Day Seven: Formal (30th of July)

Beckett Fowl was quite the captivating man, if you got to know him. He may not have been blessed with extreme intellect like his other two siblings, Myles and Artemis, but where they lacked in general motor skills he excelled at it, even managing to drop Juliet behind a rank or two. The youngest Fowl sibling was also born generous- always giving even when others begged him not to (his rather reckless history with the dung beetle-presents comes into mind). It was true, he was a general sweetheart, and everyone seemed to sway with the charm he exuded.

This was a quality Myles Fowl found most annoying, but he almost longed for that trait that evening when he saw his supposed no-show-date glide through the double doors of the ballroom, her pearly white clutch grasped firmly within her left hand.

Beckett put his arm around his brother before suddenly dropping it, grinning.  “Ah... Myles... except she is.”

Myles' knees almost buckled at the sight of her.

Emily Faucet’s casual attire was replaced by an endless flowing off white gown, a golden tiled belt looped around her waist, giving her the air of an Egyptian empress. Her hair was not in its usual ponytail; instead it cascaded down her shoulders in large chestnut curls. She barely wore any distinctive makeup, but her almond eyes were lined with kohl and her lips were a blushful pink.

Beckett blinked repeatedly, and smacked his head a couple of times before standing up straighter than he had ever had (those training sessions with Butler were extremely useful, thank you very much). Wow.. she looks so different, thought Beckett, impressed. He glanced over at his brother, who was turning a very obvious shade of red. Beckett couldn’t help but smirk at his older twin.

“Not so reserved now are you, brother” he mumbled, nodding appreciatively at Emily’s way (she was still by the gates, deep in discussion with the door man).

Myles was horrified. “Shut up, Beckett. Just shut up,” he hissed, his calm demeanor utterly fragmented. 

Beckett raised both his hands in a sign of surrender, and grabbed his brother’s arm, “Come on, let’s go talk to her.”

Myles shook his head very quickly, and Beckett noticed that his pupils were dilated, a sign of overwhelming nervousness. “Never. I’m not moving from this spot,” he said softly, eyes never straying away from Emily.

Beckett snorted. “Fine.” He began to walk over to Emily, taking long, relaxed strides. Myles snapped his gaze from Emily and looked frantically at Beckett. “Where are you going?” he asked, his words jumbled up together.

Beckett shrugged, giving his deranged brother a lazy smile. “Emily,” he said simply, dusting off non-existent lint off his suit. Myles arched both his eyebrows. “Why would you go to Emily? She’s not your date- you already have one!”

“She’s my friend, and I shall support her,” Beckett replied with a firm nod of the head. Myles spluttered when he said this, and grabbed his brother’s shoulder. “And what do you mean by support her, hmm? Are you going to dance with her? Are you going to take her to the back gardens? I know what you do in there you know!”

Beckett grinned and ignored his brother’s fingers digging into his skin. “Myles, I’m not going to steal your date-“

“She’s not my date!” Myles cried, letting go of his twin’s shoulder. “In fact, you can do whatever you want with her! I won’t even care. Not in the slightest!” he declared, his hand gestures exceedingly dramatic. Beckett sighed and bit back a laugh. “Myles, relax, I swear I was just messing around, really... Just wanted you to be motivated, that’s all.”

Myles took a deep breath, his skin returning to its usual pale self. Beckett could almost see him mentally multiplying triple digits till he got the upper advantage of his temper. “I insist, brother. This night is a night for enjoyment and useless chitter- chatter. I cannot stop you from entertaining yourself, however crudely you wish to accomplish it.” He checked his Rolex for the time, confirming his suspicions. “Father wishes I inform the head of the kitchen to fetch the first of the appetizers... if you could excuse me...” Myles gave Beckett a curt nod and took a short cut to the kitchens through a trap door disguised as a painting.

Except that trapdoor didn’t lead to the kitchens, it lead to his lab underground. An obvious lie, thought the youngest sibling. Myles was never this apparent on purpose.

Beckett winced. That wasn’t the motivation he was hoping for. He was forced to come to the conclusion that Myles was actually mad at him. Maybe he pushed it a little too far? Beckett sighed and reached for a glass of champagne. He bought it to his lips, discovering that it was already drained. He rolled his eyes and set it on a random tabletop, already halfway towards the bar.

He ordered his drink, a very dry martini (extra olives on the sides) and contemplated a way he could get Myles out of the lab and into the dance floor. It might not have been obvious, what with Myles poor coordination, but he was an excellent ballroom dancer- very light on his feet. Beckett might have been a wee tiny bit better, but really- who was counting?

“Beckett.”

Beckett glanced to his right to find Emily perched on the stool, champagne glass held tastefully by her lips. She took a tentative sip, registering the taste of the drink. She grimaced and put the drink on the marble tabletop, shoving it out of her way with an elegant finger.

He grinned. “You showed up,” he said, sounding slaphappy. Emily looked down at the dress she was wearing, and nodded. “I showed up,” she said, hiding a smile. “Where is he, then?” she asked, peering at the large crowd before her. Beckett drained his martini. “Where’s who?” he asked innocently. Emily rolled her eyes. “Myles. Where-is-Myles. I’m his-“ she opened her clutch and brought out the invitation. Sliding it towards Beckett, she pointed at the word ‘guest’.

“Oh- err- Myles? He just went to check on the appetizers." He didn't know why he lied. He didn't want Emily to know about how miserable Myles was. "How about you order another drink and I’ll go get him?” Emily shook her head, her eyes wide. “No, there are guys here who openly stare at my butt. I’m not risking being alone again, Beck,” she said, disgusted. 

“That’s because you look so pretty tonight,” said Beckett as a-matter-of-factly.

Emily punched his shoulder. “How sweet,” she said sarcastically, but she smiled nonetheless. Beckett rolled his eyes, noticing that her annoying ways were resurfacing. “I don’t think he’d want you to be in the kitchen. You might ruin everyone’s dinner,” Beckett harrumphed, walking towards the painting/trapdoor.

