the Quidditch Cup," Dominique said.

"Would you consider each other a rival?" she asked. "A worthy rival that is. Someone you find to be a challenge."

They both nodded, neither seemingly wanted to verbalize their answers with a response. Dominique sure didn't. She didn't want to acknowledge him as anything worthy.

"Are the two of you friendly off the pitch with each other?"

Giggleswick let out a small laugh and Dominique bit her tongue at that question. Neither answered, though.

"Am I to assume that's a no?"

"We're not friends," Giggleswick said bluntly.

Wagner nodded. "A true rivalry, then. Must feel good to beat the other when that happens."

"Absolutely," Dominique said.

"Who do you think has won more matches between the two of you?"

Dominique spoke first. "I don't know the exact numbers, but I'd say me."

"I disagree with that," Giggleswick countered. "I have seen the exact stats. Numbers don't lie."

"I'd like to see these bloody numbers," she mumbled, looking away from him. "They sound imaginary."

Wagner held up her hand to stop them. She somehow managed to look both bored and amused by this at the exact same time. "And you both said you consider yourselves to be good Seekers?" They both nodded again, causing her to look at them one by one. "What would your rival here say about that?"

For the first time in the history of knowing each other, Dominique and Giggleswick shared a look that didn't stem from a place of disdain or anger. It was confusion, plain and simple. What was this lady playing at? She wasn't sure what exactly what she was supposed to say.

Wagner was staring at them in an anticipatory way, clearly waiting for a response. Dominique licked her lips, her mouth suddenly feeling very dry. Beside her Giggleswick was again moving awkwardly in his spot.

"It's a simple question," she said. "Do you or do you not consider your rival to be good at their position?"

Dominique looked down at her lap before looking back up. It seemed they both were waiting for the other to speak first. It was a precarious situation. She could come off as the bigger person and speak the truth, but that would also leave him open to say whatever he wanted without rebuttal. She both wanted to control this narrative but also not screw herself. She couldn't let Giggleswick get the chance to set the tone.

Wagner looked impatient. She seemed to be tiring of what probably seemed like ridiculous school yard drama between two teenagers. That would be a worse look than simply being branded a bad Seeker.

"Yes, I do," Dominique finally said.

Wagner smiled at her before her gaze immediately turned onto Giggleswick. "I need an answer from you." There was impatience in her tone. Just as Dominique had suspected, the drama was grating on her more than any answer he could possibly give.

"Yes," he muttered through gritted teeth. "She's...she's fine."

She fought every urge in her body to roll her eyes. Fine? Just fine? She wanted to smack him. The yes would have been perfectly sufficient. The fucking nerve.

"And what do you consider her strongest skill on the pitch?" Wagner asked him without missing a beat.

Dominique let her head slowly turn toward him, a smirk growing as she did. She didn't even care if the question was coming right back at her. She had to hear this.

Like the prat he was, he made it seem as if he was searching the back of his brain for an answer to that. His eyes looked up and began absently scanning the sky, as if he was hoping the answer would fall out of it. He inhaled deeply before letting the air out in one long burst.

"Let's not take all day," Wagner mused. "These really are basic questions."

"She dives well," he said, looking directly at Wagner. "She can come down on a Snitch from most points on the pitch and get it. Even the really tight spots."

Dominique pursed her lips in a satisfying way. That was a decent answer and the truth. In a head to head tight dive with him, she would beat him every time. She'd realized that ages ago, but she'd never actually considered that he'd given it any thought. Knowing he had made her feel a bit smug.

Wagner nodded, apparently finding that answer acceptable. She glanced back at Dominique; her expression urged her to answer the same question.

"He's got good eyes," she offered, having already anticipated this. "He'll get the Snitch in his sights before the other Seeker has had a chance to know it's even appeared."

"Even before yourself?" she asked.

She took a slow breath. "On occasion. Yes. But I've developed my own strategy of dealing with him when we play."

"Have you?" she asked. "I'm always a fan of well thought strategy. Care to share?"

She hesitated for a moment. Was this a trick? She gave Giggleswick a sideways glance. "If he's sitting beside me, I'd rather not."

Wagner smirked slightly, as if she understood, before placing her notebook down on the ground beside her. "If you can't speak to your opponents strengths, are you even aware of them? Pride and ego needs to be put in place if you ever hope to make it to the next level."

Dominique nodded, though Giggleswick sat silently beside her listening.

"I'll speak to that more later. For now, we are done here." She picked up her notebook again and immediately called out, "Durmstrang!"

