[The Month of February] NOVELLING FURY!
by Echo Elms
Echo Elms surveyed this year's preparations for Novelling Fury! in the Gardens. So far, today's kick-off event was going swimmingly. It was a lot less work than he remembered it being last year. His magical know-how was getting more useful every year. Forty-five crane-shaped Fury! fliers had been made (copies courtesy of Copy Shack over the break), enchanted, and set loose in Cascade Hall the same as last year, but this time all that enchanting had only taken an hour and half and the spells held up just as well.
The kick-off event was running like clockwork. The table, helpfully set out by the Sonora House Elves, was brimming with pumpkin juice, fruit, brownies, magical candies, and cookies to lure reluctant writers into the open. The cowboy blanket where Fury! participants had begun their enterprises last year was joined by Brett's Green Day Packers sheet early on, since Brett had stopped in on his way to breakfast and stashed it under the table so he wouldn't have to carry it around. Now, the two were laid out on the grass, ready to be pleasantly shaded in the heat of the day by a well positioned tree.
Echo perched cross legged on the edge of his cowboy blanket and flipped open this year's Fury! notebook--green, a Christmas gift from Meredith--and brandished his pen while he waited for the Fury! folk to meander into their annual novelling madness.\r\n\r\n
Subthreads:
Let the novel writing commence! by Elly Eriksson with Echo Elms, Elly, Irene Liddowe, Saul Pierce
So I like to write, Too bad I can't spell.... by Talitha Cumni with Oliver Abbott, Taltha, Talitha, Taitha
Yay? by Alexis Ashwood
Oh la la! This is fun! by Raoul with Holly Greer
21Echo Elms[The Month of February] NOVELLING FURY!93Echo Elms15
It was that time again – time to write furiously for a month in between homework and Quidditch practise, and end up with several thousand words worth of complete drivel. Elly couldn’t deny it was quite fun, though. Since the meeting was in the gardens, she discarded her sweater and headed out to the gardens in a red, sleeveless zip-up top, her oldest jeans (the ones with the torn knees) and her orange plastic flip-flops, with her sunglasses perched on top of her head.
Elly still marvelled at Echo’s Novelling Fury! prowess. For a start he organised the whole thing all by himself, and by his third year it was a school-wide activity. Elly knew she could never organise anything as vast as that; she hadn’t even managed to liase with Briony about their campaign against compulsory animal transfigurations. Echo wasn’t exactly the sort of person who revelled in crowds, either, and so Elly couldn’t help being proud of him as he sat, looking calm and composed, waiting for the crowd to form around him.
She still felt bad about not having signed up to the Fury in her first year, so Elly hoped to make up for it by attending every meeting from second year onwards. Today she had come along not even knowing what she was going to write about, but she had a notebook and a couple of biros clutched in her hand ready for inspiration to hit.
“Heya,” she greeted Echo as she arrived, grinning like a Cheshire cat. She slumped onto the blanket next to Echo, sitting with her long legs stretched out in front of her. “Nice day for it. You got any ideas for your story yet?” she asked him.
0Elly ErikssonLet the novel writing commence!92Elly Eriksson05
Echo was glad to see Elly emerge as the first arrival to the the kick-off. Somehow, she always managed to be so... Elly-like in her red zippy shirt that clashed with both her wild tresses and her flip-flops, if reports were to believed that red clashed with orange. Echo didn't see anything wrong with it. They were both colors of fire, like Elly, and poetically appropriate for the Fury that was Novelling in the Gardens today.
"Hey," he greeted her. Will you go to the ball with me? popped in his head (for at least the tenth time that week) and he pushed it aside, scolding himself (again) for being a weirdo, obsessing over something that Meredith and Elly clearly thought was a silly occasion that everyone (like, hi, me) was making far too big an issue of. There would be the right time to ask her in a nice, appropriately light-hearted sort of way at the last minute. If someone else didn't ask her first, saving them both the embarrassment of going together "just as friends."
At least he knew now that he was definitely going to go. He had a plan. It would work, and he would dance in the crowd for the whole night and he would be fine. It would work.
“Nice day for it," Elly commented on the day's Novelling promise. He beamed. "You got any ideas for your story yet?”
"Yeah. There's gonna be this kid and he gets stuck in this other kid's body and floats from one person to another to another, watching everything that happens and all the time trying to get back to his own body," Echo explained. It sounded silly, but it was supposed to be dark and frightening. He didn't know how to get that across. Maybe he would play it up, make it funny on purpose. He hadn't decided yet. "I still need a name and everything, though. A time period. Yeah, everything. You?"
“There’s gonna be this kid and he gets stuck in this other kid’s body and floats from one person to another to another, watching everything that happens and all the time trying to get back to his own body.”
“That sounds kind of creepy” Elly replied, having listened to Echo’s plot idea. “I wouldn’t like to have some other kid floating around in my body.” That really would be creepy. Actually, it would probably be highly embarrassing. Elly wasn’t exactly renowned for her grace or tact – the other (floating) person would probably have the time of his life, laughing at the genius with which Elly never failed to mess things up.
“I've still got no idea,” Elly admitted as Echo returned the question. “I have to write something better than last year, but that can’t be too difficult.” She grimaced at the memory of her last attempt at a novel, about two children flying on a magic carpet to Egypt, fighting a mummy and discovering buried treasure. Sure it sounded cool, but Elly had somehow managed to turn it into something dull, and often confusing. This year’s plot was going to be far simpler, and, with any luck, more interesting. Sadly, Elly hadn’t had any burst of inspiration thus far.
“I really don’t know,” she said, sighing, “but I thought a Fury kick-off meeting and maybe a few brownies might help me along.” Elly laughed, and opened her empty notebook to its first blank page. “Help me out?” she looked to Echo in case he had any ideas.
Irene was heading towards the Gardens, excited for the beginning of the Fury! She had been going over plots in her head, but she just couldn't seem to come up with anything that great. Nothing she could write 50,000 words on at least. She had thought of a tale of a waitress in a Vegas restaurant, telling of all the different people that passed by: the newlyweds, the weirdos, the insipring, and the regular customer that she would fall in love with. Irene had liked the idea of that, but she just couldn't think of anything to make it more... exciting. She figured she could bounce ideas off the group though. No problem. She was also looking forward to getting to spend some time with Brett. She had been a little stressed about school and Quidditch and all of that stuff put together. That was one reason why this meeting was such a relief. She could escape from the crowd of the school.
Irene grinned as she neared the place where the group was meeting, waving at Echo and Elly.
“I really don’t know,” she said, sighing, “but I thought a Fury kick-off meeting and maybe a few brownies might help me along.”
