Disclaimer: I do not own Soul Eater! I only own my OC's, Jamie Elliot, Mark Jennifer (I've always owned him, I just forgot to claim him.) and Raissa Bel Garnaeu-Olive.
Here's the last chapter! Sorry I dumped all of this on you in one day, I was busy with summer awesomeness. I will try to stay consistent as much as possible! I hope I'm not OOC, and that I haven't lost anyone!
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12. Lessons
"Wake up Soul!" Maka hollered, pounding on his bedroom door. "School is in half an hour! You shouldn't have stayed online so long!"
Soul groaned and threw a pillow at his door. His head was searing and when he opened his eyes he winced. He really shouldn't have stayed up all night. But he was trying to monstrously hard to find the person who beat his record again. That Vospirescauchemar person was such a pain.
Maka gave the oak door one more solid smack before sighing in defeat, "Okay Soul, you have ten minutes or I am coming in." Soul sighed in a defeat of his own, got dressed, and left the room.
The sunlight that streamed into the room took Soul aback, and he whimpered. Staying up till 5 A.M. . . not a smart idea.
Maka gave him a long suffering look before shaking her head and pouring their daily dose of Captain Crunch. "I told you to get off at midnight, but you didn't listen to me." Soul took his seat and dug into the colorful oat fluff known as cereal, "Calm yourself tiny tits, I'm up, you should be happy."
Maka's forehead veins puffed up, and she resisted a Maka Chop once again, knowing Soul would have a migraine. "I am, just eat your breakfast." she sighed, for the second time that day.
Suddenly, a small ding emanated through their small living quarters. Maka turned towards a blue computer that sat on a small side table. "Soul." Maka called, turning towards her black heavy-lidded friend, "You have an Email, and it looks pretty official."
The white-haired teenager dropped his spoon and strode over, "What's it say?" Maka opened the Email that said as a title "Lessons For Raissa" sent from, The Garnaeu-Olive Family. The two continued to stare in a very baffled manner as the Email loaded and spread on the page:
Dear Academy Students, this is the late King of France.
I have a favor to ask of you, if any of you is musically inclined, I would be much obliged, and will pay, anyone who will give my darling daughter lessons on the piano.
And that's all it said.
Maka backspaced, and saw the sent too, which was in fact, every student in the DWMA. "He must have gotten the addresses from Lord Death or something, they aren't on the school's website."
Soul barely heard her, he was too busy considering the king's offer, and sighing, for his second time that day, at the "uncool" embarrassment this man had undoubtedly bestowed upon his daughter.
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Review please!