Part 17: Wherein There Are And Might Be Consequences (Part 1).

Chapter 14: Wherein There Are And Might Be Consequences (Part 1).



Virginia raises an eyebrow. "What do you mean by 'someone', exactly?"

I sigh. Part of me wants to lie, keep her in the dark- but the talk I had with Damien the other day would have made me a hypocrite if I did. My guns are my guns, and I have to stick to them, even if they're the sort that needed to be charged after every shot, and had a tendency of blowing up in their owners' faces.

"Damien," I say simply.

BOOM.

"You- what?! You're ditching Ellen to go on a date with a demon?!" Virginia yells.

"It's okay, Virginia!" Ellen says. "Really, it is! She doesn't have to stay if she doesn't want to!"

"He is a monster!" Virginia yells at me. "He'll treat you like dirt, like he always does!"

"No, like you always hear from William!" I yell back. "I can't believe you'd judge him based on his looks!"

"Why not? Because I'm 'urban'?" Virginia sneers.

"That wasn't what I meant, and you know it!" I retort. "Honestly, I don't see why it's any business of yours!"

"It is, when someone I thought was my friend starts going out with someone as untrustworthy as Damien-freakin'-Ramsey!" Virginia snarls.



"Well gee, maybe it's because of people like you that he has trouble trusting anyone else, hmmm?" I hiss back.



Mommy Daddy don't fight

Virginia gives Ellen the most incredulous look, and I in turn shoot my blond friend a grateful one. "Hold up," Virginia says, "don't tell me you want her to date him?"

"It's not a date!" I shoot. "He just wanted to show me a magical restaurant! To be nice! And as an apology for how he's been treating me!"

"He's taking you to the Glen, Mary, the Glen, and you don't think it's a date?!" she says exasperatedly.

"Virginia, please," Ellen begs, "even if she is making a mistake as you say, it's not really- you can't tell people who to be friends with."

"Ellen, I'm trying to side with you here," Virginia scowls, before taking a deep breath and holding up her hands. "Okay, you know what? Clearly I'm outnumbered here, so go do whatever you want, Mary," she says angrily, making shooing motions at me. "Go on, leave- and when this blows up in your face, don't say I didn't warn you."

Well, what could I say to that? Turning on my heels, I walked out in silence, trying to keep myself from hearing Ellen's sigh.



Since we were going to be having dinner, I spent a few hours just window shopping; I didn't know how prices were in the Glen, though Abbott at the Grognarde Grottoe seemed to have a pretty good idea. "Reasonably priced, I suppose," he shrugged. "Actually, come to think of it, it's actually really cheap- their food's generally a buck or two less than what you'd get at a regular food store. Of course, that's 'cos it's made with magic."

I nodded, and placed an order for a pair of Red Magic channeling protective gloves, 'guaranteed to arrive in the next 2-3 weeks', according to Abbott. Once I was done there, I resumed window shopping, but something kept slipping into my mind- Damien seemed worldly enough, but how could that be? I mean, he isn't exactly the most inconspicuous person around.

True, he might have used Blue Magic to disguise himself- but if that were the case, how would I recognize him if I saw him? It's not as if I had magical spider sense or anything; what magical senses I did have were simply extensions of my regular five- nowhere near suitable for picking Damien out if he's wearing an old man disguise or something. Though... now that I think about it, I doubt he'd ever wear a disguise like that- if Damien's hiding himself with an illusion, I think he'd add a little pizzazz to it; he's a Falcon, it's what they do.

And that... that got me thinking about what Virginia said earlier. Sure, Damien's good looking, kind of- but what if that's all he is? Or worse, what if he isn't? What if he's the Falcon to outdo all Falcons- what kind of person would that be?

"Mary? Is that you? You're here early."

Looks like I'm finding out one way or the other.



Well, to be fair, Halloween was last week. On the other, Halloween was last week. "Hey there, Damien," I begin uncertainly. "You look... exactly the same."

