//laughter is the best medicine

[Rain]

Annette bounded onto the grounds, ignoring the woods, passing the lake, and somehow, without meaning to, appeared next to the boat house. She paused as she surveyed it, her chest moving up and down from her hard breathing. She had never been inside before, and she had no way of knowing what could be lurking in there. Grinning and showing all of her teeth, some of them crooked, she crept inside, unsure whether she was breaking the rules or not. It didn't matter as long as she wasn't caught.

She peered around inside, noting how it was rather dark. Using the sunbeams pouring through the now-open doorway, she located a lantern and lit it. It wasn't too bright, but she could see well enough to shut the door. She did so, and then grabbed the lantern for more exploration. It was spooky, yes, but she knew she would find no ghosts or preternatural creatures in here. She knew the difference between fiction and reality.

Annette took a seat on a dusty bench, her short legs swinging back and forth, her ratty shoes gleaming in the light of the lantern. She sucked on the inside of her lip, realizing she should have brought something to do. Rising from her seat and lifting the lantern once more, she took a look around. She tripped over a few oars, and there was a map lying on a table, but the rest was just junk.

Then, suddenly, her heart jumped into her throat. She'd heard a creak and a nudge, as if someone were trying to open the door to the boat house. Slowly and carefully, she neared the boat house door. She noticed she was quivering a bit. It was true, she'd felt like the paragon of bravery upon entering this strange little room, but now she was just any other twelve-year-old, trembling with fear. Her fingers brushed the door handle, but she decided against it. It had probably only been the wind.

She jumped. There it was again. She backed away, falling over the oars once again and hitting her funny bone against the floor. She rubbed her elbow as if that would ease the pain (it didn't) and sat on the floor, seeing no need to stand. She remembered there were gypsies around these parts. What if one was trying to break its way inside? What if one were to snatch her away, never to be seen again? There was nothing to do but wait, since the door was her only method of escape. Of course, there was another option.

"Who's there?" she called out, her voice sounding rather hoarse.

[Poe]

Forever... And For Always

Everything had been going to plan- it had all been absolutely fine.
The boat house was the perfect place to unleash her plan. It was dark, out of the way, and was supposedly haunted, meaning no annoying little kids, nosy adults, or gossiping girls would be likely to poke around in its dark, dank depths. Now, it wasn't exactly the most romantic place, the poured glass windows distorting the outside world to them, were dingy, some cracked in their resting places. The floor was old worn wood, weathered and knotted and not entirely comfortable. But, with a little brightening up...
In the far back room- which was really like a closet, a pale yellow and pink patchwork quilt had been spread out along the floor, three or four candles flickered in the windows, casting an eerie light along the slightly slanting walls. The background music was the scratching and squeaking of rats in the wood as they fled from the scattered light the flames cast. But rose petals stolen from the school's immense garden still scattered the blanket in an attempt to make it... as un-scary as possible.
So it had all been perfect. At first. She hadn't been expecting Annette...

This wasn't something she had been planning for ages, this little hook-up. In fact, the boy had come to her last night looking for a little pick-me-up, which was totally backward for her. She'd been... pleasuring the almost graduated man for quite awhile now, so his approach wasn't entirely new- but normally she went to him when she needed a pick-me-up. Salem had accepted graciously, though, and he set the time, date, and place without hesitation- like he'd done this before. Not that it surprised her that other Heartbreakers had fallen for this young man. He was quite the charmer.
She only had one issue with the boat house though... And that was, that there is only one way out.
That slightly worried thought had vanished from her mind the moment his lips had found hers in the semi-darkness and his hands had roamed the folds of her skirt. They hadn't even made it into the closet-room when she lost her gloves and jacket, leaving them next to the map in the "Main room" of the boat house. Try as they may to keep their voices hushed, their laughter as they nipped at one another, touched and teased issued from their mouths without much control- and it was slightly louder than it should have been. As far as they were concerned, though, they were the only two people interested in the boat house- and they were the only two people in the world at all.
But that's when the sounds started.

What was that?" Salem whispered, lifting her head from his broad shoulder, her golden blond, curly hair askew on her scalp, tangled and flying everywhere. They'd been down here for what seemed like forever. He had failed to mention that this would not be a quick pick-me-up. And now that she had him, she could drop the ditzy facade and act worried like she really felt. If a teacher found them in here... Well, her decent grades and her parents money wouldn't matter. They both paused, Mark's hand resting gently on her bare stomach. Thinking the cause of the noise gone, she rolled over on top of him, pulling the blanket up over them, pressing her lips gently to his neck.
"I guess it was nothing..." She whispered, hair falling down around the sides of her face, framing his. "Are you... feeling better. Or could I help more?" Her hand ran down his chest, disappearing into the darkness of the blanket. He hummed underneath of her body, his hands running up the her sides, and he opened her mouth to answer when they heard footsteps very close to their door- which was very close to the desk with the map on it.
"Shit!" She rolled off of him, her voice whispering and hoarse, probably sounding a bit like the rats that scratched at the walls. Swallowing hard, she drug a hand through her hair, reaching for the pettie coat that had been pulled off earlier. She couldn't bother with the corset right now... Mark was up too, and she cursed men for wearing pants. They were so much easier to get into. He looked at her, his shirt held tightly between his teeth as she struggled into her actual school uniform, muttering under her breath. Blowing out the candles, she folded the blanket and threw it into a corner, where it would probably stay, forgotten, and would soon be a feast and a home for the rats that dwell here.

