Oh my, here's a short one. Sorta. :[[[[[

The next chapter will be long. It's very long. Maybe unnecessarily long, but it's long. Going on 10,000 words. I rock the Word Doc. Bro. Something. I cry. :[[[

Anyway, a bit more into the minds of our favorite Professor, and Laura as well. OH MY, SOMEONE IS FEELING WONKY. And it's not just me.

Okay, okay. I've been too hassled. I'm losing it.

DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW. I might….appreciate more feedback. Maybe my characters and story are too lame. D:

Not looking forward to the New Year,

CHAPTER 11: WINNERS AND LOSERS

The car ride was a blur in Laura's mind, most of it only a bitter memory of it being overly stuffy and loud, courtesy of the Headmaster. She swore he must be reptilian to require the temperature at such a high degree.

"Did you see that Seamus? He runs like a cheetah! There's no question, he's the most valuable player on that bloody team," he roared, slapping the steering wheel, and causing the car to jolt slightly. "And how about that Johnston fellow? Physics major. Right genius, and athletic. He's pure gold. And did you see…"

She kept looking outside of the window, hoping she wouldn't develop a headache from car sickness. Her stomach already felt ill, mostly from mental duress. She leaned her head against the window, hoping the cool glass would help even a little. Layton cleared his throat.

"Laura, would you like the Headmaster to drive you back home? It's just begun to rain a little."

"That would be very kind of you. If you don't mind, it's just past Millicent Miller's house, if you recall from the party."

The Headmaster nodded. "Oh yes, that's just beyond this way…"

Laura directed him to the end of the block. "You can stop here, Headmaster, I can walk down to my house. It's a bit of a hassle to exit the neighborhood if you go down my street. Just continue straight and you'll find yourself back to Main Street after a few blocks."

"Are you sure you'll be fine in the rain? It's rather misty," Professor Layton protested.

"It's only water. I don't think I'm a witch," she said with a small smile. The Headmaster laughed.

"I hope you enjoyed the game, Miss Haris. Good luck with your studies!"

"Thank you for the ride. Good evening, Headmaster, Professor." She gave a weak wave, turning around and heading off towards her house in a hurry. She didn't want to have anyone else worrying over her or asking any more questions.

She unlocked the door and scurried inside, leaving her damp coat and bag at the door. She turned an ear down the hallway as she removed the clasps on her dress shoes, listening to her father's loud voice echo throughout the house.

"It's just a miracle it turned out to be as good as it is!" he bellowed, appearing from the kitchen at the end of the hallway. He was noticeably agitated. "Laura! Where have you been?"

"I had to review material with my archaeology professor," she said, although noting several omissions of the truth. "The Headmaster dropped me off since it was raining."

"You do know the time, don't you? Studying until 3 in the afternoon? You shouldn't be relying on them regarding anything outside education. Next time, walk in the rain if you have to! You have an umbrella." He straightened himself to his full height, pompously throwing out his chest. "Did your educators mention anything to you today?" he asked stern faced. "Anything unusual going on?"

She looked at him, puzzled. "No, nothing at all. Why?" Surely he couldn't have known she'd pretty much broke down and bawled just half an hour prior. That was absolutely unusual according to her standards.

"Seems that one of my campaign workers, a Professor at Gressenheller, is in on a little gossip. Word is that one of their finest students was passed up for a very prestigious engineering scholarship. Any word on that?"

"Nothing. Oh, you mean that QwiqLogiq or whatsit? We were told about that one, but I didn't know the winner was announced." She walked into the reading room, unwilling to continue the conversation. She was sure he would start in on how to prepare to win it when she was further along in college. If she learned anything from her father, it was to avoid getting heavily involved in a topic that had any semblance of competition within it. And, any semblance of gossip, which her father loved.

"Well, someone got wind of the winner, and it's not a Gressenheller student! How is this possible? It's sponsored by a Gressenheller graduate, an alumnus! His own son attends the University!"

She shrugged, walking to the wall piano that stood against the far end of the room. "Maybe it's all hearsay. I don't know when the actual winner is even announced."

'And I despise gossip….who cares who won, honestly!'

Derek Haris grumbled to himself. "Amazing how uninformed you are and always seem to be. How are your courses? Your mother tells me that you have a low B in archaeology. How can you be struggling with a course about prehistoric concrete?"

"That's why I've been going to review the material with the professor," she said, her voice rising slightly, but not enough for her father to retort at it. "I'll bring my grade back up before the end of semester." She tapped on the lid over the piano keys, decidedly finished with the talk. "Father, can I play the piano for a few minutes? I won't be more than a quarter of an hour."

"I'm setting a timer. You know what Dr. Aman said about the piano being a trigger." He stomped off, and sure enough set a timer with several audible beeps from the other room.