He waves my question off. "A simple illusion, fine-tuned to fool only mortals. Not something you'd try with something large, but I can manage," he shrugs. "Now come on, it's just across the parking lot!"

"Protected by illusions, I hope?" I say, seeing nothing there.

"That's right," he smiles. "The easiest way to get there is by following someone who's been there before. Shall we?"

It's a little embarrassing, taking his arm like this, and I have a momentary pang of regret when I imagine how Virginia would react if she saw me like this. In for a penny, in for a pound and other such cliches, I guess. It's not as if anyone else was going to supply them considering how the restaurant looked like.



"Not quite what you were expecting?" Damien grins.

"Not really, no," I laugh. "I expected more, I don't know, magic stuff here. Mithril goblets, walking broomsticks carrying lobster platters, that kind of thing."

Now it's Damien's turn to laugh. "Hey, just because we're wizards, doesn't mean we aren't, you know, 21st century Americans."

I nod politely as we take our seats, and as we do so, I see this restaurant isn't as mundane as it appears to be. For one, Damien isn't the only person here with wings, for example. And at another table, I see two men in well-tailored black suits talking to someone who looks like a crab crossed with a goblin. At the far end of the restaurant, Jacob's talking to someone whose hair looks like it's made of fire.

"It's simpler to rely on standard suppliers for food," Damien's saying, seemingly ignorant of my ill-concealed gawking. "It's not like the magical creatures who come around here can't survive on our food anyway. That said, they do use magic to prepare the food."

He trails off, growing slightly wistful. "I hear in the Otherworld, there aren't any limits- you can eat off floating platters in a glowing palace, while the companion you brought with you see you eating the same dish as swimming in a pool of strawberries."

"You 'hear' that's how it's like?" I reply. "You mean you haven't been there?"

He shakes his head. "Nope; I haven't graduated yet, after all."

"...okay, now I'm going to be kept wondering for the rest of the week about whether I should've asked you about it," I sigh. "But if you don't want to-"

"No, no, I do," he says hastily. "I just need a little bit of a mental run-up before I can. I want to tell you, I really, really do, but after we eat."

"Fine by me," I tell him.



I look over all the listing, but I'm not sure of what they are, or if some of them are even pronounceable with human throats- I'm pretty sure not even Welsh uses consonants at the rate these dishes are. Damien's giving me an odd, but mischievous look.

"Should I order for y-" he begins, but I cut him off with a confident look and a confident hand confidently held up confidently. With confidence.



He catches my expression, and smiles. "My brave little Horse," he laughs.

Of course, I'm not amused. "I must really be throwing you off your 'game'," I say, exaggerating the fingerquotes for all its worth, "if that's the best line you can come up with."

There he goes again with the laughter. "Oho, witty too! Point to you, Mary!"

"What can I say? You make it too easy," I grin. "Besides, you said the food here was good, and after all that talk about trust earlier on, I thought I'd see if you'd live up to all that."

"Don't you mean the standards you set for me?" he asks, though he's smiling, so I don't think he's taking me the wrong way.

"But of course, Damien, "I smile back. "Can't let you forget about who's in control, after all."

We banter like this for a few minutes, when our food arrives. My dish is some kind of ham (at least, it tastes like ham) on a bed of cantaloupes, or something like it. Damien's dinner looks like tiny eggs in some fragrant-smelling leaves. While my food's a strange, yet tasty mixture of salty and sweet, I have to admit that Damien's food is a bit too rich for me, though still great.

After we're done, and the waitress cleans up our appetizer plates, Damien leans forward. "So... I guess it's time. To- to tell you about myself, I think."

He looks so sad; for a moment, I wonder if I did the right thing by making him come here and do this, if I should just tell him that it isn't important anymore, and to let things be.

But apart from my own curiosity rearing its own pink head, I feel like Damien needs to do this as much as I want him to do so. He's clearly making an effort to do this, to invite me all the way here, and to dismiss all the trouble he went through... it just isn't right, and even if Damien's as bad as Virginia said he was, he wouldn't deserve it.