The two of them inched the door open slightly, watching the little girl's back as she explored the small room, staying away from the shadows. "Go," Salem whispered, practically shoving the boy out before her, allowing him to escape. Salem watched from the closet door as Annette swirled around, calling out who's there, checking the door, hoping to God that Mark was out of sight, fully clothed, and gone- if there was a god, this would be so...
A breath that she didn't realize she'd been holding, whooshed from her longs and she quietly climbed out of the closet, her shoes in hand, the corset barely tight enough- not that it had to be too tight to begin with...
She was halfway to the door, lurking along the shadows, her hair still mussed from the... sexual activity. (Man, that boy would put out...). Her hand was outstretched for the door when her right foot pressed down on a squeaky board and she froze, the light shifting through the wavy windows as clouds moved across the sky making her 100 percent visible.

A wince fell across Salem's features, and she glanced at the twelve year old girl. "Oh, hello," she murmured, hoping to throw her off, even though her overall appearance was... unseemly for a girl of this time. "I hope I haven't startled you."
Oh, but she hoped she really had.

[Rain]

Annette's heart rate picked up as her head turned this way in that for the source of the noise. She thought she saw something flash out of the corner of her eye, but when she glanced to her left, there was nothing. She refused to believe there were ghosts prowling about, or vampires, or werewolves, or anything of the sort. She'd heard the fables about how the boat house was haunted, but she would sooner believe that her father was the Gingerbread Man than agree about that. All that haunted her now were her unfinished school projects and the fact that her stomach was growling in the most unladylike way. She cared less, of course, about the monstrous growls being ladylike and more about devouring some food to satisfy her hunger, preferably some strawberries. Yes, she was definitely in the mood for strawberries.

The floorboards creaked, and then she was whisked back into her reality, to her seat on the dusty, filthy floorboards, with splinters poking into her bottom. That would certainly be a problem later. The bottom of her dress was torn, which was sure to get her in trouble with one of the teachers. She wanted to reach down and feel the ripped fragments, wondering how bad the damage really was, but her unseen companion (or perhaps companions) kept her frozen in place. She would have to invent something plausible, but it seemed unlikely she would wriggle out of this one. Lying wasn't her strong point, and it made it worse when the evidence she had been prowling around somewhere forbidden was visible right at the bottom of her petticoat.

She recalled a scene from when she was a small girl, around age five. She had been frolicking in some wooded area, the name of which escaped her now, with a friend around her age called Nellie. Nellie, who wanted nothing more than to get her dress muddy to anger her mother, insisted she and Annette go adventuring in the forest. Annette hadn't felt inclined to do so, but of course hadn't said such a thing. She'd run down the sloping, grassy hill behind Nellie's house and allowed the momentum to bring her into the heart of the thick woods, but in her haste, had tripped over a fallen, moss-covered log and broken her nose. She remembered raising her head, searching frantically for Nellie, but she was out of sight. And there was something moving in the log.

Annette glanced at her feet, which were tangled between the two oars she'd fallen over. They weren't like the log, which had trapped her tiny shoe within its hole (how she'd gotten her foot stuck in such a small hole in the first place, she never knew). They were wooden, yes, like the log, but they weren't the home of a poisonous snake, a snake whose teeth had grazed Annette's ankle and caused her to run like the wind, back in the direction she'd hoped was Nellie's house. It had taken her an hour, and even when she arrived safely back in her mother's arms, she was chastised for running off. Nellie hadn't taken any of the blame.

She frowned. Why was it that these memories flooded back when it was already too late? If she'd considered this scenario before succumbing to the mystery that was the boat house, she might not have traipsed inside. This time she really was the only one to blame, no Nellie to help her out of this mess. Not that she would've, anyhow. There was a reason that friendship had been dropped.

She gazed at the oars again. It was true, she was stuck in a similar rut, frozen in place due to another presence. But she also wasn't five years old anymore.

With a clattering and banging of the artifacts altering their positions as she stood, she grabbed one of the oars and held it high in her arms like a club, keeping it raised in defense mode. There was the nudging and groaning of the little house again, but this time, she was prepared with a weapon. Oh, if only her mother could see her now. She would go ballistic.

The rays of the sun illuminated the figure at last, and with an almighty yell, Annette swung her oar. But then, in a panic, she stopped swinging, just before the blunt object could whack the person. The end of her oar hovered beside the figure's shoulder before Annette dropped it, and it landed with a clang against the floorboards. It was nothing but a girl about four or five years her senior, looking the least ladylike Annette had ever seen anyone--and she'd witnessed her mother in the morning. She seemed to have a bedhead, even though it was the middle of the day, and--by George, was she even wearing a corset? Annette's jaw dropped as she took in the girl's appearance, scandalized.

"I hope I haven't startled you."

"Why, of course you did," Annette told her. "You scared the daylights out of me! Why, what on Earth have you been doing in here? Rolling in hay?"

She'd heard Eli use the phrase before, but did not comprehend its actual meaning, understanding it only in the literal sense. She had no way of knowing the implications of the words.

[Poe]

Forever... And For Always

Oh my God, you've got to be kidding me," Salem Thatchor whispered, staring at the girl, who looked a bit like a cave woman with that oar above her head. Now that Salem was actually looking at her, she realized she couldn't be older than thirteen, and it would surprise her if she was even that old. However, armed with that oar- that almost looked to be twice her size, she was a formidable opponent.
'But she's only a child, she wouldn't actually hit me- aren't most of the children here bent on being perfect anyway...?' Salem soon learned that it was only wishful thinking that the girl before her wouldn't strike her like a coiled snake. She was sure that she'd startled her, and she did feel a bit sorry. Salem didn't have the intention of scaring anyone when she had met Mark down here- in fact, she had no intention of seeing anyone except him at all.

