Closed When A Plan Comes Together

Laura's research into pacts had mostly brought her to information on warlocks, which wasn't exactly what she was looking for but certainly made for an interesting diversion. She also supposed she couldn't be entirely unsure that her new sort-of-friend wasn't actually a fae being. Maybe entering into a pact with him would seal her magical powers and she could have some sort of excuse or reason for why they were there outside of 'there's just something wrong with me, specifically'.

Suffice it to say she didn't think that warlock pacts were the sort of things she was looking at. Instead, she just brought some of her really nice paper. It was a set of pretty blue invitation paper her mum had bought for her eighth birthday party. It hadn't been used, since her birthday fell on the summer holidays and nobody was going to be around so the party had never happened. At least it would get some use now, along with her pencil case with her nice pens and a box cutter which wasn't the most helpful tool but in the absence of the swiss army knife it would have to do. She had extra bandages on hand, having re-bandaged her knee after a shower, and had considered going to get some cannoli and bring it as a peace offering but decided against it. For all she knew, he wouldn't even like cannoli. Or she'd get the one with pistachios and he'd be allergic to nuts. Or worse, he'd think she was trying to use it as a tool or something that she didn't quite understand, and it would make him angry. Best to avoid that outcome.

Alibi, check, easy out, check, water bottle, check. Noah had waved her right through the fireplace, and before Laura knew it she'd found her way back to the park. Well, it had really been about an extra fifteen minutes of checking her phone map and remembering where certain landmarks were, but her new partner-in-crime didn't need to know that.

Laura fidgeted on the spot. If she stopped to think too long about what she was doing, she'd get antsy and uncomfortable, so she busied herself climbing the nearest tree, hoping to perch on a branch to look out and not think too much about the fact that her mum thought she was at home right now but she was really in another country meeting up with a boy whose name she didn't actually know.

Laura wondered if she should apologise to her mother. She was away on a conference, and it wasn't like she had to know this was going on. By the time she was back home, so too would be Laura who would be sat watching a movie like nothing had even happened. It didn't stop the gnawing feeling of guilt in her stomach, but she just had to suck it up and commit to this. It was preparing for magic school, after all, and if her mum didn't want her back after she had to become a witch, then she just had to be able to be a big girl and handle it.

She pulled her jacket a little closer around her and looked around. Hearing a somewhat familiar voice, Laura reached into her backpack, careful not to fall off the branch without her hands supporting her, and flashed her torch as something of a confirmation. "Hey," she called, jumping from the branch with elegance and grace. Well, it was more intentionally sliding off the branch to land on the ground in a way that was more 'barely avoiding clumsy' than 'graceful and elegant', but she'd take that. At least she landed on her feet.

"Hi," she said again, strangely nervous. She supposed, if she thought about it, it was perfectly natural to be nervous to go meet up with someone you barely knew in a kind of conspiratorial way. Secret keeping and all of those things. She rocked on her heels, and realised she was still holding her lit torch, which was pointed at the ground slightly to the side. She flicked the switch, suddenly unsure of where exactly to point it without it being annoying, and took a deep breath. "You know, I think they call the fireplace thing flu powder because it makes you sneeze and feel like you've got a cold. I only just managed to stop. They should probably fix that."

She had no idea why she even said that, and internally slapped her palm to her forehead. She almost did it externally, too, but somehow managed to stop herself.

Laura almost bent over to try and peer under the hood to check it was in fact the right person and she hadn't just started rambling to a stranger. She figured the second she said something about magic to someone who wasn't magic the magic cops (who she presumed existed) would swarm on her location and send her to magic jail. Which she assumed was worse than magic school, as theoretically you could sometimes leave magic school and go home. They hadn't, so she figured she was fine. She supposed she got a pass with her mum, though, because her mum couldn't be completely left in the dark about it. Laura just avoided talking about it any more than she needed to, since the m-word made everything uncomfortable.

She ran her thumb over the switch of the torch, resisting the urge to turn it on and off as that would almost definitely be annoying. "Uhh," she paused, trying to think of the best way to explain it. "It's like, you step into a fireplace, throw the powder down and say the name of where you're going. Then bam, you feel so weird for a moment and you're in the other place. I think they have to be magic fireplaces but I don't really know. It's all still so weird." She was very quick to talk it back down, lest it seem like there was something about magic she actually liked. Even if that was kind of the case.

