Through the Eyes of a Mercutio

Chapter 5

Dónde Está La Casa De Caca?

A tiny red dot zoomed over my book. I rolled my eyes, and continued to read. Then I could see the glare from little dot between my eyes. I looked up and stared furiously at my little brother.

"Knock it off, or I'll bust you up," I snapped.

He laughed. "Right, bust me up. That's funny, Cait."

"Think I could curse you from here?" I asked, looking back to my book.

"No, you're horrible in Charms." I could sense the grin in my brother's voice. The laser pointer's beam continued to bounce around the room.

"Dom, you are an idiot."

"And dang proud of it," he said, with a hard nod.

"Evidently, you're a retard too."

"Ouch, Cait, that really hurt," he said, putting a hand to his heart. "Well, I guess I'm just going to have to eat all theses éclairs from Dad all by myself." He shrugged, and took a bite.

"Hey! Where'd those come from?" I demanded.

"Oh, evening post," Dom said casually. "But as you were all spaced out at dinner, the owl came to me. I didn't want to disrupt your thinking just for éclairs. I figured your brainpower is more valuable than that."

I ran at the sofa and jumped on him, trying to wrestle the box away from him. "Gimme those!" I whined, desperate for sugar.

"On one condition," Dom said, holding up a finger. "You -"

"No, I'm making the conditions here," I said decisively. "If you don't give me those, I'll tell Gabrielle about your little crush on Professor Spinnet in first through third year."

His face fell. "You wouldn't," he said, almost desperately.

"Oh, but I would. But wait, didn't you start going out with Gabrielle in your third year? Hm, that would be interesting..."

"How do you even know about that?" Dom demanded.

"You should never talk to yourself when Bailey is around," I said pleasantly. Bailey was our devious six-year-old sister. Her life's purpose was to eavesdrop and then snitch.

Dom leaned back on the sofa. "Gaul, that kid is evil."

While he appeared to be vulnerable, I reached out and quickly withdrew an éclair quickly from the box. He sat up and glared at me.

"I don't like you."

"I don't like you, either." I returned to my book.

Suddenly, his face broke into a grin. "Hey, Cait," he started, a sort of evil smugness in his voice. "Do you like Jenson?"

I was a little taken aback, but I didn't show it. "That was random."

"Oh, come on."

"Dom, I don't know what you're talking about," I lied easily. Honestly, it was getting pretty effortless now; I'd been lying about it for a month. I turned the page.

"Oh really?" The smugness was still in his voice. "Then what's this?" He reached into his bag and withdrew a crumpled piece of parchment. He smoothed it out and turned it around. I looked up to see my heavily traced "JB" above several dieing Slytherin Quidditch players.

"Hm, not mine," I said calmly. "That is entertaining though."

"Really? Huh, Ashley seems to think differently."

"And what has Ashley been telling you?" I asked, trying to remain indifferent.

"Just about your little episode in the corridor last month. Evidently, you surprised them all with your jealousy."

"Well, I do like to be unpredictable."

"So, you do like Jenson?" Dom asked eagerly.

After he said this, the portrait hole opened, revealing none other than Jenson Edward Bryon. He smiled jovially as he entered.

"Oh, grow up, Dom," I said, grinning. I hesitated and then asked, "Out of curiosity, why do you want to know?"

"Oh, no reason, really," he answered, not as casually as he had intended. He spoke to fast; I could tell he was lying.

Jenson's eyes grew a little, and he hurried to the boys' staircase, not looking at us. He disappeared. I raised an eyebrow and looked back at my brother.

"Yeah, whatever, Dom," I said dismissively. I turned back to my book. I had finally gotten a few minutes peace. Dom got up and began to walk around the common room, searching for something to do. I heard the sound of many miniscule plastic objects clinking against each other. I sounded sort of like beads. I glanced at Dom. He was poking through a shoebox, causing whatever was inside to move. I rolled my eyes. Honestly, that kid was so weird.

"Dónde está la casa de caca?" he asked absently.

"What?" Honestly, he was crazy.

"It means something about the house of poop. Ryan taught me."

And I had to put up with this weirdness at home, too! I was surrounded by morons 24/7.

