Escapee

[Snick]

It had been less than a day and Cam had already had enough of this stuffy place. The uniform restrictions were tighter than any school she'd ever attended. The students weren't all that impressive and the entire place felt more like a prison than a school. She hadn't been able to find her new potential friend Lor, but there wasn't really a whole lot of time. She was getting off this wretched island one way or another.



So she'd repacked her duffle and headed for the wooded area. Maybe if she was lucky she'd find that elf town Lor had talked about and could rent a boat. The only good thing about her meddling Grandparents was that at least they had given her some money. It wasn't a lot but at this point she'd accept a dingy. She was strong enough she could row across the gap to civilization.



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"Excuse me, miss." Said a high-pitched, squeaky voice behind the girl. "But are you lost?" The owner of the voice didn't wait for her to turn around as he virtually pranced into view. Less than half her height, he could only be one of the elves that lived in these woods. He had on a bright, fall-colored tweed jacket on over a button-down and tie, a pair of brown corduroy pants, and he held a brown fedora in his hands as he gave her a slight bow.



A century of freedom had transformed the Elves who had come to America. They were far less grubby, emaciated and sickly than their European forebears. Quite well-spoken, too.



"My name, you see," He explained as he looked up, up, up at her again, "Is Elrond. No relation to the guy who created Scientology." He added with a chuckle. "I'm the Mayor and Justice of the Peace of Wight Towne. At your service." He said, plopping the hat back atop his head.



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"There you are! I've been looking all over for you," Pratt jogged up to the girl and the elf in his pajama bottoms and a plain white tee. "Elrond! How's the family? How's mayor-ing? Mmhmm, good good."



Phrixos Pratt had been out, unable to sleep, as per usual and especially now that his dorm was in such an unfamiliar place with an unfamiliar person. He had, of course, seen Makepeace all over the school, in meetings that he rarely attended, and heard a few things about him here and there, but had never spoken much to the boy. Whether he was sleeping or not, Pratt didn't know and didn't care. In the other bedroom in the outbuilding, slept Siobhan O'Brien and Arwen Green. At least he assumed they were sleeping, he heard very soft snoring as he crept by their door on his way out.



"Thank you for finding my cousin, I'll take it from here," he said with a wink to Cam, then leaned in close to the elf's long, tapered ear. "Not right in the head, that girl. Always wandering off with her things, trying to catch a bus back to..."



He looked her over. "San Fransisco," he decided she looked very West Coast. "C'mon, cuz. Bus's not scheduled for a while."



He held out a hand for her, looking knowingly, understandingly into her eyes.



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After the brief scare, which of course turned her hair momentarily white, before she realized it was a house elf. Her Grandfather had hired a family of them whenever they had a garden party or some other nonsense to get the house ready for guests. She righted her bag as her hair turned into a dark purple to match the darkness around her.



She had just been about to reply when a boy came up to them saying he had been looking all over for her. It certainly wasn't Lor, and she groaned. She had apparently been busted. She gave an odd look as the boy winked at her, and her hair ended up turning flaming red when she caught what he was telling the elf in a rather bad stage whisper.



"Who the hell are you?" she said angrily before she turned toward the elf. "I'm sorry, I have no idea who this idiot is but I would like to see Wight Towne, like right now." There was definitely an urgency to her voice to be gone from the school grounds.



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"My family is quite well, Mr. Pratt, thank you for asking." The Elf replied, game and unflappable. "Congratulations on being accepted into the Lighthouse, by the way. I'll have some of our bakers send a gift basket there for you and the other keepers."



Elrond turned to look at Cam, and he smiled, a little sadly. "I would welcome you into our village, Miss, but you should get back to the school before you're missed." There were always a few attempted runaways each year, albeit few past first year, and none of them really got that far. "You should come visit on Saturday or Sunday afternoon, there'll be fresh cupcakes and brownies. Here, here's a coupon. Buy one, get one free!" He said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a slip of paper that he pressed into her hand.



"Take good care of her, Mr. Pratt, and please get her back to the school before Professor Llewellyn comes looking." The elf said, nodding to the boy before disappearing with a loud pop.



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"Your cousin," he said, tight-lipped, as he dropped his offered hand. "Don't you recognize me? You don't want to go to Wight Towne."



