Chapter 4: Carrows and Keepers
Matthew rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stretched before looking down at the thick yellow and black patchwork quilt emblazoned with a badger that some unfortunate artist had valiantly attempted to make appear noble. Some part of him had hoped it was all a dream and he would awaken yesterday morning in his own bed with its deep blue covers.
"Oi! You're up." Donald said, with a smile, from the window where he seemed to be holding... something... from the window.
Matthew shook his head, trying to dispel the fog out that the scene before him would make sense. He squinted at Donald in confusion. Sliding on his glasses, he asked "Aren't you supposed to be in a different room?" Though now that he could more clearly see he had a few more pressing questions such as: Were those feet in Donald's hands? and Why was he holding them out the window?
The feet seemed to struggle to free themselves of Donald's grip around their ankles. "Hey, since you're up do you think you could give me a hand?" Donald's smile appeared strained as he fought to keep his hold on the wayward feet.
Matthew threw off the covers. "Sure. What's going on?"
"Tip's trying sneak out again," Donald explained as Matthew grabbed one of Tip's slender ankles, allowing Donald to double up his hold on the other and together they dragged the diminutive boy back into the room holding a broom stick in one hand and what appeared to be a banana cream pie in the other.
"Oh come off it, Donny! I'm just having a lend of McLaggen is all. I'd have been back in time for brekkie."
"Do you want to get detention before you even get to your first class? It's not Prof. Takahata anymore; it's that Auror, Jones, that's Head of Gryffindor now."
"Oh yeah..." Tip's mind already appeared to be whirring with a new plot. "Do you think she might fancy a piece of pie as well?"
"Out," Donald pointed to the door. Tip sulked out as Matthew glanced at the enticing pastry. Donald eyed the pie dubiously before turning to Matthew. "Don't eat that." Donald made the pie vanish before Matthew's eyes.
"What was it?"
"Canary Cream Pie."
"How could you tell?"
"He's been trying to perfect it since last May. But either he didn't get the recipe right or it was never meant to be served in such large doses. Turned half of Hufflepuff into giant canaries for a week before Madam Pomfrey was able to reverse it. I still occasionally find feathers in my hair. He's been with his mum all summer so I doubt he's had a chance to work on it during the break."
Matthew thought better of asking why but began pulling on his robes. "Does that sort of thing happen often?" he asked.
"About twice a week. He likes to stir the pot between Slytherin and Gryffindor and then watch the sparks fly. I'm half tempted to just start sleeping here, it'd be easier. Maybe a caterwauling charm on the windows... Anyway, since you're up, let me show you around. That is, unless you want to take the tour with the first years later?" Matthew shook his head.
Donald led the way through the door with Matthew following behind into the squat round room that was, in color and shape, reminiscent of a beehive. "You saw the Common Room yesterday. Morning Shosh." He waved to a girl who was sunk deeply into a squashy, yellow, round armchair with black trim. Her long legs were drawn up onto the seat. She must have been wearing shorts or a skirt underneath her robes for her knobby knees were completely exposed. Her face was obscured by a large blue book labelled Arithmancy but Matthew recognized the long, dishwater blond hair of the girl he had met last night. She tossed off a wave in the direction of Donald's voice.
Matthew had seen the Common Room yesterday, but he hadn't really looked at it as he was now. He had paid attention to very little last night but the sense of dejection he felt and had wanted nothing more to go straight to bed, cover his head with the quilt, and never show his face again. In the morning light the room was actually quite homey.
He glanced up at the gigantic portrait of Helga Hufflepuff that hung above the mantle, holding her little, two-handled golden cup as though in a toast to her students. She winked at Matthew. Cactus limbs and vine tendrils waved at Matthew. Disconcerted, he waved back, not wanting to seem rude. They left through the round entry door and proceeded down a sloping, earthy passage.
As they emerged from the tunnel, Donald turned to Matthew, "Oh, you can call me Donny if you like. Everyone does. Well, except for Shosh." They turned the corner to head up the stairs toward the Great Hall. "Would you like to have breakfast first?"
"Sure." Matthew nodded.
They entered the great hall where Tip, his previously spiky hair now combed flat and parted to the side, was already at the table, munching on a piece of toast and telling stories to a captivated audience of first years, most of whom were taller than he was. "Then we went to Ayers rock and repelled from off the very top of it."