Irene froze as she was about to sit down. "Brownies, did you say?" She looked around and spotted the glorious table of food before seizing a few of the cookies and a glass of pumpkin juice.
"You guys know my weaknes..." she said, pulling out her red notebook. Irene looked up as Elly said, “Help me out?”
"What kind of story you in the mood for?" she asked, biting into a cookie, "And do you feel like adding some spice to my plot?"
You're all here for the food. I can tell. :-D
by Echo Elms
Irene dropped in and then they were three Novellers with enough snacks to feed a small army instead of just two. At this rate, they'd have a full contingent by nightfall and they'd have to mosey over to Cascade Hall or risk starvation. Or something. Especially if they all ate like Irene.
Which reminded him, he wanted another one of those ginger cookies.
"Help me out?” Elly finished. In Echo's expert opinion, she was getting too worked up about it. The trick was... well, he'd probably already told her last year. The trick was to start out with something and then let it go from there. But then, you did want something you thought was cool to start with, anyway.
He made a thoughty "Hmmm" and hopped up to help himself to that cookie he wanted as Irene asked, more helpfully, "What kind of story you in the mood for? And do you feel like adding some spice to my plot?"
"Have some ginger," Echo laughed, and tossed her a cookie as he returned with two for himself and one for Elly, too. He carefully placed Elly's on her head, fingertips barely brushing her tight curls. He flashed his teeth at her innocently, "Past, present, or future?"
Time travel would be fun. "Or all three?"
21Echo ElmsYou're all here for the food. I can tell. :-D93Echo Elms05
So I like to write, Too bad I can't spell....
by Talitha Cumni
Talitha liked writing. She’d written poetry and short stories, she even enjoyed writing essays if she was interested in the subject. She’d never tried Noveling Fury because she just couldn’t imagine herself writing so much about one subject, especially in only one month’s time. The more people she talked to who belonged last year and the year before, the more she thought it could be fun. As busy as things looked next year, this might be her only chance to try and she'd thought of a subject she loved, finding her owl. Of course, she would fictionalize it and make up characters and blend others together, but it was basically a story about how she rescued Owl and how it became her friend.
The gardens was the perfect place to hold it. The fresh spring-like air smelled sweet. Everything was green and growing. She wore shorts and a spaghetti strap top. Talitha was glad she didn’t have to worry about getting a sunburn. She loved being outside and if it was warm enough to be out without a coat, cloak or robe, all the better.
She waved at Irene, Brett, Echo and Elly. Perhaps, later Elly and she could compare notes at her swing. Right now, she wanted to get busy.
Kicking off her crocs, she dug parchment and Spell-Rite quills out of her bag and flopped down on the yellow and green sheet on her tummy, feet in the air, ankles crossed. Idly wondering what the big white “G” stood for, she began writing.
Star Rider walked along the path to her home. She kept an eye on the ground because it was rocky and uneven. A little ball of gray and brown feathers caught her attention. Curious, she scooped it up. The ball of feathers was a tiny baby owl!
“Oh! You poor thing! Star Rider cried. It was so limp and cold, she though at first, the tiny creature was dead. Star Rider was about to put it down when she saw its small round eyes blink. Cradling it to her chest, she hurried to the animal Healer.
He muttered and waved his wand over the baby for a very long time. Finally, he looked up at her and smiled.
“It’s de hide rated and in shock. It is also suffering from hypo therm eye ah. But, I think it will make it.”
Talitha frowned at the strange words. Those were the words she remembered the muggle vet used when he examined Owl. They didn’t look right, but her enchanted quill didn’t change them. Talitha shrugged and continued.
“This is a very lucky baby.” The Healer continued. “If you hadn’t been such a stoot observer, it wouldn’t have lasted much longer.”
Talitha watched as “a stoot” blurred and reformed.
“Astute!” She laught at her mistake. She turned and grinned at her neighbor on the sheet. “I was pretty sure there is no such word as a stoot.” \n
0Talitha CumniSo I like to write, Too bad I can't spell....102Talitha Cumni05
The food is just a bonus, not the main attraction
by Elly
The clearing gradually began to fill, and Elly waved in greeting to those with whom she claimed at least a friendly acquaintance. Irene headed over, and attempted to help Elly address her lack of plot problem. “What kind of story are you in the mood for?” she asked as she and Echo tucked into the snack assortment.
“I dunno,” Elly replied, brushing a beetle off her arm. “Something easy. I had this really cool idea last year, but it was too hard to write and keep it fun. It ended up being complete rubbish,” she admitted as Echo came back over.
“Echo? There seems to be a biscuit on my head.” She considered leaving it there, but with the variety of mini creatures prevalent in the gardens, Elly thought better of offering them a snack, and reached up to retrieve the cookie. “You don’t think I’m sweet enough?” she asked Echo, laughing at his faux innocence.
“Past, present or future?” Echo asked. Well there was a good starting point. The image of a medieval lady adorned in a ridiculous gown, and being rescued by a knight sprung into Elly’s mind, but it was too familiar with the odd story Saul had written a couple of years ago.
“Present, I think,” she replied. “Maybe I could write about London?” With some vague ideas forming, Elly finished her cookie and took a moment to locate a biro (they’d all fallen hidden behind a fold in the fabric of the blanket she was sitting on). “So London and now. Oh, I know! I’m a rat,” she exclaimed gleefully. “A rat living in central London and living off scraps. I’m going exploring,” she said, smiling, and hurriedly scribbling her ideas into her notebook.
“What’s your plot, Irene?” Elly asked – if they were going to spice it up, they needed to know what they were trying to spice. “Does it have a rat?”
0EllyThe food is just a bonus, not the main attraction0Elly05
Alexis had been sitting in the Cascade Hall, minding her own business, when a paper crane landed in her food. She had unfolded it to see a flyer advertising for some Novelling Fury! thing. She raised an eyebrow at this. It sounded really stupid. Still, it wasn't like she had anything to do.
When she arrived, she resisted the urge to turn right back around. The place looked so...muggle. The cowboy blanket that people were actually sitting on was awful! Not to mention a sheet with some stupid muggle football team one too! How could she, a pureblood, be caught dead with something so filthy? She was there now, though, so she decided to place her stuff on the cowboy one. It wasn't as muggle as the one with the stupid football stuff.
The red head glanced around as she walked over to the food. There was that mudblood Pecari girl that Raoul mistook her for. She rolled her eyes. How stupid. Who could mistake her for that frizzy haired freak? She grabbed a cookie and went to her stuff. Sitting down, she realized that someone had joined her.