"Please," he says quietly. "Please promise me you wouldn't talk about this to anyone. It's not all that easy to talk about. Especially to those from more established magical families."

"I... I promise," I say. For some reason, I feel compelled to add the following, "And I'll try not to judge you, though that depends on what you'll say. I mean, if you're some kind of serial killer, than I'm out."

"Hah, don't worry," Damien smiles bitterly, before falling silent for a moment. "Sorry, this is a whole lot harder than I thought it would be... all right, it's like this. See, the whole reason I'm comfortable- relatively speaking, you don't have to raise your eyebrow like that-"

"Sorry."

"It's all right; it does sound ridiculous, doesn't it?" He sighs. "Anyway, the reason I feel I can tell you this is because you weren't born into a magical family."

I find myself matching his gaze when he continues, "And neither was I."

Another silence, and I have to force my next words through my incredulity like a drowning man seeing a life preserver on the water's surface. "...you weren't? But- but-"

"I know, I'm not wholly human," he says. "But my parents both were."

He leans back in his seat with another sigh. "I'm... a changeling. And yes, that probably means some demon lord somewhere in the Otherworld has the 'real' Damien Ramsey somewhere."

"Forgive me, Damien," I begin, "but you're, well, blue. I think that's the sort of thing people notice, unless demons are capable of casting illusions as babies." I consider for a moment. "Can fairy babies do that?"

"If they could, I never did," Damien replies. "I didn't look like this until later. You know," he says wistfully, "I always grew up thinking that there was something wrong with me, that the face in the mirror wasn't right, but I never knew why."

Man, I hope no otherkin are reading this



"They'd ride in through the garage," he said, leaning back, his eyes gazing upward but focusing on the past behind him. "Sometimes on white chargers, sometimes in Rolls Royces, depending on how I was feeling that day, and take me away from home. I guess every unhappy child imagines being saved like that."

There was yet another break in the conversation; I wish I could say something, but something about the lost, haunted look in Damien's eyes made me hold my tongue.. "I never saw my actual birth family," he says, "I wish they had come. Even if one is a demon, I think I have a right to know, don't I?"

When he sees me nod, he continues, "When I turned thirteen, I saw my true face for the first time. Fortunately for me, somehow the magical authorities knew I was about to... to 'awake', as one of them said, and they picked me up soon after. I never did get an explanation of how they did it, but even within the magical community, I needed to learn how to hide myself."



"Why would they ask you that?" I blurt out. "That's so rude! Don't laugh!"

"I can't help it, sorry," he smiles. "See? This is why I can tell you about this. Because to you, it doesn't matter. But that wasn't the case for them- the thing is, if they knew who I was related to, they'd be able to figure out my status, where I stood in the pecking order. There aren't a lot of magical families, and they're all very proud of who they all are."

"Virginia mentioned something about that," I nod.

"She's right. How is she, anyway? Still not very fond of me?" he asks.

"To say the least," I grin wanly.

"I don't really blame her," Damien replies. "You ever heard of the concept in damnatio memoriae? It's a Roman punishment- basically, you were so hated, you were written out of the history books, the records. Your achievements will be attributed to other people, stone carvings of your name chiseled out, that kind of thing. Well, what happens if a group of people with actual mind control powers carry out that kind of punishment? And what kind of person would deserve it?"

"I can see why you were so... unpopular," I admit. "Half-demon kid walks into a school, nobody knows who he is, and he wouldn't talk about it..."

"They all thought I had something to hide," Damien confirmed. "And since the various authorities wouldn't take any side, nobody would believe me when I said I didn't know about my heritage. Especially William," he finishes in a harsh whisper.

Suddenly he leans back, a plastic smile plastered across his face. I'm wondering what's up, when the waiter places our lunches on the table. After Damien's confession, my appetite's not exactly raring to go, but I give it a try. It's good, even though my mind's too full of questions to properly enjoy it. One thing is foremost in my mind, however.