This girl was dense. Didn't she get that he was trying to keep her out of trouble? The elves would very quickly tell someone on staff if a student was attempting to leave. As Elrond congratulated him for being chosen as keeper, his face paled. Now the girl wouldn't trust him, at all. He wasn't trying to turn her in, he was trying to save her from being punished.



Once the elf had poofed away, he held out his hand again. "Please," he half-begged. "I'm not turning you in."



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As the Elf turned and poofed away Cam growled in frustration. Her hair brightened into a raging red as she pinched her nose between her fingers. "Son of a..." she began as her irritation was clearly getting the best of her.



Finally she dropped her hand and openly glared at the older boy. "Then what the hell are you doing? Because you sure as hell aren't helping me get off this stupid island," she said heatedly, crossing her arms over her chest. She looked down and noticed his jammy bottoms and a flaming red brow cocked slightly though she didn't comment on his style choices.



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"The elves sure as hell weren't going to help you, if that's what you thought," he shook his head. "And of course I'm not helping you off the island... yet. Can't exactly do that with that nosy little shit around. Knows everybody's business. He'd report you to Cook before you even realized he was gone."



Pratt sighed, tugging up on the waistband of his plaid flannel pj pants self-consciously at her judgmental glance. It was after hours, what did she expect? Tightie Whities or a tuxedo? "Whatever," he shrugged. "I was just trying to help you. But you just wanna act like you're the only one who's ever wanted to leave and tried. Keep pretending you know what you're doing. Go on, ask the elves to help you and see what happens."



He wasn't phased in the slightest by her hair. Anyone that had taken even the most basic lesson of transfiguration knew all about metamorphmagi. Though the inborn skill was unique, it wasn't impressive to Pratt. It didn't take a lick of skill. It was just handed down from parent to child, just like the broom company in his family. His father now owned it, but that didn't mean he had any business savvy.



Turning, he started to walk away very slowly, fingers laced at the back of his skull and elbows sticking out to each side. He started to whistle (a tune that many might recognize as "California Girls") and glanced back over his shoulder briefly.



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"Yeah well, I never asked for your help!" she hollered at his back before sighing in frustration. At the moment it seemed like there was too much on her mind for her to process. So the stupid elves were like spies for the administration? Figures. It wasn't long before Cam found herself leaning against a nearby rock. Her fists were clenched and resting tightly against her thighs. Her head was dipped downward, eyes closed as she tried to get a handle on her situation, on herself.



What was she going to do? There had to be a way to get off this stinking island. There had to be a way for her to go back to California, to her Daddy. In some ways it may seem like she was fighting tears, but in all honesty she was fighting the strange rage that always seemed to be bubbling beneath the surface since she had been forced to move in with her Grandparents. She didn't know what to do. In the process, in reflection of her conflicting emotions her hair was changing colors like a fiber optic Christmas tree.



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"Now you're on the right track. Keep that up," he turned around, walking backwards and pointing to his hair. "And you'll be kicked out for sure."



There was a rule against unnatural hair colors. While they understood the occasional mishap with metamorphmagi, they knew very well it can be controlled with ease. It wasn't like trained transfiguration, where concentration is crucial. No, it was as easy and natural as breathing for a meta to change something about their appearance and leave it that way for extended periods of time. This girl could change her hair to bright green, refuse to change it back, and in no time she'd be given a one way ticket to wherever she came from.



"I'm Pratt, by the way," he called, still slowly taking backwards steps.



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As he spoke to her again, Cam couldn't help but open her eyes and glare at him. Why was he still talking to her? Did he have some sort of malfunction?



"Who says I want to get kicked out?" she shot back. "Just because I want to leave doesn't mean I want to go home. I hate it there, I hate them."



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Pratt shrugged yet again. "Easiest way to get off the island, breaking rules," he turned back around. "Not the only way, just the easiest. And you'd get sent with someone to Salem to wait for your folks, not home. But it's cool, don't listen to me. It's obvious you know everything already."



This girl wanted attention, not help. If she were truly desperate to leave, she would have already drowned in the sea by now. And she wouldn't care where she ended up. Even if she got sent home instead (which she wouldn't), she could just run away from there. Once in Salem, it was much, much easier to just... disappear. Tired of this girl and her kaleidoscope hair (which made it far too obvious she wasn't nearly as pissed off as she acted), he stopped talking to her and kept walking. If she really wanted help, she'd accept the help he's already offered.



