Chapter Seventy

“I don’t get why you’re coming,” you say to Charlotte.

Daphne and Abigail are walking up ahead. It’s very strange, because they’re walking next to each other, and sometimes their shoulders bump and that makes their faces go red. And one time Daphne took Abigail’s hand and pulled her out of the way of some rude boys who were running down the middle of the corridor and they both walked with a bit of a wobble after that.

Very strange.

“Oh, Dreamer, I don’t think you can begin to imagine how entertaining it is to watch those two,” Charlotte says. “I actually know some of the girls at the gardening club, you know? I have money riding on this.”

How does money ride on something?

Whatever, it’s probably another one of those mortal things. They put a lot of importance on their whole money stuff that you just don’t get.

“By the sway, how’s Poutine?” You ask.

Charlotte makes a wishy-washy gesture. “He’s doing okay. There’s almost always at least one girl staying by the dorm, so there’s always someone to watch over him. He’s become something of a little mascot. Not sure if he really likes it or not, but no one has done worse than pinch his cheeks.”

They pinch his cheeks? The poor thing. You might just have to run another rescue to save him from that kind of horror. Still... if Charlotte says that he’s okay then it can’t be that bad.

“A lot of the older boys are jealous,” Charlotte says with a growing smile. “They come over to try and woo one of the girls and find this little twerp being cuddled and hugged by every woman in the dorm.”

“Why don’t they get the same thing?” you wonder.

“They’re not nearly as cute,” Charlotte explains. Cute? You expression must tell Charlotte something because she explained a little. “That’s when... humans find something worth protecting. You know, small and innocent.”

Ah, then you must be the opposite of cute. You are large and you’re pretty sure you ate an innocent once. “Is Abigail cute?” you ask.

“Hrm,” Charlotte says. “I think so? She has that bookish girl-next-door look going on. Bit gangly, and her big glasses certainly give her a look. We should ask an expert on all things Abigail.”

“An expert?” There are Abigail experts? Wait, of course there are!

“Someone that spends a lot of time gazing at Little Abi. Like, say, Daphne, for example.

Charlotte says.

Ah, of course. You walk a little faster so that you’ve caught up with Abigail and Daphne. It’s okay to ask them questions because both of them are being very quiet. “Hey, Daphne, is Abigail cute?“

Daphne’s face does the reddening thing again and her mouth makes squeaky noises.

You turn to Abigail. “What does that mean?”

Now Abigail is being all fussy. “I, I don’t know?” Abigail says. “But I don’t think I’m cute, or anything. There are other women out there who are far more attractive. Like, um, Charlotte is very pretty.”

“I am rather pretty, thank you for noticing,” Charlotte agrees. “But we were talking about your cuteness. That’s an entirely different metric.”

“Is it? I don’t think I fit in either one,” Abigail says.

“That’s not true,” Daphne says. “You’re very attractive. Perhaps not traditionally so, but to some people, myself included, your type of... attractiveness is, ah... I don’t know where I’m going with this.”

“Hrm,” you hrm. “Maybe if you tell us what makes Abigail cute.”

“Ah,” Daphne says. She looks up, stares at you, then at Charlotte, then it looks like she’s trying to look towards Abigail, but she fails. “W-well. Um. It’s not just the whole picture? It’s little things. The way she fiddles with her glasses, the way she always makes sure all of her notes and things are neat and orderly. The way she gets flustered and excited when she starts talking about all of her dreams.”

“Oh,” you say. And here you thought cuteness was some sort of physical thing. Truly, it’s a subject with a lot more depth than you had originally suspected. “So, Abigail’s cuteness has nothing to do with how good she is at patting and snuggling and cuddles?”

“I’m certain that some of those things factor in,” Charlotte says. “Right Daphne?”

Daphne’s mouth shuts with a click. She huffs. “I refuse to be baited this way.”

Charlotte laughs, and soon Abigail joins in with a bit of giggling of her own. It sounds as if she’s letting off some tension, though you don’t know where the tension is supposed to come from.

Abigail opens up a door that leads outside and soon you’re walking across a path, the sun beaming bright and warm down on your head. It’s much nicer outside, with plenty of flowers making the air taste yum, and there are bees buzzing by that you can snap up as a passing snack.

Then you arrive near the Gardening Club’s greenhouse and your group is greeted at the door by that president of the club lady whose name is so unimportant that you forgot all about it.

“Hello, Amara,” Daphne says.

“Daphne,” the president says. She smiles and then looks between Daphne and Abigail and back. “It’s a pleasure to see you again. Especially with such distinguished guests.” Then her eyes land on Charlotte and she makes a weird purring noise that you’re pretty sure humans don’t normally make. “You’ll find that this is the season where a lot of pretty flowers are in full bloom.”

“Do they taste better that way?” you asked.

The Amara lady blinks, then laughs. “I think some of our members certainly think so. Come on in, we have tea and biscuits.”