"Oh," she started, a bit surprised and suddenly feeling a fresh wave of guilt rising in her chest. At least the frog confirmed that yes, in fact, it was who she thought she was (though at that point she really didn't have any doubt). "Um, thank you, you really didn't have to, and I'm sorry if I made it sound like you did..." she trailed off, shyly taking the proffered frog and not really sure whether to continue to defend and explain herself. Which would probably just end up meaning she'd get confused herself trying to justify the internal logic. She opened her mouth, looking like she was about to say something, before closing it again, hunching down a little in her jacket.

Laura felt like she was being more careful than usual. She was usually pretty careful as it was, but the loom of the unknown made her feel especially cautious. It wasn't just a matter of walking into her classroom and casually becoming acquainted. Her aunt had warned her that people might be judgmental because of her not having magical parents. It wasn't like she could just walk in and talk about what footy team people followed. Most of them wouldn't know what she was talking about.

Equally carefully, she pocketed the chocolate for later and looked at the boy - Alfred, she knew now - not wanting to interrupt. Of course, he could've been making up another name, but she had no reason to believe he was. It was that classic intuition, much easier to activate face to face. Either he was a really, really good liar, or as Laura was pretty certain, he was telling the truth. She smiled, tilting her head to try and get a look at his face. Now she wasn't sure whether or not to shake hands, or something, or if him telling her his name was a sign he actually was a fae being and she was about to get trapped.

"It's good to meet you, Alfred. Properly." She hoped that wasn't weird to say, and held her hands behind her back. Maybe not shaking hands, then. She wasn't quite sure what to do with them. "I like Alfred more than John, anyway." Ugh, now she just sounded like a grandma. She wasn't sure whether or not to press him on the unfinished sentence, and ended up leaving it hanging. "But I promise I'll call you John if we're being all secretive. Don't want your identity being revealed to just anyone." She wasn't completely divorced from the idea that maybe he was secretly some sort of prince or someone important, but she was certain he'd have made fun of her if she told him. Maybe if they became close friends, she would.

The corner of Laura's mouth twitched into something more of a smirk as she nodded in a way she hoped was sagely. "Now I'm regretting not having a code name." She wondered what her file would be, but figured there wasn't anything interesting to put on it. She was far too ordinary, at least she'd certainly argue that to be the case. "I definitely need to see the arrow shooting stuff sometime. If that'd be okay, and all." Laura didn't want to overstep, but she was extremely curious considering how cool it sounded.

Maybe she shouldn't have asked, as the next comment gave her pause. She thought for a moment, before nodding. "Yeah." She looked down at her shoes, shuffling a little on the spot. "I mean, everyone kind of goes 'oh, you're his kid' and just kinda decide stuff about me anyway. And my aunt says people just kind of decide who they want you to be and don't care about who you really are, so," she said with just a tiny hint of bitterness, before looking back up and swallowing down that bitter honesty. Laura shrugged. "Er, sorry, that probably wasn't what you meant," she backtracked. And the apology just made her choke back a small laugh.

"No, it's okay, now I'm doing it too," Laura admitted, pulling her bag back around to her front to rifle through it to keep her hands busy. "Sitting down on a blanket seems nice. Or lying down and looking up at the sky. I can't see stars at home. It's nice to look at 'em, sometimes." Laura wondered if that was possibly too boring, but it was at least something to vaguely relax with, perhaps.

Laura was relieved her suggestion went well and impressed that Alfred had brought tea. Normally she was good at planning ahead, but she hadn't really thought of that beyond bringing her own water bottle. Maybe she should've bought the cannoli. "I don't think I've had peppermint tea before," she said, a little shyly. As though she feared she might not like it and that might offend him, somehow. Or she was uncultured for not having tried it. Her mum usually drank black tea, maybe lemon, honey and ginger in the winter to stave off colds. But she liked mint candies, so the tea would probably be nice.

"Then...Jane, age eleven, has a mean drop punt and might be magical...I guess," she added that last bit as more of an aside, still hating the idea of admitting it but hating her possessions and environment lashing out at her, presumably through her own magic making them do it. She could put two and two together. After all, she was pretty decent at maths.

