Hi! This is a short-ish chapter; sorry! The workload is killing me at the moment: I'd so much prefer to write about mind-reading psychos than study neurology! I hope you enjoy this little instalment; I'm working on Chapter Ten at the moment, so hopefully that won't be too long in coming (: And I'm trying to keep the plot moving too, so that quite a few questions will be answered in upcoming chapters. And developments and all that, yes, yes.

iwishforalotofthings - (heart) you! Nothing more to say.

Choja - Hehe, I was trying to find a balance between fairly gross, but not excessively repulsive. And "eccentric human genius psychic"--hahaha, I like that!

Broken Gold - I really really really appreciate this comment. Thank you! I have been trying to put a lot of work into Ben and Al's characterisation, so that they seem complex, different--not 2D. I hope it's working! And yes, they are both a heap of fun to write, esp. Ben. -ruffles Ben's hair-

LunaSerena - at first i thought georgia nicholson's confessions was a song. XD. as you can see, i haven't read the books, but i'm honoured to be compared to a published work. Thank you for your review!

overthinkher - Thankyouuu for your very sincere sounding reviews! They made me beam (: Hope you continue to enjoy and make random guesses, hehe. I can't reveal anything about the plot yet, buuuuuuut...some of you have been fairly spot on in your predictions so far. AND OMGOSH! I don't think I've ever inspired anyone to do anything before. This is, like, a pivotal Life Moment. I'd love to see your non-fanfic story :P Is it up? I'll go check out your profile.

JaayArrcy - Sadly, that concoction was not actually based on a real life experience - i just sort of chucked random food items together to see what would come out. Although you're free to give Ben's dessert a shot. Or perhaps I shall. I'll let you know. Hehe. And thanksthanksthanks for your review; I'm flattered that you've found the story engrossing so far!

Firebee - Is there a guy reading this story? I'm surprised! (Do correct me if I made an incorrect assumption about your gender.) Thanks for your compliments!

omgscarmen - 8D

Howling Cat - I would consider it an honour to be kidnapped by you and locked in your attic. I hope I continue to entertain you XD Your reviews are wonderful (:

MelodramaticFool - Hahahaha. You sound almost like a real life Callie. Attracting disaster, perhaps? Take care of yourself! O.o And I'm relieved that the naked drawings and stuff didn't put you off! Cheers (:

DARK STARS

Chapter Nine
Lost Cards and Little Worms

That evening, Esther blew a fuse. It was the start of a slippery slope; I could sense it.

She muttered at Aunt Marilyn across the dining table, “Cook your own fucking potatoes, if you can’t stop ragging on Mum’s.”

We all sort of fell into a stunned silence, like animals knocked in the head by a bull-bar. Aunt Marilyn was staring at Mum. Mum was staring at Esther. Esther rolled her eyes and said, “Fine, I’ll go to my room,” and she trotted upstairs with her plate in one hand.

Katy shook her head and remarked, “Problem child.”

“Katy, don’t,” I said. “That doesn’t make it better.”

Katy shrugged an apology and sipped at her orange juice. Oddly, I saw a flash of jealousy in the gaze that trailed Esther out of the room.

--

When I got to university of Monday, Ben was talking to Georgina Potts.

Immediately, I felt a stab of jealousy. What was this? Ben was my friend! I knew him first! How dare he socialise with other people! How dare she steal his attention when my back was turned!

I stalked around the foyer for a minute before I realised I was being stupid, as usual. I did not own my friends. Why shouldn’t Ben make friends with other students in his new course? And naturally, the other students would want to socialise with him—after all, when you took away his pervertedness and his absolute ineptitude in differentiating a cauliflower from a cantaloupe (unacceptable!), he really was quite an attractive young man. And besides, Georgie Potts wasn’t the bad sort: she didn’t associate with Steven Walker and Emma Flint unless absolutely necessary (for instance, hypothetically, if one of them lay dying on the sidewalk and she were the only person in a ten-mile radius with a first aid certificate). And besides that, I noticed that even Alister was socialising with someone new: he was chatting with the student society captain, Jacob Nicholls, over by the men’s toilets.

I told myself, very rationally (because rational is my middle name), that I would simply have to stop acting so possessive and get used to sharing my friends around. (Note also that I was using the term ‘friends’ very loosely here, ie. interchangeable with ‘associates’, ‘acquaintances’, ‘kidnappers’.)

Nevertheless, I experienced a small sense of smugness when the doors to the lecture theatre opened and Ben and Al immediately walked over to me so that we could enter together.

The lecturer was not yet present, and the assembled students were in a controlled uproar. Steven Walker was balanced on a seat at the back of the lecture hall, performing an impromptu striptease for his friends. He unbuttoned his short a fraction at a time, alternating between flirty glances and sultry stares. Once the shirt was off, he whirled it overhead a couple of times before flinging it into his friend’s face, and proceeded to pose, in his Bonds singlet, in various positions that maximally highlighted his biceps.

