There’s no business like show business, like no business I know.
Everything about it is appealing
Everything the traffic will allow.
Nowhere will you feel that happy feeling
Than when you’re stealing that extra bow!
There’s no people like show people, they smile when they are low.
Yesterday, they told you you would not go far
That night you open, and there you are!
Next day, on your dressing room, they’ve hung a star
Let’s go on with the show!
-- “No Business Like Show Business”, from Annie, Get Your Gun
SATURDAY
Yesterday, when we were visiting Mr. and Mrs. Sappy, I mean, Lupin, Ivy gave me a book. She said she felt sorry for me because I’d be sitting there being a guard everyday doing nothing, and I might as well have something to occupy my time. Well, I am not much of a reader (I only read when forced, and believe me, my mum’s always trying to force me), and I’m especially not much of a reader of books with names like “Pride and Prejudice.” But Ivy says it’s her favourite book of all time, and I think she’d be offended if I didn’t read it.
Hmm. A book about old-fashioned people getting married. I’m not surprised she likes it so much. So, I started reading it today, and from now on, in my super fancy-pants edition of my diary, I’m putting a recap of what I’ve read so far at the end of each entry. But that’s much later, because a lot happened.
WELL. I didn’t have to go to work today because it’s Saturday. I’m not sure if the Cannons have a day off, too, or an away game or something, but no one’s going to be in the stadium except Henderson Vaultz, who probably lives there. However, Haley works at Madame Puddifoot’s, and as long as there are mushy people in the world, there will always be work to do there.
Because I’m a good friend (and I wanted some free coffee), I came over to visit her during her half-hour break. Now, I’m not the biggest fan of Madame Puddifoot’s, especially the décor, but Haley thinks it’s adorable, so I try not to complain. Much. For me.
Almost as soon as I arrived and sat down at our favourite table, Haley said, “You know, you looked really not comfortable at all over at Ivy and Ted’s yesterday.”
Oh. So apparently I wasn’t that subtle. “Well, I mean, it’s a baby. And… the people having it are Ted and Ivy. What isn’t wrong with that picture? It’s like… him, and her, and… bow-chicka-bow-wow.” My arm flapped uselessly by my side as my voice trailed off. While I couldn’t exactly express my point, I did manage to attract some uncomfortable stares.
Haley laughed. “Emma, we’re twenty-three! We’re grown-ups, you know.”
I sighed. “I know… but I don’t feel like one.” Urrrgggh. I hate it when stuff like that happens. For me, my whole life, Haley has been the immature one. She’s the shrimp, the hyper one, the one who believed in Santa Claus until she was fourteen years old. She acts like she’s twelve. But ever since we were around… I don’t know, seventeen, there’ve been these times when I feel a lot less mature than her. And that just feels awkward and wrong.
“I love babies,” Haley stated. “How could anyone not? They’re so cute! I can’t wait until Ivy has hers!”
I shook my head. “No, it’ll be so boring!” I exclaimed. “People get boring when they have kids! They stop being cool and start being… parents. You heard them yesterday, talking about diapers and nurseries and names and stuff, and it only goes downhill from there. Now it’ll be all-baby all the time.”
Haley laughed again. I wish she wouldn’t laugh when I’m not being funny, but then, she’s easily amused. Suddenly, though, her expression turned serious, and she said softly, “This werewolf thing is not good, though. D’you see how empty the shop is? No one wants to leave the house because of werewolves. And people are being pretty nasty. Ivy says Ted was over at work at St. Mungo’s the other day, and there was this lady whose leg was just like bleeding like crazy”she got it stuck through a window or something”and she wouldn’t let Ted near her. She started screaming anytime he got close just ‘cos he’s a werewolf. They had to bring in another guy in the end, because she’d bleed to death if they didn’t.”
I felt my teeth grind, a habit mum’s always ragging me about, and I unconsciously gripped my wand. I hate how there’s always two sides of crazy extremists in every problem”there’s the fascists and the communists, the bloodthirsty tyrants and the bloodthirsty revolutionaries, the sociopathic perverts with no morals and the bible-thumpers with no compassion, the maneating tigers and the poaachers that kill them off. I hate how everyone thinks you have to be on one side of the other”if you’re not with the people who want to get rid of all werewolves, then you clearly support the murderous feral werewolves and what they’re doing.
People are getting hurt, and things are just going wrong. This is why I want to be an Auror. I want to have control over this”who likes being helpless when bad things happen? I want to fight, and I’ve been training for years, and yet what am I doing now? I’m supposed to guard a stadium, when there are wizards dying everyday because of this whole werewolf thing.