A quiet yelp left her mouth, and she threw her arms up to shield herself, cringing back when suddenly the oar began to swing at her. She waited for a few moments, her face scrunched up in anticipation, waiting for the whack to come to her head, waiting for her body to meet the floor, for the wood to scrape her skin through the thin dress. But... it never came. Slowly, she opened up her eyes, and looked at the girl, who she could make out better now. She still stood there, looking formidable with the oar, and the broadside of the wood was only inches from her shoulder. Swallowing hard, Salem took a sidestep, shocked that she was really afraid of a child. Of course, when a child is about to whack you on the head...
She studied the girl critically, knowing her face from somewhere. She was only twelve- still looking too young to be older. Twelve and in the Pity Party, if she was not mistaken. Ah, there was so much young blood these days.
In a very unladylike fashion, Salem snorted loudly at Annette's blunt reply to the seventeen year old girl's attempt at being polite- but it seemed that lurking about in a boat house with no corset on mostly shot the idea of being polite anyway... A smirk pulled up the edges of Miss Thatchor's lips at her jaw-dropped expression- most likely at her appearance. She was a bit... scandalous looking, she was sure.

Don't you know that it's not polite to stare?" She asked the child in a critical voice, raising an eyebrow at her, trying to throw up a hard outer shell, but amusement was play in her eyes, and a smile was dangerously close to being revealed. Salem did tend to wear her heart on her sleeve, that was for sure... "Well, goodness, I'm sorry for 'scaring the living daylights' out of you- but it still seems to be bright outside, so at least it isn't night time." It was a poor joke, and it probably didn't even make sense, but what was said, was said. "And what I've been doing here isn't exactly your business, now is it?"
How bold of the child though, to come right out and ask, it really did throw her off. It seemed like she had much of a care for being lady-like. "Excuse me? Rolling in hay? Where would you get an idea like that?" Her hand flew up to her mouth, rubbing the edges of her lips to make sure her lipstick that she bought from town had not smeared, and that if it had, it came off before she left the boathouse. Content that her makeup was fine, she pushed a hand through her hair again, trying to smooth it out a little bit more. She watched the twelve year old, trying to figure out if she really meant it or if she wasn't sure what she was even saying. But her shocked response slowly gave way to amusement once again.

You know, I don't think I've ever heard your name," she said casually. After looking at the child long enough, Salem had come to the conclusion that she looked a lot like one of the boy's she'd been after. He was one of those smart boys though... A brain, and she wasn't quite used to catching them yet. They knew ways to avoid her tricks. "You aren't an Appleby, are you?" She rose an eyebrow in questioning, resting one hand on her hip, the light coming in from the windows flowing around her and casting strange shadows on the ground. Part of her doubted the girl would be willing to answer, still too weary about what a nearly grown girl had been doing in the boat house without a corset on.

[Rain]

No, the girl was not an apparition, nor was she any sort of creature meaning to cause her harm. Unless she was in here hiding a body, Annette would certainly be leaving the boat house uninjured tonight. She seemed to be normal enough, if one ignored her messy appearance. No blood trickled from her mouth, extinguishing the vampire idea, and since her voice wasn't any bit unusual, she couldn't be any sort of demon. Annette watched the oar on the floor shudder until halting from a stop, recovering from its fall. No embarrassment set in, for what did she have to be embarrassed about? She wasn't the one who looked as if she'd just rolled out of bed. The oar-swinging was nothing to be ashamed of, either. In fact, defending oneself was rather admirable in her eyes, and had the girl really been a psychopath of some sort, Annette would have saved her own skin.

"Don't you know that it's not polite to stare?"

Annette's eyebrows rose at this accusation. Politeness was the last thing on her mind. "I suppose, but politeness isn't really that important to me when I'm scared out of my wits," she explained. "How did I know you weren't going to hurt me?" Of course, she still didn't know if the bedhead girl would or not, but the girl seemed to be a student, so Annette doubted she would risk being sent to the headmistress and try anything on her. "No offense, miss, but it's not very polite to walk around without a corset, either, or with your hair in such a state."

She'd never been very fond of having to act like a lady, but she went along with it whenever she was in a good mood, which was often. Her mother had once prepared tea for Annette in the wee hours of the morning, explaining that they were having some early-riser-type guests over. Since the sun hadn't even risen yet, to say Annette was rather grumpy would have been an understatement. She had stormed into the room, hair still slightly tousled and dark bags beneath her eyes, glowering at each visitor in turn. The sight hadn't been pretty, and neither had the scene that occurred afterward. Kicking and screaming had ensued once her mother had reminded her to sip her tea with her pinky high in the air for the seventeenth time. It had been one of Annette's rare instances of blatant bratty behavior, but she remembered it well.

"And what I've been doing here isn't exactly your business, now is it?"

Annette opened her mouth to retort, but closed it again, realizing what she had been leaning toward saying would only get her into a mess. She was going to threaten the older girl and say it certainly was her business knowing, since the boat house was out of bounds, but the girl would have no doubt turned it right back around at her. Annette didn't even know what she was doing here, just that she'd wanted something to do. Then an idea sprang to her mind. She was the more innocent one here, since all she'd done was take a look around. This girl, on the other hand, had clearly been up to something.

"It is my business, because how do I know you weren't doing something bad?" She frowned at her in an attempt to appear intimidating, but probably ended up looking even younger than she was. "I have every right to tell someone if you were...were...I don't know, hiding a body or something." She crossed her arms. "Of course, I don't think you were doing that, but I don't know you. You never know."

At the mention of "rolling in hay", the girl's hand instantly flew up to her lips. Annette's brow furrowed at this intriguing behavior. What was this girl hiding? It seemed to be something scandalous. She mulled over it in her head, turning over multiple possibilities in her mind, when the girl spoke again. This time, an amused smile flew to those lips of hers.

"You know, I don't think I've ever heard your name. You aren't an Appleby, are you?"

Annette's eyes initially widened, but then she relaxed as she realized, no, this girl wasn't a mind reader. She did bear a bit of a resemblance to her brother, but there was still something fishy here. She knew Eli didn't have many friends, especially not girls, and the boys and girls lived on different sides of the school. How was this girl acquainted with her family name?