Ben observed this from where we sat (as far away as possible) and said, “Perhaps you are right: he is an idiot.”

I agreed with no less vigour than Steve deserved, “He is!”

Ben added, casting a thoughtful glance in my direction, “An idiot, yes, but not the devil incarnate.”

A pause. “I don’t hate him that much,” I protested.

Ben simply raised his eyebrows and settled back to listen to the lecture, which I found even more infuriating than if he had replied. I peeked one last time at Steven, who had stopped flexing and was hastily redressing himself—much to the disappointment of Emma Flint and the girls around him.

--

The ATM ate my bank card.

I banged the side of the machine and shouted something rather obscene. A flock of wide-eyed first-years looked up from their sandwiches, fearfully, like I was about to chew their legs off.

“It’s OK,” I quickly reassured them, even though it wasn’t. The stupid machine didn’t even give me the forty dollars I had tried to withdraw. I tried hitting it again, but the only response I received was a tinny female voice that piped: PLEASE INSERT YOUR CARD!

It was taunting me.

“Maybe you should try a less violent approach,” said Alister, coming up behind me with a takeaway bowl of hot noodles. The first-years took one look at his crew cut and his toned biceps and hurriedly bent over their sandwiches. “Be gentle. Try stroking it.”

“I’m not sure how making love to an ATM is going to help,” I said. “Can’t you do your mind-mapping trick on it and persuade it to spit my card out?”

Alister lifted an eyebrow at me whilst shovelling curry noodles into his mouth—only he could have pulled off such an expression. “My ‘trick’ only works on things that actually have minds, Callie. But perhaps Ben can help. He’s coming over now.”

I glanced up. Ben was indeed navigating his way through the lunchtime bustle towards us, albeit slowly. He was concentrating on mixing his Burger Rings into his pasta, which made his progress a little slow.

“Did you know that vermicelli means little worms in Italian?” Ben finally greeted us. “I wonder why they use such a term. It’s rather off-putting, don’t you think?”

I said, “Mmm, that’s nice,” or something equally sympathetic, and then complained loudly, “The ATM swallowed my card!”

Ben ingested a mouthful of little worms. “Damn.”

I waited. Al waited. “So-o-o-o,” I said. “Can you do anything about it, or should I be heading over to the bank where they’ll probably be a little more helpful?”

“Oh,” said Ben. “Right.” He regarded the machine squarely for a few seconds, as though facing up to an opponent, and then swung one arm around firmly and struck the front of the interface.

My bank card flew out of the slot, followed by twenty, forty, sixty, eighty dollars. Ben handed everything to me with a casual air.

“OK, how come it doesn’t do that when I hit it? That is completely unfair.”

“Obviously, you have none of my magic touch.”

“Was it that easy for you, your supreme lordliness?”

“A simple thank-you would suffice, really.”

“Thank-you.”

“You’re welcome.”

--

Afternoon class involved a practical experiment in which we were required to measure the contractility of airway smooth muscle, using animal samples of said muscle suspended in solution. Naturally, Ben and I scurried around doing most of the menial work while Al sat on a stool and presided over the methodology, frequently barking curt orders like, “Start the timer—now, you fools!” or “Put the drug in—now, you idiots!” Needless to say, I think he enjoyed his role far more than either of us did.

I was reading numbers aloud to Ben and he was punching them into the computer when, unintentionally, I found my gaze drawn to his jaw. Had his chin always been so dark? And then I realised what it was: stubble! He needed to shave, and he obviously hadn’t done so for a number of days.

I wasn’t sure whether to say anything or not. What is the accepted etiquette for discussing men’s grooming habits, anyway? It’s certainly not all right to tell a girl she needs to shave her ‘pits—is it OK to tell a man that their mo’ is becoming a bit too much of a ‘fro?

“What?” said Ben, who was a tad irritable after being bossed around by Alister for the past couple of hours. “Is there something on my face?”

I realised that I had halted midway through my reading of the results. “N-no, no,” I said, hastily running a finger along the page. “Uh. Where was I? Oh yes. Twenty point one three five.”

Ben tapped away on the keyboard. “Really? No indeed! How absolutely fascinating!” This was Ben in a bad mood. It wasn’t all too terrible—in fact, he was just as entertaining.

In any case, I bought us all ice creams on the way home. I thought we could use a bit of a pick-me-up after such a long day—and besides, I now had an extra forty dollars to splurge.

YAY! If anyone has read up to here, I'd just like to tell you to GO AND LISTEN TO JACK'S MANNEQUIN. They are a wonderful band that doesn't get nearly as much attention for the quality of their songs/lyrics. Even if you don't listen to the whole album, at least check out Dark Blue and Kill the Messenger and Holiday from Real...hehehe, as you can tell, I'm sort of a fan (:

I'd love it if you could drop me a review, too! One word, abuse, anything! I accept all!