Emily managed to get down from the stool without tripping over her dress and caught up with Beckett. “He said that? Did he actually say that?” she asked, her voice edgy.

Oh shit- good job Beck. Mission control! Mission control! Abort mission! Do you copy?

Beckett stopped, facing his temperamental friend. “No- no, he didn’t say that!” he said quickly, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Well then what did he say?” she asked, eyes narrowed. Beckett sighed, and was about to set her straight when Angeline Fowl drew near the pair of them.

She gave them both a dazzling smile, and shot Beckett a look. She’s beautiful, dear. I can’t wait to get to meet her!

Beckett coughed, shaking his head quickly. No- mum, she isn’t my date!

But she wasn’t paying attention anymore. She was conversing with Emily, who seemed to transform before his very eyes. Just five seconds ago she was hostile, ready to explode, in fact, but now she was actually... charming?

“Oh that’s wonderful!” Angeline trilled. “And really, what a gorgeous gown. Oh how the times have changed... everyone Beckett’s age simply refuse to wear anything elegant. It’s all hot pink this and electric that. Artemis- you know Artemis don’t you, dear?- he tells me all adolescents are wild with what they put on.. He clearly hasn’t seen you yet,” she finished, twirling Emily around.

Emily smiled bashfully at his mother and thanked her for the compliment (she even blushed! Emily was capable of blushing.) and then they began discussing the flowers arranged around the room. Beckett looked strangely at Emily, who was laughing like she didn’t have a care in the world.

Angeline smiled adoringly at Emily before asking, “I expect I’ll be seeing you at our table?”

She returned the smile. “I hope so, Mrs. Fowl.” Angeline nodded approvingly and drifted into the crowd, leaving Beckett and Emily alone once more.

Beckett turned to look at Emily, who was tapping away at her phone. “That was brilliant. You actually fooled her into liking you!”

“I didn’t fool her! I was just- I was just talking to an adult the way I usually do,” said Emily, flustered.

“My future dates need to learn a couple of things from you, that’s for sure!” exclaimed Beckett, steering Emily right towards the painting. “Hey- where are we going? Stop touching me with your Beckett hands. I have nightmares about those.”

Beckett stopped, raising a questioning eyebrow. “Beckett hands? I’ll have you know that girls dream about these very hands and-“

Emily shuddered. “Please. Just forget I mentioned it, mate.”

Beckett shook his head, clearly offended with her last remark. “That hurt, Em.”

“That’s not the only thing that’ll hurt... if you catch my drift.”

Beckett decided to drop the subject. He walked straight towards the painting, and touched the exterior with his pinky. “Security check,” he explained, swinging the painting wide open. Emily’s eyebrows knitted together. “You have a trap door... in the ballroom... in your mansion. Right. Clearly I’ve seen everything.” Emily took a careful step forward, and Beckett quietly closed the door, (preventing drunk teenagers from getting any suggestive ideas) enveloping Emily in inky darkness.

He flipped a switch by Emily’s ear, the torches nailed to the walls brightening. “Passage way.. nice,” muttered Emily, following Beckett’s lead.

They went down the spiral stony steps, and once they reached the bottom, Beckett brought his index finger to his lips. Emily was about to argue but Beckett motioned her to move towards the shadows, the low lights playing tricks on his face. “Stay here,” he mumbled, before opening a second door, leaving it ajar and wide open. Emily squinted through the darkness, trying to make sense of what she was looking at.

The room was lit with fluorescent lights, filled with table after table of tubes, flasks, and the occasional odd gadgetry. One complete wall was occupied with screens, displaying tables and countless graphs, charts and complex diagrams of miscellaneous mammals. Emily tiltd her head to the side, thinking. Wait a second, this isn’t a kitchen... it’s a lab. “There’s a lab... in a secret passage... inside a trapdoor... in a ballroom... in a mansion... now I’ve seen everything,” she breathed, taking in the detail. And right in the middle of the whole ensemble was Myles (sporting a crisp lab coat) who was followed tersely by Beckett.

“Come on, Myles, she’s waiting for you upstairs! Stop being a bloody coward and woo her,” said Beckett, winking at his brother.

Woo me? Emily felt herself grow pink.

Myles whipped his head around and flashed an angry glare at his brother. “Woo her? This isn’t some kind of 1950s movie, Beckett! Honestly... you’re completely delusional.”

Beckett groaned. “Fine. Wooing her might be too extreme for you, but this doesn’t mean you could sulk in here. She’s your guest. Entertain her!”

Myles, ignoring his brother’s last comment, walked towards one of the many screens, making observations on each experiment displayed before him (at least that was what Emily assumed he was doing). Beckett grabbed a pencil from a nearby table and threw it at Myles' lower back, which made him shriek in surprise- Emily willed herself not to laugh.

“Stop throwing my pencils! Did you hear that, Beckett? My pencils. As in belonging to me. Just like Emily. She was my guest, but you had to ruin everything!” Myles said, his voice heightening to a shout. Beckett dropped his head in what Emily assumed was shame. He then lifted it, and looked pleadingly at his brother. “Myles- I’m sorry, really. You know I’d never do that to you, right? You’re my brother- and brothers don’t steal each other’s dates.” Beckett sighed, walked over to his brother and hugged him. Myles groaned audibly, but Emily could see that he returned the hug.

“Get off me,” said Myles irritably, trying to shake Beckett off. “No,” replied Beckett, his face blissful. Myles sighed, and tried again, to which Beckett responded with an even tighter embrace. After a few minutes of struggling, Emily could see that Myles thought he had no choice but to give in. “Fine,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible. “Fine what?” asked his brother, embrace loosening a bit. “Fine I’ll come up. Your body odor is far too insufferable, I couldn’t even breathe the last few minutes,” said Myles wryly, escaping his brother’s clutches. Beckett raised his fist, triumphant. “Huzzuh! My body has never failed me! Now get the coat off- I’ll meet you upstairs.”