Wagner spoke more than any of the other coaches. Even after she'd concluded all of her meetings, she then gathered them all around to lecture them more about the psychological aspect of Quidditch, both between teammates and opposing teams. She made them perform more team building exercises with each other, which Dominique found tedious and boring. Wagner had decided—unsurprisingly—to group her with Giggleswick to observe them; whether she was attempting to rattle them both or not, she couldn't be sure. Either way, Dominique refused to let this simple exercise cost her points because she and Giggleswick couldn't get along.

"Just do it right the first time and we'll be done," Dominique hissed at him as they began walking to the center of the pitch. They were required to complete an obstacle course on foot, all while she held one end of a stick and he held the other. Neither could let go, and neither could continue until both completed each task together. "You know she's watching us to see if we can actually put shit aside and finish something."

"I'm not worried about me."

"At least one of us isn't."

"Just shut it and get it fucking done, would you?" he sneered, right as they reached the starting point. Hatred. That was the only thing either of them could muster out of their eyes as they stared at each other, readying themselves to begin. She even let him count down.

They'd done well, especially considering they seemed to be the only pair there that actively disliked each other. She'd been forced to run the course eight times—twice with him, and six times with other people—and she and him had gotten her top two best finishing times, as well as his best times. She hated—absolutely hated—to admit this, and would deny it anyone ever asked, but the fact was she and him were very similar athletes with similar habits. She also knew him well enough as a competitor to know what he was going to do; she was already adjusting before they would get stuck. Not that she wanted to do it ever again. In both instances—despite getting great times—they'd both dropped the stick once they'd finished as if it were dirty and tainted. They didn't even look at each other.

When it was time to switch to the last and final training exercise of the day, Dominique welcomed it with open arms. One, because she was that much closer to being done. Two, because she was rather excited to train with Sabatino, who was a bit of a celebrity. Not that all the coaches weren't Quidditch greats, but they were all older and retired. Sabatino was young and he was still actively in the sport. He was currently part of the Quidditch system and understood how it worked today. He could add fresh expertise. It seemed like a tremendous opportunity.

Or so she thought.

Sabatino didn't even introduce himself or half attempt to greet them. He'd walked over and immediately barked why didn't any of them have their brooms ready, despite Wagner telling them to put them away. Even once they had gone to fetch them, it wasn't fast enough. Nothing was fast enough. That became the theme of the day—nothing was fast enough.

He had them do laps on their brooms. And then more laps. Then more after those. Dominique had stopped counting after seventy-five, but apparently after the hundred of so she ended up doing, none of them were fast enough.

"Can you even catch a Snitch at that speed?" he'd said to her once he'd finally had them land to berate and bash each and every one of them. Even Valentina, who had proven to be the fastest one of the bunch, was somehow still not fast enough. "And this is the top group!? The slowest and weakest Seeker in professional Quidditch is currently ten times faster than any of you! None of you will make it at those speeds!"

He had no constructive criticism. He had no tips. He had no explanations. He apparently assumed that the phrase, "That's not fast enough," was enough to make them move faster. Dominique pushed herself as hard as she could go—for hours—and she was fairly certain she'd shaved ten seconds off her personal best, but all she heard back was, "You may as well be going backwards! Is that considered fast at your little school?"

She hadn't even gotten it as bad as some of the weaker Seekers. Adrien the awful had started crying once Sabatino called him abysmal; the stress of an already terrible day pushing him to his breaking point. His school mate, the one called Gabriel, had Sabatino in his face calling him a disgrace to his alma mater, Beauxbatons. While he didn't cry, his expression screamed that he'd checked out entirely.

Giggleswick had gotten an earful, one that even Dominique didn't think he deserved. While she knew Sabatino was fast, she personally wanted to know his best time, because he did nothing more than zoom around on his broom at a leisurely pace. Nothing, absolutely nothing, pleased this man. It took every bone in her body to not curse him, especially once they'd reached the end and he'd loudly yelled out, "This was a waste of my fucking time! Get the fuck off my pitch!"

But at least they were done. She'd found the walk back to the center of camp felt as if it stretched for miles. She wanted to collapse; even the act of carrying her broom back up the dorms seemed an impossible task. It felt twice as heavy as she was used to, but then again so did her arm, her head, and her legs. Walking was turning out to be a challenge.

"Let me help," came a voice from behind her, one that was now plucking her broom out of her hands. "I remember my first day and how I wanted to throw this thing into woods and never see it again."

It was Annabelle, a dewy glow on her face, as if she'd just gone for a quick jog. Her hair was still perfectly neat and her clothes were not drenched in sweat. She looked nothing like a drowned rat, which is what Dominique felt like. Annabelle could probably pop in for dinner and no one would even be any wiser that she'd been out on the pitch all day. On the contrary, if Dominique didn't find a shower soon, people might try to put her in a bin.