She didn't move to take off her own shoes, mostly because she didn't want to be bothered unlacing them and wanted to keep her feet warm if it got colder. Then she wondered if it was rude to have them on on the blanket, like how some people had rules you had to take off your shoes in their houses. She gingerly instead angled herself so her feet weren't on the blanket while the rest of her was, and lay back to look up at the sky. Then she realised her ponytail was in the way, so sat back up, pulled the elastic out of her hair and slipped it around her wrist, and then lay down again. She wouldn't say anything about the shoes if he didn't comment on the hair, she decided.

"Er, not really," she started, not used to having to actually explain this. It was perhaps a good thing, in the sense she got to decide her own story, but it still felt a little embarrassing. A lot embarrassing, really. She didn't know why. "He's a footy player - that's Aussie rules football - and in Melbourne footy is like a religion." Laura always took that as given, she was a fan herself, but she never really contemplated how odd it could be until she had tried to explain it to people who weren't from there. "He played for the biggest team, the worst team, so when he ditched his wife and baby for someone else it was scandalous," she explained, emphasizing the word in a slightly silly way. "So people are like oh, how tragic for you, or oh you probably play just like him, oh you must be keeping his name for cred, and like I said, I barely know him. I'm me." She fidgeted with the hair elastic, turning her head to look at Alfred. She suddenly desperately wanted to change the subject. "What's Norway like?"

"As long as it's peppermint, not spearmint," Laura said lightly, a slightly self-conscious smile crossing her face. She had a distinct memory of picking up a couple of spearmint candies and putting them in her mouth in one go. It felt like she'd just taken a mouthful of toothpaste. Which, ironically, was peppermint flavour. It didn't necessarily make sense. But nothing seemed to right now, so it was par for the course.

"Oh, the oval. Hand egg." That probably confused matters more, and she didn't want to think about how confusing it would be to try and explain the actual game. It was one of those things she'd need visual aid for, and it wasn't exactly the time for it. The more important part was expressing just how much of a thing it was at home. How it was unusual to even have to explain it, because it was just something everyone knew. Part of her wished she hadn't mention it, for fear that it would impact his opinion when she could finally exist free of it. But it was a relief to be honest, even if it felt uncomfortable sometimes.

"It sounds amazing," she said, earnestly. "I'd love to see it one day." Sure, Laura could be something of a homebody, and she liked the comforts of her simple existence. But that didn't mean she didn't want to see the world and explore different places for herself. As long as there was a place to call home at the end of the day. If she was even going to be welcome back home. Why would her mum want a magical liar daughter?

"For me it's the stars I can see when I'm away from the city, but also like...not the way I know them." Laura wasn't sure how to explain it, but she figured she could try. She didn't understand how it would feel being that far from home, and she wasn't going to say she could because she knew that wouldn't be right. And she wasn't going to prod him on anything, because he certainly didn't seem like the kind of person who opened up easily. "Like, I can see the Southern Cross, but it's not where I think it's supposed to be." She pointed up towards the one constellation she knew well enough to recognise. "They're all like...in the wrong place. But it's still all the same. So maybe it's me that's wrong." Laura sighed, dropping her arm back down to rest on her forehead.

"Definitely an evil peppermint," Laura nodded, very solemnly. "It even sounds nasty. Spearmint. Not elegant, like a sword-mint. Or bow-mint." She giggled a little, feeling a little more at ease despite the circumstances. It was easy not to think about everything else in moments like these. "Coffee. Well...mocha." Coffee was a little bit too strong, but with chocolate it was nice. "With cake. Mum and I go out for coffee and cake after my footy games in winter, and the old guy who runs the place always makes such a big fuss, like oh, Laura, when you win the flag for Carlton you tell everyone to come here for the best cannoli in town, eh?," she gave a rather over the top impression, ducking her head with embarrassment as she got a little carried away. "Er, I mean, I guess it sticks out cause of everything around it. But..." she trailed off, the thoughts coming back as she came back to earth. "I guess I won't get to do that anymore."

