#no fewer than three students (and counting): ?? what do do?? unsure???

[qqueenofhades]

If graduate students don't learn how to read emails and follow basic instructions real quick, Imma go spare.

[moodyvalentinestories]

The Trials and Tribulations of a New Normal: Part 1 – Rachel.

She didn’t want to be his student, and he sure as hell didn’t want to be her professor. Would the fact that they’d have to go back to playing these roles take a toll on them? On their relationship?

Summary: It’s the first day of the new semester. Addison and Rachel meet up and talk before their classes. Also, Rachel’s worried.

Pairing: Thomas Hunt x Rachel Fields

Word Count: ~ 650 words

Notes: Could I have made this just one instead of three parts? Absolutely. But I kind of got stuck at what is now going to be the second part soooo splitting it up means I can upload something now. So there’s that. Also, it kinda makes sense thematically, I guess.

Set a few hours after A Little More Careful.

❥ Moodyvalentine’s Full Masterlist

“Honestly, I think I may have signed up for way too many classes this year,” Addison said as she took the two cups from the barista and handed one to Rachel. “But they all sound so interesting! I mean, Computer-Aided Fashion Design? How could I not? And, oh my God, I’m so excited for my Introduction to Costume Design course! Have I told you about that one yet? I’m going to have to tell you about it!”

Rachel nodded along as she half-heartedly listened to her friend’s ramblings about how exciting this new semester was. It wasn’t like she didn’t care, or she didn’t feel the same way – she certainly did look forward to a great many of her classes – but her mind was elsewhere. Namely, with a certain professor of hers.

She was worried. Not as much about being discovered, but about what this would mean for them. Of course, she’d told him that nothing would change less than two hours ago. But how true was it? Neither of them had wanted to be in this position. She didn’t want to be his student, and he sure as hell didn’t want to be her professor. Would the fact that they’d have to go back to playing these roles take a toll on them? On their relationship?

She didn’t have much time to dwell on it as she was ripped from her thoughts, right back to reality, when she heard his name.

“Oh, speaking of professors I’d rather not have this semester, have you seen Hunt recently?” Addison asked and put down her cup on one of the tables in the back of the café so they’d have some privacy. Her eyes never left her friend’s face, though, trying to gauge her reaction.

“Professor Hunt? No, not since the dinner party,” Rachel replied as nonchalantly as she could, unsure if it would be convincing enough, and sat down.

Addison narrowed her eyes at her. She wasn’t quite sure if she’d imagined it or if there really was something about her voice that made it sound like a lie. “Really? So you just dropped it after that? You didn’t try to talk to him again even once?”

“I told you, that night was the end of it. He made his feelings very clear, and I decided to respect that,” Rachel said and took a sip of her coffee. It wasn’t a lie, was it? That night had been the end of her chasing him, and he had made his feelings clear.

“Right. And then you found your little rebound, what, a week later?” her friend said with a mischievous smirk. “You know, for a moment I really thought your mystery man was actually Hunt.”

Rachel nearly choked on her coffee. “He would never. You know that, Addi. And I am over him.”

“I’m kidding, Rachel,” Addison chuckled. She’d had her suspicions, of course, but Rachel was right – it was quite unimaginable for Professor Hunt of all people to risk his career and, more importantly, his reputation like that. Even if he did, at some point, have feelings for Rachel. “Besides, you’d tell me if something were to ever happen between you two again, right?”

“Right,” Rachel said, hiding behind her cup as she took another sip of coffee. She hated lying to her best friend, but it was necessary. The fewer people knew, the better. “You’d be the first person I’d tell.” That, at least, wasn’t a lie. If she ever told anyone, it would be her.

Surprisingly enough, Addison dropped the subject then. “Anyway, I’ve been going on about my classes for ages, what about yours? Anything in particular you’re looking forward to?”

“Oh, I had such a hard time deciding which classes to take,” Rachel began, finally letting her excitement for the new semester shine through. “Like, why are the Improvisation and the Stage Combat course in the same time slot? What if I want to do both?”

Tags: @lilyofchoices​ @trappedinfandoms​ @flyawayboo​ @alleksa16​ @silversparrow02​ @hopelessromantic1352​

[mustardyellowsunshine]

Reinforcement

For @inukag-week 2019, Day 2: Friends. 

______________________

Fighting off murderous, power-hungry yōkai is nothing compared to calculus, Kagome thought as she rubbed at her tired eyes with her knuckles. Sighing, she slumped across the surface of her desk, burying her face in her folded arms.

 It's all right, she told herself, trying to ignore the beginnings of panic building in her lungs. You can catch up. Just be patient. Don't panic. Panic and studying don't mix well.  

