Fangirl

Chapter 8 Phillip

When I heard the reason for the rejection, I was stunned. I couldn't believe I'd encountered such selflessness. Martha looked anything — strong, strange, confident, crazy, impenetrable, creepy — but not caring, and yet that is what she was when it came to me.

What was I wondering about? Hadn't she been helping me all these years? What were the boarded-up windows worth of.

We continued to spend time in the library. We talked about all sorts of things, but not much. It was nice and peaceful with her. I could relax since I didn't have to hold my face and try to look better than I was. I realized: no matter what I said or did, I wouldn't disappoint her. I was convinced of that when the conversation turned to my failed attempt to ask her to the ball.

'I really wanted to go with you.'

'You only think you did.' She said calmly, not looking for a fight, just sharing her thoughts.

'May I ask where these conclusions came from?'

'Elementary. First, we don't say hello to each other in the class. Second, you invited me in the small room of the library that is always empty. Where you asked me to with a note you passed discreetly. Third.'

I felt seedy. I really looked like a pathetic coward. Why should I take offense?

Rather, I did not understand another thing: how, seeing all my worthlessness, she still looked at me with this obsession. Was there something special about me worthy of such attention?

Okay, it's just not going to be easy. I'd have to try harder if I wanted it my way.

The academy was howling with the anticipation of the winter ball in such a way that my head was starting to buzz. I kept dodging the most persistent girls, and three days before the new year everyone finally gave in.

'Phillip, stop playing silent and tell me who you're going with?' Maxim demanded at dinner, threatening me with his fork.

'Leave him alone, he won't tell.' Kirill waved his hand. 'I've tortured him more than once, to no avail. He prefers keeping water in his mouth rather than share with friends.'

I smiled and still kept silent.

When my friends, dressed to the hilt, were leaving the quaters, I pretended to dress for the evening. Said I'd come later and we'd meet there. As soon as the last of them left, I dressed casually and ducked out the door.

Martha clearly wasn't expecting to see me, but as I'd hoped, she didn't ask me away. There was no social suicide involved — everyone was at the ball and we could count on a couple of quiet hours.

As I crossed the threshold of her room, I felt signs of paralysis. At first glance, I found myself in the witch's lair. Small, cozy, black, filled with dried and crushed corpses. I took a closer look and exhaled.

It looked scary, but clearly had no connection to real danger. A lot of this stuff my older sister used to frighten me with when I was a kid. And I long ago figured out what only looked scary, but was actually garbage, and what was worth a closer look.

Oddly enough, there was one really interesting item in Martha's room — a book she was reading.

I noticed signs of confusion, but I put it down to the fact that she might be uncomfortable being alone with a guy. The guy was me, though, so I thought she'd get over it. I offered to leave — I didn't want to embarrass or upset her at all.

But when she picked up the book and I caught a glimpse of what was written on the cover, I realized that she wasn't sure if she should show it to me. Perhaps she thought I wouldn't pay much attention to the folio — who knows what firebenders read, and as nonchalantly as Martha only could she opened the book; or maybe she thought it would only cause unnecessary attention if she tried to hide it.