Laura leaned over a little closer, not wanting to get too into his personal space but to try and point it out. "D'you see those four bright stars over there? It looks a bit like a diamond shape. Or a kite, cause there's the two stars right near it. You can kinda use it to find south, if you're stuck." She didn't claim to have any great knowledge of constellations and the actual patterns of stars, but she knew little bits and pieces. It was something to hang on to, she supposed.

She turned her head to watch as Alfred talked, careful to wait and let him say his thing and not interrupt. She certainly didn't take it for granted that he was opening up to her, considering when they'd met he'd admitted he couldn't. Even Laura felt a bit awkward being so open with someone, mostly because she was a little more in control of her own narrative and wasn't exactly used to it. She made a show of taking the invisible microphone, holding her hand up at her chest as though she was holding it. It was silly, but she just kind of went with it without thinking.

"I think it's okay to be mad about it." Laura let her hand drop, not committing further to the pantomime, and sighed. "I'm mad about this whole stupid magic thing, and I can't even lie and say I completely know how you feel cause I don't know what it's like to go through the stuff you have and I'm not stupid enough to say I do," she added, with a wry smile. "And I can't say to anyone else that I'm angry cause then it'll make them feel worse, and then I'd feel like I'm even more wrong. Especially when I get sad about stuff that seems kinda silly. Like the coffee thing. And I'm sorry, too." She blinked a couple of times, before remembering the paper in her bag. "Should that be part of the pact? It's okay to be upset but we have to call each other out if we're being too stupid? And that if we're upset with each other we'll promise to tell each other why without waiting too long so we don't just stay mad at each other forever?" She hoped that it made sense, and that she wasn't jumping ahead too far. "Only if you still wanna make a pact, that is."

"Okay, well if we're at the school together then I'll get you cheese for your birthday," Laura said, with a serious nod. She didn't necessarily understand not liking sweets, but she supposed everyone had different tastes. She tended to just eat anything, she had favourites but even things she didn't like as much, like mushrooms, she would eat if they were given to her for fear of looking rude. "You'll just have to tell me what type you like. Or better yet, I'll get you a cheese board with a bunch of different types." She felt very sophisticated with that kind of a suggestion, even if she didn't phrase it elegantly. She realised a little too late she was probably jumping ahead to thinking it was okay to assume she could start thinking about birthdays. She didn't even know when his even was.

Laura moved to sit up and gratefully took the tea, slowly, almost cautiously, taking a sip. She didn't want a repeat of the spearmint candy incident. The taste surprised her, it was hot but somehow also cool and refreshing. She wondered if she should get some to have on her own, but at the same time she wasn't sure it would be quite the same. Like how she'd heated up a pie in the oven at home when she was on school holidays and it had been the same type of pies that they sold at the football, but it didn't taste anywhere near as good when she was sitting at the kitchen bench eating it as it did when she was in a crowd cheering on her team. Maybe the peppermint tea wouldn't taste as good if she brewed it herself at home as it did coming from Alfred's thermos. She supposed she could try and see.

Laura listened, biting back the sympathetic 'I'm sorrys' and 'that sucks' because even if she thought it, she didn't think it would be any help. It might sound like it didn't mean anything, and sometimes it wasn't what she wanted to hear even if she didn't know what she actually wanted to hear. "Well," she said after a moment, taking a sip of tea. "I still don't think you're weird. My dad must not have really wanted me and didn't care enough about mum, so, I guess parents are supposed to be good but they really aren't sometimes. I didn't even want him to be my dad, but like, sometimes I thought maybe if I was enough of a nice girl he'd at least want to be around, and then father's day morning teas at school wouldn't be so awkward with all the teachers being all like 'oh, it's okay, you can write a card for your grandfather instead' before I even said anything. Like there's something wrong with me just because some guy didn't think it was worth sticking around to care. They're the adults. They're supposed to be the ones doing the right things." She looked away, drawing in a breath. It was weird saying all of this out loud, and she wasn't sure any of it was helpful. But as much as Laura would overthink some things, for other things she'd just speak without really thinking too much, and it was kind of a gamble on which would happen at any given time.