"Did you know William was originally a Falcon?" he asks, thankfully once I've swallowed a bite. "We were hallmates at first, freshman year," he adds, seeing my incredulous expression.

"Hold on," I tell him. "He said he barely knew you since you both were in different Halls!"

"He probably didn't want to spoil his image of you by telling the truth," Damien says. "After all, being kicked out for causing a fistfight isn't very cool, is it?"

"Did he?" I ask.

Damien sighs. "He kept trying to break into my room. I- I guess it was my fault for not telling him anything, but after the treatment I suff- experienced, I wasn't feeling too friendly anyway."

he looks up at me with pleading eyes. "I- I'm sorry, Mary. Can we talk about something else now? I don't feel quite ready to talk about this anymore."

"That's fine," I reassure him. My curiosity protests, but I push it down. "Right, let's see, change of subject, change of subject..."

"You're not being very subtle," he says with a grateful smile.

"So says Mr. Can We Talk About Something Else," I grin. "Now, where was I- oh wait, I have a perfectly non-William question: You come here often?"

"Isn't that supposed to be my line?" he laughs.

"Under normal circumstances, yes, but let's not forget who's in charge here," I smile back. "Seriously though, it seems like a great place for magical races to kick back and have a few drinks or something. I just figured you'd do the same."

"Well, that is true, but I'm not a regular or anything," he says, relaxing. "That said, I heartily recommend the dessert."

"The dessert? There's only one?" I ask.

Well, I suppose you could ask for another serving if you want, but that's just gauche," he winks. "It's provided free, even if you only came in for coffee. Part of what makes this place's food good is the hospitality blessing over it, but that only works if you show hospitality as per magical tradition dictates." He settles back in his seat and looks at me.



"I don't know," I say uncertainly. "I thought of it; I have this penpal in Japan, she's a shrine priestess, and I thought of getting hair decorations to like hers, but I always had second thoughts about it."

"Trust me, you'd look good," he laughs. "I'm a Falcon- looking good is my specialty."

"Mmm-hmm," I smirk at him. "Fashion advice from a known womanizer? I don't know, seems a little suspicious."

"A womanizer with standards, let me remind you," he says grandly. "I limit my choices only to 8's and above."

"Those are some pretty high standards," I laugh. "So where do I fall in?"

He gives me the most overwrought analytical look I have ever seen, and I struggle not to laugh. "Hmmm- I would have said a 7, easy, but that was before you put on all those pounds from today's dinner," he adds, ignoring my indignant squawk. "In light of that, I regret to inform you that you have just dropped to a 6."

"And you think a couple of hair decorations can solve that?" I ask, sounding all the while like an infomercial shill asking Vince Offer if I'd really love the SlapChop™'s nuts.

"Oh yes, count on it!" he replies with mock earnestness. "Why, I'd say that it would add another one and a half points to your rating!"

"But that only raises me to a 7.5," I pout. "I'll never be able to match your standards!"

"Do not fear, my dear!" he says gallantly. "You forget the power of guilt, guaranteed to add at least another point to my rating of you! Not only that, but considering that you were willing to hear me out, that's another one and a half points!"

"Oh boy-oh boy-oh me-oh my!"I mock gasp. "But that means..."

"You're a perfect 10, Mary! Congratulations!" he announces.

I couldn't take it anymore- his gameshow host voice is so over-the-top smarmy, I break down into laughter, and the next moment, so does he. We chat a little more about inconsequential things, and I feel bad when he pays the bill and tries to keep the amount from me. All too soon, it's time to go back to campus.

All throughout, he's been a perfect gentleman. A friend-

"-and for the last time," I say in the hall corridor, trying to rub away my headache, "nothing more!"



"Look," I say exasperatedly for what seems like the hundredth time, "It. Wasn't. A. Date. We shared a meal together, and that isn't what dates are! Why are you beating your head against the wall?!"

"Just don't expect any sympathy from me tomorrow!" Virginia says, leaving in a huff.