Trigger, she repeated in her mind. It was some shiny brand new theory that the lousy therapist was promoting, that children struggling with the death of a sibling can obsess over something the deceased found dear. That 'something' was the trigger, and aptly named as it triggered unsafe emotions and obsessions in the living siblings. True enough, Laura admitted she went overboard when Liam first died, but after five years? She wasn't going to play more than an hour at a time at the very most. After all, she was used to restrictions; she'd kept her innermost thoughts and feelings hidden inside for five long years.

She picked out three songs that she loved most, and decided there would be enough time to record them all, albeit with mistakes, to a cassette tape. Pulling out the old recording device, she sat down on the bench and breathed in and out several times to gather composure.

Smiling, she was thankful for the 15 minutes, subconsciously dreading the shrill beep of the timer.

The following day, Laura walked into archaeology class a mess. The wind had inverted her umbrella while walking and her left boot's sole decided to start separating from the rest of the shoe, allowing several of the puddles she stepped in to flood inside. Her magnetism to irony and bad luck no longer fazed her as it happened quite often—maybe she'd contracted a negative gene or something?—but it was still slightly bothersome. She wished it was good weather while walking to school instead of beautiful weather for unnecessary tea parties slash brunches.

Professor Layton greeted her half concerned, half amused. "Umbrella trouble?"

'As if that weren't obvious, you blockhead!' she thought, raising her eyebrows as a confirmation. She stared at her drenched sweater dress and flumped down in a desk next to Millie's.

"Oh, Laura. It would have been a lovely outfit, had you used your umbrella properly," she chortled.

"Too bad I couldn't find the one you loaned me before, right?" She shook her head in disbelief, searching her bag for a dry handkerchief.

The Professor didn't allow Millie enough time to defend herself before he began addressing the class proudly.

"Ladies, before class begins, I have a very unusual yet exciting announcement. I'm sure all of you are aware of the prestigious mathematics and engineering scholarship that Gressenheller University annually awards a student who exhibits unparalleled skills in the subjects. The QwiqLogiq scholarship is a very coveted one as it is the highest financial award given by an alumnus of the University, granting the winning student a completely tuition and board-paid education, as well as all of the benefits of fame that naturally follow afterwards. I'm sure you've all heard the gossip pertaining to this year's winner."

The girls began whispering amongst themselves as Layton took his typical standing position in front of his desk rather than sitting behind it. Millie nudged Laura's arm.

"My father told me that the student at Gressenheller who was expected to win is the sponsor's own son, and that even his own father didn't choose him! Isn't that awful? I wonder who in blazes could out-do Edward Chancey III enough to make his own father not want to choose him! Besides," she batted her eyes dramatically, "I don't understand who could deny such a beautiful boy his entitlement to the QwiqLogiq throne."

Laura waved her and the comments away, anxious to hear who had won. If it wasn't a Gressenheller student as her father had heard, who indeed could win it?

"It turns out that a Gressenheller student will not be the recipient for this year's award. Much to the surprise of this humble college, it is actually one of your own," the Professor said, a smile playing at his lips.

All of the girls gasped and tried to chat with one another again, but the Professor regained their attention again quickly.

"You mean it's a girl?"

"It's a Grissom's student?"

He nodded. "Yes, quite. And as fate would have it, she's sitting right in this room."

He made no move to hide the answer as he stared straight into Laura's eyes, giving an off-center grin. She wasn't sure how to take his gaze. Did he expect her to know who it was? Was she supposed to give the answer? Was it…

"Me?" She pointed to herself, the many sets of eyes now staring at her making her feel ridiculous.

"Indeed, Miss Haris."

"Wait, you want me to guess who it is, or…"

"No, the recipient is indeed you, Laura. You're the winner. And for good reason as well. I hear the excavation in Ireland is producing fabulous results, many thanks to a lot of your own hard work. Ladies, if you will join me in congratulating your classmate, Laura Haris, this year's recipient of the QwiqLogiq Mathematics and Engineering Application scholarship."

Laura was dumbfounded. Had she actually woken up this morning and walked to class? Was she still sleeping? She continued staring at the Professor, brow furrowed, as if the words were spoken in Latin and she had no clue what was going on. Millie slapped her arm, pointing to the front where Layton was holding a plaque, then continued clapping reluctantly. Laura stood and walked to the front with hesitation.

She took the plaque and looked quickly over the shiny plate on the front, her name engraved in a flowing script. Was her name really ground into the metal?

"I can't believe this," she muttered, loud enough for the Professor to hear over the clapping and small cheers from some of the girls. "I don't even attend Gressenheller. There must be some sort of mistake."

"If you'll come to my office as usual for review, I'll explain there." He shook her hand firmly. "But please feel proud: this is what happens when you're honest with yourself and share your talents with others." A small wink, and he motioned for her to return to her seat.