I was about to say something”well, go into a full-on rant, to be honest”when I heard a male voice cry, “Haley Potter!” Instantly, Haley’s head whipped around and her face lit up as she noticed the two twenty-something men standing in the doorway.
The taller of the two was slightly chubby, with a mop of curly brown hair, tanned skin, round blue eyes, and an innocent, open face that out you in mind of a sheepish child. His features probably would have been strong and square-cut if their edges weren’t softened by pudge.
The shorter of the two also had curly hair, but that was where the resemblance stopped. He had a long blond ponytail of tight ringlets, a gold hoop in his left ear, and a sharp, angular appearance. Although he was not handsome, he was well-dressed and bore himself with ease and confidence. I could see that he had one blue eye and one hazel one, like David Bowie.
I didn’t recognize either of them, but apparently Haley knew at least one, because she vaulted out of her chair, screamed, “ANATOLY!” and proceeded to give the blond man a rib-crushing hug. The brown-haired man looked rather bemused, and I must have as well, because the blond one looked up at me with a little smirk and said, “Ah, I’m not so recognizable without the wire-frame specs and facial topography, am I?”
Oh, no. Anatoly Capshaw. He was one of Haley’s old friends from school, and a Slytherin. Now, I’ve never been keen on Slytherins at all”okay, I pretty much hate them all”but that’s not the only reason why I never liked Anatoly much. It’s the way he seems to try his hardest to be as eccentric as possible. And while it’s true that he really had alarmingly bad acne when we were back in school, that wasn’t why I didn’t recognize him. I’d just forgotten about him, and then he said ‘facial topography’ and I knew him at once. Anatoly never had many friends at all back at Hogwarts, and while he’ll tell you that it’s because he’s a Muggle-born Slytherin, I seriously doubt that’s the only reason.
“Haley, Emma, this is B.C. Quinn,” said Anatoly, gesturing theatrically toward the brown-haired man. We each shook hands, not having any clue why were doing so. “He’s probably the best pianist you’ll ever meet.”
“If that’s true, then you must not meet many pianists,” replied B.C., smiling shyly and looking a bit embarrassed at the attention. Both men took a seat at our table.
I had a vague suspicion that some kind of pitch was going on, and that it had nothing to do with me, but I wasn’t sure what it was until Anatoly said, “Anyway, Haley, I haven’t heard from you since school, but my contacts told me I’d find you here. Can’t tell you who they are, though, because I want to seem smooth and mysterious. Well, if my research is correct, you want to be a star, mmm?”
“Of course,” chirped Haley, starting to look really excited. Some people have no skills when it comes to counting chickens, and Haley’s weren’t even hatched yet.
“See, that’s just what I thought!” proclaimed Anatoly just a bit too loudly, making an expansive gesture that nearly knocked poor B.C. off of his chair. “B.C. and I have written this smashingly awesome musical that we’re trying to get produced”he did the music, I did the words, natch”and we, meaning of course, me, thought you might charm the powers that be into getting us a venue and a production crew and all that technical stuff that we don’t like!”
I watched B.C. suck meekly at his drink as Anatoly concluded this run-on sentence. Clearly, he was the saner of the two. “Basically,” he said, “What Anatoly’s trying to say is, we think our show might be a success if you were in it, and it might also get you some better gigs.”
“A win-win situation!” crowed Anatoly. “Unless we both lose and go bankrupt and get our reputations wrecked beyond repair! So, wanna do it?”
Haley opened her mouth, and I had a feeling that I wasn’t going to like whatever came out, so I jumped in. “Tell us about the show,” I said quickly.
Anatoly grinned and made a show of crossing his legs and folding his arms behind his head. “Why, Emma! Ever shrewd to the point of irritation! Well, essentially, it’s called Heroines, and it’s a guaranteed success because it’s a total rip-off of Evita!”
“It’s not,” B.C. assured us calmly. “It’s sort of a pop-rock opera thing… all singing, no talking. Well, I guess that’s like Evita, but it’s also like a million other shows as well. Anyway, it’s about twenty different women through history”you know, Cleopatra, Joan of Arc, Catherine the Great, Marie Antoinette, pretty much everyone except Eva Peron. And the idea is that one actress”hopefully you”plays them all, with ten guys in the chorus and playing the male parts.”
“No fancy costumes, no big props, holographic projections for sets because we’re cheap like that and people will think it’s artsy!” chipped in Anatoly. “And no period language or anything. It’s a cool show, not a history documentary.”