"Morning, Tip," Matthew said, as though the earlier events of the day hadn't happened.
"Mornin', Matt. Mornin', Donny. Anyway, so after that..." Tip continued his tale unabated, explaining what repelling was, leaving Matthew to wonder why anyone would want to run down the side of a perfectly good cliff.
Donald whispered to Matthew as they took their seats near the other end of the table, "Tip's mum is a muggle stunt woman for an Australian film company and his dad's a wizard with the Dept. for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures: Beast Division. Apparently, they met when someone illegally imported a giant starfish into England and it turned out to be a Bunyip at rest. Was a nightmare to get it out of the Thames. But I guess the quiet life of the muggle wife of a wizard was too dull for her. Tip spends summers with her and winters with his dad in London. Always comes back with wild stories."
Matthew tucked into a plate of drippy eggs as Donald continued, pointing a fork at Matthew, "So, you really passed nine OWLS, then? Which ones?"
Matthew thought for a moment, a golden bite of egg hanging limply from his fork. "Potions, History of Magic, Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Muggle Studies, Astronomy, Herbology and the Study of Ancient Runes. I almost got Divination as well, but they had crystal balls for the practical application. If it had been Tarot cards or Dream Interpretation I might have had a real chance."
Donald dropped his fork. "Wait, you mean to tell me you did the practical portions of the exams as well as the written?"
"Yeah, otherwise I'd have twelve."
"How in the world did you pass Defense Against the Dark Arts?"
"It was really a bit luck. They gave me a Kappa and a Boggart to defeat. And you know how Kappa's are unfailingly polite," From the blank stare he was receiving from the prefect, Donald did not know. "Well, all I had to do was bow to him and he bowed back and emptied the water out of the dish in his head which left him unable to move until I filled it. Anyway, needless to say, if I ever visit the pond below the Buddhist temple in Hata in the Osaka prefecture, I have a friend who'll be happy to show me around."
"But how did you beat the Boggart?"
"That was the luck part. You see, I happen to be most afraid of public speaking, you know. And there was really nothing the boggart could do to make himself scary."
Donald started laughing. "What did he do?"
"He turned himself into a microphone stand. I just walked right by him and surrounded the case with a circle of blessed salt so he couldn't get back in," Matthew laughed. "The examiner said it was the fastest he had ever seen a boggart defeated."
"I would have never thought to just walk past him and use salt."
"I didn't have much of a choice, did I? Muggles have been figuring out non-magical ways to combat these creatures for years. I mean, their techniques aren't always the best or the most elegant but they work... most of the time. I wouldn't listen to them on vampires. Most of the practicals really only require study, not magic."
"You said one of your OWLS is in Arithmancy, right?" Matthew nodded. "Shosh is gonna love you. That's her favorite subject."
"I thought I saw her reading an Arithmancy book."
"Can't make heads or tails of it myself, but she's mental for it." He changed the pitch of his voice in a bad imitation of a girl, "The only true way to do Arithmancy is with the Torah in its original Hebrew, anything else is just forcing predictions where they don't exist and wishful thinking."
"Well, it is." A voice from behind Donald cause him to shrink in his seat, his cheeks a striking shade of pink. "Good morning, Matthew. Or do you prefer Matt?" Shoshanna said as she took her seat next to Donald, helping herself to his cinnamon roll.
"Either is fine."
"Perhaps Matty, then," she said, taking a bite of the cinnamon roll. Matthew glared at her but said nothing, getting the sense that an objection would only encourage her. "You were talking about Arithmancy?"
"Yeah, it was one of Matt's OWLS," Donald supplied, still glaring ruefully after the quickly disappearing cinnamon roll.
"You achieved an Outstanding in Arithmancy?"
"Yeah," Matthew said, cutting a piece of bacon.
"Do you believe in the ancient text standard, then?"
"It's complicated, isn't it? If we are to believe that fate or a god or gods inspired the particular alphanumerical combinations that are used to determine arithmetical predictions, then would it not make sense that fate could also use modern writers to produce prophetic texts? I mean, when you think about it, all texts were once modern." He and Shoshanna quickly fell into a deep discussion of Arithmetical theories and Matthew was beginning to feel a good deal better when suddenly he was doused by a shower of cold liquid.