Something tiny collided with my temple. I exhaled and slammed my book down on the table, preparing to slaughter my brother, when more miniscule objects began to pelt me. Dom was leaning against the back of the sofa, picking beads out of the box and examining each one before chucking it at me.

"Dom, what are you - No! Bad!" I was interrupted when a large turquoise bead hit my chin. "Dominic!"

He glanced up at me and grinned before returning to his oh so entertaining task of getting beads everywhere. I let loose with a sign of indignation as another bead hit me in the head.

"Dom, stop, now!" I demanded. No reaction; only a glance of acknowledgement. "Dominic James Corwin Black!"

That caught his attention and he grimaced. He hated being called by his full name; he didn't like the Corwin part. "What?"

"Stop!"

"Stop what?"

I groaned impatiently. "Chucking beads at me, you retard!"

"Oh." He looked down at the round pink bead in his hand. "You mean like this?" He lobbed it into the air and hit me in the shoulder.

"Yes, like that, now knock it bloody off!"

"Why?"

I stared at him incredulously. "What do you mean, why?"

"Just that: why?" he repeated simply.

"Because it's bleedin' annoying! And there are beads everywhere!"

He looked at me indifferently. "So?"

"Do you live solely to make a mess, or what?"

He grinned proudly. "No, I live solely to torment you."

**

We all knew the Thursday's Quidditch practice was going to be the most grueling of the season. Our first match of the year was on Saturday, and Sean was sure to kill us making sure we were up to par. He never scheduled practice the Friday before a match; that day was for us to rest and prepare both physically and mentally. It was the hangman's noose for anyone who dared not show up on Thursday.

So, naturally, since risking his life was such a tempting prospect, Luke didn't show. We even started ten minutes late (which was a lot for Sean) to wait for him. After a fit of ranting and raving on Sean's part, we were finally permitted to the skies. Chad and I exchanged a few worried words before assuming our posts. We were scrimmaging the reserve team, but since our Seeker was presently indisposed, Sean decided to train in Michael Vance, the sixth year reserve Seeker. Sean stressfully informed me after practice that he was going to let Michael play in Luke's stead. I nodded in solemn agreement.

**

Friday classes were tense. None of us said anything to Luke about his absence at practice, and he offered no excuse. In fact, very few words were exchanged between Luke and the rest of us at all; he remained uncharacteristically silent the majority of the day. When we were finishing dinner, he got up, as usual, and began to progress to the door alone. I got up and followed him.

"Hey, Luke," I said, catching up to him. He looked back to me.

"What?" His voice held a bite of impatience and his glance was more of glare. I drew back a little.

"I was just wondering..." I began slowly. He didn't seem in the best mood. "Are you okay?"

"What do you mean?" he eyed me rather sharply.

"Well, you've just been so quiet all day," I said, shrugging. "And you weren't at practice yesterday. What's up, Luke? You never miss practice! Where were you?" My voice had risen a little and I was beginning to sound almost desperate.

He turned all the way around now. His face was hard set, and he looked very irritated. "I was busy, alright? Damn, just get off my back, Cait!" He whipped around and continued walking. I stared after him in disbelief, slightly hurt.

"Fine!" I called angrily, coming back to my senses. "I was just concerned! You are my friend, you know! I do care if something's wrong!"

He just shook his head and walked on. I stormed up to Gryffindor Tower, stress spilling out my ears.

"I'm so sick of this!" I cried through gritted teeth, pacing in front of the fire. Sydney glanced up briefly from her History book. "We play Slytherin for the first time this season tomorrow, and Luke's skipping out! I'm going to kill something!"

"As long as it's not me," Jenson said from the sofa.

"So what do we do?" Chad asked somberly.

I kicked off my boots angrily. My feet were hot. I pulled off my socks, too, and chucked them across the room. "I don't know. He's going to get himself kicked off the team. But we can't make his choices for him; he's already chosen her." I muttered the last word rather nastily. I continued to pace, my floor-length denim skirt flapping noisily.

"Sydie, I think you'd better get your violin," Chad said. Sydney nodded and disappeared up the dormitory steps.

