London, May 2395
Jack didn't like school dances. As far as he was concerned, it was just a chance to dress up and jump around among sweaty teens in the school gymnasium while sipping on replicated fruit punch that was mediocre at best.
If it weren't for a promise to his mother to try to spend more time with his peers and be a 'normal teen' (whatever that meant), Jack would probably just opt to spend the night in his room, reading.
And yet, here he was, in the packed gym, with music blaring so loud that he could hardly hear what his date was saying to him.
Jack's date for the night, Shelly Wright, was a lovely girl. She was thoughtful, kind, and intelligent. A good conversationalist, if a bit shy. But Jack still found himself bored. Outside of school, Shelly's interests lay in art and photography—something that Jack knew little about and had no desire to learn more. But he indulged her, slipping on a mask and feigning interest, asking questions and making appropriate comments. Judging by the smile on her face, he was succeeding at this charade. He was good at pretending, after all.
On the dance floor, Hermione caught Jack's eye and beamed at him. She looked lovely in a pale yellow dress, and she'd done something different with her hair. It looked like she and Damien were having a good time.
Hermione was another reason why Jack was here. He had never had a friend—let alone a best friend—and he felt strangely protective of her. So far, Damien seemed respectful, but Jack kept throwing occasional glances in their direction to ensure everything stayed that way.
The music changed, and several people nearby jumped up, squealing.
Shelly drained her punch and set the cup down. "Shall we?"
She took Jack by the hand and led him to the edge of the dance floor once more. She preferred to stick closer to the outside, and Jack was fine with that. More than fine, actually. He hadn't done much of this type of dancing, if you could even call it that. (Certainly, nothing like the type of dancing his mother had taught him.) But there wasn't much to it, other than moving your body in time to the music.
Or not, he noted, looking around the floor.
Still, it was a dance. His mother would be happy.
In the middle of the dance floor, Robertson and his friends were showing off their moves. The crowd rearranged itself around them. Shelly took a glance in their direction and rolled her eyes. Apparently, she didn't think much of Robertson, either. Jack liked her a little bit more for that.
They danced, drank punch, and talked. What seemed like an eternity later, the dance began to wind down. Some of the students began to leave. The tempo of the music slowed, and suddenly, the couples and the wanna-be couples started dancing much closer than they had been earlier in the evening. Jack kept himself at a respectable distance as he and Shelly swayed to the music.
She yawned. "I think I'm ready for bed," she said guiltily. "Sorry, I like to get up early to get some artwork done while everyone else sleeps."
"No need to apologize. I'm an early bird myself," Jack said, the lie slipping smoothly from his lips.
He was, in fact, a night owl. But Shelly didn't need to know that.
"I'll walk you back if you're ready to call it a night."
She slipped her hands off his shoulders. "Yes, please."
Jack searched for Hermione as he and Shelly began making their way towards the door. He spotted her on the top row of the bleachers, engaged in a conversation with Damien. They seemed rather absorbed in their discussion: Damien explained something, gesticulating wildly, while Hermione listened with rapt attention, nodding along.
"You sure you're okay with leaving?" Shelly asked over the music, drawing Jack's attention back to her. "You could stay. I can get back on my own. The dorms are rather close."
He shook his head. "It wouldn't be good manners, would it?"
And his mother had taught him better than that.
"Besides, that's no way to thank a lady for gracefully enduring my company for the entire evening."
Shelly laughed. "Are you sure it wasn't the other way around?"
"I'm sure."
They walked slowly towards the dormitories, talking about classes and plans for the summer. Shelly really was a nice girl. It wasn't her fault that people rarely clicked with Jack.
Actually, make that never.
Not before Hermione.
As they approached the entrance to the dormitory building, Shelly's best friend rounded a corner and stomped past them, her face flushed with anger. She nearly crashed into the front door as it wasn't fast enough to slide open for her.
"Uh-oh," Jack said once the door closed behind her.
Shelly sighed. "I better go see what that's about."
"Of course."
He was somewhat relieved that his time with Shelly had come to an abrupt end. He thanked her for the lovely evening, and they said quick goodbyes to each other.
Once she disappeared through the doors, Jack stuffed his hands into his pockets and looked up at the night sky. The stars, as usual, weren't visible. Too much light pollution in London.
Instead of going inside and calling it a night, he turned around and began walking back towards the gym.
As he walked across campus, he passed by two of his classmates, who loudly and enthusiastically sang an old French song—Sur le pond d'Avignon—under a large oak tree. The song was accompanied by some ridiculous dance moves, but who was Jack to judge anyway? They seemed to be having fun. Other students walked purposefully, strolled, or paused to chat, clearly not yet ready to retire for the day.
As soon as Jack walked through the gym's front door, his gaze zeroed in on Hermione, who was still on the top row of the bleachers. Robertson was there, too. Along with his cronies.
Oh great.
"Why don't you go spend some time with your date, Robertson," Hermione was saying (Jack could hardly hear her over the music), "and leave us alone."
Robertson, his hands in his pockets, stared at her with an expression that Jack would love to personally remove from his face.
One of Robertson's cronies said something that Jack couldn't quite make out, and they laughed. There was tension in the air, and something was about to go down, Jack knew. He began pushing his way through the crowd to get to Hermione.
"Let's just get out of here," Damien said to Hermione, rising to his feet and making his way down the bleachers.
He didn't make it very far. Robertson stuck out his foot and tripped him. As if in slow motion, Jack watched Damien fall all the way down the bleachers and hit the floor.
For a moment, there was a complete silence in the gym. Even the music stopped playing.