"Now then, girls, as anticlimactic as it sounds, unfortunately we must return to archaeology, so if you'll please turn to page 394. We'll be skipping a few chapters…"

The hallways proved more annoying than usual as the news spread like wild fire, Laura becoming the target of compliments, some more half-hearted than others. Many people just stared in surprise, but she was sure many of them harbored jealousy or disbelief. It turned out that Edward Chancey the 3rd was a popular and well-liked boy in his fourth year, and it was a complete upset that some unknown freshman from a different college stole the crown right from underneath his nose, not to mention, from his own father.

Laura ate lunch in an unused classroom, away from prying eyes and eager ears. Perhaps she was being honest with herself, using her talents, but she wasn't sure if it was worth the reactions of those around her. Truthfully enough, she loved mathematics and engineering; she knew she was born for it. But why couldn't everyone accept that some people are good at that sort of thing, just as others are good at being lawyers, or doctors? There was nothing different about her other than her unique skills. It was no cause for envy in her mind. She didn't envy those skilled in other fields, why were others envious of her?

She hung her head and knocked on the Professor's door.

"Come in," his voice said, muffled by the closed door. Laura turned the handle and poked her face through the crack, pushing the rest of the door open slowly. Layton was busy at his tea pot, pouring some sort of crumbled leaf in the diffuser. He glanced out of the corner of his eye. "Ah, Laura, please take a seat. We have much to discuss."

She looked at her knees as she sat quietly, waiting for him to finish preparing his tea. He sat at the edge of his seat finally, hands folded, his elbows resting against the top of the desk. "Well." His smile was more energetic than usual, more of an elated grin if anything. "You've seemingly done the impossible, Laura."

"Much to the chagrin of everyone else, it seems," she said sullenly. "Seems I'm more infamous than anything."

"Well, understandably, their favored prince has since been usurped. However, where it truly counts, we're all exceedingly proud of you. This is not something to blow off; it's a much esteemed honor. I trust that you realize this, despite the reactions of many of those around you."

Laura agreed with a lazy nod. "I still don't think I did anything deserving of this scholarship. I really wasn't trying all too hard."

"You've tried hard enough. Those who are involved with the awarding process feel you've done more than your appropriate share of work, and have contributed greatly to your field."

"My field?" It sounded restricting somehow, the way he said it. Wasn't she still a student? Or were her talents already committing her to something without her realizing it? Lovely, she thought, another opportunity to be used.

"Well, you do seem to love mathematics and engineering, don't you?"

"I don't know if I'm able to designate something as 'my field' just yet. I'm not even 18!" She wrung her hands together, trying to warm her fingers. "So, how does this all work? I've never been awarded something so…large."

"You'll be announced by the head sponsor this afternoon. Naturally, they'll want your presence for photographs, and a few words. Are you able to do that?"

"Do I even have a choice?"

He shook his head, chuckling. "Not really, but it's here at Grissom's, so it shouldn't take too much of your time. You're also expected to be present at the HEFF conference next month."

Laura knit her eyebrows. "Heff conference?"

"Higher Education For the Future. College-level educators from colleges throughout Great Britain attend, and many prestigious awards are given and recognized throughout the academic community. It also features workshops that touch upon improving college education, but that's not required for yourself." He lifted his hat and scratched his head. "It's all a lot easier than it sounds. The attending part, I mean."

"As long as I have the details, it shouldn't be a problem."

Professor Layton got up and tended to the tea, pouring two cups. "If you wouldn't mind waiting here for a bit longer, your paparazzi from the University should be here within half an hour. I know you don't like it hot, but this is a new recipe. Thought you'd like to be the guinea pig." She took a cup from him and looked at it carefully.

"By the way, I tried your tea last night, after I got home."

"Pardon?"

"The ingredients that you gave me, what seems like ages ago? I made the recipe."

He nodded, almost losing the sip he just took. "Oh yes, I wondered when you'd try that. So, what did you think?"

"I have to admit, I liked it better warm. It was a bit like apple cider, which I prefer warm anyway."

Layton raised his eyebrows, smiling against his cup. "So I made a fan out of you."

She snorted softly. "Was it a challenge or something?"

"Perhaps. I've never encountered anybody who didn't like that brew, and what with you not liking tea and all, I wanted to see if it could even win someone of your preferences over." He shrugged. "Guess I win."

"Ha. That's not really fair, but I suppose if you told me it was a game, I subconsciously wouldn't have been honest," she said, laughing slightly. "I'm a bit stubborn like that."

"As I've gathered," he said in a low sarcastic tone, catching himself off-guard.

'I hardly ever use that tone, it's very curious as to why that's coming out…'

Laura stared at the ceiling, purposefully avoiding his gaze. "If you're referring to my grade in your class, then that's an acceptable comment. I don't see it going up very much any time soon."