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Her eyes practically bore holes into the back of his head as he retreated. What a dick. Just because he's been here before doesn't mean he knows everything either, she couldn't help but think. Still, he probably did know some stuff and he had offered to help. Now, Cam looked at him suspiciously. He was obviously older than her which led to another thought. Why the hell would he want to help someone like me? He doesn't exactly look like the responsible hero type.



Perhaps it was time to pose the question out loud then. "Why are you trying to help me anyway?"



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He paused and looked over his shoulder. "Because I've been where you are," he spoke honestly. "I don't mean the circumstances. I don't know what your deal is. I mean trying to get off this chunk of land. Of course, I now know you hate your home life. I hate mine, too. So there's that."





He turned and started walking back, cautiously. "You're new here. It's hard enough making friends here when you've known these people your whole life," he smiled a bit. "Plus, you're a cute girl. Every guy wants to be the knight in shining armor to a cute girl."



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Ok, so he did have a point. Though she narrowed her eyes at him, Cam could almost feel his sincerity. He was at least telling the truth. She had begun to relax until he decided to make the comment about her being a cute girl. Cam didn't blush like most girls probably would have. Instead a brow rose, her arms crossed over her nearly non-existent chest, and her eyes narrowed a little more.



"Alright, so how do I get off this rock?" she asked, careful to keep some distance from him. She had remembered some of the older boys at Lockwood had tried pulling that cute girl crap until one of them almost lost a hand when he tried to feel her up. Pratt wasn't exactly the kind of guy Cam would even be attracted to, so she hoped it wasn't something she'd have to worry about anyway. Granted, neither was Lor. So far she felt safe as far as that went, because it meant she wouldn't have to worry about putting herself in a situation where trouble might arise with either of them.

[Snick]

Seeing her reaction, he chuckled. "That wasn't a line," he assured her. "Just 'cause you're cute doesn't mean I'm interested."



The girl would probably know if Pratt was actually flirting. Most of the girls he knew would react exactly the same as she did. Except for one.



"I'll tell you," he finally made it back, crossing his arms. "If you tell me your name. It's only fair, I told ya mine."



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"Cam," she replied flatly. "Call me anything else and you'll regret it."



Oh, she hated it so much that her Grandfather and Grandmother insisted upon calling her Cameron. They had even gotten her Mother to do it a few times. Ever since she was little she had always been Cam to her parents. It was the first way she was able to say her own name, and it fit.



Though it was good to know he wasn't hitting on her, it still stung a little bit. Was she not worth liking in that way or something? Oy, the complexity of pubescent girly emotions.



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"Alright, Cam," he nodded. "The lighthouse is the only way to get off the island. No boats come near enough. The elves have boats, but they're barely big enough for a toddler, let alone a teenager. They're mostly for fishing, since they can apparate wherever they want. I suppose that's one option, if you can trick one into doing it. But good luck. They aren't stupid like their slave cousins over in Britain. They're educated."



Pratt scratched at the back of his neck and looked in the direction of the light sweeping across the sky. "The light only randomly sends Keepers off the island" he continued. "And those that have been expelled. Sends them to Salem, the museum, to wait for their parents. There's an escort, but if you can get him distracted, you can get away."



Shifting his weight from one leg to the other, he rubbed his chin. "Why do you want to leave, anyway?" Pratt asked. "Haven't given us much of a chance."



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Her heart sank when he revealed that the stupid lighthouse was the only way off the island. Short of becoming a Keeper, whatever the hell that was, she'd have to get expelled to get out of here. That was not a pleasant thought. It didn't bother her so much as the thought of displeasing her Daddy. He had always been big on her succeeding in her studies. Granted, he might give her some leeway given it was a magical school.



Pratt's question broke into her inner thoughts and she looked up at him absently before casting her gaze toward the lighthouse as well. "My parents split up a few years ago. It was because mom was a witch and turns out I was too and my dad didn't know. Dad couldn't handle my freakin' hair changing colors and Mom and I ended up moving in with my Grandparents. They are the reason I'm here. Decided it was better to ship me off then have to deal with me being unable to properly control my 'gifts'," she explained. Her frustration was clear as she imitated her Grandfather's voice fairly well. "I miss my Dad. I'd rather live with him and forget everything about magic than be completely across the country because of two snobbish old farts who never wanted a grandkid."