"And I don't really think you have to pay me back for anything. I just..." she paused, scrunching up her face as she tried to explain something she hadn't spent any energy thinking about until recently. "I don't want to feel like I'm just taking and not giving anything back, I guess? Everyone in my family always says stuff's gotta be equal, and it's always like you shouldn't overstep or be a burden or stuff like that. But it's not like I want anyone to do stuff for me." Laura shrugged, making a huff of frustration. "I don't know. Like I wouldn't feel bad getting in trouble to help you and wouldn't want you to do anything to repay me but I'd feel bad if you got in trouble for me and I'd feel like I needed to make it up to you and I know it doesn't make sense but that's how it feels."

She could feel herself getting worked up, and took a deep breath. Forgetting the blanket for a second, she shifted to draw her knees up to her chest, resting her head on them and looking back at Alfred. "But I do want to be your friend just because I like you. Not just because you're, like, really smart and you can do archery and that's so cool or because you gave me a really nice cup of tea. And even if you get upset and yell at me cause I've done something stupid like give you chocolate when you don't even like sweets or make you think everything is just, I dunno, deals between us. And it's not. I still like talking to you and want to be your friend. And I promise I'll try really, really hard not to make it feel like you owe me stuff. Or to feel like I have to pay you back for everything." She hugged her knees tighter, trying to keep herself in one piece. She didn't think she'd been this emotional with anyone for a long while, especially not since the letter. She tilted her head a little more, giving an awkward half-smile, unsure if she should do something to seal the pact now or wait in case he rejected her surprisingly earnest admission. She wasn't used to being so upfront, but maybe it was part of being the new magic Laura.

not me dealing with my own emotional withdrawal and inability to form connections with other people and self loathing and how it's actively making my life hell through this poor 11 year old girl i'm so sorry to both you and her for my emotional breakdown

"I'll get it delivered. Somehow." Laura said somewhat foolishly. Realistically she knew that escaping wouldn't be that easy, and maybe, probably she would actually still be stuck there in October. After all, her aunt had been stuck there. She'd ended up as school captain too, though, and from what she'd gathered hadn't been as desperate to not go. "You should have the food you want on your birthday, because on your birthday whatever you say goes, I think." It was a 'do as I say, not do as I do' kind of thing, but it was fine.

She knew she was talking too much without thinking when she was trying not to overthink other things, and it was probably making things worse. She lay back down again, looking up at the sky and trying not to have her eyes sting with tears from much held back emotions. "I dunno. I didn't think about this stuff too much. I didn't have to. I'd just be friends with people after I hung out with them long enough. Like my footy team, or like my friend EJ 'cause he and I sat in class together so it just happened. And then sometimes people would say I'm bothering them or being too annoying and stuff like that, so I'd try not to be annoying or loud or do things like make weird faces when I laugh and stuff. I just don't wanna make people mad. I probably didn't understand any of it right. I think it's just me that's wrong." She rested her forearm over her eyes. She didn't want to look at the slightly out of place stars anymore, suddenly.

"I can't even explain myself in English and that's the only language I can speak. Except I can order a coffee in Italian." Laura gave a light laugh at the joke in response. "It was easier when I wasn't so wrong. Now I'm probably just making this whole thing worse." She groaned, kicking her heels against the ground in frustration, almost like a mini tantrum in a way. She thought about her mum and her aunt both agreeing on the one thing - that people almost always let you down and disappointed you and that you could only really rely on yourself. Laura didn't want to think that, but she felt like it was something she had to take on if she wanted to survive her life completely changing.

The more time Laura spent around Alfred, the more she found herself blurting things out and thinking more about trying to do the right thing and wanting to actively try hard to be a friend, rather than just it happening around her. She wasn't a great therapist; she was, after all, only an eleven year old girl going through a lot of emotional upheaval. She didn't know how to make things better. She wanted to, but she didn't know how or think she really even could.

"I hope it's like that," Laura said, softly. "I'm good at maths." There was something so small and childish about the way she said it. She was always much better at maths than English, because the things that just were were much easier to explain than thoughts and feelings. They said two wrongs didn't make a right, but Laura preferred the explanation of two negatives becoming a positive.