Hmm. Okay, at least it sounded like they knew what they were doing and they weren’t just pitching a vague idea. But I’ve never been a trusting person, and Anatoly being a Slytherin didn’t help”who knew what house that B.C. bloke was in, but he seemed like the type who’d go along with anything. “Just one question,” I said. “You’re men. Why are you doing a musical about women?”
B.C. smiled again. He had, I noticed, a reassuring smile, which he probably had to use a lot working with Anatoly. “Men don’t come to musicals,” he told me simply. “Women do.”
“We in the biz like money,” Anatoly added cheerfully. “Well! Are you done cross-examining us?”
I didn’t have time to answer because Haley jumped right in. “Never mind that. I’ll do it!”
I gaped. This did not sound good. “You haven’t even seen the script yet!” I bleated.
Haley gave me her own version of a reassuring smile, which was a lot less reassuring because I knew her. “It’s okay, Emma, Anatoly’s a friend, and”“
“Here’s the script,” said B.C. pleasantly, pulling it seemingly out of nowhere and handing it over. “You can come over when you’re done with work and I’ll play some of the songs, and maybe teach you a few of them if you’re interested. Here’s my address.” He scribbled it down on a scrap of parchment and gave it to her as well. “Don’t feel like you need to agree to anything yet.”
“Thanks,” Haley chirped, still looking luminescent as the two men stood up to go.
Anatoly made a little bow. “Nice doing business with you, Hales,” he declared. “If it helps, you were the first conceivable person we thought of when we wrote the thing. This chap here was three years ahead of us at Hogwarts, but he remembered you… which is actually a tad creepy. Hope to see you later. Hasta la pasta.” And with that, he and his miasma of insanity and B.C. were gone.
I turned to Haley and saw that she was still beaming. I decided that for once, maybe it was better not to say anything at all.
MONDAY
I knew this would happen. There’s no way I can keep a consistent journal like Haley does. I skipped a day, and I seriously doubt that this is the last time it’ll happen. Niflheim, I’ll probably end up skipping a few months at some point. It’s not like anything important happened on Sunday, but today I had to go back to work again.
For the most part, it was the same as usual. I was guarding the stadium entrance, which was incredibly dull, Patrick was in the crowd, and Clio was all smug because she got to sit outside the dressing room today. I have to admit, Ivy’s book came in handy”P&P, as I shall call it from now on”seems pretty slow so far, and I have to stumble all of the clumsy, old-fashioned language”but it’s something to make fun of at the end of this entry, so you’ll have that to look forward to. Let’s just hope Ivy never sees this, because I get the impression that she takes her love of P&P as seriously as Tyrone always took “The Princess Bride” and all of his other beloved girly movies. The only really interesting thing that happened was when Vaultz slipped on a mustard packet and fell down about seventeen steps. I laughed so hard, I thought my spleen would explode.
Speaking of Tyrone, I actually had my first, and hopefully last, encounter with him today. I caught up with Wolfgang on his way out of the stadium, and we had just started to chat”our weekends, how creepy people who are about to have a baby are, the latest news on this werewolf business”when all of a sudden, who should I see but Tyrone Thomas himself, looking sweaty and disgruntled.
“Don’t talk to her,” he said quietly.
I burst out laughing. “Well, look at who’s descending from on high to mingle with the commoners!” I exclaimed.
“That’s from The Lion King,” Tyrone said in the same quiet, serious voice, taking a step closer.
“Yeah, you would know that,” I said, raising my eyebrows.
“What, that’s a great movie. It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he shrugged. “Listen, don’t talk to him. Just go home.”
I don’t take kindly to being ordered around, and it seems like everyone’s been doing just that lately. Vaultz and Patrick already made a big show about not talking to Quidditch players, and now Tyrone’s joined their little club. Great. “Being a high-and-mighty Quidditch star doesn’t give you the right to tell you what to do,” I said coolly. “Why do you care, anyway?”
“Because!” spluttered Tyrone. “Look, I mean, Vaultz is not a nice guy. He told you you’d lose your job if you got caught talking to Quidditch players, and he really will sack you.”
I pretended to gasp. “Oh my! Well, guess who else is a Quidditch player? Why, that’s right, it’s you!” Yes, I know perfectly well that I was being as obnoxious as possible, no need to tell me. I can get irritating when I’m irritated.
Tyrone sighed. “Just… watch out for yourself, okay?” he said darkly, and lumbered off, still glaring at Wolfgang. I rolled my eyes.