Cam had bent down and picked up a stick while she was talking. She poked it into the ground a few times before chucking it away. There it was, her story laid out in the short version.



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"But it doesn't sound like your dad accepts you, or your mom, for who you are," Pratt pretty much thought aloud. "Why would you want to leave here, where everyone has these 'gifts', and go to your dad who can't handle the truth? You think you could convince him to change his mind? Would you want to? It's not like you knew you were half-witch from the get-go. How can he hold it against you?"



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"How many other people do you know that their hair changes color based on their mood? From what I was told it's a really rare thing. So rare that no one has been able to teach me how to control it," she said, her frustration rising again. Why did boys have to be so dense? "What little control I have, I had to figure it out on my own."



"So don't say everyone here has my 'gifts'. I feel like my mother cursed me with magic. My Dad was the most important person in my entire world, and she took him away from me because she lied," she tried to explain. Cam began wondering if it was worth it though. Pratt didn't seem like he'd be able to understand where she was coming from based on what he had said. "I would give it all up. I would find a way to suppress it or be rid of it completely if I could." It was clear that this wasn't the first time she had contemplated this.



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"None. I meant magic, in general. Not your specific affliction," his brows rose as if to say 'chill out'. "As for learning to control it, it's inherited. So your mom or maybe one of your grandparents probably has it. Ask them how they control it. From what I've heard, it isn't hard. Plus, it's evident at birth. Your mom would have had to hide it somehow, ask how she did it. If that isn't acceptable, then I suggest speaking with the Transfiguration teacher, Mr. Kim. Even though it isn't a learned skill, it's still in the scope of Transfiguration. That's where I've learned so much about it. If that still isn't an option for you, check the library."



It was clear to him she felt like she was 'special', in a negative way. No matter which way he meant 'gifts', being around all these people that aren't shocked by it would be far better, he thought. Cam just seemed to want to throw a pity party, in his opinion. "You're not the only one with a unique gift or situation," he resisted rolling his eyes. "With the specific gift, yes. But don't think no one else knows what it's like to feel unwanted, shunned, rejected, or hated. Everyone has felt like an outcast, either with their family or at school. It's no reason to run away. Especially when you're running away from the only people and only place that is likely to accept you for who and what you are, rainbow head and all."



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She pursed her lips slightly as she glared at him. "It may be inherited, but my Mom sure as hell isn't one and neither are my Grandparents. They were actually surprised to find out what I was, and supposedly there is no history of any of them being one as far back as their records go. So unfortunately I don't have anyone to ask back there," she said as she poked the know-it-all hard in the chest with her finger.



"So thanks for the info since you clearly know everything about something you've never experienced," she snapped. "Because you know that books are always the be all and end all of every subject."



She began to walk ahead of him, needing a little distance in the hope of calming her anger. How could someone be semi nice one minute and then turn into a jerk the next. Oh yeah, he was a boy, nevermind.



"I know I'm not the only one with a 'gift' you jerk," she said as she turned around. "But I'm not worried about being accepted by anyone here. I just want to be a normal teenager and live with my Dad, instead of the person who ripped my family apart with a lie and then agreed to ship me off here because my Grandparents couldn't stand me."



This wasn't about acceptance of her peers, it was about the acceptance of her Father and maybe, just maybe, an acceptance of herself.



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"Relax, Rainbow Brite," He held his hands up in mock surrender, looking down at the finger jabbing his chest with a smirk. "You're only hearing what you want to hear, to pick a fight. The sooner you realize I'm trying to help, and stop arguing with everything I say, the better off we'll both be. I said probably, not most definitely. Someone in your direct line of descent has it. Could be your great-great-great grandpappy. It doesn't just randomly show up in a family. I'm sorry your mom and grandparents are the devil, go to Mr. Kim or the library to learn how to control it, then."



Even though some of the things he said in this conversation were harsh, he never said them harshly and didn't raise his voice (except at the point where he had walked too far away to be heard at a normal volume). His tone was very even, constant and calm. Even the words he stressed were barely stressed. Pratt was neither defensive nor aggressive in his manner and stance. He smiled at the back of her head as she walked away, then followed after her at a relaxed pace.



