Back on school, taking care of a sick family, going on a youth group trip, and getting sick myself. That's an explanation for being late on this. Oh, and happy belated anniversary, Dr. C! Congratulating you on 49 years of the success of your mutation enhancement. And the head. c(-:

Sunday, December 15

The autumn term at Northampton had passed quickly. Like a rollercoaster before a dive, the first two weeks went slowly and the next ten weeks had passed by before anyone knew it. Finals were over, Christmas break was about to begin, and most everybody was heading home for the holidays.

Charlotte excelled in her dancing abilities and with help from Allison was on the verge of being an ambidextrous dancer. Professor Hemingway was happy alright at having two dancers who could dance both right and left handed. Instead of being overwhelmed and going ker-plop onto her bed after each lesson, Charlotte would be in a cheerful mood, skipping toward the dorm with Allison. However, the fun between the dorm mates would temporarily come to an end over Christmas break.

Charlotte threw the last of her belongings into the footlocker. Allison was ecstatic to get back home and had packed the night before. Not a good idea. She dug through her footlocker again for clothes to wear on the way home, throwing clothes and toiletries by her side. Also not a good idea. As soon as a decent outfit was found, she had to stuff everything plus her nightgown back into the footlocker. With a heavy sigh of relief, Allison sat on top of the lid of the locker.

"So, are your parents coming to pick you up?" Charlotte asked her.

"Mm-mm." Allison answered. "I guess it works to ride a bus if you're not that far from home. Even with the war over, cars are still a rarity. What about you?"

"I really don't know. Before I left, Dad kept on saying he'll pick me up, and Mum just told me in a letter that I'm taking a bus home."

"Wow. No wonder your dad cried while leaving. He's anxious to bring you home. And I think your mum has confidence in knowing that after about three months of being in Northampton that you know your way around."

"I think so too. I think that Dad's had enough losing one and not losing the other."

"One what?" It finally dawned on Allison that what Charlotte meant with "one" was her brother. "Oh...sorry."

"It's fine. Yeah, they should be here about noon. Or I should be at a stop at noon." She chuckled a bit. "From what it must sound like, you're probably thinking my parents don't communicate as much as they should."

While watching her American friend snap the the buckles shut, Allison sat there and grimaced. Charlotte looked up.

"Yes?" She asked teasingly, sitting on the lid of the closed footlocker.

"I was all happy to get out of this blasted dorm and see my mum and dad again, but then I realized I had forgotten about you."

Charlotte giggled. "Aw, you're too sweet, Al. It'll only be a few weeks before we're back together. If you've lived almost nineteen years without me, you can live Christmas break without me. Then again, I will miss you. You've been awesome."

"Really?"

"Really. For helping me get started in a class of dancing righties, you've been the greatest."

"Even about the bruise on your big toe?" Both girls looked down at the still slightly black-blue toe nail.

"Well, that lets us know the accent works." Charlotte slipped her socks and saddle shoes on, being a little careful with that toe. Both girls then pulled on their winter coats.

"And if it goes away?"

The girls carried the footlocker down towards the bus stop. With a sigh heaved from her lungs, Charlotte finally answered, "...Good question..."

A bus drove in Charlotte and Allison's direction. Allison sadly smiled.

"Farewell, my friend." She muttered.

"And good-bye to you." Charlotte put on her British accent. "I shall have to catch up-erm, catch you up on what happened when I see you again."

"Good-bye!"

"Ta-ta!"

"Cheerio!"

Jeffrey and Harold waved back at the husband, wife, and three kids waving outside the front door. The boys could still hear the cheery farewells as they drove off.

"We did it, Jeff," Harold let out during a dramatic sigh. Snow had lightly fallen for the past few days like decorations for a congratulations party for those who passed during the finals.

"Yes, Mildred used to tell us about how intense those finals can be." Jeffrey said. "Thing is I never believed her."

"So, your parents are picking you up at the tram shelter?"

"Mm, no. They told me a bus is taking me back to Watford."

"I think our dead hoofer American has improved." Harold noted outloud while driving home.

"Harold, stop referring to her as that." Jeffrey lightly frowned. "Miss Campbell's improved."

"Yep. With an American at her aid...her Prince Charming. They aren't bad together."

"They're only dance partners, Harold. They're from the same culture so they understand each other. It's a boost for both their well-being."

"I can see that. It's not bad for my well-being."

"What do you mean?"

"I danced with Jenny Brown a week ago."

"And...?"

"And she's a good dancer alright. She's a really nice girl and happens to have a small crush on Professor Hemingway. That's all."

"Oh," Jeffrey remained silent for the next two minutes. Something hit Harold as to why his friend was being quiet about it.

"And what's the deal about you and Americans?"

"I just haven't had a good past with them."

"Well, we'll see about that. You can't be racist forever."

"I'm not being racist. I never said I didn't like them."

"Wellll, one reason for appreciating them is that they worked with the world at getting Germany out of here. Yeah, sure, they never got involved until 1941, but still."

"I guess that's a good reason."

"Guess? If it weren't for their effort, London would probably be for the most part gone, renamed London-stein or something like that, and you'd probably be speaking German. And no offense, Jeff, I can't see you speaking German."

"Thank you. Guten Tag. Ich bin Jeffrey Hawkinson. Was ist los?"

"See what I mean? And since when did you take up German?"

"Well, I find something, take up an obsession, and learn what I can about it. And the cycle happens again after a while."

"Hang on, I thought most of it was science." Harold shook his head in confusion.

"Well, it is, but I find other interesting things to learn as well. When the war broke out, I took up some German until Mum found out and made me stop."

"'Cause she thought it was politically incorrect at that time? I don't blame her."

"Neither do I. I was only seven at the time, so I really didn't understand before I was told not to learn it anymore." Harold pulled up to a tram shelter and helped Jeffrey take out his footlocker.

"Hopefully I should catch you up on what will have happened." Harold said as he hugged his friend good-bye.

Jeffrey sat alone patiently. When was his bus coming? He looked down at a pocket watch. Five minutes. He whistled in exclamation. It felt like twenty minutes. Disappointed, he attempted to pass the time by humming a Christmas carol and tapping his foot to the beat.

A double-decker bus was slowing down at a nearby bus stop. He stood up in excitement, but sulked when he found out in was only for a certain area. He did however notice a female figure pulling out what looked like a footlocker similar to his and ran out to help this woman.

"Here. Let me give you a hand with that." He told her, grabbing one of the handles. Man, doing this with a lady was harder than doing it with a man.

"I think I can make this easier." The young woman said. "On the count of three: one, two, three." Alright, this was easier than before.

Jeffrey and the woman slowly but surely carried the footlocker toward the tram shelter.

"And where are you going?" Jeffrey asked through the weight of the luggage.

"Hertfordshire." She answered. "What about you?"
"I'm going there too. Christmas vacation."

"You don't say?" The two set down the footlocker next to Jeffrey's. "That's my reason as well."

"And who might I ask helped me?"

"Hawkinson. Jeffrey Hawkinson."

"Thanks much, Jeffrey. I'm telling you; carrying a footlocker and doing it in a winter coat can really break you out in a sweat." She took off the scarf she wore as a hood against the cold and took out her blond hair.

Jeffrey's eyes widened a bit as he recognized the young woman.

The Campbell girl...