"Cait, calm down," Jenson said, scratching the ears of Ashley's gray cat, Kittywumpus. Wumpus jumped into Jenson's lap, and began flicking his tail against Jenson's chin. "We'll figure something out."

I groaned and pulled exasperatedly on the knee-high slits in my skirt. Then Sydney reentered the common room, polished violin in hand. She put it up to her shoulder and began to bow out Twista's "Overnight Celebrity".

I flopped into a chair with a huff. The music was calming me down; it usually did. Now I was just depressed. I grabbed the Rubix cube sitting on the table and began twisting the blue pieces around.

"He won't even talk to me, Chad," I said dejectedly, putting my head in my hands. "I was just trying to help! I'm worried about him..."

"So am I," Chad agreed quietly. "So am I."

Kittywumpus jumped off of Jenson's lap and began to meow loudly from the floor. He rubbed up against my leg and stared at me, his meows growing to howls. I sighed.

"Great, now I have to let the cat out. Don't you have a litter box or something? I never should have agreed to watch you." I scowled. "Where is Ashley, anyway?"

Chad and Jenson raised their eyebrows. "Where do you think?" Jenson said, a hint of a grin in his voice.

"I would expect she's out snogging Thomas," Chad said casually, though his eyebrows were still raised.

I threw my hands in the air as I stood up, still holding the Rubix cube. "That seems to be all our friends do these days! Gaul, get a real hobby!"

Chad and Jenson both laughed.

"What?" I demanded, hands on my hips.

"Well, I seem to remember you snogging well before the rest of us," Chad chuckled.

"That was highly uncalled for," I said derisively. "Besides, twelve years old doesn't count."

"Oh really?" Jenson's right eyebrow was in danger of disappearing into his hair.

"Yes, because Luke is the kid who was kissing his "girlfriend" at age eight! End of discussion."

My friends both chuckled some more.

I wasn't about to go into a detailed defense. I really didn't like to discuss that point in my life. It wasn't my favorite, and definitely not something I was proud of. Even Chad knew this subject was off limits, and he only mentioned it when he decided I needed an attitude check. They just didn't understand me. I was too complicated; I had too much depth for the likes of those two. It's just you and me, Michael Schumacher, I thought bitterly. The Misunderstood Masters of the Universe.

Sydney lowered her violin. "You've gotten off subject."

"Right," I said, running my fingers through my hair. "Luke. Cat. Outside. Right." I looked back at the boys. "Which one of you is coming with me?"

"Jenson will," Chad volunteered promptly, a wide, all-knowing sort of grin spreading across his face.

Jenson and I both looked at him. He just looked between us, grinning happily. He sighed blissfully, his smile remaining. I raised an eyebrow. "Um, okay."

"Right," Jenson said suddenly, bending down to pick up Wumpus. I cast I suspicious look at Chad while Jenson wasn't looking. He only shrugged and smiled.

"I suppose at some point we should look for Luke, too." Sydney sighed.

"No, we've tried that," I told her. "He doesn't want to be found. If he wants to waste his life away, fine. I don't care. I'm not going to try and stop him. It's a waste of my time and energy."

"My, my, we are insensitive today, aren't we?" Jack Wood grinned as he strolled out the portrait hole. "See you later."

"Good one, Jackie," Sydney called after him.

Jenson smiled. "So, why are you so insensitive, again?"

"I'm not insensitive," I replied, twisting the Rubix cube. "I'm selfish and complacent, to quote my brother."

He laughed. "Alright, so why are you selfish and complacent?"

"It's the only way to live, mate," I said, completing the red side of the cube and moving on to the green. "If you fritter your life away worrying about other people's problems and never attacking your own, you'll waste away like an octopus in a desert."

"An octopus in a desert," Jenson repeated slowly, grinning. "That is original."

"That's her new favorite analogy," added Chad, looking up from his book.

"I try. Don't get me wrong; I'm all for helping people, but you can't help others without helping yourself first. It's like the blind leading the blind: one of you will take a wrong turn and you'll both get hit by a bus."

"Makes sense," Jenson agreed.