“Well! That was just no fun at all, wasn’t it!” I said flatly, clapping my hands together in mock-excitement. Wolfgang laughed, and we continued our conversation from where we left off as though nothing had ever happened, but I have to admit, I couldn’t stop thinking about what Tyrone had said. There was a dark significance in his voice that I knew meant more than ‘watch out, or you’ll lose your job.’ What there was not in his voice was jealousy, and if he didn’t want me to stay away from Wolfgang out of jealousy, than what could he have meant?
Wolfgang ran a hand through his shaggy curls. “Yeah, I do not have a good history with that guy,” he muttered. “And he’s not so wild about me either.”
“Why, what happened?” I asked curiously. Before I came to work at the stadium, I had a fairly dismal impression of Tyrone. After just three days working here, my regard’s gotten significantly lower, which can’t be good”fame must have really gone to his head.
“It’s a ridiculously long and painful story,” said Wolfgang. “And if I just stood here and told you now, Vaultz is sure to notice. Tell you what, do you want to come and have dinner with me tonight and I’ll tell you then? Somewhere fun, not too expensive but not some cheapo place. Do you like Italian food?” He gave me a hopeful smile.
I knew better than to say ‘is this like a date?’ because in the past, no matter which response I got always made me uncomfortable. I’m about as romantic as a car crash, and I hate the idea of going out on date-dates until my denial’s reached its breaking point… but on the other hand, if I kind of borderline maybe like someone and they straight-out confirm that it’s not a date, then I get all irritated that they don’t like me. I just like to assume that every outing’s between friends but that the other person might not necessarily think so.
So instead of asking ‘is this like a date?’ I fidgeted with the strap of my bag and said in the most casual voice possible, “Yeah, Italian food is good. Have you ever been to Spiro’s? Little-ish place, down on”“
“High Street? Yeah, it’s my favourite… perfect manicotti. Is seven o’ clock all right for you?” asked Wolfgang. He is definitely the most straight-forward person I’ve ever dated. Not that I’m dating him, technically, or anything. I mean, I hardly know him, or anything about him except that he’s quiiiite good-looking. But that’s not important.
“All-righty then. It’ll be fun,” I said and gave him the world’s most awkward punch on the arm. A hug didn’t seem appropriate, and I didn’t just want to walk away, so I was stuck with feeling like a total idiot. “See you then, I guess.”
Wolfgang did not comment on the awkward arm punch, which I appreciated. “Looking forward to it,” he said. As I walked off, he cupped his hands and called out to me, “DON’T WEAR ANYTHING ORANGE”I’M SICK TO DEATH OF IT.”
“FUNNY,” I yelled back, “I WAS ABOUT TO SAY TO YOU ‘IF YOU WEAR ANYTHING ORANGE, I’M RUBBING TIRAMISU IN YOUR FACE.”
“I MAY HAVE TO WEAR ORANGE, THEN, BECAUSE THAT ACTUALLY SOUNDS REALLY FUN!” shouted Wolfgang.
It was about then that I realized that we were being so loud that Vaultz would most definitely hear us. So I tried a clever tactic and screamed at the top of my lungs, “BY THE WAY, I AM NOT AN AUROR, ESPECIALLY NOT ONE NAMED EMMA WEASLEY!”
“HOW INTERESTING, BECAUSE I’M NOT A QUIDDITCH PLAYER! AND MY NAME ISN’T WOLFGANG AT ALL!” hollered Wolfgang.
We both cracked up like total idiots as we walked out our separate ways from the stadium, but when I walked through the door, my laughter died in my throat. Tyrone was standing with his back to me, no more than twenty feet away. As I watched, Clio Winkley came sauntering out toward him. She didn’t run”she would never run. She would walk slowly and calmly as though she approached her idol every day of her life, every hair in place and every gesture cool and rehearsed-looking. As she drew nearer, she whispered something in Tyrone’s ear that I couldn’t hear and smiled slowly.
Uurgh, Clio. How predictable she is. I didn’t stand around to see what Tyrone did. I had a not-a-date-at-all to get ready for.
The restaurant was nice, but not too nice, which is good because I don’t like restaurants that are too nice. They’re expensive, the food is weird, the portions are tiny, half the menu is in some weird language like French or something, you have to wear uncomfortable clothing, and if you laugh or, say, impersonate the vacuum cleaner from Teletubbies, then people look at you funny.
The only trouble was, Wolfgang was late. Not too late, just fifteen minutes, but I’d gotten there early, and the waiters kept looking at me like, “Oh, poor thing’s been stood up.” It was humiliating. I do not get ‘stood up.’ Which I’m pretty sure isn’t good grammar anyway. Anyway, it wasn’t a big deal, and he was really apologetic. Plus, he looked extremely nice”I’d never seen him in anything but sweaty neon-orange robes before, and dressed up, he was… he was probably worth waiting fifteen minutes for.