"Yes, I'm Annette Appleby. Do you know my brother or something?" This girl couldn't have a very close relationship with Eli, because otherwise, he would have said something. At least, she thought he would've said something. She sucked in her cheeks, contemplating the possibility of him having a secret girlfriend...

Then it clicked. It was so obvious, the scandalous activity one might do with their lips. She grinned at the girl, not because she had caught the girl doing something forbidden, but because she'd figured it out on her own. Annette pointed at her, jumping up and down. "Oh, oh! You were kissing somebody, weren't you? Weren't you?"[/color]

[Poe]

Forever... And For Always

Salem watched the child for a long moment, not able to tell if she was staring at her simply for the sake of staring, or if she really thought she was a ghost or was about to transform into something so horrendous that she'd die at the sight of her...? (She only looked like that when Clyde was in a bad mood, and she was almost certain that her roommate was not in a bad mood...) Salem looked down at the oar that had almost attacked her, then back at the little girl, raising an eyebrow slightly, still waiting for the response about the girl's inability to act polite, because so far she had failed on very many levels. The older girl rose her eyes, sighing. "Because I'm not in the misfits, dummy, learn your cliques before you start pointing fingers at random and unsuspecting girls," Salem sniffed, looking at the child sideways out of her eye. "Granted, I used to be in the misfits, but I could never throw a good punch, that's probably why the kicked me out... But if you're ever going to survive in Florence, you better learn your clique and learn about your rivals. As I always say, keep your friends close, but your enemies closer." She smirked lightly, flipping her hair over her shoulder to hide the curve of her breast without the corset on. She was sure to be in deep trouble when she marched back into Florence looking like this. But she doubted anyone would really notice... Oh, maybe they would, if this little twelve year old could. "Another helpful hint for you, kid," Salem sneered slightly, a bit of her Misfit side coming out. "Don't talk to your seniors in such ways... Or question them. You're probably five years my junior, you have no room to talk about what I can or cannot do, thank you very much."

Looks alone speak a lot about a person, so obviously Salem's attire and hair for the day probably did make her look the part of some whore that never wanted to be lady-like. That isn't exactly true. Salem very much enjoys being a lday... she just celebrates her gender in a different way... and not with other women... usually. So she and Annette weren't too terribly different in that sense... Or maybe they were.

No, it really isn't your business what I've been doing, so I suggest you shut your trap before I shut it for you. I didn't do anything bad, I wasn't doing anything wrong either. According to Mark she'd been doing everything completely and totally right. That's what he'd said, at least... She did enjoy hearing that too. And then this little munchkin had come and ruined it all. As she started to go on about tattling, Salem bent down, so she was closer to her height, the fact that she did not have a corset on becoming all that more noticeable with the dress with the... modified neck line. And she hoped it was making the child uncomfortable. A smirk played cross her lips and she put her hands on her knees. "Since you seem oh, so intent on doing a good deed today, I'll just come out and tell you, I was not hiding bodies anywhere. Not even thinking of killing anyone. Not until you showed up, at least. And I'll say it again, get to know me before you start pointing accusing fingers everywhere- you could make a lot of enemies..." She smiled very sweetly at the little girl, straightening up.

Annette's eyes widened at the mention of her brother's name, very much to the amusement of Salem who's lips curved into a smile. She leaned back against the wall, the glass very close to her head, and she could feel the heat of the sun beating down upon the clear surface baking the top of her head. But it felt good... "Yes, I know your brother... Not as well as I'd like to, but I know him. You look a bit like him, is the only reason I asked..." Salem watched the little girl very closely, waiting for her to be smart and come to some dramatic conclusion about what Salem was really doing down here, because she obviously wouldn't stop pestering her about doing something bad until she found out what it was. But since she seemed the type to tattle, she'd have to come up with a way to get her to believe that it wasn't true...

Kissing someone? Salem dropped to her knees in front of the little girl, almost the same height as her now, if not a little taller. She inched forward, letting the wood scrape her knees through the thin layer of fabric, almost enjoying the painful feeling. Without any hesitation, she put her hands on the child's shoulders, smirking darkly at her. "I was... And it was absolutely amazing," she whispered, her face inches from the child's hoping to give her the chills... and bonus points if she got the uh-oh feeling... "You've probably never kissed anyone in your life before, have you, you poor dear...? Would you... like me to show you how? That way you're prepared." And then, without warning, Salem began to laugh, cackle really, her head thrown back toward the ceiling, the laughter rolling out of her body like waves. Slowly, she got back to her feet, wiping a tear of amusement from her eyes. "Silly thing, I haven't been kissing anyone! Don't think if I'd been doing that then there would have to be someone else here? Like a boy?" She rose an eyebrow at her, the words coming out in fits and giggles. She chuckled and then swept and arm around the room, daring Annette to look for the so-called boy that was long gone now.

[Rain]

Annette stared the girl right in the eye. It occurred to her that she didn't even know the girl's name yet. With a sharp intake of breath, she realized she might be in with the gypsies. She didn't look like one, but anything could happen, Annette supposed. This girl could be posing as a student in the school when really she had some ulterior motive, some secret that she couldn't dare let past her lips. Annette's imagination went wild with possibilities, none of which were probable and a few which could be perceived as impossible. It would be very interesting if this girl was a gypsy-in-disguise, or perhaps an accomplice. A good story she could repeat to Eli. Maybe he would write it and, for once, let her read it. She craved to read one of his stories, but he always shooed her off whenever at the typewriter, in a most irritable manner that Mother never would have approved of.

"Because I'm not in the misfits, dummy, learn your cliques before you start pointing fingers at random and unsuspecting girls."

