Rose Evans and The Scroll of Life [HIATUS]

I.VI

"WHAT DO YOU THINK?" JASON SUDDENLY addressed Rose, turning to them—Catrina gave a slight snort—and giving Rose a look of actual concern. "Griddle cakes or waffles?"

So they'd moved on from the government debates, but Rose still didn't know what to say. She'd never had a griddle cake or a waffle anyway, so she could really offer no actual opinion on it, and, she had to admit to herself, she found it ridiculous that they were arguing about food.

"You see, Zoee thinks griddle cakes," Jason continued (the girl, who wore a pixie cut and two rings in her left ear, waved), "but I think waffles, and we can't convince each other."

"Er—" Rose said. "I—er—like them both. Equally." She pinched her lips together and tucked her hair behind her ears: it may cover her face, but it got in the way.

"Hm," said Jason disappointedly. Rose blushed. She shouldn't have talked to him. Then he brightened. "So, what's your name?"

"Rose," Rose said again. "Evans. I'm a muggleborn," she added, feeling like this piece of information seemed to be important.

"Jay Lowell," Jason said. He must have shortened his name, and Rose agreed with him; she didn't feel like Jason suited him at all. "I'm half-and-half—but most are, don't you think?" He held his hand out to shake, but Rose politely pretended not to notice, so he grabbed a peppermint humbug from the heap instead, examined it, then popped it in his mouth.

Rose shrugged.

"I'm Zoee Gírard," said the girl, leaning over Jay to wave. She pronounced her last name in the French way, but Rose couldn't detect any accent, however: maybe she was French but had grown up in England. "If you must know, I'm half-and-half too—well, I never knew my maman, so I guess I could be muggleborn—but somehow I doubt it."

"Hi," Rose said quietly, looking at her food, overcome by a wave of homesickness, which surprised her. Homesick for that old place, Wright Orphanage, dirty, decrepit and dreadful? But she was. She missed the easy security of having just Rae, where there weren't new things to do and new people to meet every day, where she already knew all the dangers and exactly how to avoid them. It was like being a dancer and going on stage, only to hear the wrong music play when you start, forcing you to change your dance to fit it.

She looked up to find Jay and Zoee back in deep conversation; Rose heard Zoee spouting medical terms and Jay writing them down concentratedly. "Darling," she heard. "Are you quite all right?"

"Yes, Catrina, I'm fine," Rose said. She turned back to her. She was struck by a sense of being squashed; all these people, caring about her, wanting to know if she was all right, was suffocating. Rose was used to indifference on most party's friendship. Be polite, she reminded herself. "Thanks, though."

Catrina gave another small snort. "I don't get those sorts of people," she said disdainfully, turning up her little nose at it. Rose stifled a small laugh; Catrina had a way of putting things that just seemed funny, even when it was rude.

"I don't know, they do seem nice," Rose said cautiously; she didn't want to upset her third new friend that day.

"Looks can be deceiving, but you know that, don't you, darling?" Catrina picked up a forkful of sausages cut up into the tiniest pieces, looked at it, then put it daintily in her mouth. She chewed for the longest time—Rose looking at her interestedly—, swallowed, then said: "Just be careful, I wouldn't want you to get hurt, now, would I? That's what friends are for; I've never had a real friend, but I do know how to be one."

Catrina probably knew all about how looks could be deceiving, Rose mused. The slightly hurt look in her large eyes when she had mentioned being a real friend had revealed a former misuse, and Rose felt sorry; so far the acquaintance, which had started out of politeness, was becoming more and more true: Rose genuinely liked this odd girl.