"It's not necessarily the fact that you are stubborn about it, it's the reason why you are, that I struggle with. Is it really such a terrible subject?"

"It is. While you are busy teaching in a boring old classroom, the result of my productivity is being put to work at an excavation site. Which sounds more fun to you?"

"They both involve archaeology, Laura," he said matter-of-factly.

"But only one involves me actually learning about it directly. And that's boring. If I have to be involved with it, I'd rather build the tools to make it happen. That's my input." She sipped her tea slowly, hoping she wouldn't burn her tongue.

He sat his cup on the desk, wearing a somewhat fake frown. "Hmm, now let's change the subject, as I'm beginning to feel a bit self-conscious."

She laughed in disbelief. "Really? Or was that more sarcasm?"

"It was sarcasm. Sorry, I'm not very good with it, when all is said and done." He smiled.

Laura sat quietly for a moment. What exactly was she talking about? What was the topic, the agenda? They both rattled off a load of words, but…what was going on? It was like it was going nowhere, but it flowed, it somehow worked; she didn't feel nervous, and she wasn't sitting there wondering if her words sounded stupid, or if she said the right thing. It felt quick, witty, as if she was trying to jib him on something or 'one-up' him, so to speak, but there really wasn't a reason at all. She'd have to think about it later, she decided.

Her demeanor changed to normal, and she chose her words more carefully, deciding to choose a topic the Professor could expound upon without needing her input. It was safer that way; she felt that when she really got into talking with him, it was as if she was exposing too much of herself. She became too open, too sarcastic, too…her.

'Not acceptable! Teacher's aren't meant to be talked with that way.'

As he was just about to delve further into the differences between European teas and Asian ones, a knock fell on the door, followed by a turn of the handle. The Headmaster entered, a tall and balding man following behind.

"Hershel, my dear fellow. I knew I'd find you here with our esteemed Miss Haris. Mr. Chancey, this here is your winner, Miss Laura Haris of Grissom's. Laura, this is Mr. Edward Chancey II, founder and sponsor of the QwiqLogiq scholarship."

She was taken aback by the kind and frail man that now stood before her, reaching out his hand. She stood as he shook hers slowly, cupping his other hand against the handshake.

"Miss Haris, truly an honor. I can't tell you how impressed I am to have someone like you as our recipient this year. I'm truly amazed, believe me." He let go of her hand and placed both of his on his hips. "I won't lie: this award is a difficult one to receive, and it's as if you were just born for it. Congratulations on a job well done."

Laura opened her mouth, smiling, not knowing what to say. "Well, thank you. To be honest, I just never expected this…"

"Many of the recipients say that, and I think that's a reoccurring trait that we see in these winners. You're all so humble and selfless, and even more so you deserve this honor. We'd be grateful if you could join us for a bit for photographs, and if you have anything you'd like to say to the press."

"The…the press?"

"Expectedly, this is quite a big deal. You'll probably be finding people picking you out in public, should you venture about London. Don't be surprised if it happens!"

She nodded reluctantly. "Sure, I'd be happy to."

Glancing at the Professor, she was able to smile warmly, hoping it'd serve as a good enough thank you for the tea. He stood.

"Have fun," he said as she exited with the Headmaster and Mr. Chancey, who bid farewell as well. The door shut with a muffled click. Sitting back down, he stared at the top of the desk for a moment. He couldn't explain it, but the room suddenly felt a bit cooler, perhaps a bit duller? Maybe it was because he didn't get to finish his conversation on tea? No, suddenly, he wasn't just alone: he felt alone. Usually, being by himself was considered a blessing, and he could think and think and think with no interruptions. A rare commodity, now that he was teaching. But this time, he was feeling something different.

'I must admit, she's a bit fun to talk to, even if she's a bit stubborn,' he thought to himself, surprised at this revelation. He'd never had a student near the same intellectual level as himself, so it was a bit strange. Sometimes he noticed himself forgetting that she was his student.

"Hmm, although, that's all she is really, even if she's being awarded something so prestigious and talks wiser than her peers; that's still all she really is, after all," he concluded, pouring another cup of tea.

The same drive that kicked in when something needed solved was currently in gear; it was eating at him. It seemed explainable, but he wasn't in the condition to find the explanation. Perhaps he was too scared. It wasn't like him to have gray where he usually dealt with black and white. He felt as if something was infiltrating his carefully drawn boundaries, something foreign, something mysterious. Whenever he started thinking about it in depth, it bothered him. But when he just…went with the flow?

'It's like…a pleasant sort of problem, bittersweet, like…'

He blinked, shaking his head, deciding he needed more sleep. Definitely more sleep.

The cure-all answer he'd been prescribing for himself for the past few days.