Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
CHAPTER FOUR
EVIL HEEBIE-JEEBIES
✧
MORGAN'S FAVORITE TIME OF THE DAY WAS RIGHT BEFORE LUNCH SINCE SHE HAD A FREE PERIOD. A time to relax, maybe take a nap if she hadn't slept well the night before or had stayed up too late studying, do the work for her classes that afternoon which she had failed to attend to, and not deal with classmates who had her tense.
It was just her, books, and Dominic who distracted her by giving commentary. He had a different approach to the free period. Instead of using it to be productive, he chose to be social and neglect any of the work he had to do because distracting her was miles more fun than Herbology or Transfiguration. And why waste time on those when he could annoy one of his best friends?
She did not agree with his use of time, but she had gotten used to it and found it charming, in an odd way.
"I'm still not over you getting detention," Dominic said, flipping lazily through a book he hadn't read a word of even though he spent a solid five minutes looking for it, "I mean, what will the mean old Alistair say?"
Morgan sent him a glare to shut him up, he responded with an annoyingly blinding smile. "I didn't send a letter home and I doubt Slughorn informed him."
Dominic shrugged, "I don't know. I mean, I remember when Greer got detention once in Herbology for talking back to Professor Sprout. It was ugly. She went pale as a ghost when the letter from her father came during breakfast the next morning."
"Well," Morgan started, "I doubt that he has any interest in my life, and I don't know why he has interest in Aunt Helen, so I truly and sincerely doubt someone just so happened to tell him I have detention. And I would never send home a letter about it, Aunt Helen worries too much about me."
"But it's just detention," Dominic rolled his eyes, "Hardly something to worry about."
"My dad got detention a lot, and now he's dead," Morgan told him but he still looked at her with an annoyed and confused expression.
"It was a car accident, nothing in correlation with detention," he said and Morgan nodded.
She loved her aunt, but Helen was a bit of an odd ball who worried that she would end up like her parents if she was anything like that. Which was hard, since she was their child, and of course she was going to be like them. Didn't mean she had to end up young and dead as they did. She planned on living for at least a century and having her name memorized in history.
"I know, but she's a worrier, always has been," Morgan told him, "Worried that my imagination was getting too wild when I watched too many cartoons, worried I wasn't getting enough sun if I spent one afternoon inside, and now she worries if I get detention. I mean, I told her about the first time I got – just before Christmas first year – and then she hugged the life out of me when I got off the train and spent a whole five minutes scolding me for it. And it was only for staying out after curfew and getting caught."