"Again, you weren't listening," he shook his head, smile growing. "Out of all of that, you thought that I was saying... you aren't the only one with a gift.. true, but that was not even close to my point... and you want to be accepted by people here, I didn't say that at all. My point was that you aren't alone in your feelings, and, whether you seek acceptance or not, people here will not think you're a freak. Some might, but most won't... and it won't be because you're a witch or because of your hair. So you want to be a muggle and live with your muggle dad. Not going to happen, you can't shake your magic away like an Etch-A-Sketch drawing. There's no point in clinging to such hopes, just makes your life and the lives of those around you more difficult. The best you can hope for is that he gets over his irrational fears and comes back into your life. Personally, I don't see why you would want him in your life. I wish my dad would leave."



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He was frustrating her to the point she jostled her bookbag hard enough that suddenly her iguana made his presence known and scurried half way out of her backpack. She sighed and reached down to pick him up. He blinked at her sleepily before clasping his claws on her arm. "Sorry Ozzy," she said as she relaxed her grip. The lizard used this as an opportunity to crawl up her arm until he reached her shoulders, wrapping his tail around her neck and eyed the boy.



"You don't understand, but I don't expect you to at this point," she said with another sigh. Her daddy had been her whole world. He was her hero, her knight in shining armor. He had been everything and her mother's lie had taken it all away. If she had been honest with the start, then maybe he would have accepted it. It was the shock that had destroyed them. Absently she stroked Oz's eye joint, the lizard leaning into her touch lazily as his third lid closed.



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"You think I don't understand," he responded, watching the iguana with slight interest. "But you don't know anything about me. Which is nice, for a change. Most people know everything about me, even if I've never met 'em. It's really annoying. I guess that's another reason I'm trying to help you - You don't know me from Adam. And I thought you looked like someone that wouldn't judge me, someone that wouldn't box me into some stereotype."



Pratt took a deep breath and let it out slowly, he was coming down and feeling a little less than calm. He was starting to regret trying to help this little buzzkill. "Nice reptile," he said, trying very hard not to express that he wished he'd left her to the elves.



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She turned and looked at him, still stroking Oz as his other lids closed in contentment. She eyed him for a moment, before a trace of moisture appeared on her lids. Her jaw tightened as she willed herself not to shed any in front of this boy.



"Then by all means, tell me how you think you understand," she said, slipping her free hand into her pocket. "What's your story Pratt?"



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Pratt had a little sister. To recognize that look in her eyes didn't take a genius. He sighed and scratched his jaw. Sharing his story wasn't something he did often. He'd actually never shared much with anyone outside of Upsilon Iota.



"Not much to tell," he shrugged. "My grampa and dad wanted me to take over the family business someday. I was their good little marionette for a while. They'd pull my strings, I'd jump. Whatever they wanted me to do, I did unquestioningly. Perfect grades, perfect friends, perfect heir. It stressed me out, being perfect all the damn time. I got into fights, never slept, had panic attacks, anxiety... So I told him I was done, that I didn't want the fucking company and it, and he, can burn in hell, for all I care. I wanted to do something else, anything else. I spat in his face, he punched mine. My grandpa cut me from his will and hasn't spoken to me since. I hate them both, and they hate me, so fine with me."



Though he started off quite calm, over the course of his tale Pratt's face had contorted in anger, hands clenched in fists of ire. This was why he didn't tell his story. He could feel his heart racing. Something dark and heavy was weighing down his stomach. His chest rose and fell as if he couldn't catch his breath. Sweat was beading on his brow.



"Satisfactory, Cam?" he asked without looking at her, walking forward again. "Do I pass muster for a child scorned?"



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She watched as he grew angry and sighed. And he thought she needed to calm down? Well maybe they both did. "There in lies the difference. You hate your dad, and I love mine," she said before slipping her bag off her shoulder.



Setting it down for a moment, she began riffling through one of the smaller pockets, careful not to disturb Oz. Soon she straightened with something in her hand. "Time to feel better," she said as she slipped something between her lips. She flicked open the other item in her hand and a blue flame appeared. She lit the handrolled 'cigarette' and took a small puff at first, letting out a small bit of smoke.