Beckett walked quickly out of the room, and closed the door behind him. He grabbed Emily’s hand and scaled the stairs, Emily following closely behind. Beckett switched the lights off, and opened the door, Emily and him slipping smoothly back into the festivities.

***

“Come on, our table is this way,” said Beckett cheerfully, guiding his friend towards the table at the front. Emily noticed that the table was far smaller than the rest of the tables, but size certainly wasn’t a matter of importance when it came to style. Their table was adorned with a hand woven powder blue table sheet, while the rest were covered in standard white sheets. In the middle of the table rested a large crystal bowl brimful of exotic bright fruits, mini crystal bowls of melted chocolates, dark-milk-white-pistachio-orange-caramel-nugget, surrounded the bowl decoratively. Gleaming silverware were placed neatly beside the expensive china, and were wrapped elegantly in white silk.

Beckett sat down by his mother, and motioned her to sit by him. She was about to oblige when she felt a small touch at her back. She turned around and found Myles, who greeted her with a slight nod of the head (Emily was too stunned at his boldness to respond to anything at that point). Angeline smiled at them both before addressing Myles, her eyes twinkling. “Myles, darling, have you met Emily, Beckett’s guest for the evening?”

Myles turned a very subtle shade of pink (really, it was barely noticeable, Myles would reason later), and Beckett inwardly groaned, mentally kicking himself in the arse. Really, mum? It took me days to persuade Myles to ask her and this is what you have to say?

Fortunately for the twins, Emily wasn’t useless in awkward pauses. She took hold of Myles hand (his heart skipped a thousand beats that second) and said smoothly, “We’ve met, Mrs. Fowl, in an art show two weeks ago. Beckett-“

“I’m not her date!” Beckett blurted out, praying Myles was stable at the moment. Whenever he was around Emily he seemed to go hay-wire. Beckett then noticed their hand holding, and grinned, giving Myles the thumbs up.

Emily gave Myles a little nudge, and he finally tore his gaze away from her long perfectly manicured fingers. He coughed, hoping this was sufficient enough to move the limelight away from him.

He pulled Emily’s chair, and she sat down gracefully. Myles sat down himself and immediately plucked a grape from the bowl, stuffing it in his mouth.

***

“Myles, darling, have you met Emily, Beckett’s guest for the evening?”

Myles wanted to drop his hand and punch his brother. Why on earth did his mother assume that Emily was his brother’s date- err- guest? Fortunately for him, Emily corrected his mother tactfully and took hold of her hand.

She’s holding my hand. Emily is holding my hand. We are touching hands. Our hands are touching. They're so soft. They're like my pillows imported from Japan. Soft...  Myles mentally slapped himself, and was snapped back to reality when Emily nudged him. Pull the chair open, stupid.

Oh. Right. Myles quickly acted and ignored his brothers’ smirks. Really, he was expecting this from Beckett but Artemis? Myles chided himself for acting so poorly around his family. He straightened his back, reassuring himself that tonight would most definitely not end up disastrous. He was Myles Fowl for heaven’s sake! He wasn’t going to allow some pretty girl the courtesy of humiliating him in front of his entire family. Myles refused to think about how extraordinary Emily looked that evening. He refused to think about how her eyes sparkled with quick wittedness and intelligence and he most certainly was not going to think about her lips. Nope. He had it all under control.

“Myles! Aren’t you going to introduce Emily to your family?” exclaimed Angeline, tutting at her son as if he were caught eating dessert before his lunch.

Beckett sniggered, and Artemis visibly bit back a small smile.

Twenty eight times eighty four is two thousand and three hundred and fifty two... ninety one times fifty six is five thousand and ninety six... two times two is four.

“Of course, mother,” he replied steadily, turning to Emily, who blinked at him with her large olive eyes. He took a deep breath through his nose, trying to ignore his maniac hormones. She seemed to be smirking at him, the nerve of her.

Very well. If she were to play the innocent eyed, non-acidic tongued girl, then he would do the same.

He took hold of her hand, and ignored his fluttering heart. “Emily, I’m sure you’ve met my beautiful mother?” (Angeline shook her head modestly, earning a peck on the check from Artemis Senior). “I have, Myles, and beautiful doesn’t even do her justice,” she simpered.

Beckett and Artemis simultaneously raised a single eyebrow. “And this is my father, Artemis Senior, the man of the hour,” he continued, glancing at his father, who smiled proudly at his son. “And this man opposite you is my older brother, Artemis.” Artemis gave her a nod of welcome. “He has been organizing this event for the past nineteen years, but I relieved him off his duty, he has... other responsibilities as of now,” he finished, eyeing his brother with defiance. Try to embarrass me, I dare you.

“How tiresome is my brother becoming, Emily? I notice you rolling your eyes every so often,” said Artemis, folding his hands neatly on the table. Emily gave him a smile. Myles scowled.

Beckett grinned. “Hey Artemis, where’s Lily? I didn’t see her all night.”

Artemis flicked his unperturbed gaze from Emily to his youngest brother. “She’s visiting her family in Millbury, and so she wasn’t able to attend.”

“Lily is Artemis’ wife- they got married last year,” explained Beckett, popping a cherry in his mouth. 

Artemis sent his brother a questioning expression. Why are you changing the subject?

Becket replied with a jerk of his towards Myles, who frowned like there was no tomorrow. Because I don’t want him crying tonight.

Artemis raised an eyebrow. We might as well make him squirm, brother.

Becket grinned. Let’s.

“So, Emily,” began Artemis, seizing the opportunity. “You’ve met my frenzied brother in an art show?”

Myles didn’t like where this was going. He shot a look towards Beckett, who seemed to be smiling gleefully.