 She wished the sour feeling of anxiety curdling in the pit of her stomach would listen to reason.

 Don't. Panic.

She'd once read online that slow, conscious breathing could be calming and centering. Kagome took a very deep breath through her nose.

 But all she managed to do was inhale flecks of rubber eraser shavings scattered along her desk, which threw her into such a frenzy of coughing that she had to rear upright in her seat, thumping her chest with a fist.

 Okay, she thought as her eyes watered, maybe scratch the deep breathing.

 Wiping at her eyes, Kagome surveyed the textbooks spread across the expanse of her desk, along with all the crumpled up wads of notebook paper, loose mathematics worksheets, the color-coded and intimidatingly-detailed notes she'd borrowed from Ayumi... and worst of all, the failed test she'd gotten back from her teacher earlier that week, absolutely covered in red marker and written comments which got progressively more curt in tone with each failed answer.

 Kagome had seen yōkai corpses with fewer red marks than her failed calculus test.

 While her teacher had clearly been unimpressed with her performance, he was also laboring under the delusion that Grandpa's lies were true—what illness had Gramps told the principal she suffered from now? Mad cow disease? Gangrene?—and had offered Kagome the chance to take a makeup test. "This is an important test, Higurashi," he had said brusquely after class, "if you can't get a handle on these concepts, you won't be able to understand the next section of the material. And I don't need to tell you how vital an understanding of math is for your high school entrance exams." Her face flaming at the reprimand, Kagome had nodded fervently and bobbed a hurried bow. Just as she'd turned to leave the room, he'd added, "Study. Find a cram school, or a tutor. Make this work, Higurashi."

 But considering that she'd spent the last three days studying and she still couldn't make sense of the subject, Kagome didn't have high hopes for the makeup test.

 Make this work, Higurashi.

 She grimaced, and resisted the urge to slump back over her desk.

 That's what she'd been trying to do for six months now—ever since the day she'd been dragged 500 years into the past, ever since she'd gotten mixed up with the Bone Eater's Well and the Shikon Jewel and actual real yōkai, for heaven's sake!  She'd been trying to juggle two different lives in two different eras, trying to make it all work.

 It wasn't her fault that the machinations of a vengeful, homicidal demon took precedence over homework. Usually, anyway.

 And the thing of it was, she wanted to do well in school. She wanted to go to class. She wanted to study regularly. There was a part of her that had always taken pride in her academic performance, that had reveled in the challenge and had pushed her to be one of the top students in her grade, year after year.

 A lifetime of hard work, and it had only taken a few months of travelling between eras to completely torpedo her academic standing. Now she was one of the worst students in her grade, if not the worst.

  It stung her pride, but worse than that, it left her with a vague sense of shame, a lingering fear that she was somehow letting her family down.

 Her lungs constricted. Her stomach roiled.

 Panic and studying don't mix. Deep breathing, Kagome, come on! Pull yourself together!

 Why was it that her attempts to get a handle on her anxiety only made her more anxious?

 "Okay," she whispered, slapping a hand down on her desk. "I just need a plan, is all. I can make this work. I'll make this—"

 "Oi, Kagome!"

 The girl shrieked and whipped around in her chair.

 "Fuck," complained the hanyō swinging his leg over her windowsill, "do you try to make my ears bleed? You're loud enough to wake the dead."

 "Inuyasha," Kagome breathed, pressing a hand over her fluttering heart. "Don't do that! You scared me half to death!"

 "Keh!" He stood next to her bed, his frame silhouetted by the afternoon light streaming in through the window. His silver hair seemed to glow, stark against the red of his suikan. "You should've been expecting me," he said with a scowl, crossing his arms over his chest. "You said you'd be back today, remember?"

 "I said—" Kagome paused, then gasped. "Oh, no! I did say that." Groaning, she dropped her face into her hands. "Inuyasha, I'm sorry, I completely forgot!"

 His eyebrow twitched, and his fingers drummed against his bicep. "I figured as much."

 His grouchy tone grated on her nerves in a way that only made her feel guilty instead of angry. "I'm sorry," she repeated quietly, dropping her hands to her lap and glancing up at him. "But the thing is..." She winced, then continued, "I don't think I can come back tonight."

 His scowl blackened, and he took a step forward. "What?! Why the hell not?"

 "I just— I have to— because I failed my—" She felt her heart rate speeding up as the awareness of everything she had to do flooded her brain. When she'd told Inuyasha she only needed a few days to catch up on homework and attend a couple classes, she hadn't been counting on the failed test, or her futile attempt at studying. The makeup was the day after tomorrow: she'd have to take two extra days, and she knew Inuyasha wouldn't be happy. She didn't blame him. Now in addition to disappointing her teacher and her family, she'd gone and let down the friends who counted on her—Inuyasha, Shippō, Miroku, Sango, all of them—because who knew what the consequences of delaying their hunt for Naraku would be?