"Damien!" Hermione shouted, and Jack looked up at her just in time to see her lowering her outstretched hand. She rushed down the bleachers and knelt by Damien's side.
"I'm okay," Damien said, rubbing his forehead, looking dazed. "Surprisingly. Just a little bump."
"That was quite the fall," Jack said, kneeling on Damien's other side.
Jack was no doctor, but his mother was. She'd taught him a great deal. Before he came to study at this school, he and his mother had travelled all over the quadrant, helping people and treating various injuries and diseases. Jack knew that a fall like that, at the very least, could result in a few broken bones, head trauma and other internal injuries. Possibly even death. He shuddered at the thought.
Behind them, Robertson and his cronies said something nasty, and it sounded like a couple of teachers were making their way towards Damien ("He just tripped and fell," someone was saying to them.) Jack did his best to ignore them all.
"Does it hurt anywhere?" Hermione asked. She cradled Damien's head in her hands and stared into his eyes.
Damien blinked at her. "Not really. I just feel … disoriented."
"You need to go to the infirmary."
"She's right," Jack agreed. "Could be a head trauma. A fall like that can lead to many different problems. Trust me."
"Jack's mother is a doctor," Hermione explained, rising to her feet and offering a hand to Damien. "Can you stand and walk?"
"I think so."
After briefly talking with the teachers, Hermione and Jack were out the door and on their way to the infirmary, supporting Damien between them. Their maths teacher, Mr Cameron, accompanied them.
"I feel fine. Really," Damien protested. "I can walk on my own."
But he made no move to disentangle himself.
"Now, now, Mr Smith," said Mr Cameron. "Better be safe than sorry, as they say."
As they made their way across campus (with Damien apologizing every now and again for the unfortunate end to their evening), Jack replayed in his mind everything that had happened. The distance from which Damien fell, the way his face and his body hit the bleachers and then the floor … He would definitely have injuries—and a concussion. At the very least.
Not that Jack wanted that for their fellow classmate. Damien was a nice enough guy, and Jack never wanted to wipe the floor with his face or pulverize it into plomeek soup—not like he wanted to do with Robertson.
Still, the fact that he was walking, talking, and behaving overall normally … Something wasn't right here. Jack watched him fall. Heard him, thanks to the silence in the gym at the moment of impact with the floor. It was almost like Damien hit something soft, like a pillow.
Ridiculous, he knew. But he couldn't deny what he'd seen and heard, and the outcome of the situation certainly supported his thinking.
The nurse at the infirmary confirmed it, too.
"You got lucky, it would seem," she told Damien, after examining him. "But still, I'd like to keep you here overnight, under observation, just to make sure."
"But—" Damien began.
"No buts, Mr Smith," Mr Cameron said firmly. "I'll inform your grandmother. And I'll check on you first thing in the morning."
"No, please, sir. Not my grandmother." Damien's eyes were wide as he pleaded with the teacher. "She's old, and her health is weak. Please don't tell her anything. If it's indeed nothing, then why worry her about it?"
Mr Cameron considered his words and exchanged a look with the nurse. At her nod, he sighed deeply.
"Very well, Mr Smith," he agreed. "But at the first sign of trouble, I'm contacting her."
Damien closed his eyes in relief. "Thank you, sir."
"And you two," Mr Cameron said, turning to Jack and Hermione, "as you are residents of the adjacent dormitories, I assume you can accompany each other adequately?"
"Yes, Mr Cameron."
They said their goodbyes to Damien and stepped outside, into the cool night air. The paved pathways that crisscrossed the campus were deserted now, and Jack and Hermione were silent as they made their way towards their dormitories.
In fact, Hermione seemed too quiet.
"Are you alright?"
"Yes," she replied, looking up briefly as a noisy flitter rumbled overhead. "Just shaken up a bit."
"Yeah," Jack agreed. "And not that I'm not happy that Damien's alright, but it simply doesn't make sense."
Hermione gave him a sideways glance and wrapped her arms around her.
"I mean, I saw him fall," Jack continued. "I watched him, and—"
Hermione stopped abruptly. She seemed tense and was trembling. Thinking that she was cold, Jack removed his jacket and draped it around her shoulders.
"What is it?" His hand lingered on her shoulder.
"You saw it, then?" She stared at him intensely.
"Uh, yes?"
He'd just told her that, hadn't he? But it seemed as though the 'it' Hermione was referring to was something else.
Before he could inquire about it, Hermione asked: "Who else saw it?"
Confused, he frowned at her. "I'm not sure we're talking about the same thing here?"
"I believe we are." She sighed deeply. "Jack, there's something I need to tell you. I want to tell you."
"Alright. I'm all ears, as always."
"Not here."
She grabbed his hand and led him across the dewy grass towards the large oak tree—the same one their classmates were signing the French song under earlier. She led them away from the overhead light poles, Jack realized. Towards the cover of darkness.
"I've wanted to tell you for some time," she said once they reached the oak tree. Her hand still firmly held onto his. "But I wasn't ready to talk about it yet. And my mum… Well, she thinks it's best not to talk about it at all. She believes it's best to keep it a secret. At least for now. But you're my best friend, Jack. I don't want to keep this a secret from you any longer, and I think I'm finally ready to share things that I know you've been wondering about for some time."
Jack couldn't see Hermione's face but knew she had tears in her eyes.
"Only if you're sure," he said. "You don't have to do anything you aren't comfortable with or ready for. Not on my account. You know that, right?"
In response, she stepped forward and hugged him tightly. Jack returned the hug.
"Well, then," she said, pulling away, "let's do this. Take my hand."
He did as she asked, and the next moment, he felt like he was being squeezed through a space tube.