Emily nodded, thanking the waiter serving the first appetizer. “I had an internship in London’s Modern Art Gallery, your brother crashed into a painting, and demanded that they dry clean his suit.”

Myles sank into his chair. This wasn’t how he pictured this evening would go.

“Pardon?” said Angeline, looking over at Myles, who was barely visible.

“And how did he manage to crash into a painting, I dare ask?” asked Artemis Senior, sipping his glass of white wine.

Emily glanced at Myles, who looked at her pleadingly. Please don’t please don’t please don’t.

She smiled smugly. “He tripped over a tray of champagne.”

Beckett peered over at Myles, laughing. “You never told me that!”

“And it was going to stay that way,” he mumbled, glaring at Artemis, who smirked.

“Oh Myles- you haven’t made a big fuss now have you?” asked Angeline, looking at her son with a concerned expression.

Emily brought the spoonful of mushroom cream soup to her lips. She swallowed it and put it back on her bowl. “Well-“

“I simply asked an intern, which happened to be Emily, about who was in charge of the whole show, so I could speak to them... privately.”

Now Artemis and Beckett were the only ones aware of what ‘privately’ meant in this situation. Privately meant no witnesses. Privately meant suing the pants off the poor unfortunate soul who caused any kind of mishaps that deterred any of the Fowl siblings from their work. Beckett snorted, laughing into his napkin. Artemis merely smiled and looked at Emily, telling her to go on. “I kept informing him about how the director was incredibly busy, but he wouldn’t really listen and-“

“And Miss Emily Faucet here told me to leave the Gallery immediately or else she was going to call security-“

“-But he wouldn’t listen to me. So I had to set him straight and because of that he got me fired.”

The table went silent, save Beckett’s occasional muffled laughter every now and then.

Artemis nodded, spraying a dash of pepper on his soup. “Ah. Thank you, Emily,” he said smugly, turning his full attention to the soup in front of him.

Myles groaned.

Artemis Senior stared at his son. “Is this true, son? Were you the cause of dear Emily’s disemployment?”

Angeline cleared her throat into her napkin. “Myles, we would like to speak to you after the banquet,” she said quietly (Myles looked wide eyed at her, but didn’t say anything in fear of angering his mother furthermore). “Now,” she said, clapping her hands together, “Let’s enjoy the rest of our dinner. Please, Emily, help yourself.”

Emily thanked Mrs. Fowl and began eating, Myles keeping an excruciating close eye on his troublesome brothers for the rest of night. 

***

The Fowls had a wonderful time with Emily at dinner, and Artemis was reminded of Holly whenever Emily outwitted Myles in one of their many banters. Every morsel was eaten, and even Beckett, Beckett who could eat anything and everything any time any place, was forced to stop, lest his stomach explodes.

The group separated, Beckett and Emily leaving for the bathrooms, Myles and Artemis pulling at each other’s hair (metaphorically, of course) and Mrs. And Mr. Fowl dancing in the middle of the dance floor.

“My parents are in love with you,” remarked Beckett, watching his friend wash her hands.

She shrugged. “What can I say? People love me.”

Beckett rolled his eyes. “Please, I don’t think you want to see my dinner splattered all over the floor.” 

Emily smiled and wiped her hands, pushing the door to exist the bathroom. Unfortunately, Myles pushed the doors and entered the bathroom, hitting Emily square on the chin. She cursed, and staggered a bit, clutching at her chin. There was blood.

Myles stared at her, horrified. This was not happening.

Beckett pushed past him and studied her chin. He looked worriedly at Myles, and motioned him to come. This was not happening. This was not happening. She was going to kill him in this very bathroom. He was dead.

His legs felt like lead, and he moved them with difficulty. Right and left-right and left.

“Let me see that,” he murmured, attempting to take her hand away from her face. She snarled at him and he jumped back with a squeak. “For god’s sake, Em. Let him look at it,” interjected Beckett, biting back a grin. Myles composed himself. “I’m a doctor. Let me see it.”

“You’re a doctor?” she asked incredulously, grabbing a handful of tissues and dabbing them with water. He nodded, ignoring her disbelieving tone. “Yes, I got my Phd when I was eleven years old.”

She laughed. “You’re pulling my leg, aren’t you? Could you just get away from me before I punch you in the groins?”

Myles paled and stepped away, hands drifting slowly downstairs. “You wouldn’t dare.”

She swabbed the blood away from her chin (there was no mark, thankfully) and then cracked her knuckles. “Run.”

Myles left the room quickly. 

- left-foot-fowl

________________________

This one took ages to write- and I couldn't exactly stop as well. It's almost three thousand words. This has been swimming in my head for ages, and I needed to get it out. It's still not quite finished (half way through the piece, actually), but I didn't want to bore you anymore. Please tell me what you think! I might actually post this as Fowl fanfiction.. Don't strangle me, please. 

7. Formal

"You want me to go to formal with you?" She asked disbelievingly, looking at the male in front of her. "Are you alright? Nothing's wrong with your head, right?"

He flushed, looking away. "You don't have to come if you don't want to. With me, I mean. It'd be nice if you came anyway."

She paused, dramatically tapping her finger on her lower lip. Taking deep breaths, she held back a grin as she saw Ian, who had gone red with eyes as wide as saucers. Taking another breath, she opened her mouth, closing it again. She had refused two other males, and Ian had known this but what he had not known was that she had been purposely exaggerating the rumours so that when it reached him, it would reach the peak of his jealousy levels. She stayed in her position for a few minutes, letting Ian die a slow death in front of her as she fought to hold back her outrageous laughter.

"Please say yes," he finally blurted out, hastily covering his mouth as she turned her slow gaze upon him. Her eyes, sullen and sultry dragged themselves from the very bottom of his feet all the way to the highest hair on his head. Scrutinised, he felt like squirming but managed to not do that whilst she continued looking at him with that funny smile on her face.

"Sure will!" The answer surprised him and as she, Drea, flounced off, he found himself staggering back and sighing a large breathe of relief. She had agreed to go out with him. Now to continue with the plan.