“It’s okay,” I said, holding up my hands. “Besides, I had something to do. My cousin Ivy gave me this book. Also, there’s this huge fat guy over there who fell asleep face-down in his spaghetti snoring really loudly, and every time he breathes in, spaghetti sauce goes up his nose, and every time he breathes out, the meatballs roll around the plate. It’s hilarious. I can’t stop watching.”
Wolfgang looked over at the snoring man and instantly had to stuff his napkin in his mouth to stop from laughing out loud. “From now on, that bloke’s name is Signore Snoré,” he announced.
“When there’s some big fat guy face-down in pizza pie, it’s Sn-or-é!” I hummed under my breath. If I was Haley, I would have burst out in full-on song, probably standing on top of the table to boot, but I’m not, so I didn’t. Once we’d both calmed down a little bit and the waitress brought our drinks, I said, “So, you promised me a big juicy story about you and Thomas… or was that just a clever ploy to get me alone?”
Wolfgang raised an eyebrow, and I cringed, half expecting Haley to spring out of nowhere and attack him. She hates it when people do that. “Well, there was that, too,” he said, “but yeah, Tyrone Thomas and Wolfgang Quinn do not mix.”
I paused with my glass halfway to my lips. “Wait, your last name’s Quinn? Any relation to B.C. Quinn, piano guy, hangs out with a creepy man named Anatoly Capshaw?”
“Yeah, he’s my brother,” said Wolfgang. “Why, do you know him?”
“Your brother!” I exclaimed. “I had no idea! Okay, I just met him two days ago. He hired Haley”I told you all about her”for this musical he helped write. But sorry, go on. Tell me about you and Tyrone and stuff.”
He was right”it was a long story. I was halfway through my dinner when he was finished. But it was also an extremely interesting story. Apparently, about a month after Tyrone and I had broken up, Tyrone’s dad had married Wolfgang’s mum, and Tyrone and Wolfgang had never gotten along that well to begin with. Then, about two years ago, Mr. and Mrs. Thomas had been riding in a Muggle taxi to visit Mr. Thomas’s parents”both of whom were Muggles”and they’d ended up both getting killed.
“B.C. and Tyrone and I were all grown up by then, but Tyrone’s little sister Tabitha was still in school”in fact, she still is, I think”and so we took care of her. She was a great kid back then, but last time I saw her, she was really spoiled. In any case, Tyrone’s dad left me the Thomas’s summer house in his will, because I wanted to be a painter, and chances were I wasn’t going to make much money. Plus, B.C. had his heart set on being a musician, and he’s not that responsible with money, so I was basically supporting him.”
Funny, I’d heard Wolfgang more than once talk about how he was paying for B.C., but when I met him, he seemed like a really together person. I’d never peg him for someone who’s not responsible with money. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea, having Haley work for him.
“Well, then, next thing I knew, Tyrone had sold my house to some other people and used the money to buy stuff for himself. Next thing I knew, he told me I wasn’t ever allowed back in the house,” Wolfgang finished up, spearing his manicotti vindictively.
I just sat there staring for a couple of seconds, my silence occasionally punctuated by rhythmic rumbles from Signore Snoré’s table. “I knew he was a git,” I said at last, “but I had no idea he was that bad. Why would he do something like that?”
Wolfgang shrugged. “I can tell you, but I’m going to sound really arrogant. It’s… well, Tyrone’s dad liked me better than him. And… he couldn’t take it.” He shook his head. “I sound like a prat now, don’t I? I told you.”
For some reason, one particular detail stuck in my head”the fact that Tyrone’s father had been killed in a car accident, along with Wolfgang’s mother. I couldn’t help but remember how deeply affected Tyrone had been when his mother had died in fourth year, and the idea of him losing his father as well must have been absolutely devastating. What if he just wasn’t his normal self? What if he was so upset about his dad that he’d done something he regretted afterward, like selling Wolfgang’s house and kicking him out? I mean, that’s not very likely, but it’s still possible.
But why was I feeling sorry for Tyrone? He had basically wrecked Wolfgang’s life. He was a professional Quidditch player, pretty much any boy’s dream… but he’d always wanted to be an artist, and had to choose the profession that made more money.
Just then, I spotted something”or rather, someone--that knocked me right out of my reverie. Strolling clear through the front door of the restaurant was Haley, looking very pink and cheery. Now, I’ll tell you, this was not entirely special. Every time one of us goes on a first date, the other one usually pops by about an hour into it, just in case it’s a total fiasco and we need an excuse to leave.