Annette had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. She had been hoping this girl was among those who didn't bring up these sad excuses to make a name for yourself in this school. Annette considered Florence to be above that (she'd ranted a bit to Eli about it when she first arrived) and found she didn't pay much attention to them. She hadn't opted to join a clique herself, but she heard through the whispering between the shelves at the library and amidst the laughter at the dining table that she was considered by most to be a part of the Scholarship Pity-Party. It was a degrading title, so Annette shrugged this idea off her shoulder like a dead fly. She refused to believe the fact that she'd gotten in on a scholarship meant she was inferior to anyone else here.

"Just because you go by a certain title doesn't mean you can't be dangerous," she retaliated. "I don't even know what the misfits are supposed to be like, and I don't care, to be honest. Nobody can be categorized like that. I'm different from anyone else in my own so-called clique, but every one of us has the potential to show a trait associated with a different group."

She smiled, pleased with her response. She thought she sounded intelligent there, perhaps even older than her age. If only more people had been around to witness it.

"But if you're ever going to survive in Florence, you better learn your clique and learn about your rivals. As I always say, keep your friends close, but your enemies closer."

Annette frowned. Was this girl insinuating that they were enemies? It wasn't even a bit fair. After all, she had to be around sixteen or seventeen, so Annette was no match for her when it came to an argument. Annette didn't believe in cat fights, anyhow, so if this girl was going to attempt anything, she was prepared to walk away. Mummy always told her to do so when faced with an enemy, and now was the first time she'd encountered it. "I hope not to make any enemies here. I'd rather make friends."

"Don't talk to your seniors in such ways... Or question them. You're probably five years my junior, you have no room to talk about what I can or cannot do, thank you very much."

Annette glared at her before remembering to look polite. All politeness had been dropped on both sides, so she was through with putting up a facade. "It's not me saying what you can and can't do. It's proper behavior and manners that everyone is taught by their mothers and fathers. You're not saying that you can disregard polite behavior once you get older, are you?" She was honestly curious and hoped that nothing negative had entered her voice while she spoke.

"No, it really isn't your business what I've been doing, so I suggest you shut your trap before I shut it for you. I didn't do anything bad, I wasn't doing anything wrong either."

Okay, politeness had definitely been chucked out the window. "You're not being very nice. I don't want to make any enemies, as I said before, so I won't accuse you anymore. Of course I was going to ask you questions. What would you do if you found an older girl in a forbidden boat house who looked as if she'd just been wrestling somebody?"

"Kissing someone? I was... And it was absolutely amazing."

Annette put her hands on her hips. "Okay, then. I'm sure you know that isn't allowed, but I won't tattle on you." She frowned at the way the girl dropped to her knees. It was such a condescending gesture, but Annette didn't comment on it. "As long as it wasn't a gypsy, I have no problem with it." In truth, she was rather curious about it. The fact that this girl was a stranger was the only thing stopping her from asking for details.

"You've probably never kissed anyone in your life before, have you, you poor dear...? Would you... like me to show you how? That way you're prepared."

A shiver ran down Annette's spine. The girl's face was close to hers, far too close, and some of her breast was exposed. How indecent! Annette's eyes flickered away from the area she wished she hadn't seen, and a cold fear lodged itself inside her. No, she hadn't kissed anyone, and didn't plan to for as long as she could. Why would she want to kiss a boy? She didn't know where their mouths had been. But she would rather kiss a thousand dirty-mouthed boys than the girl kneeling before her. She shook her head, her lips forming barely coherent words. "No...no, I don't want..."

Then the girl cackled, throwing her head back as she did. Annette backed away, her mouth turned downward in a frown that might have been comical if she wasn't so humiliated. "Don't tease me like that!" A slight urge to cry manifested itself behind her eyes, but she pushed it away. "I--It just seemed like that's what you were doing."

When she mentioned a boy, however, Annette felt her muscles loosen in momentary defeat. There wasn't another person in sight. Then again, he could still be hiding. "What about that other room? Maybe he's in there, waiting for me to leave so you can get back to...your business?"[/color]

[Poe]

Forever... And For Always

Oh, but it does my child, it does," Salem whispered, smiling slightly, finding the child's ignorance amusing. She brushed a hand over her askew hair, pushing it out of her glittering grey eyes, watching the child. "Of course, sometimes they aren't dangerous to some people. But... Misfits are a danger to anyone if you anger them enough... And the Unloved, they can strike up very interesting... fires if they wish. But the Pretty Faces can be the worst. It doesn't take much for them to dislike you- and you're probably on top of their list, my dear. You are after all a scholarship student, are you not?" The older girl smiled, her eyes still glowing as she thought of the best way to describe the kind of terror that the Pretty Face leader could sew. "Cel Worthington is like the devil herself. And she doesn't like little children, so watch out, she probably will eat you." Oh, my, wasn't scaring children just a ball?

Salem was... shocked to say the least when she learned the girl didn't even know what the Misfits were supposed to be like. She shook her head at her naivety. She made a good point, and Salem crossed her arms under her chest, pushing herself up slightly as she leaned against the wall behind her. Tilting her head she looked out the window. "I'm only going to tell you one more time, child, if you don't learn your cliques some they can and probably will destroy you. The fact that you speak with such certainty and strong-willed mind shows you're already in for some trouble... Not with me, of course, I'm not really a scary person in my clique. Unless you are a male..." She laughed, looking at her. "Let's see in how bad of trouble you're in. What clique do I belong to?"

The little girl was cute, that was for sure. She seemed so certain that Florence was heaven, and that if you didn't listen to the headmistress (who was obviously God) then you would go straight to hell and burn for eternity. She cracked her knuckles, glancing back out the window, watching brown gypsy boys flit through the trees, probably off to be free, and Salem sighed, looking back at Annette. "Oh, Annette, you're making enemies every time you open your mouth. And just because of your clique you've made some, even lost some friends. But if you think that you can overcome all of this silly social class that is as real as the world itself, then, so be it. Prepare to be eaten." And she meant that in the best way possible.