Drea continued grinning all throughout school, pleased that someone had finally asked her. The hilarity of the situation was that she wouldn't have even touched that place had there been no partner for her to socialise with. However, Ian was quite a kind person and wouldn't ever hurt her like others had. Accepting him into her life recently had not been very hard for anyone, even a shy person to accomplish.

"You're going to have to get a dress…' her friends were kindly informing her, "we'll come and help you choose one, considering that you hate all sorts of dresses."

"Hey!" Drea yelped defensively, "I'm not that bad."

They all rolled their eyes, all three of them together before marching into the cafeteria. She gazed wistfully at the library that beckoned her to come and rid her of all her problems but it didn't do anything. Drea had to walk into the cafeteria with the whole school abuzz about what had transpired during their break. She did so, carefully and cautiously, sitting next to her friends who snickered at her knowingly before turning back to their own conversations. Drea sat back and relaxed, automatically chewing the rubber mess of the hot potato that currently resided in her hands. Swinging it down with a glass of water, it was almost as tolerable.

"What colour dress are you going to be wearing?" A sudden voice trembled behind her and she jumped up, knocking her drink over the table and sighing in frustration as she saw her glass of water drip off the edges, glistening and bright. Turning around furiously to deliver punishment to the asshole who stood behind her, she stood sheepishly, looking at the male who had asked her to go to formal with him.

"What did you want?" she asked politely, barely managing to keep her anger in check.

"Colour of dress." Ian winked at me, laughing as he relayed the message, standing confidently and pleased with her world.

"Oh, right." I shook out of my daydream quickly. "I don't actually know yet."

He stared at me, surprised before a tiny grin crept across his face. "Okay then. Do tell me so that my tie can be the exact same colour."

~

I waved an adieu to my mum as we made our way slowly to the car. My midnight blue dress dripped around me, elegantly framing my figure and making it look quite alluring. In  response to my dress, Ian had gotten an identically coloured tie, gorgeously going with his eyes. Only I would realise that, as I tugged his lapels to hug him, and got a good glimpse of his vibrant emerald eyes, which sparkled like the gem itself.

"Madam," he gestured largely to the car that stood in front of me. Holding the door open, he helped my wobbly self in before shutting the door gently and making his way to the driver's side. "I thought that you might want to have dinner first?"

"Yes please!" I laughed. "I haven't eaten anything all day."

Smirking, he pulled into a restaurant. "I knew it. Thank goodness that I booked the place for tonight. I have a feeling that it will be a tad crowded."

I nodded, satisfied as he conversed with the host, a gentle smile gracing his face. Hearing some sniggering nearby, I turned, my eyes sharp for those that were laughing and my eyes found the source immediately. A group of Ian's friends had brought along their girlfriends, similarly dressed the way I was, but had been in the middle of a laughter session when I had heard them. Surprisingly, I hadn't heard them at all earlier… odd.

"We're eating with the friends," Ian smiled sympathetically at me. "You don't mind, do you?"

I shook my head mutely, looking at his friends curiously. Their faces had turned away as soon as they had felt the weight of my gaze on them, and it had made things very uncomfortable as they were all quite abrupt, but none tried to initiate further conversation.

Dinner was over then and we were heading back to the car, the same process of getting in repeated and we finally got out. A photo was taken of me laughing as a smirking Ian held me intimately by my waist.

I should've seen the signs. I should've gotten out earlier. It was all my fault. I brought it upon myself.

He took me in, his hand dangerously low upon my back. I squirmed, starting to feel uncomfortable with the multiple curious eyes on our entrance.

I should've realised. Why? Why didn't I?

We danced, and we laughed and we drank the punch. We got served dinner, and I had another drink that made me feel a bit dizzy. The next morning, I would come to realise that someone had spiked either the punch or my drink and/or possibly both because I was tipsy the rest of the night. That's when the dancing got inappropriate. At that point of time however, everyone had gotten quite vivacious with their partners, daring and cheeky. I wasn't any different, I felt so comfortable around Ian.

The warning signs were all there. The red decorations that hung around the wall; they were three dimensional.

"Ian," I giggled.

"Yes?"

"Why did you ever ask me out?" I asked him, adoringly staring up at his eyes as he spared me an uneasy smile from staring at whatever else over his back.

He took a while to answer, gulping, but when he realised that I was too far under to care, his eyes softened, "It was a dare."

I nodded understandingly, chuckling at his expression as he saw my face nearing his. "I know how much I mean to you. It's the same for me."

"Er. How abo-" We were interrupted by shots. Bullets coursing through the air. Suddenly in a short space of time, the walls and floors were covered in blood and more than half of the grade were on the ground, in pain or in some cases, dead. I sat, sobbing under the table where we'd eaten. Ian had left me, running somewhere hastily as I had called out hopelessly for him. I had sobered up pretty quickly after that, and I had kept a steady gaze at the small opening in front of me. The air smelled of gunpowder and shots still rang in the air, making me clutch my head at the neat, and short sounds that they made.

"We want Drea."

I started shivering, as more shots started flying. Why me? Why did they need me? What was going on? I couldn't let an entire student body sacrifice themselves for me, and so slowly I crawled out, peeking hesitantly at the black boots that were an inch away. Suddenly I was grabbed and dangled in the air as a pair of familiar green eyes danced frustratingly right in front of me. "And here we have her."

I whimpered, thinking of all the goodbyes that I never got to say, the apologies that had never been forgiven nor the gossip that had ever been talked about. A small tear leaked out my eye and my assailant, seeing that started to mock me. "Are you scared, my little baby? Of course, you are. Of course you are."