"Oops! Sorry, Squib!" a mocking voice laughed. Matthew, covered in a freezing blanket of orange juice, turned to see a tall, thin boy with brown hair and tanned skin whom he recognized as one of McLaggen's lackeys from the train.
"You'd better be, Wycliffe!" Shoshanna shouted after him. "Here," Shoshanna waved her wand, "Scourgify."
Matthew was instantly dry. The trio glared over at the Gryffindor table where Wycliffe was being greeted by his fellows with great guffaws and pats on the back. But when he sat down he was immediately up again, a plate of eggs dripping from the seat of his robes. Wycliffe reached behind himself and felt the mess, raising before his eyes hands covered in golden glop. Furious, he looked over at the Hufflepuff table where now Donald, Matthew, and Shoshanna were trying to hide their giggles while, unnoticed by all but Matthew, Izzy smiled slyly as she hid her wand.
"I have to go. I have Ancient Runes right after breakfast, and I want to finish reading the chapter," Shoshanna said, snatching the cinnamon roll Donald had just put on his plate and taking a bite from it as she got up to leave. She returned it back to his plate as though it were nothing.
"We should go as well if we want to get through most of the school before classes," Donald said, jabbing a finger in disgust at the partially eaten roll.
Donald took him all the way from the Divination tower to the Potions room. As they turned down a corridor into a large hallway Donald threw out his arm to stop Matthew. "What is it?" Matthew asked.
"It's the Slytherins... and her."
Matthew had been so preoccupied with trying to memorize the rooms and corridors and various secret passageways and false steps he had not even noticed the slight, thin-faced girl from the train entering from the opposite direction. She was dressed in her black robes with their emerald trim, her eyes were hard, glaring at no one in particular. A raven sat, perched upon her shoulder. Behind her, a group of Slytherins walked.
In a single, fluid motion, she crossed her hands in front of her with two fingers on each hand pointed up and swung them outward. The Slytherins fanned out to either side of her like a pair of great black wings, taking up the entire hallway, forcing other students to flatten themselves against walls as they passed. A tall, sallow looking boy who could not have been younger than a 5th year, gnashed his teeth at a young girl who was trying very hard to disappear into the wall. He laughed as she trembled in fear.
"Ceelee Carrow," Donald whispered. "Her dad was the Death Eater, Amycus Carrow. Rumor has it he taught her everything he knows about the Dark Arts." He shuddered involuntarily as he said the name. "They say she uses that raven to communicate with her father in Azkaban. Those are the children of the Death Eaters following her."
From behind them Matthew felt a shove and McLaggen broke through, determination in his blue eyes. He was followed by his gang. He strode with purpose, meeting Ceelee halfway down the hall. Both groups stopped as their leaders stared each other down.
"Move it, Carrow!" McLaggen ordered. The Slytherins hurled some rather unpleasant insults, but Ceelee just smiled in a way that sent a shiver down Matthew's spine before she stepped aside and made a sweeping gesture with both arms to let McLaggen pass. There was such a superior look in her eyes it was clear that even though she had conceded, she had won.
"What was that all about?" Matthew whispered to Donald as the Slytherins exited through the hall Matthew and Donald had just come.
"Those two do nothing but fight, ever since the moment her name was called during the sorting."
"Why? I mean I get that she is a Carrow and all."
"Your brother was Terry Boot, right? I'm sure he told you some of what happened?"
"He doesn't like to talk about it.
"I don't blame him. He really took it hard. But, you know, he never stopped fighting them. I still remember the day he jumped up on the table and announced to everyone that Harry Potter had broken into Gringott's and escaped on a dragon. The Carrows had to pull him down to make him stop, and even then they had to silencio him. My cousin, Ernie, found him later, crumpled up besides the barrels by the Hufflepuff entryway. He was so bad off he couldn't even walk up the steps so he had just gone down as far as he could to get away from them. Ernie and I helped get him to Madam Pomfrey."
"He never told me."
"Yeah, but the McLaggen's got it the worst. Apparently, there is some bad blood between the McLaggen family and You Know Who - I don't know what it's about exactly. Anyway, you know how the NEWTs were cancelled the year Dumbledore died? Well a lot of the 7th years were told they could come back to take their NEWTs. A lot of them didn't, but Cormac McLaggen did. Perhaps he just wanted to keep an eye on Liam, who was starting that year; you know, make sure he was settled in. Yeah, I know Liam looks big, but he's only a 4th year like Shosh. Well, when they got to Hogwarts the Carrows wouldn't let the NEWT students leave. They said they weren't properly educated in the Dark Arts and would need to repeat the year. I'm sure you know what they were doing to first years in their Dark Arts classes."
