Jenna Howard
June 02, 2005 7:17 PM
practice makes perfect by Jenna Howard
Jenna made her way into the Quidditch Pitch, grass crunching beneath her feet. She didn't see anyone else out there, which was a good thing. No one had to see her fumble around on a broom, trying to learn how to play the position of keeper. She wasn't even too sure how to practice guarding the goals without another player around to take shots. She decided to get her mind off of that problem by replacing it with a new one. Jenna had absolutely no idea where the broom closet.She knew she had seen it somewhere around here before, at one of the prior Quidditch lessons. But where? She silently cursed herself for not remembering, or at least thinking to ask someone about it before coming here. She just didn't want anyone to know, because the sooner someone else found out, the sooner Jordanna and father and the rest of the family found out. And she would rather be good at Quidditch when they found out, than bad. The better she was, the more it would torture them.
She walked outside of the Quidditch Pitch, imagining the looks on each and every person in her family's faces once they found out she was going out for the house Quidditch team. Most would be horrified. Uncle Will would probably snicker or something along the lines of that. His son, Will the third, would probably be glad. His life's purpose was to play Quidditch, even though he probably would never play after school, if he wanted to stay in the family. He was next in line for the family fortune, after all.
Finally she came across a shed not too far from the perimeter. She ran up to it, hoping that it would be the broom closet. What other shed would be so close to the Quidditch pitch, anyway? She couldn’t think of any.She opened the big wooden door and took a look inside. As she had expected, it was the broom closet. She grinned with satisfaction, and pulled out on of the brooms. As she did so, a quaffle rolled out of the shed. She closed the shed door and turned around.
“Hey you,” she said, chasing the red quaffle, broom in hand, “come back here.” \n\n
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Jenna Howard
practice makes perfect
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Jenna Howard
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Anne Wright
June 24, 2005 11:40 PM
In theory, at least. by Anne Wright
Anne had wandered out to the Quidditch Pitch because she didn't have anywhere else to go. It was hard to find a place at Sonora where she could be alone. She considered certain parts of the library her personal domain, but other people had the right of wandering into them no matter what she considered them, not to mention that sometimes she got sick of being the perfect little bookworm hunched over her tenth-century texts or whatever other things she imagined people thought she did. Apart from the library, there was her common room and dorm, which both felt too exposed, the Gardens, with their annoying elves and the potential to get lost in the maze, and the Cascade Hall, which was almost always crowded and noisy. That left the Pitch, unless she really wanted to try to break into a classroom.Because she was alone and, more importantly, wouldn't have cared if someone else was around anyway, she lay flat on one of the bleachers, her hair parting around it to fall almost to the foot rest. It was stupid to have long, heavy hair when she lived in South Carolina and went to school in Arizona, but she couldn't bring herself to care enough to bother finding another way for it to be cut. That would make her Grandmother St.Martin think she cared about what she looked like, which wouldn't be in her best interests. Eileen would twist that into her wanting a husband, which she certainly didn't. Besides, she had to do something that made it clear to everyone that her face was the only thing she shared in common with her fair-haired look-alike Gwenhwyfar. If Gwenhwyfar was going to be beautiful, then Anne was going to go out of her way to appear plain.
She began to feel detatched from everything, as if she were going to fall asleep. Maybe she could just stay here for a while...maybe no one would even notice that she had gone...Bella or Rachel might report it to Professor Kijewski, but maybe they wouldn't look for her here...Her eyelids started to drift down, but she jerked them back up as soon as she realized it. Sitting up, she rubbed her eyes to clear her suddenly blurred vision. She needed to get back to the library. She shouldn't have left it in the first place, she had an image to maintain. Bookworm without a life to hinder her, that was Anne Wright. Climbing out of the stands, she began making her way towards the exit.
She heard a voice call out for "you" to come back here. A girl's voice. Her eyebrows drew together with confusion. Who in the heck would be calling for her? At that moment, she felt something hit her ankles. Looking down, she saw that it was a Quaffle with a broom-carrying girl in pursuit.
"Were you talking to me or the ball?" she asked, picking it up and tossing it to the girl. She thought she recognized her from somewhere-one of the second years, a Crotalus. A name eluded her. "I'm Anne," she said after a moment's thought. "Don't think we've met."\n\n
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Anne Wright
In theory, at least.
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Anne Wright
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