"So, what are you going to...uh..." she had to think before she remembered what the flyer said. "What are you going to write about?"
Raoul had heard of this Noveling Fury and was pretty interested. The paper crane flying around his head also intrigued him, and he hoped that he could learn how the president was able to pull off that charm. He was a fair author, but nothing prize-winning. His English also wasn’t so good, not on paper. He was getting great at speaking, but he wasn’t so good at spelling or grammar. Perhaps he could find a dictionary somewhere in the library? There was bound to be one.
He ambled into the Labyrinth Gardens, all too familiar with the maze-like garden to get lost. This would be a great place to get to know people. Maybe Alexis would be here and they could talk? Or maybe he’d meet someone new. That would be fun. Perhaps Holly would be here?
He carried with him several scraps of parchment and a ball point pen. Quills were getting on his nerves lately. He would get halfway through a sentence and the ink would run out. Or he’d load too much ink onto it and it left fuzzy splotches instead of words. No, he’d stick to the muggle way of things.
Raoul grinned as the smell of party foods met his nose. Cookies, brownies, pumpkin juice (the latter was something that took a bit of getting used to) were all laid out, ready for him to dig in. But first, he had to work up an appetite.
He saw a few people. A group of a few friends whom he recognized from Pecari chatted off on one side. A native American girl writing her own story. He found his own little cozy corner on the cowboy blanket and sat down.
What to write, though? Maybe something set in France? A mystery perhaps? Or maybe something set in the past? Maybe Raoul should have thought of a plot before he got here. He tapped his pen on his chin as he thought. Human or animal? Past, present, future? Where to put it.
He stretched widely, hands balled in fists. His hand collided with someone. “Oh non, sorry! You are not hurt, are you?” He asked turning around to face the person he had hit. \n
It was that novel writing thing again. Oliver had wondered last year whether it would be coming round again – it seemed to be one of those annual events he’d somehow roped himself into. Actually, last year’s stint had been beneficial in more ways than one. He’d written an awesome story about a dragon slayer, which his sister Charlie had read and loved. He’d been approached by that scary lot of Pecaris, and that had somehow worked out well for him; Irene had invited him to play Quidditch with the rest of them during the last summer. That had had double benefits of getting Oliver to socialise some, something he hadn’t been especially good at up to that point, and it had made him seem popular to his family – always a bonus.
So this year, Oliver headed out to the gardens with his sunhat on (though not pulled down so far it was difficult to see his face, as he’d worn it last year), and was pleasantly surprised to see a much more diverse crowd – namely, some more non-Pecaris. Amongst the newcomers was Talitha, lying on her stomach and already stuck into the writing. Further encouraged, Oliver headed over and dropped down next to his friend, sitting to the side of her that was more shaded.
Before he’d even made his presence known, Talitha spoke up – she was correcting herself out loud. Oliver raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, you’ve gotta watch those quills. They’re out to ruin us all with dodgy spelling and words that don’t exist.”
0Oliver AbbottA great pity indeed99Oliver Abbott05
Talitha gave her Oliver a welcoming grin. Things where seemed to flow more smoothly, even when they were goofing around. He kept here from losing it in Potions this year. Her highest grades on practicum were earned when she partnered up with Oliver. She still had the impish notion to sneak up behind him someday and throw the disarming spell just to see his face. It could potentially turn into a glorious battle!
“Oh, yes,” Talitha rolled on her back, glorying in the sun’s warmth. “It never understands that ‘ubber’ is a perfectly good word. And quoting Jae gives it epileptic fits.”
She rolled back on her tummy. This day was getting better and better. Warm day, good munchies, good friends nearby and one of her best friends to talk to. Writing about her feathered friend was a bonus.
“So, what are you going to do you novel on?” She asked, picking up her quill.
Saul hurried to the clearing in the Gardens where the kick-off Fury! event was being held. He'd tried to be on time (even a little early) but he got caught up in a discussion with one of the paintings about the virtues of Pepper (it had taken him a while to realize the portrait was actually discussing the table condiment, but it had been an interesting conversation anyway). When he got to the Garden clearing, there was already a good sized crowd gathered.
He joined Echo, Elly, and Irene with a grin and greeting all around. From what he'd overheard on his walk over, they were talking about food and story ideas, though he was less sure if the two topics were related or not. Plopping down onto the blanket, he flipped open the notebook he was going to attempt to write his whole story in (last year, he'd lost a few of the napkins with key scenes on them somewhere in Idaho, so he was hoping that having all the pages bound together might help), and told Echo, "Good turn-out this year," before turning his attention back to the topic at hand and looking at Irene like everybody else was.
"Don't tell me that you're going to mash all of Shakespeare's plays together because that's my idea."
Oliver grinned back at Talitha. She took his teasing well, and settled back down to her writing before long. “What are you going to do your novel on?” She asked.
“I’m not telling,” Oliver replied pompously. After a moment he laughed, and said, “Okay, I am really. Well last year I wrote this really cool story about a knight who killed dragons – don’t worry, he died in the end. That was all fantasy, especially since I don’t know much about dragons. So this year I thought I’d actually write about something a little more seriously. I’m going to write about someone who keeps snakes, and I’m going to do loads of research so it’s accurate. Like a mini project,” he said, grinning.
Truthfully, it wasn’t like Oliver to make unnecessary work for himself. He’d been entirely out of ideas for his novel, though, and thought he might as well learn something new as not. So snakes it was – they were pretty cool, no matter how you looked at them.
Folding his legs under him, Oliver balanced his spiral bound notebook on one knee, and began writing.
Tristan hadn’t always collected snakes. Before snakes he’d collected swords, and before swords he’d collected coins. The problem with inanimate collections was that you couldn't do anything with them apart from collect them. Snakes were different – They did plenty on their own.
“How about you? What’re you writing about – apart from Stoots, obviously.” \r\n\r\n
Irene was about to explain the plot of her story, but was distracted by the aarrival of Saul. She returned his grin. Saul was among others that had arrived so far. It was great to see some new faces and seeing some of the old ones too. Noveling Fury! was a dependable way to escape the mansion every once in a while. It was especially nice when there was a nice pile of homework to procrastinate.
"Don't tell me that you're going to mash all of Shakespeare's plays together because that's my idea."
Irene grinned and shook her head. "Nah, and no rat," she replied with a smile to Elly. "Actually, my plot is about a waitress in a Las Vegas restaurant. She gets all sorts of people coming though. I just wanted to write about the different people that make her laugh, inspire her, challenge her, and the regular customer that she ends up falling for. I just don't know how to put a good plot twist in there." Irene loved the idea of the diversity of people her character would meet and the different stories she would hear from them. Irene pictured the many newlyweds telling tales of rebellion, spontaneous love, and drunken whims. She also thought of the many people that could inspire her to be stronger, more spontanous, more loving, and inspire her to ponder important questions.