"But then there's all those bloody liberals who believe in forgetting about ourselves! They think they're so bighearted and generous, giving all their money to third world countries and the street bums of Chicago. Ah, but what they don't publicize is that it's not their money they're giving away. It once belonged to the hard-working middle class and the "ultra rich" who make approximately 80 grand a year out of pure sweat and blood. It was requisitioned in the form of income taxes, property taxes, and all those other taxes. It then goes to the government, where it is divided out to social security and health care and welfare and highways and such." I was really getting into this now. "Then people who don't do anything at all but sit and smoke pot and shoot heroin all day with their six illegitimate children come and claim their welfare checks because they're too stoned to go work at McDonalds or Wendy's! It makes me sick! All right, there are people who really need the help, I know, and I have sympathy. However, it's just so -"

"Breathe, Cait, breathe," Chad instructed calmly without looking up. "It'll be alright."

"But don't you see the conspiracy, Chadwyck!" I exclaimed. "The communists are plotting! The more money you make, the more taxes you pay ergo the more money is wasted on communist cable TV for public schools! People who make less than 20 grand or thereabouts don't pay any income taxes at all! The bloody commies want to bring down the end result income rate so drastically that everyone will end up with the same amount of money. What will happen to free market? Save us, Adam Smith!"

"Come on, Richard Nixon," Jenson said, pulling me by my arm toward the portrait hole.

"Alright, Wumpus, do your business," I instructed as Jenson released the cat into the grass. It was dark outside, and my bare legs did not appreciate the cold. "And be quick about it!"

He sniffed around for a moment, before wandering over to the left, taking one look back at the pair of us, and streaking off into the darkness. I groaned.

"Bloody hell, what else can go wrong?" I demanded, pulling irritably on my skirt.

"Wumpus, no!" Jenson shouted after him. "Bad cat!"

I grabbed his arm and pulled him forward. "Come on. We'd better catch the stupid cat."

We ran after Wumpus, calling his name. I had to hike up my skirt in order to keep up. I kicked off my flip-flops impatiently. "Wumpus, you deranged animal! Get back here!"

Kittywumpus disappeared into a clump of bushes, and Jenson and I stopped, clutching our sides and trying to catch our breath. I knelt down in the grass. I was not used to running; I hated running. Jenson went to peer into the bushes in search of Wumpus.

I saw his eyes widen in the dark. "Hey, Cait, come here," he whispered, motioning me over.

"What?" I got up and knelt beside him.

"Shh!" he murmured, putting a finger to his lips. He pointed beyond the bushes. "Look."

I squinted through the darkness through the bushes to a large tree hanging over the lake. There was...something...under the tree. Then it moved, or half of it did, at least. Then I heard a voice that I recognized. Oh no...

"Gorgeous, isn't it? The stars, I mean."

"Yeah, they're so romantic."

"They remind me of us."

"Really? How so?"

"You see that bright one?" Luke pointed up into the heavens. "That's Siri. According to Greek myth, she was a princess, who fell in love with a renegade named Sirius." He pointed again to a dim star far to the east of Siri. "That's Sirius; the Dog Star. Anyway, Siri's father was furious that she was entangled with such a man, and turned then both into stars. In attempt to keep them apart, he placed Siri at one end of the sky, and Sirius at the other. But once a year, in the spring, Sirius is able to creep over into the western sky to meet Siri, and they untie to be the brightest star in the sky for a few short weeks before Sirius has to escape to the east."

Rosie gasped. "Oh, Luke, that's so romantic!" she whispered in awe.

I sighed and smiled. I loved that story. My father had taken us all up to the highest balcony every spring before we went to Hogwarts and told us that story. It had always been a sort of legacy for my parents, I guess, because they had had such trouble with Sirius's family while they were alive. Fortunately for all of us, my grandparents had long since kicked the bucket.

I felt Jenson gazing at me. I turned my head to look at him. His head was cocked and a strange sort of smile was playing his face. I smiled a little, too. He had come up to the balcony with me one summer and I had pointed out the two stars and told him the story, and we had followed them in Astronomy class until they met in the spring. Now he just looked at me. We sat there, just gazing at one another for a few moments, before we both realized what was going on, and looked away quickly. I could feel myself blushing, but I didn't know why. Nevertheless, I was glad that it was dark.