"Why would I?" I ask, bewildered.

"SORES!" Virginia replies, stalking off into our room. I have no idea what on Earth she was talking about, and I doubt I ever will.

The rest of the weekend passes without incident, save for a series of flyers placed in the halls informing us of a special assembly on Thursday, which means we won't be able to schedule class activities. Eh, it's an extra day of rest, I can't complain.

Indeed, the first few days pass without incident, and I even learned a new spell, much to Grabby's annoyance. "It's just like you, Miss Sue," he said to me, when I outlined my theory to him before class, "to try literally blowing up an opponent's magical spells by overloading them into exploding. I do not recall you scheduling Red Magic classes with me today, a fact for which I am eternally grateful."

"Maybe not, Professor, but that wasn't what I asked," I counter.

"In response to your ill-conceived notion, Miss Sue- yes, it can be done," he sighs. "It is also supremely inelegant, and I hope you do not spread such knowledge to your fellows- such a spell would be dangerous in untrained hands."

"Ah," I reply, downtrodden, "so I guess I'd better shelve my plans for developing it then."

"Unfortunately, Miss Sue," he exhales, "I think we both know that you lack the self-control to restrain yourself. There are ways to refine such a spell, but the magical principles needed to do so are far beyond even your bull-like determination and intelligence. See me after class; I shall do what I can to ensure you don't blow yourself up."



On Thursday morning, I gather in the gym along with all the freshman students, and listen to Professor Potsdam's all too cheery "Hellooo~, my bright young things! Today is a special occasion, for you will now practice casting spells on each other, without the pressure of a test or being graded."



She then instructs us to line up in twos, and after a bit of jostling and shuffling, I end up with Donald upon Ellen's suggestion, Virginia still being somewhat miffed at my date with Daniel. Honestly, it's been days, but since 'Get over it!' would make things worse, I decide to go along instead of get ahead (which I totally could).

"I want you all to take turns casting spells at each other and defending against them," Potsdam says. "Remember though, that this is not a battle! You are not trying to defeat each other! Think of it as a game of catch- one of you throws a spell, and the other catches it! Then you switch places!"

Her face grows stern. "You are not allowed to mess with any other pair either- so no messy spells! No fireballs, ice storms- only spells that would target your partner! And even then, no spells that would hurt your partner! If accidents do happen, I will be here to help or heal you. You may begin! Have fun!"

All that talk about fireballs and accidents, and ends it with a 'Have fun!'. That's pure Potsdam all right. I turn to face Donald. "So... who goes first?"

He shrugs. "Ladies first, I guess. You know any simple offensive spells?"

"I know Push- that should do," I tell him, before moving into an attack pose. "You ready? Counting down from three... two... one!"



"Woohoo!" he shouts in triumph. "I wasn't sure that would work!"

"Nnngh!" I reply, frozen in place.

"Don't worry, it should wear off soon," he says with ease, and indeed, a few moments later I''m a little chilly, but otherwise good as new. "Okay, now it's your turn to defend yourself. You ready? Uno! Dos! Tres!"

I instinctively try to prepare my Disruption spell, but I suddenly remember Professor Grabiner's warning, and having no time to prepare another spell, I simply duck to the side.

"What? What do you call that spell? I didn't feel anything!" Donald says in astonishment.

"It's called 'thinking outside the box'," I wink.

Grabiner doesn't actually restrict the usage of Disruption; I simply thought 'black market Blue Magic' would be a neat way of including the spell, especially since it seems to lack the finesse most Blue Magic spells seem to endorse.

We trade a few more spells like this for a few more minutes, when Donald leans in to whisper something to me. "_{I've got a great idea,}" he says. "_{When I say 'go', you drop down and cover your eyes- I'll cast something over your head.}"

Maybe I'm just in a competitive spirit, but I grin and nod.



Seriously, Donald?! I never asked for this!

And there's an indication about why I've been so slow to update lately

"Donald!" I hear a shocked Professor Potsdam say. "What are you doing?!"