"So if you guys have any ideas, I'd love to hear them!" She said, pulling out her pen and flipping open her notebook to the closest blank page.
Talitha responded to Oliver’s threat not to tell her what he was writing about by pretending be offended and sticking her tongue at him but she couldn’t make herself stay that way for long. She broke into giggles when Oliver laughed. She did get a tiny sense of personal satisfaction as a piece of wadded up parchment she tossed his way bounced off the top of his hat after his tease about her soft heartedness when it came to animals.
“Oh, I’m writing about this super smart kid who wears glasses and sunhats. He makes millions when he invents a shrinking potion that isn’t made from gross stuff and smells like roses.” Talitha got to her feet. She was thirsty and there was a glass of pumpkin juice calling her name. She stretched the kinks out of her back, ready to dodge anything that Oliver might decide to chuck back at her. “Really, I’m writing a story about Owl. Well, about an owl like Owl. Maybe I’ll give that owl a name since I haven’t thought of a name for Owl yet. Owl’s just Owl. Which is confusing when I talk about him.”
Talitha strolled over to the goody tables. She grabbed a cup, filled it and downed it at the table. She was about to refill it when she spotted a bowl of half melted ice. Deciding that it would be more convenient to suck on ice cubes while she wrote, she filled her cup with those instead and went back to her place.
She watched Oliver as he began put his thoughts into words and had a scathingly brilliant idea. She had gotten very good at the Wingardium Leviosa charm. Her aim was good too. Evilly, she stretched back out on her tummy and popped a cube in her mouth. Hoping that Oliver wouldn’t notice that she held her quill in her right hand as she pretended to be thinking about her next sentence, she snuck her wand out of the back pocket of her shorts with her left.
Fishing another ice cube from her cup, she set it beside her and muttering the charm, she levitated it and sent it slowly in Oliver’s direction. The way he was bent over his work, the tiny cube slipped easily under the hat’s brim and down the back of his shirt collar.
As quick as lightening she stuffed her wand under her tummy and switched the quill to her left hand. She started writing, looking oh so innocent and unconcerned. The only thing that gave her away was the shaking of her shoulders as she tried desperately to stifle her laughter.
"Dude!" Saul exclaimed when Irene finished explaining what her idea was. The use of the expression 'Dude!' was, of course, a consequence of spending too much time with his younger cousins over the summer, which he hadn't yet managed to shake even half a year later. "D'you know Simon? My cousin? The groundskeeper? That's what he does! Seriously!"
For once, Saul recognized the potential for misunderstanding, and clarified his statement, "I mean, not the waitressing thing - he groundskeeps instead of waitressing cuz he just doesn't look good in a skirt, though he'll tell you otherwise - but he totally has a magician act in Las Vegas. The Nevada Aurors keep busting him for doing real magic in front of muggles but the casino loves him. He could probably tell you all sorts of stories, like the time this lady wanted to rub his ear for good luck before going to the slot machines - or so he tells it, but you can't really believe most of what Simon says even if it makes great stories. Anyways, he's had that show long enough that he probably personally knows most of waitresses in the casino restaurant there by now. Actually, I think that's where he met his current assistant."
"Hey, does your waitress want to be an actress like most of the ones in California do or is she saving up for something or is she happy being a waitress?"
Holly ventured into the Gardens cautiously. There were weather charms and this might technically be a desert, but it was still February and Holly was sure Southern California never got this cold. She had to wear long sleeves and even a light jacket on top of that. She hesitated at the entrance from the Pecari Commons as she debated going back for gloves but decided that would make it too difficult to write.
Writing was normally not her thing in any case, but the flying paper cranes had sparked her interest and she figured she'd at least go to the first meeting and see what it was all about and who else might be there. So she took a fortifying breath, zipped up her jacket all the way, and started walking toward the clearing where it was being held. (Not only did she have to wear a jacket but she had to zip it, too! Who's bright idea was it to have this thing outside in February, anyway? Even in California, she forwent the time she usually spent recumbent beside the pool during these months. Seriously.)
When she arrived, she briefly looked over the selection of food before selecting a cookie and huffing over the fact that, even with everything else available, there was no hot chocolate - if she had to tough out a winter outdoors, the least she should get was hot chocolate. Its absence, however, proved fortuitous a few moments later, else she probably would have spilled it all over herself and Raoul and possibly burned them both.
She'd nearly walked right over him as she had tried to juggle the cookie, her notebook, a quill, and a bottle of ink at the same time as she tried to find a seat on one of the blankets while simultaneously taste-testing the cookie. It was Raoul, however, who apologized first since she was briefly occupied by making sure she didn't drop anything on him. Steadying her hold on everything, and silently thanking her therapist's secretary for helping her find an inkwell that had a secured top to prevent spillage, Holly took a moment before kneeling down on the blanket beside the French boy and depositing all of her load except her cookie in front of her.
"I'm fine," she assured him. "I walked into you as much as you bumped into me." She looked around at the rest of the people gathered around. She knew Talitha from their Charms group, but she seemed to be talking to somebody else and most of the other people appeared older than them. "Honestly, I'm glad to see a familiar face here. Do you write much, then?"
“Oh I’m writing about this super smart kid who wears glasses and sunhats.”
Oliver took delight in throwing the parchment ball back at Talitha, though it was without any venom, and missed her anyway. Moments later and he was completely bewildered by whatever she was saying about owls.
“No, I don’t think that’s confusing at all,” he told her, his eyebrows furrowed as he tried to work out where he’d lost her. “I mean, if you’re crazy then it makes perfect sense.” Oliver shook his head in equal parts bemusement and confusion as Talitha wondered off towards the food table. She was decidedly odd.
Settling down to writing, Oliver sat hunched over as he wrote.
Tristan’s first snake was a Fox snake, elaphe vulpina. She was very friendly and well behaved, often letting Tristan coddle her in ways that snakes usually abhorred. He named her...”
Here Oliver paused, not because he couldn’t think of a name for the snake (though this was partly true), but because something slightly wet and incredibly cold was on the back of his neck, and slowly sliding down his spine. With a startled yell, Oliver jumped to his feet, knocking his notebook and pens onto the ground. He shook his shirt and an ice-cube landed innocently on the floor. Oliver looked at it for a second, the initial shock beginning to wear off. Now ice-cubes didn’t throw themselves down people’s shirts. Oliver didn’t have to look very hard to find the culprit; the quivering wreck that Talitha now resembled was enough of an indication that she’d pulled what she obviously thought was an extremely humorous prank.