Our star-crossed lovers had now dissolved into a hum of noises that would have embarrassed any two teenagers of the opposite sex sitting together in the dark. You would have needed a Miracle Blade® to cut the tension between us, and I was acutely aware of his knee touching mine. We both turned around and sat in the grass, trying to contain embarrassed grins of hilarity. Neither of us really wanted to witness the scene behind us, but we couldn't exactly get up and leave, either. The bush wasn't as tall as I had originally thought, and I was worried that one of them would spot us creeping back up to the castle. I quietly voiced this last thought to Jenson.

He raised his eyebrows as though he might laugh. "I don't think they're going to notice; they do sound pretty busy."

I glanced behind me without thinking, and then whipped back around, now scarred for life. "Good point," I forced myself to whisper.

"Come on." He took my hand and led me silently away across the grass. I couldn't pay attention to anything but his hand in mine. Sad, huh? We reached the castle to find Kittywumpus meowing loudly in front of the double doors. I had completely forgotten about him, and I guessed from the surprised look on Jenson's face that he had too.

"Whoops," I giggled. No, not that giggling thing again. No!

Jenson laughed, and our eyes met in the torchlight. Hello, warm, fuzzy feeling. You're certainly due for a comeback. We were just staring at each other again. There must have been something wrong with us. I'm not sure how long we just stood there, looking at each other; I was in a sort of trance. All I know is that Jenson Bryon looked incredibly gorgeous in the flickering firelight.

I looked down at my hand to discover that he was still holding it. But I didn't mind; I didn't mind one bit. Then he followed my gaze, and sort of twitched.

"Oh," he said, a bit of surprise in his voice. "Right." He let go of my hand.

What did you do that for? Hey! I was enjoying that!

"Right," I echoed, looking at anything but him. I bent down and picked up my previously disbanded flip-flops. "S'pose we ought to go up then."

"Yeah," he murmered, casting around for the cat. "C'mon, Wumpus." He opened the door, and the cat zoomed crossly inside. Jenson held the door open for me, and I stepped inside, too.

**

"It sure takes you two a long time to let the cat out," Dom said loudly as we entered the common room. He was playing with a bunch of little magnets. "What? Get stuck in a bush?"

"Wumpus ran off," I explained, kicking off my sandals. "Had to chase him all around the grounds." We had agreed on our way up that we would say nothing of the Romeo and Juliet incident we had witnessed.

"Uh-huh, right," my brother said sardonically, un-sticking two of the magnets and letting them fly back to each other. "Dónde está la casa de caca?" Chad snorted.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I demanded, hands on my hips. Jenson released Wumpus onto the floor and he scampered off.

"Oh, nothing," Dom said innocently, sticking and un-sticking his magnets.

I frowned around the common room. Chad was in a chair by the fire, reading a Quidditch magazine; Dom was stretched out on the couch with his magnets; Mercedes was curled up in a chair across from Chad reading The Anthology of Reason; Sydney was playing chess with her cousin Codicious of the clan Fred; Chad's brother Ben was helping his current love interest with her star charts; and Jack Wood, Maybe Longbottom and Sam Finnigan (all 5^th years) were trying to decipher their divination homework.

Sydney blasted apart one of Codi's bishops with her rook, and said, "They think you two were snogging out there." Honestly, she was the queen of bluntness.

Oh, for the bloody love of leprechauns! This was the casa de caca! "Uh-huh," I said slowly, eyebrow raised and arms crossed. "And where, pray tell, did this theory start?"

Everyone pointed to Chad without looking up.

"And what, dear Chadwyck, prompted such an unlikely hypothesis into your disturbed and dangerously complex mind?"

He looked up at us, his eyebrows raised in a hint of a smile. "Do I really have to answer that? Can't you figure it out on your own?"

"What?" I had uncrossed my arms and was now staring at Chad. What the bugger was he on about? I shot a glance at Jenson, who, oddly enough, didn't look as surprised as I did. In fact, he looked rather uneasy. Hmm...

Chad grinned, apparently satisfied. "Yup. I don't have to explain myself, thank you." And with that, he began to read again, with only his red hair visible over the top of the magazine.