Manners weren't really Salem's thing. She'd thrown them out the window the day she walked in with Clyde, hanging off of the other girl's arm, pretending that their love didn't actually exist. She sighed, sinking slightly against the wall, her shoulders slouching, as the child taught her a lesson about manners. She forced herself not to snap, still aggravated that the girl had destroyed her... play-date. "No, of course I'm not, I'm merely saying... That children can't boss their elders around." Honestly, she wasn't sure what she was saying, except that she was annoyed with the girl standing before her. She was sure it had all started with almost being attacked with an oar...

What would I do?" Salem laughed, putting a finger to her mouth, running her thumb nail over her lips as she thought, looking up at the ceiling now, as if really needing to think about it. She had walked in on plenty of older girls... doing much worse than what this girl had seen (which had virtually been nothing). "I would have to run for my life, before the older girl killed me with an oar," she said sarcastically. "And I'm being as nice as I can be, you're not making it very easy, by the way. She snorted at the girl's term "wrestling with somebody" if only she knew that she had almost been doing just that.

Gypsy? Salem's ears perked up, and her gaze shot to the girl's. "Are you afraid of gypsy boys?" She found it quite amusing, her shoulders beginning to shake with laughter. She'd been called on once or twice to... service their needs, and it was quite true, that they knew things that the white man did not. She stayed quiet as she got to her knees, shimmying forward, letting the girl shiver, letting her stutter, letting her not be entirely sure what she wanted. The seventeen-year-old was indeed enjoying this a bit too much. "Of course it did." Her breath brushed against the girl's cheek as she whispered the words, standing up again.

Hopefully, the blanket in the back room was cloaked enough by darkness that it would look as if it had been there forever, thrown in the back, along with the candle stubs. "Go ahead, go in there and look, I dare you. But, you know, that is a haunted room, back there..." She walked over to the door to the closet room, touching and turning the doorknob quietly. Plans to lock the girl in there beginning to form, without her even knowing her name. "Ready?

[Rain]

Annette realized she was shaking her head as the girl went on about how the cliques did matter. She could see that her companion was gullible enough to believe in these groups that meant nothing, which was fine by her--everyone had the right to their opinion. Annette just wished she wouldn't impose her beliefs on her. She really should have been expecting this. This girl was like every other older girl she'd encountered--arrogant about the fact that they were older and could wield more knowledge, condescending, and secretive. Annette was watching her step as she made her way toward adulthood. She wouldn't allow herself to end up like this. She always wanted to be bouncy and cheerful and full of life. If that escaped her, she didn't know what she might do.

The unnamed girl went on about a few cliques, something about Misfits and Unloved or something. Annette crossed her arms, refusing to believe that the Misfits actually lived up to their title--if they honestly were misfits, why was there a group of them? The true misfits, she supposed, had to be those belonging to the group she had been lumped into. They were the ones that, according to this girl, nobody liked.

"Cel Worthington is like the devil herself. And she doesn't like little children, so watch out, she probably will eat you."

Annette scowled. "I'm not five years old. I know that nobody is going to physically eat me, so I have no reason to be frightened of this Cel person." Besides, she reckoned the likelihood of a cannibal attending Florence was rather slim. She'd never met one herself, and hoped she never would. My, what an interesting experience that would be.

"I'm only going to tell you one more time, child, if you don't learn your cliques some they can and probably will destroy you. The fact that you speak with such certainty and strong-willed mind shows you're already in for some trouble... Not with me, of course, I'm not really a scary person in my clique. Unless you are a male...let's see in how bad of trouble you're in. What clique do I belong to?"

Annette racked her brains. She knew all the names of the cliques, but not their descriptions, and frankly, she didn't care if she ever came across someone whose clique she couldn't pinpoint. It mattered as much to her as the snail crawling along the floor a few meters away. Actually, she probably cared more about the snail. At least it had its own mobile home that it could curl into whenever it felt the notion to. It didn't have to memorize anything as ridiculous as a clique. "Let's see...if you're a danger to boys..." She went through each clique name, and then chose the one that seemed to best match the description. "You must be a Heartbreaker, then."

A lump rose in Annette's throat when the girl said she'd already lost friends just be entering on a scholarship. "Well, that isn't fair!" she insisted. "I haven't done anything! Why would people hate me just because of what clique I'm in?" She glanced around, at the oar on the ground, at the dusty old map on the desk, as if searching for an ally. "If anything, I should be admired for getting into the school by using my brain instead of buying my way in." A thought struck her. Dare she say it? "And you're no better than anyone else at Florence if you judge me based on a title! I don't even know your bloody name!"

She'd cursed, something that would have gotten her locked up in her room without supper had her mother overheard. She hoped that was enough of a hint for the girl--she wanted her name. She wanted to at least have an inkling of who she was dealing with.

"What would I do? I would have to run for my life, before the older girl killed me with an oar. And I'm being as nice as I can be, you're not making it very easy, by the way."

Annette had to conceal a smile when she mentioned the oar. She was sure she would never live it down and, had the situation been different, she figured she and this girl could laugh about it in the future. However, since the girl seemed intent on becoming her enemy, she didn't comment on the oar incident. "If you were really being nice, you would have used your manners and been honest about what you were doing here."

The girl was in such close proximity now that it was making her uncomfortable. Her mouth wrinkled in disgust as the girl's breath left a trail on her cheek. It reminded her of the sexual harassment lecture Mummy had given her once. Not only had the conversation been just as uncomfortable as this moment, but the girl was in danger of exhibiting some of the behaviors Mummy had warned her about. Of course, the girl was not sexually harassing her in anyway, but Annette still had that fearful sensation in her stomach.

"I would appreciate it if you stopped laughing at me," Annette told her as she burst into another fit of giggles. "Really, it's quite rude."

"Go ahead, go in there and look, I dare you. But, you know, that is a haunted room, back there..."