Matthew nodded. He had a sick feeling in his stomach that told him he wasn't sure if he wanted to hear the rest of the story.
"I was a second year at the time so they didn't do quite so much to us, but Shosh told me what happened to McLaggen. In the four years I've known her it was the only time I've seen her cry. They brought the first years in to a joint Slytherin-Gryffindor Dark Arts class and paired them up so - so the 7th years could practice the Cruciatus curse. I mean, no one wanted to do it. Most of the time they'd just make a halfhearted attempt and the first years would put on a good show like they were dying. Shosh said it only hurt a little when they made Ernie do her, but I think she might have lied to spare him."
Donny grimaced a moment, then continued. "It really messed Ernie up to do it. Well, all of them really, except the Slytherins, and even some of them. You'd see the 7th years coming out of class looking shell-shocked. Ernie said he found Draco Malfoy in the toilet crying after one lesson, looked like he had been sick. When Amycus Carrow realized Liam was Cormac's brother he teamed them together. Of course Cormac wouldn't do it, so Carrow Imperiused him. I don't know how but he managed to shake it off. So Carrow got his sister and they both used the Imperious Curse on him and that time he couldn't shake it off. They forced him to torture his brother over and over for an hour. Liam spent a week in the hospital ward. Cormac was never right after that. I don't think anyone could be. He joined the DA in the Room of Requirement once Liam was out of the hospital, he and Liam both. There wasn't much choice. I think the Carrows might have killed Liam if they found out Cormac had disappeared."
"But that wasn't her fault, she wasn't even at Hogwarts."
"I don't think it matters. Some wounds just don't heal. And it's not as though the apple has fallen far from the tree. Her mother was a Death Eater too, Evelyn Rosier Carrow, twin sister of Evan Rosier. Everyone knew she was at the Battle of Hogwarts but Ceelee swore in front of the Wizangamot that her mother was at home with her and her older sister, Hestia. I think she would've said her sister, Flora, had been home too if Cormac McLaggen, himself, hadn't brought her down in the Great Hall. Since the Ministry could never prove their case they had to let her mother and sister go. I've heard they harbor Death Eaters at their house."
"Still, that's not especially her fault. It'd be tough to lose your dad and your mum in one day."
"I don't know why you're so keen to defend her. You see her put a hex on someone, you'll understand. She's scary. I don't much like Liam, he's a bully on his best day, but at least he has the guts to stand up to her." Donald stopped to look at a flyer that had just been posted on the wall. "Hey, the first meeting of the Knight's Club is on Friday."
"The Knight's Club?"
"Oh yeah, you wouldn't have heard of it. It's like Dumbledore's Army but only for boys. Here, let me show you." He pulled Matthew over to the trophy case where a large plaque featuring a metal casting of a knight's breastplate and helmet was crowned by the words: Hogwarts Knight's Club 1759. To either side were two small metal plates lined one underneath the other. From left to right they read: Chair: Lesperatus Abbott; Co-Chair: Gavin McLaggen; Secretary: Aodh MacMillan; Treasurer; David Makehay.
"They found the plaque when they were cleaning up the mess after the Battle of Hogwarts. They've found a lot of strange things since the battle. It's as though the battle triggered something in the school. Doors that used to go into walls now go into corridors no one's ever seen before. Old secret passages have disappeared and new ones have appeared. Strange objects have been found. Like there was a staircase on the third floor that used to lead into a wall, but now it leads to a door that has a big room behind it. But, get this, the only thing they found in the room was a blue velvet bag, covered in yellow stars, sitting in the middle of the room."
"What's in the bag?"
"A puzzle. Probably at least a meter or two long and wide. But all the pieces look almost exactly the same and have the same pattern so it's pretty much impossible to put together. And if you try to use magic the whole thing turns white. You can't remove it from the room either or it will disappear and if you leave and come back it will have returned itself to the bag. Shosh sometimes likes to waste a few hours trying to put it together but she always has to give it up."
"Aren't there any clues?"
"Sure, but they don't make any sense. 'I lie where you begin...' or some such rubbish. I don't remember it all. Anyway, when they found the Knight's Club plaque a couple of the boys thought it would be fun to start it back up. Most of us are members. I'll say, it's a fair lot easier to practice without worrying about any girls around."