"Oooh, you're in trouble now!" Virginia calls out from where she's standing.

Professor Potsdam isn't finished, though. "Mr. Danson," she begins, "while your flaming dragon was very impressive-"

I missed a flaming dragon too?!

"-I did specifically mention avoiding large spells like that! If poor Mary hadn't stepped out of the way, she might have been seriously hurt! And if Mr. Blaising hadn't had his spell readied at that moment, you would have seriously burned poor Manuel!" she adds. "You're usually so careful in your creativity, Donald- why would you take such a risk? I'm afraid I'm going to have to-"

"Uhm, excuse me, Professor?"

Everyone turns to look at the speaker, and I think I'm as surprised as they are when I realize it was me. "I wasn't in any actual danger.He told me to get down and make sure I was out of the way when he cast it. And also, while I do agree that Donald can be a little... disruptive," I say, ignoring Virginia's loud snort, "I don't think he would have wanted to hurt Manuel either."

"Well, that does change things..." Potsdam says. "In that case, detention for both of you!" she laughs.



"You can use that time to consider more interesting ways of showcasing your skills for your fellow students!" she adds. "Really, you should- that flaming dragon was very impressive, Mr. Danson, and I know that you're making some great strides in Blue Magic- Hieronymous wouldn't stop complaining, the poor man!"

I look at Donald, he looks at me, and we both shrug and reply "Yes, Ma'am," in unison.

"That's very good of you two," she says cheerily, before looking behind me. "You can put Mr. Arias down now, Jacob! And you ought to be a little faster than that, Mr. Arias!"

As she heads off, Donald turns to me with a bemused grin. "You didn't have to do that, you know," he says quietly, barely audible over the sound of things returning to normal.

"Actually, I think I did," I tell him, and he smiles. It seems that, while I might have lost a friend from the Danson family the past weekend, I've got a new one today.

On Friday...










Saturday saw me once again inside the detention room with a scowling Grabby. "Mr. Danson, Miss Sue," he says resignedly. "My name is Hieronymous Grabiner, and I will be your Detention Monitor for today, here to ensure that your second date goes along just as swimmingly as your first little tryst." He then points to two jars full of pebbles.



"You will then write down the number of pebbles from each jar, then return them to your jar by hand. I have ways of detecting whether each pebble has been touched or counted, so please, by all means, try to cheat me. My weekends are ever so dull, and locking one of you in here with no food and water until Monday is looking very attractive, especially if it ends up with one of you eating the other."

He then stalks out of the room, and we look at the task awaiting us. The jars are at least the size of our heads, and if there are any pebbles in them larger than a marble, we don't see them. "What is the point of all this?" I sigh.

"Boredom," Donald says, sitting down with the air of a veteran. "Sorry for getting you into this, by the way."

"Don't sweat it; it was my decision, after all," say, waving him off as I unscrew the lid of my jar. "It wouldn't have been right to let people think you were going to hurt me when you weren't."

"Come on," he replies, a little tersely, "you didn't have to do that. It's not like my reputation's going to get any worse, but yours can."

"Still doesn't make it right though," I tell him. "Though... I do wonder- aren't you tired of being here every Saturday?"

He grins. "Heh, you noticed."

"Well," I reply, "it is rather obvious."

Donald doesn't reply for a moment. "You'd think that, wouldn't you? Tell me, Mary, do you have any brothers or sisters?"

I shake my head. "Why? You offering?"

He laughs. "Sure am! Take them, pleeease!"

"I'll think about it," I smile back. "Seriously though, is this about them or something? I know you and Virginia don't get along, but what about William? I'd have thought you two would have a lot of guy things to talk about, or something."

"Guy things..." Donald says quietly. "You know what you asked me earlier? William never asks."

I open my mouth to ask him more, but then I hear footsteps from down the hall.

So does Donald, by the looks of how he's finally trying to open his jar. "Mary, do me a favour? Next time you see William, ask him what he thinks of me."