Haley once saved my life on this date with a horrible guy (his name was Nelson Blenkinsopp, and he kept picking his nose, ears, and teeth and leaving the gunk on things) by showing up at the restaurant halfway through. Once she’d established that Nelson was the creep to end all creeps, she ran up to me and informed me that “Lamarque is ill and fading fast! We have to visit him in the hospital before they pull the plug on his life support!” (I honestly have no idea where she got this, but it was brilliant.)
But it felt weird having Haley show up there tonight. First of all, it’s not like it was officially a date or anything, just a chance to get to know each other a little better. And second of all, so far I’d been enjoying this… not-particularly-a-date. If Haley didn’t have to make up some excuse to get me to leave, she’d probably decide to stick around, and I’d kind of rather not be a part of a party of three.
As Haley approached the table, I quickly flashed a thumbs-up sign to signify that there was nothing to worry about. And yet she kept coming. She looked, I noticed, quite nice”in a short white dress, hot pink high heels, and a matching necklace--- and I couldn’t help but look down at myself to covertly compare outfits. I mean, I’d look quite ludicrous in what Haley had on, but if she’s waltzing around looking all pretty while I’m on a date… or a not-a-date… then I bloody well better look stunning.
“Well, hello!” chirped Haley, plopping herself down and beaming at us. “You must be Wolfgang!” she paused. “Are you sure you’re an athlete? You smell too good.”
In terms of entrances, this was fairly typical for Haley, but it was still mortifying. Wolfgang just smiled back. “Oh, well I’m the only person on the team who found out what the locker room showers are for. I think some of those guys got hit by one too many Bludgers.”
Haley giggled. “Anyway, I won’t keep you… I just wanted to make sure Emma’s date was going okay.” She elbowed me cheerily in the ribs. I had to bite hard on my fork to keep from going berserk.
“No, it’s okay, you can stick around for a bit,” said Wolfgang, eying me cautiously. “It’s, erm, not an official date or anything.” It was an awkward situation. Sending Haley home would somehow turn this dinner into a formal date, and the only way to avoid that was letting Haley stay and embarrass us all.
“Well, uh,” I said, shifting uncomfortably in my seat. “Haley, Wolfgang; Wolfgang, Haley. I’m sure you’ve heard a lot about each other.”
Wolfgang nodded. “Yeah, I heard you know my brother? B.C. Quinn ring any bells?”
Haley let out a little squeal. “Oh, that’s so cool!” she exclaimed. “I just came from rehearsal with him! He’s brilliant at piano! We should all, like, do something together sometime, the four of us or something. Anatoly can come, too.” She paused in mid-gush, looking up from beneath her eyelashes in what I’m pretty sure is called a coquettish fashion. “Has your brother said anything about me?”
“Er, no,” replied Wolfgang, now starting to fidget himself. “We, er, we’re not close. I mean, we don’t really talk”well, sometimes I send him money. That’s about it.”
“Oh, that’s awful!” cried Haley, helping herself to a bite of my manicotti.
I snorted. Haley and her twin brother Jordan talk at best three times a year, and compared to how they were through most of school, this is downright friendly. It’s not like they have a longstanding feud or anything, but they do have polar opposite personalities, and they don’t always get along so well. Plus, she lives in Hogsmeade while Jordan lives in London”and B.C. lives in Hogsmeade while Wolfgang lives in London”so any displays of pity and dismay were clearly play-acting.
“Well!” I said, with all the quiet subtlety of a brass band, “this has been lovely and all, but isn’t there somewhere you have to be, Haley?”
“No, I don’t have anything planned!” chirped Haley.
I treated her to one of my first-rate death glares. “I’m quite sure you do,” I said in a low, significant voice.
Haley looked an awful lot like a deer in headlights. “Oh,” she squeaked. “Right”of course. Er, I have to go… feed the… Rum Tum Tugger. He gets all tetchy if you don’t feed him at certain times, you know. Well, see you both later! Kisses!”
And with that, she bounded out of the restaurant, and I could at last return to my normal breathing pattern. Haley may be a lovely person, but it was extremely comforting to know that she and her fluttery eyelashes would not be back that night.
Wolfgang and I exchanged glances. Said glance may have continued a few seconds longer than what is customary. Oh Godric, he did have nice-looking eyes… all sparkly and greenish and flecked with gold, but in a very different way from the Rum Tum Tugger’s.
At last, Wolfgang said, “Well, she’s, er… she’s, er…”
“Quite the character?” I supplied.