“Hilarious,” he said dryly, and he looked down at her shaking shoulders. “I think these,” he reached down and took up the cup of ice cubes in front of Talitha, “need to be confiscated.”
Making to sit back down again, Oliver suddenly changed his mind and sat on Talitha’s back instead, pinning her to the ground. “Oh dear, can’t you get up?” he asked her, laughing at any attempt she made to throw him off. “Don’t start things you can’t finish,” he told her, as he moved her hair to drop a freezing cube on the back of her neck.
OOC: Sorry for the delay, posts have been really piling up at another site I’m at and I totally forgot about this one. *gets into begging pose* Forgive me?
BIC: Raoul smiled. It was his new friend, Holly, that he had hit. Well, she ran into him too, but he thought he hit her first. “Did you ever ‘ear of a backpack, ‘Olly?” He teased, not even bothering to try to pronounce the ‘h’es. “They make carrying things much easier. Or do you enjoy carrying an extravagant amount of stuff around?”
He looked around, “Well, I recognize a few Pecaris, but I am, how do you say, in the same ship as you? Yes, is that the word? You are the only truly familiar face here to me. And no, I do not write too much. I mean I am a fair writer, but my grammar is not so good. Not on paper, that is. I can speak better, I‘m pretty good at it, if I say so myself. But I am terrible at spelling, and I have always been terrible. Even in French, I cannot spell.” He laughed.
He took the cap off his pen and began doodling on a piece of parchment as he thought. What to write? “So, Holly, do you have a plot for your story? Perhaps a murder mystery? Something set in a far-away land? The story of the famous Holly Thistle of the Hollywood Thistles?” He winked at her. He thought a moment before adding, “Me, I think I’m doing a mystery, set in early France. During the Renaisance, or something. How does that sound?”
He noticed there were a few more people here than when he last looked, but not many. Alexis was here, and so was Oliver. The latter, he only knew by name. He really needed to get out more often. For now, this was a start. \n
The cup was confiscated. No fair. Oliver took away her fun.
“What did I do?” Talitha whined innocently. She stopped writing and rested her chin on her fists. She gave her friend a mock glare and stuck out her lower lip in an exaggerated pout.
A spilt second later she was pinned to the ground and shockingly cold, wet ice was being down down her back!
“OLL-I-V-VER-R-R-R!!!!” She squealed. Oh, Merlin, this meant war!
Talitha struggled to get out from under him. Unfortunately, Quidditch practice had gifted Oliver with very strong legs. Shrieking and giggling, she flailed about, twisting and turning. The only thing Talitha managed to do was to get herself turned onto her back.
She tried to bat the cup out of his hand but only managed to bump his forearm. Her reward was a shower of more ice and cold water in her face and hair. Sputtering and gasping she tried to reach underneath her for her wand which had gotten tangled up in the sheet they were wrestling on. Unable to free it, Talitha focused again on the enemy.
Her efforts to push herself out from under him were futile. She tried to find the tickle spot just above his kneecap and failed. Punching was out of the question. First of all, Talitha wasn’t mad. Second, Oliver was too good of a friend to hurt. She could try pretending to be hurt and start crying, but she was having too much fun to work up believable tears.
Out of breath, Talitha lay back, giggling and gasping for air. She wiped the water off of her face. Her braid was completely undone. Her face was flushed. She crossed her arms and grinned, still panting. Her brown eyes gleamed with evil glee.
"Dude! D'you know Simon? My cousin? The groundskeeper? That's what he does! Seriously!"
Irene's raised her eyebrows in a confused expression. She didn't think that was what the groundskeeper did... Maybe she had painfully mistaken the concepts of the job. Thankfully, Saul cleared up her confusion. He was a Las Vegas magician! How absolutely cool is that? She might have to ambush him at some point to maybe get a better idea of the people that go through Sin City. It would give her a great view of how to write for the customers, which is what the story reolves around.
"Hey, does your waitress want to be an actress like most of the ones in California do or is she saving up for something or is she happy being a waitress?"
"Nah," she said, "She just likes being in the middle of this huge buzzing city. There's too much excitement there for any other place to compare, so she sticks around." Irene loved the idea of writing about the many different people that she could meet, hopefully doing their different personalities justice. She also needed to think up a name for her... She was very picky when it came to names. The name needed to fit perfectly or she felt like her character was out of place throught the whole story. She heard a song over break and the name was perfect for it... What was it though? It defeintely started with a V... This was one of those things that was going to drive her insane. Venessa, no. Vivien... Violet... Vienna. That was it. Vienna. Different, sweet, but fun.
"But anyway," she went on, "I'm just not sure how to make it more interesting. The characters add interest throughout, but there's no real climax at the moment."
Echo watched Elly remove the biscuit--cookie--from her head and grinned and shrugged at her "don't you think I'm sweet enough?"
"You said it, not me," he said returned, spreading his hands and proceeded to wonder if this was considered flirting, and, if it was, if Elly was enjoying herself as much as he was when he wasn't worrying about whether or not Elly was enjoying herself in the same way he was... and Elly had a story idea now. Present time. That was good and very Elly-like.
Flirting, then. Could it be flirting for one person and not the other, then? He supposed it could. It would have to be, really, because Elly couldn't be flirting with him because she was Elly and Elly wasn't interested in him being more than a friend and therefore, could not be flirting. But he was interested in Elly, always had been, and what he was doing was flirting, showing off what a silly guy he was and giving her special attentions. Definitely flirting. She was merely responding to the attention, which was not necessarily the same thing.
Could it be the same thing? As a farfetched fantasy, sure, it was possible. But it was a very, very remote chance. Not even worth mentioning.
"...The characters add interest throughout, but there's no real climax at the moment." Irene finished. Echo had been half listening. It was a story about a waitress. Something about acting. Present day girly stuff, but probably something Irene would be good at... being a girl... and stuff.
"So just start writing," he suggested. "Usually, the most interesting stuff happens as you go along. Maybe she'll have to solve a murder or accidentally get caught up in a jewel heist or something," he popped the last bit of the second ginger cookie into his mouth and added, covering his mouth with his hand, "You never know."
21Echo ElmsAnd you turn yourself around93Echo Elms05
Elly grinned at Saul as he sidled over. As much as these Fury meetings were excellent fun, and obviously good for bouncing plot ideas off one another, Elly wasn’t convinced they were especially conducive to actually writing. She had her notebook open with a few notes scribbled about a rat and the places such a rodent might wish to visit, but she wasn’t going to write anything further while she laughed with her friends. She laughed again when Saul compared his cousin Simon to Irene’s fictional waitress. “You could even have your waitress meet a charming man who amuses her with magic tricks,” Elly suggested to Irene, dropping a wink in Saul’s direction.