She had yet to smoke this nifty little thing. Cam had been caught before she could at her old school. She wondered if Pratt would want a hit, as it gave off a peculiar but not entirely bad odor.



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Pratt shook his head. "Yet again, my point flies right over the rainbow. What difference does it make which parent I hate? You hate a parent and their parents, I hate a parent and their parents. Someone doesn't accept you for who you are, someone doesn't accept me for who I am," he picked up the pace and muttered something under his breath.



When she stopped to get something from her backpack, he didn't. Until she spoke. Did she have a calming draught? Where did she get it? She was new, she wouldn't know who to go to, yet. Maybe she got it before coming to school. Turning, he was about to ask for a swig, then saw she was lighting a joint. Jaw left agape, he furrowed his brow.



"What the hell, Cam?" he looked around, hoping no one could see her. He didn't smoke pot, but didn't care if others did - in private. Was she trying to get them both expelled?

[Snick]

Her brow lifted as he turned back toward her and yelled at her. She had just taken another puff, inhaling a little deeper now before letting out the smoke. This time the smoke had a bit of a purple tint to it. "What? It's not like it's illegal," she said before she held it out to him. "Try it. They said it would make me float."



There was a wicked little smirk on her face when she said that. She knew the magical properties of billywig stings was supposed to promote flying, but all she felt was a slight tingling in her skin. Or was that her muscles? Her hair was starting to separate in color now, dark blue streaks mingled with the dirty blonde it normally was.



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Pratt wanted to cast aguamenti over her head, but decided that would be counter-productive. He shook his head.



"No, thanks," he furrowed his brow slightly, having never heard of anyone smoking billywig stings. Creating potions to give the same effect, sure. "You shouldn't be doing that out here. Anyone could see you."



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"You sure? I'm feeling better already," she said with a relaxed sigh. She hadn't realized it yet but she had levitated about two inches from the ground at this point. She took another hit and blew out more purple-ish smoke.



"Where else am I going to do it? Besides, its the middle of the night and its not illegal. If it were dope, I'd understand nor would I be smoking it," she said. She had tried pot once, and it had done nothing but make her hungry. Cam hadn't really cared for it.



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"Calming draughts aren't illegal, either," he shrugged, taking a step back from the hovering girl. "But it's against the rules to use them, or any other potion or potion ingredient in a... recreational manner like this. Would you please stop?"



Pratt glanced nervously around. This wasn't helping bring his mounting panic attack to a halt. The sweat drops on his brow had started combining and slowly sliding down his nose and temples. He wiped it away with the back of his wrist. The heaviness in his belly grew, his stomach tightening. It now felt as if an elephant was sitting on his chest.



"Please," he pleaded, feeling prickly and itchy all over.



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Her brows rose, seeing that the kid was beginning to freak out. Wow, was everyone here so uptight? she thought. With a sigh, she lifted her leg and put the joint out on her shoe. "Fine, fine. Geez, don't get your panties in a bunch Pratt," she said outloud. She crouched as she hovered there, tossing the remains and her magical lighter back into her bag, which she then hefted to her shoulder. She attempted to take a step and realized, feet not on the ground equaled no traction.



"Shit," she said before looking back to Pratt. "Little help?"



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"Thank you," he heaved a sigh of relief and bent at the waist with his hands on his knees. "Gimme a sec," Pratt held an index finger in the air as he took a moment to take a few deep breaths. "I told you. Panic attacks. I need a calming draught."



Straightening his back, he held a gently trembling hand out toward her. His face was blanched and still perspiring, and he still seemed to be trying to regain control of his heart and lungs, but there was some improvement.



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Her brow rose higher and she flipped her bag around while he was reaching his hand out to her. She rummaged through it for a moment as the 'stinger' wasn't the only naughty thing she had brought. Cam had trouble sleeping some nights, and pulled out a silver flask. She put that into his hand instead of her own palm.



"Take that first," she said seriously before a sly smirk curled the corner of her mouth. "I wouldn't want you accidentally taking off into a dead run just to have me flapping in the breeze behind you."



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"What is this?" He asked, taking the flask, unscrewing the top, and sniffing the contents. The liquid smelled of mint. He took another whiff, momentarily closing his eyes while a slight smile came to his lips. Pratt's eyelids lifted and he watched her warily for a moment before taking a pull from the container.



