Mikah

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

I don't know how Phoebe convinced me to go to the adult gathering upon the ship, but she did, that's for sure. Only adults would be there, and sure, I was technically an adult now, since I'm eighteen, but still. She wasn't.

It's not as though we packed nearly enough to look like true upperclass, we only packed enough for the two week journey aboard the ship.

Plus, we stole so much of Olsen's old clothes, but its not as though that would really matter, he deserves it for keeping this all from me. That is, if my hunch is right.

I tied my tie looking into the mirror, which was a humongous surprise. I barely ever remembered how to and this time I must've had magic appear inside me for a moment or so, for it feels like I never remember how to.

Turning around, I watched as Phoebe slipped on Anne Morley's old pair of flats.

She looked up and smiled at me, and then walked on over to me, shaking her head and clicking her tongue.

"Oh, Angus," She exasperated, "How many times must I do this for you?"

Fixing my collar with her two hands, I began to feel uneasy as she wrapped her hands over my shoulders, almost as if she were about to dance.

She blinked, looking straight up at me,

"What? What are you looking at?"

I shook my head,

"O-Oh, nothing."

She laughed, and then stepped back, admiring her work with my collar of my shirt.

"Very well," Phoebe smiled, "Shall we get going, Alfred?" She questioned, holding out her black-gloved hand.

"Yes," I took her hand in mine, "Yes we shall."

And so we walked out of our room, and I locked the door behind us, and proceeded to walk even further down the hall, near a case of fancy stairs.

Walking up the stairs, she let go of my hand to hold onto the railing. As we walked up, I could start to hear with my own two ears some jazz playing softly in what I guessed would be the dance room.

We walked in, and almost immediately, Phoebe hooked arms with me, as if she didn't want to get separated from me at all.

A young man that I guessed would be the man who handled the wine approached us, bowing. He looked familiar, or at least, what he wore looked familiar.

He wore black and white, and had a white cloth over one of his shoulders. Goodness me! Where had I ever seen a man like him? It's not like I go to the pubs in Balleyhauntis or anything.

"Excusez-moi, Madame, wine?"

Phoebe placed her hand over her heart, in awe that he spoke French.

"Non, merci." She spoke softly.

Once we were far enough from the man, I turned towards her, shocked,

"How do you know French?"

She laughed,

"Going to school can teach you some things, surprise or not, Angus."

I shook my head, embarrassed in the fact that she called me out for not getting a true full on school education. But that was all Olsen's fault, it most definitely was not mine.

We found a table to sit at and possibly even enjoy dinner at. She sat down and I pushed in her chair, and then sat down in a chair by myself.

A couple minutes went by, and then a man who was about as tall as me approached Phoebe and me, smiling at mostly her.