The signs were in front of me all along. Realisation came to me very quickly. This resembled the classic shootings in urban areas all except for one thing; they never mentioned a name. The Colorado shootings were random, and the nightmares from all the stories told had plagued me for months. I had told Ian about them  and -

Ian. Oh. Betrayal washed through me then, as I stared defiantly at the pair of eyes that I definitely did know. "Ian, you bastard. It isn't even funny. This isn't a joke! You scared me. This happens to real people you know. And it sure as hell ain't funny for them."

"Oh shucks." He complained, dropping me ungracefully to the ground, removing his face mask, which revealed his tousled hair that I had so drunkenly messed up to a point where it was only attractive to me. "How did you figure that out so fast?"

"That wasn't funny," I spoke fast, hissing almost with anger towards the group of people that had pranked me. "It's a serious issue, and here you are, making a joke out of it. You're ridiculous!"

Looking around, I saw that the entire grade was staring at me. "You were all on it? Just to scare the hell out of me? Well, you succeeded. The point is however, that this wasn't a very funny incident in the first place. Whatever respect I had for any of you has gone down completely. How can I ever trust you?"

"Drea," Ian frowned, reaching out for me as I recalled his words whilst I was tipsy, 'It was a dare.'

"It was a dare!" I shrieked. "I don't… how. That wasn't  - …" I turned abruptly, walking out of the hall and calling the parental units to come in and save me from this disastrous nightmare. It was supposed to be a good night; instead look at how it turned out. The disgrace.
"Drea!" Ian huffed, following me out to the car park, holding out his hand precariously.
I turned on him, "I was so glad that someone had asked me. You know what the first thing I thought was? Someone other than my family cares about me. I am somebody else's first choice. I just felt so good about myself and you can ask anyone, I was flying those few days after we started talking. But this think you've done… not only is it a disgrace to those poor people but my feelings! It is true; I'm horrible, I'm never going to be anyone's first choice. Well, you know what?! I give up on you and your little lies. I give up on life. I give up on the belief that intellect will get you further than dumb looks. I give up on love. I give up on attraction. I give up on the point that I will never be preferred when there are others around me who are prettier. I give up on you! I give up on the thought that humanity could ever be good. Fuck you all."

That felt outright good.

Hi there. Two thousand words. I'm not joking. I really got into it and the last few sentences were practically stabbed in. I enjoyed writing this and yes; my inspiration was the Colorado shootings and the jibes that have been aimed at them. It's not funny. It never will be, and it never has been.
Thanks for reading...

Allons-y!

Day Six: Flame (30th of July)

All was silent.

All was pitch black as well.

Well, it was pitch black, but then El’an had to shine the stupid flashlight over my face. I groaned outloud, making sure she heard my wails of discomfort.

El’an stood up, casually dusting off the soot that would probably never wash out. She smiled in my direction and gave me a little wave. My face twisted into something painful. “What?” I asked, irritated at the sudden brightness. 

“I dunno, you’re looking quite heroic in that getup of yours,” she replied, smiling a bit. 

“Would you guys please get a room?” That was Robin, who was sitting, rather squatting, to my right.

“I don’t think I could take it,” I said dryly, shooting El’an a look of pure annoyance, but she wasn’t paying attention anymore. She was paying attention to the nine foot monster coming our way.

I suppose some back ground information is required. Very well.

My name is Charlie Bleu, and I’m on a monster hunt. Those who have considered themselves brave enough to accompany me in my courageous quest are Robin, manipulator of the element air, El’an, the El’an express bus driver and over all nuisance, and Zayn, controller of flames.

You’re wondering about my awesome powers? I can’t answer that just yet... mostly because I haven’t answered that question myself (El’an calls me a ‘late bloomer’. How amusing of her).

“Charlie,” began El’an, her voice unusually high pitched. “Run.”

I gave her a quizzical expression and followed her gaze.. There was Zayn, running with the pricision of a Roman soldier.. show off. He sprinted towards us, long legs never tiring or loosing speed. He snapped his fingers, producing a single flame and flung it at a nearby pool of liquid.

Zayn seemed to shout something, but I never heard what he said, because just then the entire cave exploded, Robin’s protective shield enveloping us just in time the white flames licked the mouth of the cave.

Zayn sauntered toward us after he sealed the cave opening, keeping us momentarily safe from the unknown beast.

He looked apologetically at all of us. “Sorry I took so long, but that thing is smarter than we think.”

Robin’s eyes were slits. “You could have given us a warning or something remotely alerting so we could have been ready! If I wasn’t paying attention than we would have been fried to the bone,” she barked, Zayn not quite meeting her eyes.

Zayn rubbed the back of his neck and shuffled his feet. “That’s not all.”

I narrowed my eyes, thoroughly disgruntled by his tone. “What do you mean ‘that’s not all’?”

Zayn sighed and warily glanced at El’an, who was strangely quiet.

“You saw everything, didn’t you?”

She gave him a solemn nod. She took my hand and motioned us to sit on the floor. I yanked my hand from hers, my face burning. “They call them selves Xenopha,” she said, staring at the sealed mouth of the cave.

Robin raised her eyebrows. “I thought those were just legends.”

El’an shook her head slowly, appearing as if she were aging right before my eyes. Her usual glossy black hair turned a dull shade of grey and her face looked a thousand years old, wrinkles carved into her typically smooth face. I wasn’t surprised though, El’an was moody, and her appearances regularly changed (she said, and I quote, “I am made up of feelings, and so I can’t look the same all the time, because my feelings change, and so I have to change with them.. Charlie? Are you asleep?”). Whenever she felt a powerful feeling engulf her, she changed her appearance so her face could suit the emotion she was currently hosting.

She took a deep breath, and began braiding the tips of her hair, a sign of worry I’ve noticed her developing. “The Xenophas are an ancient race. They are spawns of the sun itself. Fire had manipulated his sister, Air, so she could aid him in the creation of those.. things.” She shuddered. 

“Their original purpose was to defend the earth when all defenses were destroyed-“

“Wait,” I said, interrupting her (earning a reproachful glare from Robin). “Was? What happened?”