Later, up in my dormitory, I lay awake in my bed, with my hangings drawn, just thinking. What had Chad been talking about? Honestly, I thought he'd cracked and gone mental. I mean why on earth would he suggest something so preposterous? What could possibly promote such a fathom? Oh, wait, I know: my behavior. I guess I had been acting a little suspiciously lately. And then there was that little episode in the corridor...yeah. Double crap! And I thought I had been hiding it pretty well. Doh!

**

"You're going to be late!" Chad hollered in at me.

"No, I'm not," I replied, hastily shoving things into my gear bag. I grabbed my bat and broom and hurried out of the locker room. "There, you see, not late."

"You've got," Chad looked down at his watch, "seventeen seconds to spare. Good job."

We hurried to find Sean and the others. Sean was pacing in front of us, frowning in concentration. "Alright," he said, looking up. "First match. You ready?"

"Sir, yes, sir!" I cried, standing up straight and saluting.

He turned to face us and smiled. "We're going to win, right?"

"Sir, yes, sir!" we all shouted back.

His smile widened. "I've got faith in you guys. I don't why, but I do." He held out his hand. Oh, thank you, Sean, that's very flattering.

We all put our hands in and yelled "Gryffindor!" as loud as humanly possible. Striding out onto the pitch, I looked up at the stands. Oh, it was good to be back. As soon as we were in the air, I flashed a big smile at Josiah Burks, the Slytherin Beater whom I had drenched at the start of term banquet. He just glared at me.

The referee, Master Ibanez, whom we all called "Señor" for reasons unknown, released the bludgers first, and then the tiny snitch. Finally, he threw the quaffle into the air, and the game began. Ashley grabbed the quaffle and sped down to the other end of the pitch. I circled around her hitting bludgers and an occasional Slytherin player out of the way. Oh, eat it! Gryffindor, ten, Slytherin, zero. Oh, too bad.

I soared upward and looked at Michael. He wasn't moving, only scanning the field. My attention was diverted to a bludger pelting towards Chadwyck at the goal posts. I dove down in front of him and cracked the bludger at the Slytherin Chaser approaching with the quaffle. It hit him in the leg, and his broom spun around like mad and he dropped the quaffle to clutch at his leg. Score one for Cait, bludger, zero.

Sean retrieved the fallen quaffle and he, Ashley, and Beth did a brilliant three-man-weave down to the Slytherin goal posts. Gryffindor, twenty, Slytherin, zero.

Thirty points later, I had bludgered Chaser Anthony Zieroth in the head, cracked Seeker Devon Ripka across the shins, kicked and swung at Burks, and knocked the Slytherin Keeper a few, too. Unfortunately, the Slytherins had scraped up thirty points themselves, but we were still up by twenty. Michael was circling around above us, diving occasionally before giving up. The 5^th year Slytherin Seeker wasn't having much more luck.

We were up by ten; Gryffindor, 80, Slytherin, 70. Chadwyck had been hit with bludgers twice, and looked furious with himself for letting those last two goals in. Ashley, our chief scorer, looked exhausted, and Sean seemed impatient. Jenson and I were getting pretty tired as well. Then Michael dove again, but this time I saw the flash of gold he was chasing. I dove with him, fending off the bludger Burks had sent flying towards him. I stuck my tongue out at Burks, who glared.

Michael was gaining on the snitch; Ripka was trying to catch up to him, but I kept cutting him off. Michael stretched out his arm, straining to catch the tiny ball. Ripka swerved around me, but I caught up to him and slammed into him, sending him whizzing way off to the left. Michael's fingers finally closed around the winged ball, and he thrust his hand into the air, grinning triumphantly.

Señor blew his whistle. Michael slowed down and hopped off his broom. I jumped off mine and pulled him into a hug.

"Mikey, you rock!" I cried happily, nearly choking the poor kid. Soon, the whole team was surrounded around Michael, congratulating him on his first ever win. We all trooped back up to the castle, Sean practically dancing for joy. He was all smiley and laughing. Jenson's brother, Dan Bryon, had turned up to watch the game, and was coming to celebrate with us. Thomas had joined us as well, and he was carrying Ashley up the hill on his back.