Annette glanced back at the room. Indeed, she could stick her head in and look around. She shook her head at the girl. "I don't believe in ghosts or anything of the sort. Of course it's not haunted. If it were, why would you be back there?" She wasn't so gullible; she hoped that was clear to the older girl now. Nevertheless, she crossed over the door and peeked inside. She couldn't detect any traces of movement, so she looked at the girl again. "I don't see anyone, but they could be hiding. Under that blanket, maybe."[/color]

[Poe]

Forever... And For Always

Shrugging her shoulders, Salem sunk to the ground, her dress puffing around her like a cupcake topper, and she beat it down with her fists, letting her shoulders slump, the sleeves of her dress falling slightly. It was very obvious that her outer appearance wasn't her top priority at the moment. "For a kid, you take everything way too literally," Salem said, shaking her head, finding it amusing that Annette had honestly thought she'd meant Celeste Worthington would eat her. 'I only meant..." But she trailed off, deciding it wasn't worth it, to explain something so simple to a child that was still too little to understand half of what came out of her own mouth. Salem glanced around the room, trying to figure out where the squeaking of the rats was coming from, if it was near or far away from her comfortable position on the floor, with her back propped up against the nearest wall. Reaching up, she flounced out her hair, trying to make it a bit messier, running her fingers through the tangles, wincing when she snagged one that wouldn't easily come out. Leaning forward, Salem rested her chin on her knees, her arms wrapped securely around them, her eyes steadying on the girl before her once again.

Hmmm, so she wasn't completely stupid then. She seemed to know some of the cliques, if not by what they were known for, then she was smart enough to match their names up with what they acted like. A smile curved onto her lips, a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Very good," she applauded, clapping several times for the girl, wondering just how proud she was feeling for getting it right.
"Well, it's simply because you aren't in their social class, hun... It's like that in the real world too- it simply isn't possible for a wealthy woman that leads a lavish life with three children and a handsome husband to be friends with her cook, or maid, or nanny." Salem watched the twelve-year-old silently, her head tilted to the side, surprised. You'd think she'd be fine with all this clique nonsense. After all, she was in Florence and she was grouped with the people that normally ducked their heads and simply did as they were told.
Ah, so the girl did have some passion, did have some fire in that tiny little body. She laughed, shaking her head. "I know better than anyone that I'm not better than any of the girls in Florence. I've been judged so many times, and mostly those judgings are right." Her eyes glittered in amusement at the child's cursing. "Language," she chided, shaking her head. "I'm Salem Thatchor of the Heartbreakers, formerly of the Misfits, thank you very much. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Annette Appleby of the Pity Party." Her hand extended to shake the girl's wondering if she'd take it. The look in Salem's eyes was a dare.

Used my manners? Ha. You really don't know me very well, do you? Manners are for pussies." Well, when in the right circumstances manners were very useful. Just, at the moment, Salem Thatchor found them totally unneeded. "I have not been dishonest, I simply haven't told you anything, because you've never come out and asked politely. And anyways, I don't really think you need to know what I've been up to. It's my business, as I've said before.

It isn't my fault that you're so amusing," Salem said, shrugging. "You're just so... innocent. Say, how long have you been here, anyway?" By here, she meant in attendance at Florence. It couldn't have been very long, Salem imagined that she would have been torn to shreds by now... But she shrugged, waiting for the girls answer before sharing this bit of information with her- such as, how much longer she believed the girl would be able to stay alive in this god-awful school.
"Because I'm a witch, and ghosts don't hurt witches," Salem said bluntly, shaking her hair out behind her shoulders, pushing herself up off the ground to stand up and saunter her way over to the girl, her hips swaying. She enjoyed that she'd managed to give the girl the "uh-oh" feeling, and she wasn't planning on stopping any time soon. "I am pretty sure that blanket is full of rats, she whispered.

[Rain]

(OOC: Yikes, sorry for the long wait.}

Somehow, the girl taking her seat upon the floor lessened the tension in the room, at least for Annette. Her muscles relaxed, and she decided this was just what the heated conversation needed. The two of them were due in for some casualness. Annette didn't like being stressed out for this long, which was why she tended to avoid arguments. However, she had been relentless with the girl for a reason, only because she was, as far as Annette could tell, everything Annette disliked in an older girl compacted into one person. Condescending, impolite, and secretive. The only thing about her Annette liked so far was her pretty dress, and even that was ruined with the lack of a corset. Oh, yes, she had a tendency to judge quite quickly...

Hoping it would make the scene less discomfiting, she took a seat as well, her skirt billowing around her body as she hugged her knees. A dark curl resting on her shoulder slid off and hung against her chest, tickling her neck as it went. This had transitioned into something of a conversation, no longer a short encounter between two so very different strangers. She wondered what came next--perhaps they'd find they had more company, or one of them would utter something unexpected, causing the discussion to take a wild turn. At this point, she really couldn't tell.

The girl applauded, and Annette raised her eyebrows, wondering whether she was being serious or sarcastic. It was most likely the latter, so Annette chose not to comment. She'd already brought up the other girl's impoliteness several times, and if she hadn't listened already, there was no chance she would start now.

"Well, it's simply because you aren't in their social class, hun... It's like that in the real world too- it simply isn't possible for a wealthy woman that leads a lavish life with three children and a handsome husband to be friends with her cook, or maid, or nanny."

Annette scratched her elbow. What was this? The girl didn't seem to be making fun; in fact, it seemed rather like some wise advice. This was the kind of thing Annette wanted to hear from someone older. It helped restore her faith in her elders, made her believe that there was more to them than being nuisances who constantly harped on the young ones about how they were dressed, how they acted, how they presented themselves. And then it occurred to her. Hadn't she just been doing the very same thing to this girl? Hadn't she been displaying the very same annoying trait her mother exhibited?