El’an smiled sadly. “Unfortunately, the Xenopha race was intensely persuaded by Tempore, lord of all things time. He promised them a route back to the sun-“

“-because they’re miserable here... I see,” I completed her sentence, and she looked quite pleased over my sudden attentiveness.

“There’s still something I don’t get,” said Robin, pushing her auburn bangs out of her eyes. “They’re creatures completely made from fire, correct?”

Zayn, El’an and I nodded in agreement.

“Then we get the Water elementals to help us out. This doesn’t have to be difficult.”

I rolled my eyes. “Isn’t it obvious?”

She looked at me, waiting for me to continue. I sighed.

“The Xenopha race are completely unfazed by water- and soil,” I said quickly, answering Robin’s unasked questions.

Zayn swept a hand through his raven hair. “Which means,” he said gravely, “We’re in deep shit.”

- left-foot-fowl

__________________________

That was random. I haven't written something about Charlie in a long long time. Sorry for the miserable quality, but THE LAST GUARDIAN IS ON MY BED AND I'M GOING TO BE IN ARTY'S UNIVERSE FOR THE NEXT FEW HOURS SO TATA SEE YEH! 

6. Flame

There'd once been a spark. A spark of life that was so desperate to outlast the burning flames that surrounded it that it clutched onto one thing.

"Sweetheart, you're absolutely brilliant. I am so sorry about what is going to happen, but know that if I were alive that I would take care of you. Hold on, and one day it will be absolutely worth it."

And although many things attempted to extinguish this struggling flame, it burned strong; refusing to be beaten down by a few mindless insults.

"Face me, you foolish sop. How are you going to go to school if you can't even look me in the eye?"

Pathetic. Weak. Fat. Meaningless. Stupid. I knew it all. The spark that meant my life didn't understand though and refused to die down, refused to let me settle peacefully where all these idiots could never hurt me again. Where I'd be the one and only; where I'd belong and be happy.

Humans are supposed to be creatures that craved love and affection. But what they especially needed was a group of other fools to be there with them. Honestly, I was quite a solitary person; I would prefer sitting by myself as opposed to sitting next to a gibbering person who thought that every silence was an awkward one.

Every day, my body endured school and my mind endured the dimwits that surrounded me. Oh, I'd tried to be on equal fitting with them but all they did was embarrass and shun me and thus I had the full right to assume that I was highly superior to them all.

That's what kept the spark going. Inside, I knew it wasn't true. How could it be? Although I had my intellect, it wouldn't always be so sharp and there was always someone else who was more intelligent. My lack of beauty wasn't even worth mentioning and my personality didn't exist. I'd end up snapping at a lot of people; just killing the mood, ruining the friendship, the end.

Honestly, it'd be so easy to blame my mother for this. Blame her for not taking care of herself and getting cancer. For dying when I was only a mere age of five. You can't blame the dead however, and that was proven quite obviously.

The teachers pitied me as did the family I lived with. Sympathetic, they called themselves. You know what word lies within that? Pathetic. If that wasn't foreshadowing of their emotions, I don't know what was.

I held on through thick and thin. When the kids chucked my backpack into the pool, ruining my books - oh only then did the spark start getting dimmer. And then it brightened imperceptibly, my anger marching through my veins and calling for the torture of the children. After I'd gone in to get the books, the hollow hole within my empty, empty chest became prominent and for the first time in  many years, I sat down and cried. And just kept on sobbing, until a few hours had passed and a shadow passed ominously above me.

Snapping my head up, I gazed suspiciously at the young man that smiled bemusedly at me but that smile faltered uncertainly as he witnessed the tear tracks still streaming down my face, and my red eyes.

"Are you okay?" And with those three words, I turned and fled, stifling my choking tears in my arm. Keeping it all bundled up for those years hadn't been good, and the result was naturally seen. No, I'd done the right thing by keeping them bottled. If I put it off as if I was emotionless, nobody would ever be able to hurt me. Not now, not ever.

"Where have you been?!" My grandmother yelped, swinging out at me. I flinched and her hand stopped five millimetres from my face. Breathing in relief, I gave my horrid excuses and pardoned myself into my room. There I stared at my clock for half an hour, before retrieving all the books from my bag and setting them down carefully, making sure that the first few pages were separated. I'd have to keep a close eye on it just in case the barely working heater in my room decided to pop up to full blast and incinerate my books. And if that ever happened, I would never forgive myself. I rubbed my hands over the heater as well as letting the books dry in front of it. Warmth prickled through my skin, making me shiver in shuddering delight as I slid against the wall, and rested my head on my hand.

The flame was burning steady, starting to get stronger and more vivid. It was going to take me through the rest of my life, mum had said and we'd see if that was true.

That night, I packed my books away glumly noting the wetness of their backs. Tucking myself comfortably onto the bed that resembled a chest with a thin mattress draped across it, I pulled it up over my head, letting my breath heat up my body. After a while, I scrambled up again and attempted to go to sleep but the flame tugged at me. Something was going to happen, something that wasn't going to be pretty. But was it ever?

I cuddled my knees, bringing them up to touch my chest as I saw a dark shadow creep stealthily across the floor. Hearing slight giggles, I immediately recognized them as my cousins who'd absolutely despised me; in fact, blaming me for mum's death. I turned, making sure that my face was inaccessible for them to graffiti in their moments of brilliance.

No, they didn't even spare a glance at me. Instead they went to my pile of books, you could hear them cautiously creeping around the house, snickering at the condition that I was living in. Seeing the books, they all yelped in victory, picking two each and burning some, whilst throwing others out of the window.

My fists were clenched. My teeth were gritted and my whole body shook with the frustration and anger that filled me with the sight that befell me as I sprang out of bed.

They all jumped back, screaming and whimpering as I advanced towards them. And finally my spark went out.