Convinced she wasn’t going to get any real work done, Elly shuffled forward a little on the blanket, and, crossing her hands behind her head, leaned back until she was lying stretched out on the ground. Echo was now presenting his ‘just start writing’ approach to Irene, interspersed with ideas about murder and jewellery theft. Elly laughed again. “Or she could discover her true love is wanted for murdering a jewel thief,” she suggested, grinning up at Echo so he wouldn’t be offended by her mocking his ideas.
“Oh hey,” she said suddenly, looking up at Irene and being momentarily blinded by the sun, Elly closed her eyes and said, “you could have her find a long-lost relative or something. You know, she serves coffee to this guy every day for half a decade before she realises he’s her father. Or, you know, something a little less cliché.” She paused, before adding, “Maybe my rat could find his long-lost father.”
0EllyAh! So <i>that's</i> what it's all about!0Elly05
Oliver couldn’t help but be surprised by the strength Talitha suddenly seemed to muster when she was under attack. He supposed he should have expected it – she had a strong personality and refused to be given any pity, even when being teased, so Oliver should have realised it would follow that she could hold her own in a physical tussle, too. Oliver had play-wrestled his sister on several occasions and maybe it was because Charlie was so much younger than him, but he’d never had to exert quite so much of his strength against a girl before. Still, Talitha was very funny as she squirmed about on the floor.
“Excellent snake impression,” Oliver told her, trying not to laugh out loud because he knew it would be that strange geeky-sounding laugh that managed to escape only when it would be most embarrassing.
He thought that Talitha could probably throw him off if she really wanted to – she hadn’t tried kicking him yet (one of Charlie’s best efforts) and those fingernails could probably do some serious cat-fight damage. Apparently she was content to surrender though, as finally her struggling subsided, replaced by breathless giggles. Oliver looked down at her, absolutely powerless to quell the smile from his face.
“Do you give up yet?” Talitha mocked him, and Oliver once again had to force down a laugh. He paused a moment to take a breath and readjust his glasses (which had become askew in their tangle) and then looked down at Talitha with as serious an expression as he could muster.
“I do not give up,” he told her. “However I feel you are on the brink of giving up, so I’ll save you the trouble and release you.” Then he shifted off his friend, and knelt down on the blanket next to her up, finally allowing Talitha the freedom she’d been fighting for. He held the cup of ice above her head, out of her reach. “Now say ‘Thank you, Oliver, for letting me go’.” Oliver gave her a sadistic grin, and titled the cup slightly, not enough for any ice to fall, but enough to let Talitha know it could. \r\n\r\n
0OliverOh, trouble just finds you, right?0Oliver05
Of course! I'd never do anything to seek it out on my own!
by Talitha
Talitha was having the time of her life although it wasn’t getting any writing done. Oh well, she’d make up for it later. She was thinking hard and fast about what to do to turn the tables on Oliver when he got up. Her jaw dropped in disbelief when he said he thought she was on the brink of giving up. Not her! She'd never, ever cried, “Uncle!” and there was no way she was going to start now.
When he raised the cup and demanded a thank you, Talitha’s dimples deepened as her wicked grin widened. The game was still on. Snake, huh? She’d show him how snakey she could be. They were the most cunning of all the animal spirits and she still had a few trick up her sleeve that didn’t involve magic.
Sitting up slowly, she got herself ready to spring into action when the time was right. Talitha tried to appear a bit humbled, sadistically enjoying ever moment of planning her winning move. She bit her lip and cocked her head coyly, acting as though she was about to comply and beg for mercy. There was one professor that made Oliver nervous. He made most students nervous, really. Yes, he would be enough of a distraction. She peered over Oliver’s shoulder as if seeing someone behind him.
“Oh look,” Talitha lied. “There’s Professor O’Leary!” She waved as if trying to appear innocent. “Hi, Professor!”
Using the decoy to momentarily catch her friend off guard, she pounced for the cup. Her hand was over Oliver’s and the tug to retrieve it sloshed ice and water everywhere. She gasped as cold water splashed her yet again. At least a good deal landed on Oliver too.
“I guess we’re both all wet!” She laughed. \n
0TalithaOf course! I'd never do anything to seek it out on my own!0Talitha05
Holly made an eye-rolling expression as he teased her about using a backpack. What she should have done was grab a pen instead of a quill and ink, which she could hook into the spiral of her notebook and then she'd just have the notebook and cookie to carry around. But she still thought using a quill was the coolest thing ever, and it really hadn't been that hard to manage until the cookie got involved. So she ate that quickly while Raoul went on to get rid of the extra burden.
When he finished talking and she finished chewing and swallowing (she would never speak with her mouth full - that had been trained out of her by the time she was four), she answered, "I think that is a great idea. If you'd like, I can look over what you do and correct the spelling." She was good at spelling. At her old school, she'd usually gotten better than 90% on her spelling tests.
"For my story, I'm thinking I'll do something about a princess." She smiled a little, her eyes crinkling as she added, "Maybe a diary."
Irene hadn't considered many of the options being given to her for her story. She was just looking for a plot twist, but so many of these were making the wheels in her head turn. She was eager to write her story more and more with all the new ideas running through her head. She especially liked Elly's idea of finding the character's long-lost-relative. Irene gave a laugh as Elly suggested the man iwth the magic tricks. It was a good idea too! Perhaps... Irene sat up a little straighter, an idea suddenly coming to her.
"Hey!" she said, "What if one of her customers, the one she is starting to love, works with her father or something?"
Noveling Fury! was a great group, Irene decided. She loved being here with her friends and just having a good time. She looked around to see if the group had grown much. There were some new framiliar faces and some new ones, most likely first years. It was nice that the group still got new members. As she was looking around, she noticed that Brett wasn't around. Turning to Echo, she asked,
Oliver inwardly berated himself for fooling for such an obvious trick! He’d known that something was awry when Talitha had waved to a professor as creepy as Old Eerie, but he’d still been startled enough by the prospect of a professor witnessing his present behaviour that he’d momentarily stopped concentrating on Talitha, only to be sharply brought back moments later as the two of them were showered in ice and freezing water.
“Hey!” Oliver called out, mostly in surprise. He was angry with himself for being so easily played, but he couldn’t help but grin when Talitha started laughing.