"So, what did Luke think of our performance without him?" I asked, smiling smugly.

"Dunno," Thomas said, shrugging. "He wasn't there.

I whipped around to stare at him. "What? He didn't show? You're kidding!"

Thomas shook his head. "Nope. I told him to sit with us yesterday, and he said he would, but I never saw him; neither did anyone else."

I couldn't believe that. The little traitor! Now I was angry. I just stomped up to the castle indignantly, trying to fathom what could possibly separate Luke from his Quidditch. It just didn't happen. He was the ultimate Quidditch fanatic; his dad had played for England for a few years, and he went to every World Cup. He never missed a local match in the summer, and he made us all stay in tip-top condition for the next season. Now he had skipped his own game, and it was against Slytherin!

"How could he?" I demanded of whoever cared to listen. I was pacing around the corridor, waiting for Chadwyck, who had ducked into a classroom in search of his lost quill. "What is wrong with him?"

Dan shrugged.

"Who knows," Jenson replied, leaning against the wall. He was examining his library book carefully, which was odd, because it wasn't as though he was going to actually read it.

I stared at him. "Doesn't that bother you at all?"

"No, not really," he said, flipping pointlessly through the pages.

"Jens, Luke has gone mental!" I cried. "He's completely changed! What's wrong with him? He's never missed a Quidditch game in his entire life, even if he wasn't playing in it! He's obsessed with the game!"

"I don't know. Maybe he's found something else to obsess over." He raised his eyebrows.

I stared at him. "Don't you even care? Don't you care that Luke is getting himself into a very compromising situation that could do him a great deal of harm? Jenson!"

"Look, Cait, I just don't think we have the right to govern what he can and cannot do," Jenson said, his voice rising a little. "He's old enough to make his own choices. Stop trying to control him! Why do you think he's rebelling? Just give him a break, Caitie! Give us all a break!"

Dan was looking concernedly between us.

I stared incredulously at him. Jenson had never ever yelled at me before, not like that anyway. I opened my mouth to retaliate, and Chadwyck came out of the classroom.

"Found it," he declared happily, but seeing the looks on our faces, he stopped talking and stared between us, glancing questioningly at Dan, who shrugged.

"You think he's doing this because of me?" I asked quietly. "You think I pushed him into his relationship with Transfer-girl?"

"That's not what I said," Jenson began slowly.

"Yes, yes it is!" I interrupted. "You said he's rebelling because of me. What is that supposed to mean?"

"You're always on his case!" Jenson said exasperatedly. "Just nagging on him, bossing him around. I reckon he's sick of it! Frankly, so am I!"

"Fine!" I yelled. "Fine!" I turned on my heel and began to stride away. I couldn't believe him! Didn't he even care? Oooo, he made me mad! Stupid wombat! I stormed up to the Owlry and climbed up the perches to the ceiling. I pushed open the little trap door that led to the roof, and climbed outside. I loved going up there; it gave me a solitary place to think. I slammed the door shut, and sat, fuming, on the roof. It was starting to get foggy.

I glared out at the forest for a while, thinking about how mad I was at Jenson and Luke alike. They were so confusing, though I didn't really want to know what went on in the innermost areas of Luke's brain; it seemed to be pretty screwed up. But Jenson on the other hand...

No, no way was I going to let my rage dissipate. No way was I going to let myself get distracted. Just because I liked Jenson didn't mean that I had to give him grace. Actually, that should make me even madder at him. But, alas, I just couldn't hold back the thought that he was perfect. Oh bloody hell...

Bugger. Bloody flipping double crap. I was in love with him. I was absolutely, positively head over heels in love with Jenson Edward Bryon. I was all warm and fuzzy and happy inside! But I was still furious! I was going off the rails on a crazy train! And Jenson was driving it! Great, now I'd dragged Ozzy Osborne into this. Sharon!

I frowned out into the fog. This just didn't make any sense. What was supposed to do now? Just waltz up and proclaim my undying love? Uh, no. I refused to do that; I had way too much pride. And besides, what if the feeling wasn't mutual? I'd completely lose my edge then! And, even though I rarely cared, what would people think of me? Instead of the heroic, outspoken, Slytherin-pounding beater, I'd be the love-struck sap, the laughing stock of the school. Great. Oh, bloody hell...it really would be the end of me, inside and out.