Without my books, I'd realised - what was the point of remaining on this corrupt world? There was nowhere to escape to, nowhere to cry and roar at, and definitely nothing to just smell. There was nothing I could do about retrieving my little treasures; and without them I didn't want to live.

It was obvious as to what had to be done. The flame had gone out in a flash, and now my life needed to reflect the actions.

I haven't edited. It's an hour to midnight, I just finished my German and wrote this. Hope it's alright. Apologies for the cynicism.
Allons-y!

Day Five: Haze (29th of July)

She could see him.

And he could see her.

And everything was perfect.

The sky for once was a bright robin egg blue, and the heat was far from unbearable. The grass appeared to be getting greener with every step she took, and by the time she reached his house, the yellowing weeds were a distant memory, another collection put aside in the deepest corners of her mind.

She could hear him bark out orders to his younger brother, Sami (something about not dropping the pile of topper ware) and she saw his mom shove the last of the boxes into the moving van with a satisfied ‘hmph’.

Everything was perfect- except... everything wasn’t. Far from it, in fact.

Because her world was about to collapse right then and there.

This isn’t fair, she thought bitterly, her face not betraying the emotion she felt.

“Mariam!”

Mariam spun around to see that she was face to face with her best friend, Faisal, who was grinning from ear to ear.

She didn’t bother with the fake smile; he needed to see how miserable she was.

His smile faded away and was replaced with an expression that broke her heart.

Mariam crossed her arms and found sudden interest at a scuttling beetle. “I don’t want you to go,” she mumbled, refusing to meet his eyes.

Faisal sighed and enveloped Mariam in his signature bear hug. “I don’t want you to go,” she repeated again, her voice cracking, ignoring the tears racing down her face.

“Don’t say that- I thought we weren’t going to do this,” he said gently, attempting to comfort her.

Mariam shook her head silently and wiped her eyes hastily. “You’re one of the bestest friends I’ve ever had. Ever. You were there when the others were being complete ass holes. You were there when I felt like I didn’t have a friend in the world.”

“Mariam-“

“Shut up. I was there through all that complicated shit. You warned me time and time again not to go ripsticking with heeled shoes but I went anyway and then I had to go down the hill and it was way too fast and I broke every bone on my left arm- you kept saying it was sprained because ‘the boy scouts taught my the difference between a sprained wrist and a broken one’,” she smiled at the memory, rubbing at her left arm.

“It was Yara’s surprise party and we went to the super market to get the candles. You never told your mom how it really happened. And when you were at the emergency room you kept telling us about how- what was it you said? How ‘hot’ the doctor was?” Faisal sniggered and poked her arm repeatedly, ignoring her pathetic attempts at swatting him away.

“You made me watch The Notebook. I made you watch Starship Troopers. We made pasta together and we didn’t burn the house down. Sami learned so much because I made you guys watch 21 Jump Street. He knows things, Faisal, he knows things.”

Faisal gave her a small smile, and Mariam noticed the tear tracks on his face.

“I listened through your ranting phases and I made sure you went through mine. We read The Fault In Our Stars and we cried in the end because we’re both in love with Augustus Waters,” she was gasping now, full on crying. “You went through all that embarrassing shit with your crush and- and I never even saw her. Faisal you can’t just go. We’re supposed to have two years until we go through with this crap,” she tried to swallow the lump in her throat, “Two years.”

“Mariam c’mon-“

She shushed him and dug through her bag, pulling out a tube. She unscrewed the cap.

“Is that a painting?”

Mariam nodded furiously, unfurling the canvas. She jabbed a finger at the painting. “This right there? 

That’s an old oak tree. And those cloud things with the ladders? They’re the ladders of success,” she laughed, but there was no light in her eyes.

“Ahh man- that’s the deepest thing I’ve ever heard you say. Definitely not cheesy,” he said, eyes raking at the painting, drinking in the colors.

“Not cheesy at all,” she echoed, dabbing at her eyes with a crumpled tissue she had in her pocket.

He pointed at the left side of the picture, squinting. “Is that writing?”

Mariam nodded dully before saying, “Yeah... our favorite song...‘Let’s get rich and buy our parents homes in the south of France’”

Faisal nodded. “‘Let’s get rich and give everybody nice sweaters and teach them how to dance’”

Mariam smiled now. “‘Let’s get rich and build a house on a mountain making everybody look like ants’”

“‘And way up there, you and I, you and I’”

***

Mariam gave Faisal one last hug before he climbed in the Jeep. The window rolled down and he shouted, “WE’RE LEAVING BITCHES!”

Mariam smiled despite the knot twisting in her stomach. She cupped her hands and bought them to her mouth. “KOREA WON’T KNOW WHAT HIT THEM.”

She glanced back the house, an echo of its former self.

The car pulled down the driveway and sped towards the end of the street, turning right.

Right then Mariam was angry. Angry at Faisal. Angry at his parents. Angry at the universe. She never did anything wrong. Why did it have to punish her that way? Faisal was that type of person you’d be lucky to have as a friend. Each friendship consisted of two people: the speaker and the listener.

And for once in Mariam’s life, she was not the only listener in the conversation. He listened to all she had to say, and she did the same for him.

Faisal was part of the few that she felt completely comfortable around, and now he was gone.

Whatever, she thought defiantly.

Whatever.

Because he could see her.

And she could see him.

And everything was perfect.

But everything wasn’t, because he was just a haze in the distance.

- left-foot-fowl 

___________________________________________________________

Right. Well- this is heavily based on me and my best friend (friend heavily implied here, seriously. Don't get any second thoughts because when I was skimming through it seemed kind of like it. That's just nasty). The memories are real though, and so is the Korea part. I stopped writing for a while and teared up (and then cried because this is what happens). 


Before you ask- a ripstick is this skateboard thing.. more of a scooter without a handle. Had to keep the cast for a month and a half- the little shit. 


I can't seem to get the emotion right. How do you do it. This is me- pouring my heart out for once and it looks like a diary entry for shit's sake.