“Yeah, you trouble maker,” he said, lightly shoving her in the shoulder. He pulled out the front of his shirt away from his skin and looked down at the damp patch. A least the water splashed mostly his face and shirt, and didn’t cause any potentially embarrassing wet areas. “Just as well you didn’t get my notebook wet,” he said, having ascertained his writing supplies were still safe and dry. “You’d have wrecked a masterpiece, you know.”
“Still,” he added, as he sat back down again and took up his pen once more, “at least I know what to call the snake now. Talitha’s a good name for a snake, don’t you think?”
Echo was glad to see some new faces in this year's Fury! crowd, and just as happy to see some returning ones. The blankets were almost filled up with students. It'd be awesome if next year he'd have to put out a third blanket.
Irene deviated suddenly from her plotting to turn to him and ask after Brett. He'd just been wondering about Brett himself. Where was that bag of bones?
"Yeah, he should be. Probably went running first or something," Echo guessed. Brett had been running a lot this year. He had a grand time showing off his monster calf muscles to the guys over break and went running with Tyler and some of the guys from the cross country team at the middle school. They looked funny all bundled up in their winter coats, hats, and red noses bouncing across town in the dead of winter.
"He'll be here."
He looked down at his paper and tried to focus enough for an opening line. Something to hook his attention. Something mysterious...
Saul excused himself briefly when Echo began his little 'just start writing' spiel and went to get one of the cookies everyone else seemed to have. He got back with one stuffed in his mouth and two more ready to be eaten in his hand just as Echo started staring at his notebook like it contained the answers to the next potions exam (or perhaps the beginning of his story . . . whatever).
As Saul sat down again and pulled his own notebook back into his lap, and held his quill over the first page. The kick-off event was always the hardest time for Saul to work on his story because he liked to dictate it rather than write it. Manually using his quill meant stupid things like spelling and handwriting got in the way of his storytelling. He could also talk a lot faster than he could write so that slowed him down too.
He chewed on the cookie for a few bites until he was able to swallow, then tapped the tip of his quill on the top of the page a few times as he tried to think of how some of Shakespeare's plays began. He decided to start with Hamlet since that was the one he performed most recently, and was therefore the one he knew the best.
Seen: Nite. A plat form befour the casle.
Gard: "Whos there?"
As soon as he finished writing the first line of dialog, Saul decided that Hamlet's first scene was dull and boring, so he immediately switched to a different play.
Samson: "A dog of the house Montegue moves me."
Saul thought that was a great line, but Romeo and Juliet wasn't his favorite play, so he moved on.
Leonado: "How many jentlemen have you lost in this akchun?"
Much Ado was a good one, but for some tiny bit of continuity he should probably go back to the guard in Hamlet. What was that one's next line?
Gard: "Long live the King!"
Saul frowned. That didn't make any sense. Even given that it was Shakespeare, it didn't make sense. It was just a meaningless gallimaufry of lines and so far he was only using three of the Bard's plays. He looked up from his notebook. "Mashing up all of Shakespeare's plays together is gonna be harder than I thought." He might have to do something drastic like plan ahead. "Maybe I should do something else."
1SaulOh! Can I be the television news? (wotw)82Saul05
It wasn’t long before Echo, Irene, and even Saul sat down to begin writing again. Deciding that she should set an example for the younger years, and not frustrate Echo, Elly felt she should make an effort too. Weight on her palms, Elly pushed herself back up, and curled her legs in to sit cross-legged – it seemed to be the easiest way to write without a hard surface to lean on.
So far her notebook contained a few short, scribbled sentences about a rat, and what objects it could find, and what places it could visit. The fact that the rat was still ‘it’ indicated that some more thought was required. Sucking the end of her biro, Elly thought a bit about the star rodent, and then added to her notes that it was male, lived alone, was named Archibald, and that the story would be written first person, from the rat’s perspective.
Feeling better prepared, Elly was about to start her novel when Saul’s comment distracted her. She grinned at him – only Saul could find himself with this dilemma. “Don’t give up yet,” she told him. “I think it’s a really good idea. Sounds tricky, I admit, but I think you can do it,” she flattered him, partly because she would very much like to read the outcome of his attempts. “What have you got so far?” Elly leant over to try and glimpse his opening page.
Talitha shoved Oliver back playfully. She briefly considered tackling him, beginning the tussle all over again or saying something that would goad him into chasing her, but they’d caused enough of a ruckus already. She was surprised nobody yelled at them to settle down yet. The point of the meeting was to write, not wrestle or water fight.
“I know what to call the snake now. Talitha’s a good name for a snake, don’t you think?”
Talitha sniffed and tossed her tangled hair, pretending insult. She turned and plopped down on the very damp sheet and picked up her parchment and quill and made to resume writing.
“Fine,” She glared at Oliver though slanted eyes. “I just happened to being thinking of a name for my main character too. Oliver, the Obnoxious Owl!”
Making note of her raptor’s name, she ignored her sparing partner for the moment. Another scathingly brilliant idea struck her.
“So, I wonder who will write the better masterpiece.” She began calculatingly. “Tell you what, let’s make a bet. The one who comes closest to the word count goal at the end of Noveling Fury wins. If we both make it, the most words decide the victor. And the loser has to…has to….has to what?” \n
I want to be the Cool-Voice narrator! (wotw)
by Irene
Irene had so many different ideas crossing through her mind. Now that she had spoken with her wonderful Furious Novelers she was itching to write down everything that came to mind. The problem was, too many things were bouncing around her imagination for her to caputure just one. She wanted to find a way, somehow, to smash her gallimaufry of inspiration into one big idea. She loved Elly's idea of finding a lost relative. She also kind of liked the 'witness a murder' thing. She loved the idea of Mr. Charming (so far nameless) being a Las Vegas Magician! How could she fit meeting Mr. C, long-lost Dad, and a murder into one? It seemed like a lot to write, yet alone finding a way for it to mesh... What if Vienna began to fall for Mr. C, not knowing he was a suspect in a local murder... Of her father! It would have romance, mystery, and tragedy all in one! Irene pulled out her notebook and began to write:
Officer Gary Williams looked around at his surroundings. The many bright buildings and swarming people of Las Vegas looked as normal as ever around the crime scene, with the exception of those craning their necks for a look. Whoever had did it, they were gone by now... The man resting in the center of the perimiter of yellow tape had been dead for just a few hours and the newpapers were already shooting him questions. The poor man... He didn't look too old; mid-fourties to early fifties. Looked like he had been a nice fellow. But obviously someone had thought differently, judging by the several bullets in him.
"Gary," The officer turned to his partner. "We've searched his wallet and his cell and we think we have something..." The old officer raised his bushy gray eyebrows.
"Really? You have a name for me?"