"And how was the rest of your day?" Annabelle joked, carrying both brooms over her shoulder. "Lots of fun?"

"I fucking hate Quidditch," Dominique muttered, a phrase she'd never once thought she'd ever say. "I hate everything."

"Everyone does after their first day," Annabelle said. "But it gets better. Well, it did for me, but as I said, I got sent straight down to the Tryhards after my first day. You were always a really good Seeker. You always beat me."

Dominique's current mood was not lending to politeness, but she still managed to stop herself from making a snarky comment about how beating her was setting a pretty low bar. Annabelle was being kind and carrying her broom. She needed to keep that to herself.

"Plus, you're used to the routine now," she continued. "You'll get more and more used to it every day."

"I hate Sabatino."

Annabelle made a face. "Right? Isn't he the worst? This is his first year here. The last few years, the speed bloke was this older man by the name of LeDean. I don't know what happened to him, but I do know that I need Sabatino to fix whatever his issues are so that he can go back to his team in Italy." She sighed. "And to think, I was excited when I'd first heard he was here because I remember watching him in the World Cup last year. I was there."

"I was too. And I remember watching him not catch the Snitch."

"Probably why he's so bitter and angry and set on making our lives hell," Annabelle said. "I can only imagine what he's making your group do."

"Enough to make me hate him," she said, noticing other people from other positions were beginning to appear on the converging paths after finishing their own days. "I just want to play real Quidditch."

"You've got another two days of this before that happens, darling," she said, looking up ahead on the path. "Of course, you can always find a pick-up game around there. There will be people out this evening playing."

"I don't have the energy to do anything right now. I can barely stand."

"Now you know why everyone starts drinking." Annabelle laughed, her eyes still locked straight ahead. "Hey, are those Keepers, you think? The ones coming from the far fields?

"I have no idea."

"I think they are," she said, handing Dominique her broom back. "I need to run and catch some people, but if you get the itch to go out, come find me tonight. I'm in room 122 over in C, but we have plans to go to B Dorm tonight. Maybe do some dancing."

Dominique stared at her as if she had grown a second head. She wasn't even going to dignify that with a response. Thankfully, her expression did all the talking for her.

"Ok. Ok, but you never know, maybe you'll get a second wind," she said. "Either way, I'll see you tomorrow." She gave her a quick wave as she started jogging off. She actually had the energy to jog...

Dominique gathered what little strength she had left and pushed herself to the dorms. The common area was much quieter than it had been lately, and Dominique had to wonder if everyone else was as beat up as she was. She did hear a lot of commotion coming from down the corridor in the direction of the showers, but she was in no mood to fight people for a spot—even if she did desperately need one.

She decided to wait and instead lie down for a few minutes—or hours, weeks, months—whatever it took. As she reached her door and pushed it open, she was met with Jack standing there looking about as awful as she felt. He was covered in dirt and grass while sweat plastered his hair down onto his head. His right eye was slightly swollen and she'd caught him having just removed a large ice pack off of his left shoulder.

"You look like shit," she said.

"I'd check out a mirror if I were you," he said, mustering a small grin. "Then you can talk."

"What happened to your arm?" she asked as she rested her broom up against the wall. It started to slide down the length of it, though she didn't bother to catch it. She didn't care.

He held up his left arm, as if testing how far he could move it comfortably. "Nothing happened. It's my batting arm. I've probably used it more today than in the last four years combined. It hurts like hell."

"Fuck this day…" she mumbled.

He nodded as she sat down on the edge of her bed and kicked her trainers off. This room reeked of stale sweaty air, but she didn't mind it. It reminded her of the changing rooms at Hogwarts, a safe place where she still loved Quidditch and the sport made her happy. She was debating as to whether she should say to hell with her clean bedsheets and just lie down as dirty as she was, or whether she should suck it up and take a shower first. Both had their pros and cons.

"Will you hold this for a second," Jack asked, handing her his ice pack. She did what she was asked and watched as he pulled off his shirt—which sent two immediately conflicting thoughts surging through her head. One, she apparently wasn't so tired that the sight of his chest, arms, and abs didn't give her a quick little thrill. Two, his shirt stunk, and the whiff she got immediately killed any sort of excitement that had coursed through the rest of her.

He took his ice pack back before saying, "I'm going to take a shower."

"Please do. You smell."

"You don't exactly smell like roses yourself," he said, tossing his shirt at her. As her luck would have it, it managed to land directly on her head.