"If you tell anyone..." he warned as he handed the flask and cap back to her then wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "Let's go."



Pratt gave her enough time to take a drink, if she wished. Then grabbed her hand, instead of holding his out again. His digits were wrapped loosely around the back of Cam's hand, his palm to hers. It was not a weaved hand-hold like that of a couple, and the girl could easily pull her hand away if she wished to be towed some other way. The signs of anxiety were slowly fading.



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"You are freaking out man, it's a calming draught, duh," she said as she crossed her arms over her chest after he took the flask. She watched him with slight amusement until he finally took a drink. "Why would I tell anyone? I don't care what you do."



She dropped her arms as she took the flask back and took a sip, furthering her calmed state. She slipped it back into her bag, noticing Oz was asleep on her shoulder. The lizard was more of a laid back personality compared to her. He was a reflection of how she used to be. When Pratt took her hand and began leading her, she couldn't help the chuckle as she floated about behind him a few inches off the ground which put her about even with his height. "Dude, this feels wicked," she said as she looked down at her feet which weren't moving at all yet she was still moving.



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Glancing down at Cam's shoes, Pratt wondered how long a high from a few puffs of billywig would last. Surely not very long. He couldn't take her to the dorms until she came down. But where could he take her?



"The observatory," he muttered aloud and picked up his pace. "Shouldn't be anyone there, since classes haven't started."



So, Pratt pulled her along like a balloon, sticking to the shadows as much as possible until they reached the building which housed a large telescope. A whisper of alohomora and a turn of his wand granted them entrance.



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Cam burst into a soft fit of laughter as she began stepping with her feet, though she was still levitating. It was like she was moonwalking in reverse. "This is freakin' awesome! I have got to get some more of this shit," she said out loud, not necessarily to Pratt.



"One of these days, you should lighten up and try some," she said before snickering at her awkward little pun. Oz yawned on her shoulder, before tightening his tail around her neck to keep himself steady. *choke* She reached up with her free hand and tugged lightly. "Alright, alright Ozzy, chill. I'll stop bobbing," she said before reaching up and stroking his eye ridge.



She eyed Pratt for a moment in silence as he continued leading her floating self toward one of the buildings. "Feeling better or do you need more?"



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"No, that's enough for now," he sighed wistfully. "Don't wanna pass out on ya. Of course, wouldn't be the first time I O.D.'d and keeled over on a friend, literally. But I don't think you're in any shape to tend to me. You can't even get from point a to point b without help."



He chuckled and turned the dimmer up, giving them barely enough light to see. Any brighter, and they might attract attention. Releasing her hand, Pratt motioned to the student chairs. "You can use those to move around," he told Cam. Pratt flopped into one of the chairs, then crossed one ankle over the opposite knee, watching her hover about. "Talk about airhead."



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She looked around, her hands now clutching lightly at the backs of the chairs, pulling herself along. Well didn't he look comfortable and yet not, she mused. She removed the flask out of her backpack and as she passed his chair, sat it down next to him before continuing on her way.



"I shouldn't be like this much longer, so feel free," she said absently as she began to look up through the glass ceiling of the observatory at the stars. "It's the least I can do since you gave me the information I needed."



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"Nah," he waved a hand dismissively. "I need to get back to the lighthouse, anyway, once you're on your feet again and back at the dorms."



Besides, she was far too lively, he just wanted to relax and enjoy some quiet time. Uncrossing his legs, he leaned forward with a brow quirked. "Information you needed?" he asked. "Still planning on trying to split?"



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She shrugged a shoulder noncommitally as she continued to look up at the stars. "I don't know. Suppose it depends on how things go," she said quietly. "I don't want to go here just because they did. I need a better reason than that."



Maybe if she could find a reason, beyond the typical 'it's a good school' and 'it has where generations of us have gone' then she would stay of her own choice. If not, then she'd do whatever she could to get the hell off the island.

[Snick]

"Makes sense," Pratt stifled a yawn. "There are plenty of other schools to go to. You might like Pontchartrain. It's creepy as hell. Looks like a church and the dorms look like mausoleums. They're lousy with werewolves. I didn't see any, it wasn't a full moon. My family went to New Orleans for New Year's. We got a brief tour of the grounds. They were negotiating a broom deal with my dad. We supply brooms to a lot of schools here in North America and a few on other continents."