The other man nodded. "Daniel Hallard."
Irene set down her pen, figuring she would cut off the beginning there and switch to Vienna, clearing dishes. But she could finish that later. Now that she had figured out what she was going to do, all that was left was to work it onto paper.
"Yeah, he should be. Probably went running first or something. He'll be here." Irene nodded. Brett probably really missed playing soccer, like on a team back home, as much as the twins missed their Quidditch league. She knew Josh was absolutely dying without being up in the air. Sometimes she felt a little guilty for asking them to come to her games, like she was rubbing it in their face. Renaye had assured her that they didn't care, really, but Irene knew there was a little part of them that wished they could be in the air too. Renaye seemed to be having a good time around school though. She had a date to the ball with a fun guy and she was that bubbly girl that found happiness in everything, unless she was mad. Irene was proud of her for finding her way around Sonora.
0IreneI want to be the Cool-Voice narrator! (wotw)0Irene05
Having decided that Tristan’s first snake would in fact be called Talitha, Oliver was continuing to write the opening paragraph of his novel, studiously ignoring anything else the real Talitha said, until she presented him with a challenge that appealed to Oliver’s competitive nature, and made it impossible for him to refuse.
“There’s no way you’re going to make it,” Oliver said, laughing. “No way at all. Me, I did it last year, so you know what you’re up against.” Even as he spoke, Oliver’s mind had already turned to thinking of a suitable forfeit for Talitha for when she lost her own bet. “The loser - meaning you - has to explode something in the potions lab, during a lesson,” he said grinning. “No wait! The loser has to spend an entire day with their uniform robes on inside out.” Ideas were entering Oliver’s head faster than he could vocalise them. “Eat cockroach clusters!” he exclaimed – he was fairly sure he’d heard that some first years had some of the more unusual confectionaries.
“Or,” he said, smiling coyly, “you could be my personal servant for the day. You know, carry my bag for me, shine my shoes, that sort of thing.” He grinned. “Or did you have something less degrading in mind?”
Talitha swallowed, suddenly nervous. What if Oliver actually won? He was sure to demand his due. There was no way she could back out now or he would label her a coward. No way. She just wouldn’t lose that was all, even if she had to write day and night.
She bent over her parchment and sniffed as if unconcerned. Talitha would simply die of humiliation if Oliver knew she was having second thoughts. The best way to get out of this bet was to think of something so humiliating, so awful, Oliver wouldn’t agree to it.
“That’s fine. You’re on…if…if…” Talitha looked at him with a wicked smile. “If you lose, you have to kiss your date to the ball. In front of everybody. On. The. Lips.” \n
Oliver waited expectantly for Talitha to back down, to say she’d changed her mind about the bet. He wouldn’t be surprised; it was obviously that he was going to win, and he had suggested some fairly awful forfeits for the loser. Surprisingly, Talitha didn’t quarrel; instead she suggested a forfeit for Oliver, should he lose.
This presented a dilemma. Oliver was almost certain that he would win, but he couldn’t deny there was still some small chance that Talitha was a hereto unrecognised creative genius, and would write well over the goal of fifty thousand words. If they agreed to this bet, Oliver would have to do whatever task she set for him. Seeing as what she had set was to kiss his date for the ball, Oliver’s instinct reaction was to utter an unconcerned ‘fine’. Sure it would be scary, and maybe a bit humiliating, but it wasn’t as if he hadn’t ever considered kissing Hannah before. Yet before Oliver could offer his reply, the rest of his brain kicked in, and he realised he didn’t want to do what Talitha was asking at all. It just wouldn’t be fair – he’d asked Hannah to go with him as friends. To do that and then kiss her only because he’d lost a bet was a pretty crummy thing to do.
“Nah, the forfeit for the loser should be the same,” he announced, after only a moment’s hesitation. “We should agree on a task, and whoever the loser is – meaning you – will have to do it. Yeah?”
Oliver hoped she would agree – he didn’t want to refuse her forfeit outright. That would suck. Still, at least it would give him some sort of excuse to kiss Hannah… not that he needed one… “So what we settling on? Personal slave for the day, or kissing our ball dates?”
Whether Oliver planned it or not, Talitha sure felt like a mouse between a kneazle’s front paws. If she lost, she had now desire to be lorded over. On the other hand she almost said that she couldn’t bet a kiss at the ball because a girl’s first kiss should be special, not a dare. That made her conscience brought her up short. What was Oliver’s date? A flobberworm? How would the girl like to find out Oliver kissed her in public on a dare? Shame bloomed bright red all over her face. Even her ears felt hot. No, she couldn’t force the kiss dare.
She flung about in her mind trying to come up with a less odious solution. If Oliver won, she could just see his smug expression as he snapped his fingers and loaded her down with books. He might even make Talitha wash his dirty socks, by hand. He might make her gut a toad in Potions. It would be just unbearable beyond words. Eating cockroach clusters were sounding more and more appealing. Not able to think of anything, she decided to put on a brave face and then work her backside off so she didn’t lose.
“Okay,” Talitha tossed her hair nonchalantly and began writing furiously, all the while she mentally crossed her fingers so this whole debacle didn‘t blow up in her face. “I’ll choose the slave for a day. I think lemonades would nice for Luttece and I as we sunbath. Oh, and we would probably enjoy a pedicure too. Yes, I believe I’d like that.” \n
Luckily, Talitha opted for the slave for a day version. Oliver silently let out the breath he’d been holding, and concentrated on his writing, just in case relief was evident on his face. “Okay,” he replied, trying to sound as if he wasn’t bothered either way. It would be kind of nice to have Talitha trail around after him for a day, carrying his bag, checking his homework, fetching and carrying for him. Of course she would try to back out… “Let’s shake on it!” he said suddenly, and thrust out his hand for Talitha to take. “Come on, shake on it or you’re a quitter,” he said, in case she was thinking about refusing.
Now they’d sealed the bet, Oliver turned back to his notebook. He had a lot of work to do – he had to write more than the suggested word count if he was going to be sure of beating Talitha, which meant no more slacking! He tried to concentrate hard on his work and ignore everything Talitha was doing and saying, but her comments about lemonade and pedicures brought a shiver to his spine. He hadn’t considered what it was Talitha might make him do, and he certainly hadn’t thought about Lutece being involved in the equation. He could think of little more humiliating than doing girly things with the one girl he despised above all others. There was only one thing for it – Oliver would just have to win, so Talitha wouldn’t have a chance to inflict all these sorts of cruelties upon him. He had to win.
Of course, in the mean time, there wasn’t any harm in thinking of what he would make Talitha do once she lost…