She would manage a shower and a trip to the canteen before falling asleep that night, and that was only because Jack had sworn he'd heard about a special drink in the canteen that would help with recovery. His arm was bothering him to the point where he was nervous it would swell up overnight and render him useless the following day, so he had been willing to try anything. Dominique sensed that after how much she had pushed herself, she'd wake up stiff and sore and also not at the top of her game. She was willing to at least give it a shot.

It was at the canteen that a house elf had given them a bottle of a foul, greenish looking drink. It was apparently quite popular since she watched as at least ten other people came and requested the same while they were standing there. It smelled as bad as it looked and tasted even worse. Jack tried to take it like a large shot, but he gagged on it before forcing himself to drink it down. Dominique already knew her weak stomach was going to fight her on this.

"This tastes like death," she said, pinching her nose as she attempted to drink it down. "This better work."

"You're no worse off if it doesn't," he said, waving to someone behind her who must have been approaching. When she turned, she saw a very exhausted looking Zara drawing closer. Her eyes shot straight to Dominique's drink.

"Is that it? It looks vile."

Dominique forced another gulp down, immediately wanting to wretch. "Yes, it is."

Zara didn't seem happy to hear that, but still disappeared up to the counter to retrieve two bottles. When she returned, she stopped by the pair of them again and asked, "Why is it warm?"

"Let's not ask questions we don't want the answer to," said Jack.

"This would not be any better cold," Dominique sputtered, fighting a huge urge to be sick.

"I thought this place was supposed to be fun," Zara muttered, a pained look on her face as she watched Dominique finally force down the last of hers. Both she and Jack were staring as an involuntary look of disgust now completely overcame her. She needed to not speak for a few minutes in order to keep this down.

"For some people it is," Jack said, gesturing to a bunch of people who had just walked in to the canteen. They were clearly already drunk and looking to eat dinner as they laughed and obnoxiously drew attention to themselves. Dominique hated them, though she had little time to dwell since Jack was already saying, "If you're done, let's go. I'm exhausted."

She nodded. Must not talk. Will be sick if mouth opens.

"Erin's already asleep," Zara said, following them toward the exit. "I'm going to have to wake her to give her this, and I'm sure she's going to absolutely love me for it."

"She'll thank you in the morning since it is supposed to help," Jack said as he shrugged, causing himself to wince due to his shoulder. "It better help."

"And tomorrow's more of the same shit," Zara muttered. "We don't even get to play proper Quidditch until Thursday."

Dominique groaned at that, which was about the most she could do without being sick. Zara's expression said she agreed with her as they reached the exit. They had stepped out of the way to let people pass, noticing that of the small group that entered, Dominique recognized two of them. One was Gabriel from earlier and the other was Vanessa, the pretty girl from orientation who'd had a thing for Jack. She didn't look as cute today though; then again, no one did.

"Hey," said Gabriel once he saw Dominique. "I know you."

Dominique let her expression acknowledge him, but was still not quite ready to speak. This came in handy since she now wouldn't be forced to be social with random people. Beside her, Jack and Vanessa were exchanging happy hellos while Zara seemed to recognize her and another boy they were with. They must all have been Chasers—that or Zara really did just know everyone in the world.

"You're quite good," Gabriel added. "On the pitch, I mean."

She let herself smile at the compliment. She couldn't return the compliment even to just be polite, because the truth was, he wasn't good. Outside of the two invitation Seekers, one of the Durmstrang girls, Giggleswick and herself, the rest were all pretty rubbish.

Gabriel turned to his friends. "She got paired up with Adrien for a team building exercise today." He said it almost as a joke, one that all of his friends were apparently in on because there was now laughter mixed with looks of pity. One of the random boys even said, "Sorry."

At the same time, Zara had grabbed the door and then stepped outside. While it was nice to hear someone compliment her skills, she wasn't in the mood to talk to these people. She threw them all a cursory nod before following after Zara. They'd gotten several paces away from the building before Zara turned around to look, noticing that Jack hadn't followed.

Dominique waved her on. "He's probably flirting with that girl. They've been making eyes at each other since yesterday."

"Really?" she asked, turning back around. "She was in my group today. Vanessa, I think? She was really sweet. I can't say I'd be surprised if she didn't get dropped down to another level, though. Not the strongest Chaser I've ever seen."

Dominique said nothing. She couldn't. She suddenly felt a swirling and uncomfortable feeling surge in her stomach. The green stuff was coming back up. She needed to find a receptacle of some kind because—

She made a mad dash for a nearby bush. There was no time to waste and she was sick right inside the bushes. Oddly enough though, she already felt worlds better; even if it had tasted the same going up as it had going down.