And we both get back to our tasks in time for Grabby's return. When we're finally done, I have a personal count of 232 pebbles. I hurt everywhere, my head's foggy from tedium, and I drop into bed for a nice, long rest.

That being said, I still remember enough to be prowling (ahaha) Wolf Hall for William, when I feel something tap me on the back of my neck. I turn around, and pick up the paper aeroplane to give back to its rightful owner.



"It's all right," I say. "Actually, it's a good thing- I wanted to talk to you about something. A few things, actually."

"I suppose you did," he sighs. "Look, I like Ellen, and while she's really sweet, I don't think things would work out for both of us."

Donald's request aside, I must admit, I'm really curious now. "Why not?"

"Well, you two are young, really young," he shrugs. "If I tried to get involved with her romantically, I'd be taking advantage- like Damien is."

"What? Where did that come from?!" I ask indignantly. "We're not romantically involved! Why do people keep saying that?!"

"So... he hasn't done anything to you?" he asks.

"Apart from telling me you were a Falcon, no, I guess not," I say sarcastically.

"Ah, so he told you," he says quietly.



"...you were dating?" I ask.

William raises an eyebrow.



Man, it's a good thing Virginia isn't here, is she?

"Anyway," he says, shaking his head. "I wouldn't call it an actual relationship. Nothing really happened, then we had a fight and I changed Halls. But if he didn't tell you- what did he tell you?"

"That you were spying on him, and then attacked him," I say.

"I was trying to find out more about the guy I-" William begins, his voice rising slightly. Then he calms down, and takes a deep breath. "Well, it's been so long, i guess it doesn't matter."

"Uh, I think it does," I retort, "especially if you've been telling people he's been evil for years just because you're embarrassed about what you did to him!"

"What I did to him?!" William asks, then sighs. "Here we go again."



"I'm not under any spell!" I tell him.

"Whatever you say, but don't get your hopes up that you'll be the one to change him," William says. "Everyone he's been with thinks that, and every time they're proven wrong."

"For the last time, this isn't about Damien! I came to ask about Donald!" I practically yell.

"Donald?" he asks, in deep surprise.

"Yes!" I say, my exasperation steaming out of my ears. "Are you quite done jumping to conclusions yet? Or should I wait while you talk about how, oh, I don't know, my relationship with Professor Grabiner- the one you've just made up in your head- is sick and wrong?"

"No, no," he says, turning more crimson by the minute. "I get it, I'm sorry. What did you want to know about?"

"I just wanted to know if you two get along," I say.



"Now, I know Virginia looks up to you," I tell him. "Seriously, you're like her idol or something; she relies on your example on how to do things for herself. I was wondering if there was something similar going on between you and Donald. Some kind of secret masculine bonding thing."

"Sorry, can't reveal any male secrets," he laughs. "Honestly though, Donald's just his own guy- he doesn't like relying on other people. He'd rather solve his problems by himself."

"Like those between him and Virginia?" I ask.

William nods. "That's right, though I try not to get too involved in that."



"But you like Virginia better, right?" I ask again.

"...what's she gotten herself into this time?" William asks, grimacing. "I can't get her out of her homework, if that's what she's asking."

"Forget Virginia, I'm trying to talk about Donald!" Seriously, William! Mental gymnastics and jumping to conclusions are not ideal ways to exercise your brain!

"Then why- ooooh, I get it," he grins. Judging by the look he's starting to give me, William's brain is training for a large scale sports event-



It's the Paralympics, by the looks of it. That being said, if he thinks I'm crushing on Donald, it might give him a good reason to give an honest opinion.

"It- it's not what you think!" I say in the finest traditions of my favourite animes. Come on, Mary! Think up some embarrassing memories! I need to blush!

Thankfully, it's a split second before memories of 7-year old me swearing like a sailor at Disneyland arise ("Mommy! Mommy! Why can she say those words and I can't?" Man, that just wasn't Dad's day). William being William, he immediately forms his own conclusions about what my turning red means. "If you say so," he grins. "Anyway, he's not a bad kid- certainly not as bad as Damien- he's just really energetic, and all that bouncing around often gets him into trouble."