Wolfgang laughed. “Yeah, that’s pretty much exactly what I was looking for. I thought you were exaggerating when you told me about her. She seems nice, though.”
“Oh, she is,” I said. “And that’s what makes it really bad, because if I yell at her, I feel bad about it. I feel like I kicked a puppy or something. Actually, that’s how it was with Tyrone, too… I always felt guilty if I got mad at him.” Ooh. Bringing up ex-boyfriends. Classy, Emma, classy. Just in case I wasn’t coming off as quite as much of a loser as I wanted to before…
Luckily, Wolfgang didn’t look particularly uncomfortable after my delightful little display of putting my foot in my mouth. “Oh yeah, he likes to have his way,” he said. He looked over both shoulders and lowered his voice as well as his head. “Confidentially, actually,” he added quietly, leaning closer, “you know this werewolf business? They’re thinking of canceling Quidditch for the rest of the season because of all of the werewolf attacks… people are scared to go out to games, and it’s dangerous besides. But Tyrone’s pretty livid about it. He really wants the season to continue, and if anything will convince the managers and Vaultz to keep having the games, it’ll be him. I honestly think he’d do anything to keep the Quidditch games going.”
“What about you?” I asked. Hmmm. Tyrone will do anything to keep playing Quidditch. I’ll be sure to keep that one in mind.
Wolfgang sighed. “Honestly? I’d miss the money if I had to lay off playing for a season. This is only my second year on the team, after all. But I think I’d rather they canceled Quidditch. I mean, this werewolf business is getting really, really bad… both sides are.” He ran a hand through his hair. “But this isn’t really dinner conversation, is it? Let’s talk about something else… this werewolf thing has been too much on our minds as it is.”
To be honest, everyone’s talking about the ‘werewolf thing’ but me. I hate thinking about it, let alone talking about it. First there was the Draco Malfoy business, then the Tancred Apple business, then the Hadrian Bellowes business. Just when things looked like they were settling down, there has to be werewolf business to boot?
But the rest of the evening was fairly nice. Dessert was yummy, the bill was not too expensive, and Wolfgang offered to walk me home before he Apparated back home to London. I drew the line at any kind of hand-holding, arm-linking, stopping in the middle of the street to snog madly and wildly, or anything else that Patrick Wormwood would call ‘hanky-panky.’ But when we stopped in front of my place, Wolfgang said, “I had a really great time.”
“Me, too,” I said. “We should do this again sometime. As long as there aren’t rampaging werewolves in the area.”
Wolfgang started to lean toward me… I’m not sure if he thought he was going to kiss me or if he just wanted a hug, but I decided not to find out and went ahead and gave him a hug. Haley was right, he did smell good. Sort of apple-y, almost.
“I guess I’ll see you back at work,” I said, grinning like an idiot. “Let’s pretend we hate each other so Vaultz doesn’t suspect a thing.”
“Good plan,” said Wolfgang, hugging me one more time.
“Hey, what was that for? We hate each other, remember?” I exclaimed, laughing. “Well, see you. Unfortunately. Because I hate you.”
Still smiling for England, I stepped inside the house and immediately yanked off my outrageously uncomfortable shoes. My smile faded fairly immediately, though, when I saw Haley sitting in the kitchen window, clearly having been waiting for me to get home. Now that Wolfgang was gone, the time to be tactful was over.
“Hey!” chirped Haley, turning around.
“Hey,” I said, considerably less cheerfully. “Thanks for ruining the first date-ish type thing I’ve had in months.” A little crease appeared between Haley’s eyebrows. Ye gods, she looked genuinely confused. She is a good actress. “You know, when you were flirting like a pro over at the restaurant.”
Now Haley looked shocked and offended in that puppy-dog-like way I mentioned earlier. “I was not flirting!” she exclaimed. “I was being friendly!”
“Well, could you please do me a favour and not be ‘friendly’ with Wolfgang anymore?” I groused. For some reason, I sounded a lot like my dad, which couldn’t possibly be good.
Haley gave me her Haughty Face. “If you must know,” she said in her Haughty Voice, “I was listening to the Wizarding Wireless, and I heard there was a werewolf attack in London. A really, really bad one, down in the southernish part where Wolfgang lives. I just came to check and make sure Wolfgang was all right, because I know he had to come from London. Sorry for doing you a favour and all.”
My face softened a little bit. A werewolf attack? No wonder Wolfgang was late. I just couldn’t believe he didn’t tell me when he came in… maybe he just didn’t want to spoil the atmosphere of the evening or something? He’s never been one to whine, at least not from what I’ve seen of him.
