THE WORDS ARE COMING "I FEEL TERRIBLE"
IS IT TYPICAL FOR US TO END LIKE THIS? I'M JUST ANOTHER SCENE

Hmm, back at school again. Back again, back again...oh, this one was nice! Fiona straightened up, pulling a shiny silver bracelet from one of the trunks in her dormitory. This one was very nice, so shiny - if it weren't so thin she would be able to see her reflection in it. This one was coming back to her trunk. She ran a hand through her wavy blonde hair, still straggly and hanging loose around her head. Other people had much nicer hair things too, and unlike all the pretties she was borrowing from their luggage they never missed it. Why they got so upset about her taking all the pretties, she still couldn't figure. They always got more at the start of every school year.

Her stomach started to growl as she twirled back towards her bed, dropping several other shiny objects into her trunk and hiding them under a few second-hand textbooks she probably wouldn't need. Books were just full of confusing words, such a waste of time. When was she ever going to need to know how to brew potions in the "real world" everyone kept talking about? She knew just where she was going and she was pretty sure they wouldn't let her bring a potions kit, so it was all a waste anyway. Heck, since her wand was bound to be confiscated, she didn't really need to know any of that stuff. And yet some of those professors still complained that she didn't listen to them during their lectures. If they wanted her to pay attention they'd be less boring.

It's growling again. She reached down, frowning in concentration as she poked herself in the stomach through the thin beige t-shirt she was wearing. Wearing uniforms on weekends was a gigantic buzzkill. Fiona had learned that term from the drug addict that had been down the hall for a month during the summer. That was another thing that struck her as funny, since the nurses were all about giving them plenty of drugs. She knew they hid hers in the food. They made her head turn into fuzz city, but they couldn't medicate her properly at magic school. Joke was on them there. But seriously, Lyle House was the last place to go for someone who was taking too many drugs. They would only get more. It was also the last place to send someone who was allergic to old living room sets in yellow or white walls. She had been informed that only two percent of the population suffered from that and she wasn't in that percentile when she had tried to convince the nurses that she was.

In retrospect, trying to convince medical people that thought they knew everything of an additional ailment probably hadn't been the way to go. Playing right up their alley and into the gutter. The old television set didn't block the pin-hitting show, which had a gutter, so she'd learned a few catchphrases from it. "Strike!" she shouted to the empty dormitory, slamming the lid of her trunk shut. Where was everyone, anyway? Her stomach growled again, and it hit her: dinner! Of course. It all fit. She had waited for everyone to leave for dinner before looting their things for pretties, after letting them see her skip off in the direction of the Owlery. She was clever like that. Well, time for food then. If she was right, they would be serving desserts soon, the only part of the meal she was always anxious to attend. And if she was wrong there would be nothing left and she'd try again tomorrow. Either way, Fi was already out in the hall so there was nothing to do but continue on.

Luckily for her, the Dining Hall was still full of food and people. The people she could care less about, but she really wanted some food. She slid into an empty seat and reached for a bread basket. Minutes later, Fiona had torn the bread into little pieces, assembling parts of the inside and parts of the crust on opposite sides of the plate. And the little bread-men charge! She shuffled the little pieces towards each other, then poured a spoonful of a red sauce over them. And everyone dies! She clapped for herself. That brought back memories of her childhood. But nicer, because it involved bread. She dipped her index finger in the red sauce and tasted it. Not bad, but distinctly lacking in large quantities of sugar. Where did they keep those silly desserts anyhow?

Across the aisle from her, a boy with a scarf in Kneazle house colors leaned over to the girl on his right and said, "Get a load of that! They let all of the crazies into this place these days." She frowned down at her plate. Whoever they were talking about would probably be very insulted right about now. Hmmm. There was a bowl of soup near her plate. She stopped stirring the bits of dead bread-people around her plate and stood up. It was a short trip to pick up the bowl of soup, turn around, and upend it over the head of the boy with the scarf, who yelled out about heat. Well duh, he's wearing a scarf. Giggling hysterically at his yells, she dropped the bowl and took another seat in front of a clean plate two down from her first one, listening to the continued angry sounds behind her. That was fun - now where was all of the dessert around here?