The girl's next statement about being judged only clarified her realization. It had only been a few moments ago that she'd decided she didn't like this girl very much, and then she had to go and say something like that. A childish thought gripped her for barely a second before she swatted it away, disregarding it due to its ludicrousness. No, the older girl wasn't a mind reader. How silly.

"I'm Salem Thatchor of the Heartbreakers, formerly of the Misfits, thank you very much. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Annette Appleby of the Pity Party."

Annette cocked her head. Salem? Wasn't that a boy's name? She didn't voice the question, however, for she figured it would only lead to more disagreements between them. After all, bringing it up would only be petty, an attack on something Salem couldn't control. She hadn't been there to decide her name.

She took her hand, shaking it with as much friendliness as she could muster. "Pleased to make your acquaintance," she said. Always Mummy's little girl. She wished she hadn't said it like that. Old habits died hard. Perhaps this Salem girl could teach her something about loosening up a bit. It was something she'd always longed to do, but never could find the courage to put into action. Was that what she needed, courage? Or was it something else stopping her?

"You're just so... innocent. Say, how long have you been here, anyway?"

"Since I was ten," Annette told her. She figured she needed to back this up with an explanation. "I'm very concentrated on my studies. I've had a few friends here and there, but not anybody I've been very partial to." Did she want a best friend? Yes, very much, but it was quite a challenge finding a girl her age in this school. As for a boy her age...well, she didn't want to catch cooties, did she? She doubted their existence, but there was still that uncomfortable feeling around boys. They were just too dirty and loud. "I was glad to get in on a scholarship." She smiled as she added, "Just like my brother."

She frowned when Salem mentioned being a witch. It was another test of her naivete, wasn't it? She assumed she meant a metaphorical witch--at least, that's what she implied when she spoke of being kicked out of the Misfits. Perhaps she wasn't the nicest person in the world. If she were, her tone wouldn't be such a contemptuous one.

"Full of rats, you say?" Annette repeated. "I guess I'll have to avoid it, then. Wouldn't want to get any diseases."

She brushed some flecks of dirt off the tip of her shoe, contemplating whether to say it or not. It was always best to make amends, wasn't it? "I'm sorry for saying you looked so improper," she told Salem. "Your hair actually doesn't look too bad. I mean, it is messy, but not nearly as horrid as mine in the morning." She shrugged, giggling. "And I'm sure you have a good reason."[/color]

[Poe]

Forever... And For Always

Salem didn't like stress either, it caused breakouts as badly as the curse that came every month did... This is partly why she sat down, wishing to evaporate some of the steam that was boiling off of both of their heads. She yawned, examining her nails. Yes, Salem was all of those things, condescending, impolite, and secretive. But she was so much more too, she wasn't just some hollow shell of a girl, not all the time, anyway. Glancing up at the child before her, Salem offered a slightly smile, extending her legs out in front, crossing them at the ankle and letting her head fall back to the wall again, looking up at the ceiling. The silence that pierced her ears for the few short minutes that neither of them had anything to say to each other was a wonderful and welcomed thing...

The next time she looked up, studying Annette, who was just about as predictable as a horsefly, she had sat down as well, her skirt billowing out around her in a much more lady like fashion than Salem's had done. In fact, as she had sat, her shoulders had slumped, and that much more of her body had been exposed, the curve of her breast highlighted by the yellow light that was coming in from the window right above her. She knew she was confusing her, making her uncomfortable, and she was enjoying it, lounging in every moment of it, soaking it all in. Running a hand through her tangly, messy hair, she let it fall back down around her face, probably looking that much more wild. But really... She didn't care.

With so much silence between the two, Salem wondered if the girl had lost her tongue, and was about to do so, tired of studying the girl's pondering expression, when she finally spoke. Her prim, proper voice cut the air between them, slicing it jaggedly, and Salem scowled slightly before muttered. "No, no, the pleasure is all mine, really. But..." she paused, studying the child for a long, long moment, leaning forward, falling out of her dress even more, "don't you ever... have fun? You sound like a mother, a mother with a cold," she added, a grin growing on her face. "I know us older girls are supposed to be wise and full of advice to help you grow into well mannered, polite young ladies of society. Basically, cookie cuttered cookies. And you only live once. Do you really want to grow up to be that? Don't you want to have some fun?" Seeming to just have realized her indecent exposure, she pulled her dress up a bit higher, tilting her head in the direction of the girl.

Making a face, Salem nodded knowingly. "I've been here since I was ten too. God, I can't wait to get out of this hell hole- pardon my French there, miss. But this isn't my idea of a life. I think I might go back to New York with Clyde someday..." now she was rambling, thinking out loud, wishing out loud... Shaking her head she focused her attention back to the present situation. "Like I said, you need to have some fun in life," she said, shaking her head, playing with the lace on the hem of her white dress, then she looked back at the girl. "At least you are happy to be in on scholarship, because there are a lot of rich snobs here that hate you for being smart, and they need to go cry because they can't add two and two." She shook her head, starting to like the younger girl more and more by the minute.

Nodding, Salem silently agreed with her. "Yes, rats are nasty little beasts unless you can train them not to bite your hand and fingers. Shhhh, listen." Salem had unfolded herself form her place on the floor and had slunk over to stand behind Annette, her front pressing into the girl's back. She rested a hand on her shoulder, holding her still so they could hear the sound of the rats scurrying and digging through the walls, squeaking and scratching. It sent chills down her spine and goosebumps rose on her arms. "They certainly don't like that we're in their home, do they?" Salem asked, looking around, staring at the walls and the ceiling, glad that her own voice was filling the space again.

Psh, don't worry about it. My hair pretty much always looks like this, unless the headmistress takes a brush to my head, but, ah thanks." She smiled tentatively at the child, before shutting the door to the closet, looking back toward the "main room".