“Hales, I’m sorry,” I said quietly, feeling a bit awkward. “I really didn’t know… This werewolf situation really bites,” I sighed. “No pun intended. I’m gonna go put my pyjamas on, okay?” Just as I was almost out of the room and nearly to the loo, I yelled over my shoulder, “Just remember to keep your paws off Wolfgang, okay?”
Time for me to rip apart a classic literary masterpiece! Well, there’s a smart, sarcastic guy who’s married to an idiotic, insane, hyperactive woman. They call each other Mr. Bennet and Mrs. Bennet, which in my opinion is the first sign of a dysfunctional relationship. Well, they’re kind of poor and they have five daughters but no sons, so they have to pimp out their daughters… I mean, find them suitable husbands. The only problem is, rich guys don’t want to marry poor girls, who are the ones who have to get married to rich guys. Catch 22.
So, Mrs. Bennet is practically wetting her pants with excitement because a rich guy named Bingley is checking out houses in the neighbourhood. Okay, now, I’ll grant that Bingley is a brilliant name, but it’s nothing to get your knickers in a twist about. She starts shrieking about how he hopes he marries one of her daughters. Never mind that she’s never heard of him, and that he might be hideous, old, retarded, chock-full of STDs, creepy, snobby, obnoxious, or that no matter how charming and handsome he may turn out to be, there’s always the chance that he’s attracted to guys and therefore off limits.
Mrs. Bennet goes on for awhile until even the author gets bored and we get to meet the five girls. There’s Jane, who’s super gorgeous, super nice, super shy, and basically an android. There’s Elizabeth, who’s apparently smart, witty, outspoken, and headstrong. I’m not really sure what ‘headstrong’ means, but it’s always being used to describe characters like Elizabeth. She’s pretty much the protagonist, as far as I can tell so far.
Then there’s Mary, who’s all serious and never smiles and is always reading and playing music and being pompous. See, you’re thinking I’m about to say she’s Jordan Potter, right? Wrong. Because unlike Jor-jums, Mary is a complete idiot who thinks she’s a genius and is really, really bad at playing music, while Jordan is a complete genius who knows he’s a genius.
Oh, and then there’s Kitty and Lydia. They’re seventeen and fifteen, but their mum is still trying to marry them off, probably because they’re so annoying, dumb, and shallow that it would be a relief to get them out of the house. Marriage is definitely not what’s on their minds, though, if you get my drift. They are a pair of little harlots (I love that word). There’s these soldiers stationed in town, and Kitty and Lydia basically don’t do anything except try to get as much soldierly loving as possible.
So, Elizabeth (the main character, in case you forgot) has a best friend named Charlotte, and she’s really nice and really smart and really rich, but unfortunately, she’s also really ugly. No one will marry her because she looks like a gargoyle’s bum. But her dad throws a big party and everyone goes to it to meet the cheerful and charming Mr. Bingley and his two evil sisters and his incredibly fit best friend, Mr. Darcy, all of whom live together. Okay, I’m already sensing that ol’ Bing-Bing is not straight.
Well, despite my suspicions otherwise, Bing-Bing is apparently smitten with the gorgeous android, Jane, and they party all night long, but Darcy won’t dance and he just stands there looking sullen and sultry, probably because his boyfriend stood him up for some girl.
So, Bing-Bing is like, “Come and dance, you moron!”
And Darcy”which I’m pretty sure is a girl’s name”goes, “No, you’re dancing with the only good-looking person here!”
And Bing-Bing goes, “Niflheim yes, I am! But, er, her sister’s over there… she’s fairly hot…” Yes, I always imagine him with a slightly obnoxious American accent for no apparent reason.
And Darcy goes, “WELL, I GUESS SHE’S BETTER THAN THAT PILE-OF-POO-FACED BIRD OVER THERE NEXT TO HER, BUT, ER, I’D STILL RATHER STICK FORKS IN MY EYES IF IT’S ALL THE SAME TO YOU. BY THE WAY, YOUR GIRLFRIEND SMILES TOO MUCH.”
I swear I am not making that last bit up. Darcy is actually that emo. And then he proceeds to stomp off to his emo corner for the rest of the night.
So basically, Jane falls in love with Bing-Bing, and everyone really approves of him, even though his sisters are absolute… Golden Snitches, if you get my meaning. But after everyone hears about Jerkface Girl-Name Darcy, absolutely everyone decides that they hate his guts, however gorgeous. Especially Lizzy. And Charlotte, who hates men in general. So far, Charlotte is actually my favourite character. She’s cool. And Darcy seems like a skunkbag.