This story is my happy place; I do not plan on ever finishing it. It will go on and on like a soapie. Might break it up into volumes later.
"Grab a bunch of broken misfits, chuck them in a tribe, add some glitter and loads of weird-as garbage, voila...
Lounging on the lawn with Paisley, I feel the first stirrings of true contentment. I haven't felt anything even remotely like this since... I have no idea when. The late summer sun is making me feel lazy and I can see that Paisley is suffering from a similar affliction. We've pooled our food and between the two of us, we've cleared our lunchboxes and the dip container of their contents.
I've made up my mind. If Tanner cooked something, I'd eat it even if he did spit in it. Everything in Paisley's lunchbox was in a class of its own. I thought Aunt Beth's cooking was divine, but I can honestly say that hers pales in comparison. I'm struggling to merge the tasty food with the rather peculiar, uncouth boy, though. It just doesn't fit. I still expect Paisley to shout "gotcha" and laugh at my naivety to believe that he was the one who made it.
"I saw something really strange today," I tell Paisley and she smiles, shaking her head.
"No, unfortunately, that wasn't strange at all. That was a pretty standard Hunter-Tanner interaction," she assures me.
"I thought it was pretty strange," I laugh, "but that is not what I'm referring to."
I tell her all about the Ms Watson experience I had on my way to my English class. "Does Hunter often flirt with people in that way? Especially with older women?"
Paisley blinks at me for a few seconds and then she laughs. "Hunter never flirts. I don't think he knows how," she says. "In fact, he aggressively avoids flirting. Whatever he'd said or done would've been sincere."
"He said she looked fiiiiine today, that the colour of her blouse suited her."
"Wow, that is hot stuff! I'd totally jump a guy who says that to me. You were right, he was definitely flirting." I think Paisley is being sarcastic, but I cannot tell for sure. "Come on! I've often heard friends say that kind of thing to each other," she scoffs.
"Well, it made her smile as if he were Prince Charming and she was Cinderella. Maybe that is h-hot stuff in her world. I doubt that people often say nice things to her. She seems rather lonely-"
Paisley makes a face at me. "Come on! Don't make me feel sorry for the witch! If Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape ever had a love child, Ms Watson would be that child. Our relationship is strictly a rebel versus fascist one. I'd like to keep it that way."
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I shake my head laughing. "Surely, she's not that bad?"
"No, but I am," she grins and takes a long breath, blowing it out loudly, and shrugs. "A little more than a year ago Ms Watson was on her way to her Witches Club-"
"Her what?"
"Just go with it Willow and stop interrupting me! She was on her way to her Witches Club when her car nearly washed off a flooded bridge. There's this section of Mulberry drive that goes through a swampy area. It often becomes flooded when we have a lot of rain and then the river swells badly, super quickly, and comes rushing down very suddenly.