Oh, but he was so gorgeous...and so funny...and sweet - and -

"Whoa, there," I warned myself. "And where is this going? Aren't I supposed to be mad at him?"

"You suck," the annoying little voice said. "You just can't let yourself off the leash, can you? Live a little! You're supposed to be the one who always takes chances without fear of the consequences! What happened to you? Come back, dang it!"

"Shut up," I thought bitterly, even though I knew it was right. "Just because I won't tell him doesn't mean that I have abandoned my true self. This just happens to be an area of my life that I'm not very comfortable with."

"Well then get comfortable with it!" The voice demanded. "You know as well as I do that you're going to have to make the first move. Jenson isn't brave enough. He may be bold and daring on the Quidditch field, and he may be up to pranking little first years and teachers, but this is one area that really terrifies him. You're going to have to do the romantic instigating."

"Oh bloody joy," I thought dully. "Just because he's a stupid prat! Urgh! And anyway, what makes you think that he likes me in the first place, hm? Ridiculous, if you ask me."

"That's why I didn't ask you. But have you ever really paid attention to what he does when you're together? He stares at you constantly -"

"Maybe there's something on my face."

"- He makes that puppy dog face - "

"Only when he wants something."

"-He's always making fun of you and giggling-"

"He's just a butt."

"-He says those sweet little things that guys don't say to just anyone."

"I- " I couldn't find an excuse for that one. Bugger.

"Why are you so intent on proving that he doesn't like you?" the voice asked smugly.

"Because I don't want to get my hopes up," I thought dejectedly.

"Argh! I hate you, you stupid prat!" I yelled out from the rooftop. "You're such a butt! Why am I in love with you? What's so special about you? Why is this happening to me? Why do I love you?"

The trap door beside me popped open and Daniel Bryon stuck his head up. "Who do you love?" He looked half surprised, half amused. He climbed up and sat down beside me.

"Spill it, kid."

"Dan, shut up."

"Ah, still sore about our little fight with Jenson, I see."

I turned sharply to look at him. "Who said anything about Jenson?" I demanded quickly. Oh, great. Really good at keeping your own secrets, aren't you?

He grinned in a sort of all-knowing way. "Uh-huh, that's what I thought."

"Dan!" I said in exasperation. "If you've got something to say, say it."

"It doesn't take a genius to figure it out, Caitie, especially when watching Jenson." He chuckled. "That poor kid can't hide his feelings worth crap."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh come on, Cait. You're way too clever for that. We both know you know exactly what I'm talking about. Jenson fancies you, Cait; it's too obvious. You could see it in his face when you two were fighting; we all could. I mean, whom else would he fight like that with? I certainly never got that privilege." He paused and looked at me for a moment. "Now the only question left is where you stand on this issue."

"Dan..." I groaned exasperatedly. This really wasn't something I wanted to discuss with Dan. He was like my brother; that was like discussing this with Ryan or Dom. I figured I'd pass.

He elbowed me, goading me on. "Come on, Caitie; I'm not going to say anything..."

I cracked, and hit the roof with my fists. "This is so stupid! I don't like to be confused! It makes me nervous, and I don't like that either. I'm not like Luke! I'm sane; I've got direction! I'm headstrong!"

Dan chuckled.

"What?" I demanded hotly.

"Of course you're headstrong. Listen to yourself." He grinned. "You can't even admit you like him."

"I can, too," I said defensively. "I just don't want to. I just - I'm - scared." I said this very quietly.

"Ah, I see," Dan said wisely. "Well, it's a risk, I'll give you that, although, you have the greater chance of winning on this occasion." He grinned. "Besides, you're going to have to make the first move; you know that. I mean, this is Jenson we're talking about. He'll hit any opposing player with his bat, but this just isn't his area of expertise."

"Oh, and it is mine?" I asked dubiously.

He laughed as he stood up. "Guess I'll leave you to your twisted thoughts then." He smiled again and disappeared down the trap door.

I sighed glumly. Now what was I going to do?

This really was the casa de caca.