"Don't the girls object?"
"They're free to start their own club if they like, but most of them have kept with the DA."
"So who's the leader of this Knight's Club?"
Donald toed at the ground, clearly uncomfortable. "Well... McLaggen. But it's not as bad as it sounds," he rushed the last part.
"I get the sense it would not especially matter how bad it sounds." Matthew was almost certain McLaggen would not be keen to allow a squib into the club, not that he wasn't glad to have an excuse not to have to endure McLaggen one more minute than he had to.
Donald turned red. "No, I suppose not."
Matthew pretended to look at a flyer on the wall but his attention was captured by the one below it:
Gryffindor Quidditch Tryouts Next Week
See Dennis Creevey for details
"Are you going to try out?" Matthew asked.
"Me? No. I'm terrible on a broom. I prefer to keep both feet on the ground if I can. Oh! If you don't get a move on now you'll be late for your first class. I'll see you in the Common Room later." Donald hurried off down the hall toward the main entryway for Care of Magical Creatures while Matthew turned and made his way toward Transfiguration.
Despite his optimism that the worst was behind him, he quickly found his presence as unwelcome by the professors as it was with the students. Prof. Daphne Pinieos had not a clue what to do with him for the hour, finally suggesting he sit in the corner and watch as the other students practiced turning ladybugs into pincushions. He managed to amuse himself by watching Tip's pincushion try to skitter away from him across the table. A pretty black girl named Deborah Johnson ran around trying to catch her pincushion which was attempting to fly away. Most of the other students had only succeeded in creating over-inflated ladybugs by the end of class.
Prof. Trelawney's class was as bad as her reputation implied it would be. He found it rather irritating that she saw the Grim in Midge Owen's tea leaves when it was quite clear it was a duck. He had Arithmancy with the Gryffindors who took a particular delight in throwing things at his back for the entire class. He got up for lunch, shaking the wads of parchment from his cloak and, grabbing a pastie, he made his way outside toward the Quidditch pitch.
He climbed to the top of the center ring of the goal posts and hung upside-down by his knees from it. He felt far more comfortable here; away from everyone and everything. He checked his watch, still plenty of time before Care of Magical Creatures, a joint class with Slytherin. Hagrid might not have the best reputation as a teacher (he had heard a litany of complaints from Terry about some things called Blast-Ended Skrewts in his brother's 4th year) but he would, at least, give Matthew a fair shake.
"Hey! Hey Squib!"
Matthew sat up in the ring to see who had called him. It was Wycliffe, holding a broomstick and a quaffle and accompanied by two girls.
"Yeah, you, Squib! Get down here! You're blocking the goals."
Matthew made no move to climb down, only leaned back over so he was hanging by his knees again.
"Hey, get down or I'll take you down." Wycliffe waved the broom in what Matthew guessed was supposed to be a threatening manner.
"Cut it out, Byron." A beautiful girl with long flowing red hair slapped Wycliffe playfully on the chest. "We can just use the other side."
"Nah, I won't let this worthless Squib stop me. Hey Squib! Think fast!"
The quaffle went screaming through the air, faster than it could have been thrown without magical assistance. Matthew barely even moved, just straightening up enough to reach a fist up to block the quaffle. The ball bounced off his arm back to where it had come.
"Oh you think you're so hot! Well, let's see how you do against a real chaser."
"Byron, stop!" the girl cried. But it was too late, Wycliffe had mounted his broom and was speeding toward the goal. He slammed the quaffle at the ring where Matthew now sat. Matthew deflected it easily.
"Hey!" Wycliffe tried again, but Matthew, now quite in his element, swung around the ring and used the centripetal force to send the quaffle flying.
"Hey, Squib!" A tall, blond boy Matthew thought he recognized from the common room last night called from below where he stood with the quaffle. "Think fast!" He hurled the quaffle at one of the lower hoops. Matthew dove, catching the crown of the ring in both hands and swinging so that his foot contacted the quaffle sending it flying through the opposite goal. He used the force of the flip to propel himself back onto the post of the tallest goal and quickly climbed back up it, as fast as if he had been running at full tilt. He looked around, seeing even Wycliffe's mouth hanging open wide enough for a snitch to fly in.