Realizing he was talking way too much about himself, he went back to his original thread. "I know it's a lot for me to ask, being a relative stranger, but will you promise me you'll at least give Salem a chance? It's really not all that bad, dude," he sat back and laced his fingers behind his head. "How about a month? If you still hate it here come October first, then I won't try to stop you if you try to leave."



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Her eyes remained on the stars as Pratt suddenly went into a small monologue. She knew that her Grandparents would not be likely to send her to some other school. If she was going to go to a prestigious school, it was Salem or nothing. And by nothing, she meant nothing. If she got kicked out of Salem, and actually made it to their home, they would end up having her privately tutored to ensure she did not embarrass their 'good name' again. Not like she really cared anyway. It's not like they had been involved in her life before the divorce.



Cam sighed as Pratt switched gears and tried talking her into staying again. He had already told her the easiest key to getting off the island, so how he thought he could keep her from leaving, she had no idea. She shrugged her shoulders non-committally, and turned her body back toward him. At this point she was only floating about an inch off the floor, the effect of the Stinger beginning to wear off.



"I can't promise anything," she said, almost sadly. "But we'll see how it goes I guess."



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"I suppose that's good enough," Pratt conceded, watching her feet. He couldn't really think of anything else to say, so he just sat there in silent contemplation. Cam was a complete stranger, so why did he feel compelled to get her to stay? Was he trying to prove something? To who? Himself? Or was it that he was offended that anyone would hate Salem Institute without giving it more than a day's chance? There were some things he hated there, too, but there were many things he liked, even loved, about SI.



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She watched his glazed over expression and snickered. "Why don't you go ahead and head back to the Lighthouse before you pass out? I'm pretty sure I can find my way back to the dorms. I may be new here but I'm not some firsty."



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Quirking a brow, he looked at her. Pratt wasn't going to pass out. Not even close.



"I'm not even close to falling asleep, and I'm not leaving you in here alone," he shook his head.



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"Could have fooled me," she said with a snort. Slowly she looked back up at the sky. It was amazing how different it looked from California. You could actually see far more stars here than there. It was probably because of the lack of light pollution. Granted, it wasn't as bad when you were at the beach.



Her eyes closed for a moment, as she felt the wistful pull of home again. But not the current home she thought of. It was the home before the divorce, before the accident that had revealed her true nature. Back when she actually liked her mother. When she and her parents would go to the beach on the weekends and ride the surf and sit out in the sand together. Oh how much easier life had been then.



Her sadness drained the last of the high from her body. Cam didn't even realize that her feet now touched the ground and that she had sunk into a nearby chair. Her head came to rest in her hands, unable to shake the memories that had been pure bliss, but now seemed like torture.



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Seeing Cam had made touchdown, he rose from his seat, prepared to lock up and leave. But he froze.



"Are you... are you crying?" he asked, trying not to sound exasperated. What was worse than a crying girl? A girl crying for reasons unknown. What was worse than that? A girl he hardly knew crying for reasons unknown. Pratt really hoped she was just dizzy or something.



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She took a few shaky breaths in. Cam could almost smell the salt from the Pacific, but knew it was only her memory playing tricks on her. She shook her head as it rose from where it had been cradled by her hands.



"No. Just...remembering," she said in a slightly odd voice. There was sadness in it as she averted his gaze. She pushed herself up from the chair, re-securing both her backpack and Oz on the way up. Without anything else to say, she walked toward the door, a slight quiver to her steps as though they were forced.



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"Ah," he sounded relieved. After turning the lights off and locking the door, Pratt soon followed her out of the observatory. Cam still sounded sad, even if she wasn't crying. Even her stature had wilted. Perhaps this was an after effect of the stings. If so, he was very glad he hadn't tried them.



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She heaved a sigh, "I think I can find my way from here. You should probably go back to the lighthouse or whatever."



If she broke down, she didn't want anyone to see. Especially some boy she barely knew.



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"If you're sure," Pratt shrugged. "Hope the rest of the night goes better for you. See ya around."



He didn't want to see her cry any more than she wanted him to. So, he went his separate way and, once alone, had the lighthouse transport him. Hopefully, she'd go back to the dorms.



(exit Pratt)