He shrugs. "Trust me, it's something that happens to a lot of Wolves. If he were willing to work hard on anything but pranks, he could go a long way. A steady girlfriend would probably be good for him." He winks. "I certainly wouldn't mind seeing you two together."

"I told you, it's not like that!" I scowl ("Excuse me, sir, but that sort of language is a disgrace to this park.") And for good measure, I add "Don't misunderstand me!" I never knew all those anime I was recommended would come in handy now, and I resolve to thank Sanae first chance I got.

"Don't worry, I don't!" he says with another wink. "I won't tell him you said anything. And, uh, I'm sorry about, you know, thinking you and Damien- yeah, sorry," she says sheepishly.

"I'm not the one you should be apologizing to," I tell him, still blushing ("Well, I know I never said anything like that around her!").

"Like I said, it would never work out between me and Ellen; I'll be out by the end of this year, while you two have a few more years to stay, assuming you even want to."

"Oh, she wants to, all right," I nod.

"Well, if that's the case, then perhaps you can give her a few pointers on finding her own boyfriend this year," he winks.

"...whatever," I pout. "Th-thanks for the help," I say, and walk off. That wasn't how I anticipated my talk with William to go- true, I wasn't sure how it'd go in the first place, but that sure wasn't it.

When I got back to my room, I see Ellen waving me in. "Hey there, Mary! Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, shoot," I say.

"Do you like plays? The Drama Club's doing 'Medea' this week, and I want to go, but not by myself. I don't think Virginia's into plays and stuff, and I don't really know anyone else well enough to want to go with them, so..."

I think for a moment. "Medea... isn't she the wife of Jason? Like from the Argonauts? Didn't she kill her husband and kids when Jason went for another girl?"

She nods. "That's right; it's a tragedy. The play's theme, I mean, not the play itself. I mean, it might be, but- sorry," she smiles. "Anyway, they're holding the play Friday and Saturday, and I was thinking of going on Friday. It's $5 for students."

I consider a moment, but $5 isn't really all that much, and it's not like my gloves would arrive any time soon. "Sure, no problem," I tell her, and she squeals in delight. Looks like my weekend's kinda planned out.

The next day, I'm coming out of class, when I see some familiar figures in the distance.



"Oh, Mary!" Donald says when he sees me approach. "Say, Luke, can I talk to you later? I need to ask Mary a few things."

"Sure," Luke replies. "See you later, then," he says, walking off as Donald nods in response. The younger Danson keeps his nonchalant stance until Luke is out of sight- then his face falls.



He seems as afraid of what he might hear as Damien was of telling me about himself. "It didn't quite work out as expected," I begin uncertainly. "He thought I was asking because he... he thinks I have a crush on you."

Donald sighs. "He does tend to jump to conclusions a lot," he says. "Anything else?"

"Well, he's apparently fine with it," I continue. "Heck, he thinks it'd be great if you settled down with someone and started working hard."

"Seriously? 'Settle down'? he asks incredulously. "Man, those kinds of girls sound boring. No offence. If you're that kind of girl, I mean."

"Anyway, sorry for not finding out what you wanted to know," I tell him.

"No problem," he says. Then he suddenly reaches out and pokes my cheek.



While I'm standing there, bewildered, he just laughs. "Gotcha! Anyway, thanks for telling me what you found out. I'll find some way to pay you pack, don't you worry."

"You don't have to go through the trouble-" I began, but Donald shushed me.

"Too late!" he laughs. "Really, Mary, you did me a solid- I'd go crazy if I didn't find some way to help you out, and what would happen then? Apart from the school burning down, I mean. Don't answer that.”

“Wasn’t going to say anything,” I say flightily. “See you later!”

Splitting it up into two parts; apparently I hit the character limit- I'm so proud!