"We should," she blurted, keeping her arm over her eyes. "If we can't escape, and I'm still gonna try if they don't kick me out first, but I'm not even sure if I can beat magic so I might get stuck, then...it'd be nice to have an ally. Or a friend. Whichever you want." She almost wanted to make a comment about how they could then beat up each other's dads when they got older, but bit her tongue (almost literally) and held it back. A joke to ease the tension would be nice, but she knew that was almost certainly not the right time for that one. Something to bank for later, along with asking when in October his actual birthday was so she could plan a cheese board and the thought of the two of them being a grand pirate duo as a swashbuckler and an archer extraordinaire.

"I don't care if it's lame," Laura quickly said, earnestly. Hearing him say friend as opposed to something like ally or acquaintance or something else that implied a polite distance felt good. That someone wanted to be around her, especially someone who she was enjoying being around. "'Cause then it makes me lame to think going to the school might be less bad than I think if you're there." Her arm dropped from her face and she was left with a self-conscious, slightly embarrassed smile. It probably sounded way too corny, but she'd said it now. Just his mere existence had made it so the anger wasn't as heavy in her chest as it had been.

"Oh, he's my friend at school," she explained. It suddenly felt far away, like an existence in a whole other lifetime. Which, she supposed, it kind of was. "He moved from America and we got buddied up so I could show him around the school and it just kind of stuck. I play soccer with his sister, Abi, and I'm normally really good at listening and being helpful when he gets freaked out about the tram being late or the canteen being out of hedgehog slice," She forgot, sometimes, that some things were almost uniquely Melbourne, but figured it made sense in context. "And I don't freak out about stuff like this to people normally, I swear and I'm sorry." She finally, finally built up the courage to look at Alfred again. "But he's not going to the school and thinks I'm going to an all girls school. Which I was gonna do before, well, you know." She shrugged. "I asked him if he thought birds could deliver letters and he went all in on the science about why they couldn't."

Laura was a little surprised by the contact at first, but not in a bad way. Her arm briefly tensed, and then quickly relaxed, pressing back slightly against his not as though to push, but to make a presence felt. Part of her wondered if she should hold his hand or something, but she supposed holding hand was what girls did with their boyfriends. That was probably a bit much. Laura didn't really get all of that stuff yet, anyway.

Laura tilted her head to look at him with a grin at the joke. "I thought you could teach me swordfighting, while you were at it," she joked in return, barely managing to stop herself from covering her face when she laughed. At this point, there was very little hiding to be done. At least, with Alfred. She also looked a bit more serious, and somehow more serene. "Thank you. Really. You let me be honest, and it helps. I'll also probably say dumb things trying to be helpful to you, but...I'm here. Even if I run away from school you won't be rid of me that easily," she added, hoping to keep the mood light even if she genuinely meant it.

His next comments were more confusing than anything. She blinked a few times, almost just outright failing to comprehend. It wasn't like Laura was unfamiliar with the concept of crushes, she and her mum watched plenty of sappy movies and she'd seen girls in her class want boys to go out with them. (She was sure they went for ice cream all of once and then were usually over within a week, maybe two.) She was firstly stuck, however, on the comment about her being pretty, something that made her unsure whether to smile at him or whether to look away in embarrassment. And secondly stuck on the crush comment. She definitely wasn't sure what to make of that. It didn't feel like a crush thing, but maybe she'd missed something. And why had he brought it up?

Maybe he'd met someone and had a crush on them, she wondered. After all, he hadn't been that much of an ass to her. Maybe he was a bit too embarrassed to talk about it. She wasn't sure what to make of this conclusion she'd drawn, having a vague feeling she'd taken the wrong track with it (and perhaps being relieved if she had, for reasons she couldn't articulate). "You're fine," she said after what was possibly too long a wait, having been parsing what he'd said and getting stuck on being called pretty. She wasn't sure anyone had said that before, at least not a boy her age. Adults did it, but in a way that was being nice to a child. "I hadn't thought of it like that. Oh, my God, no wonder my uncle said that boy who kept kicking my chair and pulling my hair must've liked me. I just thought he was being really, really, annoying. Eurgh." She paused, shaking her head. He'd gone to a boy's school the next year and Laura barely even remembered his name, so the feelings, if they were there, certainly hadn't been requited. "And, um, thanks. That's really nice of you." She might have been alright at reading people, but not when it came to matters of the heart, apparently. Perhaps it was a good thing she could be oblivious.

i'd also like to apologise for her being an idiot