Gloria felt fidgety.  She couldn’t keep her hands still, which wasn’t like her at all.  She kept poking her hands in her pockets and pulling them back out, fidgeting with her wand and shuffling her feet in tiny steps backward, and even worrying her lip with her teeth.  She glanced around the room, and down the corridor, looking for what other people might be lurking about to surprise somebody.  This whole day was full of surprises, after all, from start to finish.  

Standing as close to Lisette as she could manage without stepping on her friend, Gloria eyed Connor and his flowers like he was about to hex her with them.  She wished that this had been some scheme of her brothers to embarrass her.  At least she would have known how to handle that sort of thing.  He could put her brothers in their places – or near enough – without too much trouble.  But Connor  . . . she had no idea what he was playing at here.  Were his mates hanging around to jump out and laugh at her?  Was he trying to be especially cruel?  Was he - and it was hard to even think this idea – was he trying to make up for his awfulness in some bizarre way?

“Don’t talk to Lisette like that,” Gloria demanded quietly.  “She’s my friend.  And she’s right.  You ARE mean.” She didn’t move to take the flowers, but shrank back, touching Lisette’s shoulder.  “You probably hexed those flowers or something for a mean trick.”  



Gloria Watkins