Below, the blond boy was also staring, mouth agape, but the corners were turned up in delight. "Hey Squib! Boot, isn't it? Get down here," he called. "I want to talk to you."
Matthew slid down the pole where the young man greeted him, his palm out for a handshake. "Declan O'Conner, Captain of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team. You think you could do that again?"
Matthew gave him a look as though Declan had asked whether he could add two and two. "Yeah. Of course I can."
"Let's see. Wycliffe, make yourself useful and fetch that quaffle."
Declan mounted his broom and threw a few more shots at Matthew, all of which Matthew easily blocked including a rather difficult combination from Declan and Wycliffe in which he had to cross all three posts, from lowest to the second lowest on the other side before returning to the top ring. It was like flying. He no longer thought of the disastrous sorting, being forced to sit and watch from the corner, the threats and the insults - no, he was where he belonged.
He flew from the tallest hoop to the second tallest and then across to the shortest, swinging diagonally from hoop to post to hoop and then around in time to block the quaffle and then back up to the tallest goal to block a shot from Wycliffe who had dropped his arrogant attitude and was now just enjoying the challenge of it all. He actually whooped when Matthew made the block.
Declan once more threw the quaffle to the lowest ring and Matthew easily repeated the earlier maneuver, sending the quaffle flying through the opposite goal post. Cheers and shouts from the ground rewarded him. He glanced down see a crowd of students, mostly Hufflepuffs of his own class, as well as a few Slytherins, gathered at the edge of the field watching their sport. A couple of the Slytherins were just standing, attempting not to look interested. One, in particular, merely stood with her arms crossed.
As Matthew's eyes focused on her narrow figure, Ceelee raised a hand to her mouth and shouted, "Oi! Squib! You'll be late for class!" Matthew checked his watch. She was right, they only had maybe two minutes before class started.
Declan stopped his broom at the tallest hoop where Matthew stood. "Want a ride down?"
"No, thanks," Matthew said.
"Meet you at the bottom then," Declan said, flying off. He and Wycliffe high-fived in the air, inter-house competition momentarily forgotten in the thrill of the sport. "Good flying."
Matthew hooked his leg around the post and slid down. Wycliffe and Declan landed next to him.
"Please tell me you're trying out for Keeper," Declan said.
"He'd better," Wycliffe said. He ran an arm over his sweat soaked brow, causing his brown hair to stick even more than it had. "Next time I won't go so easy on you, Squib."
"I'm not sure I'm allowed. Don't you have to have a broom?"
Declan pondered this a moment. "I don't think it is explicitly in the rules. It's sort of just assumed. But you're trying out even if I have to bewitch a broom myself. I need the best possible team if we're going to have any hope of winning the cup. Where did you learn how to do that?"
"I've been in gymnastics classes for as long as I can remember. My parents thought it would be a good way to make muggle friends... you know, just in case. Coach said I could be an Olympian if I kept it up."
"Well, I don't know what gymnastics or Olympians are; but whatever they are, keep at them. I've got high hopes for you." Declan gave Matthew a slap on the back. "See you at supper. We've got a lot to talk about. We're finally going to give Creevey a run for his money." Declan and Wycliffe walked off toward the castle talking rather loudly of their individual teams and whose would come out on top.
For the first time in two days Matthew felt good. That was, until he saw Ceelee leaning against a tree, wearing a sarcastic smile, a pocket watch swinging from a chain in front of her. "Tick tock, Squib."
"Merlin's beard! I'm late!" He rushed to pick up his bag and books from where he left them but found they were nowhere to be seen.
"Looking for these?" Ceelee said, holding up the bag in one hand as she tucked the watch back into her pocket.
"Yes! Give them back." He approached where she stood as if to take them but she pulled her wand on him, backing up slightly.
"Get back. First you have to do me a little favor."
Matthew was in no mood for games, he was already late and he certainly wasn't keen to be owing anyone any favors, particularly a Slytherin.
"Aren't you going to be late, too?"
"He expects me to be late."
"Fine, what do I have to do?"
"Promise me that you'll wipe that smug smile off of that insufferable prat Jonas Smith's face in tryouts." She tossed the bag to Matthew. "I can't stand him."
Matthew smiled as he caught it in both hands, "You can count on it."
"Let's go, then. But don't follow too close. I don't want people to think I waited for you."
"Wouldn't dream of it."