Sorry for the wait guys, my writing time just got cut down by a lot. Thanks for being so patient!(And That's with teaching myself to juggle, too…)
When Maggie woke the next morning, thunder was rumbling, and the rain slammed angrily on the roof above her head. She closed her eyes, hoping that maybe if she breathed slowly enough, she could go back to sleep. When this experiment proved unfruitful, however, she pulled her blanket tighter around her shoulders, and slipped her feet into velvet moccasins, quietly descending the stairs to breakfast. But when she heard the grave whispers coming from the kitchen, she stopped, still hidden behind the corner.
"They found Brandon Oliver's body in a tavern downtown." It was Cole Blackstar's voice speaking.
"I'm surprised he lasted as long as he did after deserting." Her father's voice replied. "Kelvey Jemners didn't even last three days."
"It's getting worse, Smalls." Cole's voice rose slightly. "If we don't do something soon…"
"That's what they want, Cole." Smalls' voice was full of anger, and anger Maggie had never heard. "If we station more soldiers, we might be setting ourselves up for a massacre."
"People are dieing now." Cole pressed. "Maybe we don't have to station more soldiers. We need some insiders. We need a spy."
Maggie desperately wanted to hear the rest of this conversation. But the last thing she wanted was to be late for school again, so she stepped into the kitchen, stretching her arms and yawning.
"Morning, Dad." She turned on the kitchen stove, so that blue flames danced across the burners and reflected in her eyes. "Hi, Cole."
"Hey, Mags." Cole stood up from the table. "I'll be going now," He added.
"Are you sure you don't want to stay for breakfast?" Smalls asked, reaching for a skillet Maggie wasn't tall enough to reach.
"I appreciate the invitation," Cole replied, snagging his coat from a hook by the door. "But Heyna wants me to help her… actually, I don't know what she wants me to do. She didn't say."
"Women." Smalls shook his head, smiling.
"I hope it's not me you're talking about," Heather appeared in the doorway, already dressed in a wool-knit blue dress.
"Of course not, Love." Smalls pecked her on the cheek, and slid a duffle bag onto his shoulder. "I'll walk with you Cole. I've got a meeting in twenty minutes, anyway."
"I'd be delighted," Cole replied in an overly elegant voice, and then switched back to normal. "And Maggie, Maya asked me to remind you that Rehearsals are right after school starting today."
Maggie stuffed a finished piece of toast into her mouth whole, and nodded her thanks to Cole before speeding back up the stairs to get ready for school. Heather went to find Emma for a breakfast at a nearby Cafe, and Smalls and Cole left for their various activities, leaving Maggie alone as she dressed herself in a green dress, shoved her half–finished homework into her backpack, and make her way to school. The rain was still pouring down in buckets, so she nabbed her favorite umbrella, decorated with the Hogwarts crest, and climbed down the fire escape, favoring the quicker route out of the palace grounds. She walked quickly, avoiding the puddles in the road, finally stopping outside of the Longtreader farmhouse. Her cousin Jo shot out the door, coming to a halt underneath Maggie's umbrella.
"Hi," He panted, shifting his backpack on his shoulders. "What's going on, Mags?"
"Same–old same–old," Maggie replied, "Getting in trouble, staying up too late, planning a grand scheme to give the citizens of Natalia hope."
"I'm sorry–what?" Jo pressed closer to her as a wagon bounced by, splattering mud in every direction. "What sort of 'Grand Scheme' are you planning? Because no offense–"
"That means you're about to say something offensive," Maggie cut in.
Jo ignored her. "No offense, but a whole lot of your 'Grand Schemes' are crazy and undoable."
"That's fair," Maggie admitted, frowning. "But this is different."
"That's what you said about that archery contest that you lost, too."
"This is a fundraiser."
School was a never ending torture chamber. It was dreary and cold at this time of year, but May's gloomy attire didn't mean that nobody wanted to be outside. It was far too close to summer vacation for most students, most students including Maggie. "One month," People kept telling each other in the halls. "Only one month left." For Maggie it was mostly reason to run around and get in trouble, because that was what she always had done, and as far as she was concerned always would. But a sudden realization pierced her brain, which had gone numb during Proffesser Malkin's lecture on the Martin Treaty Of 1765.
Now that she was the bearer of the Green Ember, people would expect her to be responsible.
Wasn't that how it worked? Of course her grandfather had quite obviously never taken notice of that possibility, but Maggie felt a weight settle onto her shoulders, a weight that followed her through the school day, growing larger and larger with every worry that popped into her head. When she finally shook it out of her brain long enough to actively pay attention, the dismissal bell was already ringing. As students nabbed umbrellas and backpacks from lockers and called goodbyes to each other, Maggie sighed. Mother and Father wouldn't be happy to see her grades actively depleting. She swung her umbrella up over her head as she exited the big double doors at the front of the school building, and watched the students who hadn't brought umbrellas pulling hoods over heads, or flat out sprinting wherever they needed to go. She smiled as she saw Jo navigating his way through a crowd of sixth graders, finally coming to stop under her umbrella, out of breath for the second time that day.
"Hey," He wheezed. "Are you coming over?"
"Nope," She replied. "Rehearsals are right after school now."
Jo scowled. "Does this mean I have to go find Helmer?"
"Yep."
"I hate going to the high-school."
"No kidding. Tenth graders are scary. But don't worry, he usually has something weird to keep the rain off." Maggie shook her umbrella at him. "Anyways, I've got to get going. You know how Maya is."
"Maya doesn't care about punctuality in the least."
"Goodbye, Jo." Maggie gave him a parting punch in the shoulder, and began the short walk to the theater/auditorium across the middle school grounds.
Maggie's rehearsals were for the school's middle grade production of Annie, and she was still bursting on the fact that she had landed the lead role. Maya Singer-Shanks was living her lifelong dream of directing the musical, finally being qualified, now that she had finished two years of majoring in theatre for college. It was exciting, playing in such a popular show. No matter how much she enjoyed being Snoopy in You're A Good Man, Charlie Brown, there was something special about her favorite musical.
When she slipped into the side door of the theatre, she was met by her best friend, Lydia.
"Hi, Maggie!" Lydia wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and steered her to the back room, where the resident costume designer, Lee, was waiting. "How's the old math class?" Besides being an amazing best friend in general, Lydia was a comfortable person to be around, and –to Maggie's great relief– treated Maggie like a normal person, not a princess, much in the same way Jo did.
"Still torture," Maggie refered to her struggles in math. Really, the way she had met Lydia was when she was in third grade and Lydia was in fourth, but so gifted that they were considering skipping her to fifth. Lydia had ended up Maggie's math tutor, which had quickly become a budding friendship.
"Welp, I'm sure we can fix that soon." Lydia backed away so Lee could measure Maggie.
"Incroyable," Lee was from a far country and often spoke french. "You've grown nearly an inch since I measured you last." She shook her head. "You and half the cast, it seems. Mon dieu, I've got my work cut out for me."
"You're a wonder, Lee." Maggie hugged the amazing costume designer, and turned to see the director herself. There was an air of panic about Maya, and Maggie began to get the impression that she hadn't slept recently.
"Good, you're here." Maya waved toward the stage. "Let's get to work."