Temporal Exploring 101 - Deep Future

IV.5 Doing Mallory Carmichael a favor

In the days that followed I was walking on air, almost ecstatic with joy and relief after learning that the Cities of the Alliance had beaten and driven back the invaders from the deep future. Nothing could dampen my cheerful mood, not even our History teacher Mr Haskins ' endless rhapsodizing about the glory of the British Empire.

Indeed, the first one of the two wishes I had made under a falling star at the lake at Kerrington Manor had come true, or so it seemed.I made a mental note to thank Ian Firth for suggesting to me to make a wish. Not that I was superstitious or anything like that. But hey, it had worked, hadn't it? If only the second wish would come true, too. But it would truly take something of a miracle to make that happen.

That afternoon I was strolling through the park near St. Albert's southern tower, lost in happy thoughts, when I heard a familiar voice address me in a whisper. A voice that appeared to be emanating from somewhere in the shrubbery to the left of the path I was taking.

"Hist! Hart!"

I stopped in my tracks. "Carmichael? Is that you?"

"Over here, Hart."

I frowned. "What is this? Are you hiding or something?"

"Hush. There is no reason to communicate this to the rest of the school."

The rest of our school, or at least the majority of its students, had taken the bus to Arlesten.

I rolled my eyes. "What's the reason for this charade, Carmichael? You know as well as I do that there is hardly anybody here, at this time."

The bushes parted, and Mallory Carmichael appeared. Next to her, I could see several crates of beer hidden in the underbrush, as well as assorted bottles of alcoholic beverages including whiskey, red and white wine, and champagne.

"Do me a favor and help me carry that stuff inside, Hart. To Fletcher and Whittaker's room, to be precise."

"You want me to help you smuggle alcoholic beverages into the school building, Carmichael?" I stared at her, incredulous. "Are you quite mad? Why would I even consider doing that?"

Mallory smiled. "Because the third-years will be throwing a secret party on Saturday night, and I agreed to take care of the booze. And because I am asking you for your help, Hart. It's what friends do, they help each other."

I raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying that you and I are friends, Carmichael?"

"In a manner of speaking, Hart. In a manner of speaking. You may not be aware of this, but I do enjoy your company a lot, on occasion," she kindly informed me.

"On occasion, Carmichael? What is that supposed to mean?"

"I am talking about those rare times when you are not acting like a Miss Goody-two-shoes, Hart." From the expression on my face she must have realized that this had not come over as planned, so she switched to a different approach. "Look at it this way, Hart. You owe me, don't you? After all, I saved your life as well the lives of Nat, Morgan and Kerrington, the other day on Mount Fernyr, didn't I?"

"Well yes, I suppose you did," I grudgingly admitted.

"So, surely it's not asking too much of you to help me with a little task like carrying that stuff." She pointed towards the crates and bottles. "It's the least you can do, Hart. Besides, you would be doing the Galads a favor too. They are helping to organize that party, and if I tell them about your assistance I am sure they are going to remember that."

The Galads were our school's student society. Other than Mallory Carmichael, only the four 'rich girls' in our class – Dorothy Barnett, Eleanor Bradford, Carol Mellon and Barbara Lane – were members. As Natty had pointed out, the Galads were not merely snobs but bigoted snobs. Snobs who would never even consider accepting girls like Natty or Ndemba as members of their precious society.