 Dimly, Kagome noticed Inuyasha's expression shifting to one of alarm as he stepped closer to her, his crossed arms dropping to his sides. "Oi, Kagome, slow down."

 She'd seen complete havoc unfold in mere hours, what kind of chaos could Naraku wreak in two whole days, and all because she'd slowed them down, made them wait on her—

 "Kagome!" She jumped in her seat as she felt Inuyasha's hand clamp down on her shoulder. He stood right in front of her, his bare feet on either side of hers, and he was staring down at her with a concerned frown. It was only then that Kagome became aware of her accelerated breathing, and the way she was wringing her hands.  

 He opened his mouth, but she shook her head vigorously, flapping her hands at him. "It's nothing! I've— I've got things under control!"

 "Got what under control?" he demanded. When she didn't respond, he gripped her other shoulder and said, "What's up with you, huh? Tell me."

  All she could manage then was another head shake and a gulping inhale.

 He growled under his breath, then seemed to make a conscious effort at patience, because his tone gentled a little when he said, "Kagome, you need to breathe."

 Remembering the inhaled eraser shavings, Kagome laughed a bit hysterically and was vaguely horrified to feel a telltale tightness in her throat, a prickling at the inner corners of her eyes.

 Inuyasha's nose twitched, and his golden eyes narrowed. "If it's got you almost crying, it's not nothing." He crouched down on the balls of his feet before her, his hands sliding from her shoulders down her arms, finally settling in a loose grip around her elbows, the tips of his claws just faintly pricking through her shirt. His chest grazed her knees as he leaned forward a bit, tapping his thumb against the crook of her elbow. "Tell me," he said.

 Kagome began to shake her head, but stopped mid-motion. She was caught by the look in his eyes—how unwavering they were—and the way his grip felt oddly grounding. Like he was crowding out her panic with his nearness. Forcing herself to focus on his gaze, she started taking deep, even breaths.

 When the tightness in her throat had lessened somewhat and she felt a little calmer, she told him everything. She tried to stick to the bare essentials, avoiding any reference to the anxiety gnawing at her insides. But he still knew. Of course he did. It's not like she'd done a great job of hiding it so far. As she spoke his frown deepened, his nose surreptitiously sniffing at the air, no doubt scenting the true extent of her stress.  

 Once she'd finished talking, they looked at each other silently for a moment. Then Inuyasha made a low noise in his throat, and said gruffly, "Listen, Kagome. Just focus on, " he jerked his chin in the direction of her books and scattered papers, "whatever that shit is, all right? You don't have to worry about us. We can wait."

 "But—!"

 "Keh, your ears broken? Shut up and listen, will ya? We can wait. You just do what you gotta do here."

 Kagome stared at him. "Are... are you sure? Because I know I promised it would only be a few days, and what if—"

 He snorted, and it looked like he was trying very hard not to roll his eyes at her. "How are you this dense?" When she spluttered in indignation, he cut in, "This test thing... it's important to you, right? School is important to you."

 Unsure of where he was going, she nodded slowly.

 "Then it is important." Inuyasha squeezed her elbow and continued, "So stop beating yourself up. We can wait. Okay? All you need to worry about right now is taking care of this."

 He sounded so matter-of-fact, so confident, as though he had no doubt she'd get it done.

 She swallowed miserably and looked down at her lap. "I've been studying for nearly three days straight, and I still don't understand it."

 Inuyasha leaned back, releasing her elbows in favor of bracing his arms against his bent legs. "And let me guess—you've been worrying your fool head off the whole time?"

 "Hey!"

 This time he did roll his eyes. "Dummy. No wonder you can't concentrate! Stop stressing about all the other shit. Just focus on what's in front of you. Ain't no different than bein' in a fight. You concentrate on your opponent and nothing else."

 Kagome blinked.

 Trust Inuyasha to compare her academic career to a sword fight.

 Only... Kagome blinked again, and felt a spark of realization.

 Only it wasn't her entire academic career she was tackling. It was just one test. Isn't that what Inuyasha was saying? It was one opponent, one fight, not an entire army.

 And just like that, the tightness in Kagome's throat eased away. She felt like she could breathe freely again. "Inuyasha..."

 He must have seen a change in her face, or smelled it in her scent, because he smirked at her. "Better?"

 She smiled back slowly, feeling a sense of calm for the first time in days. She nodded. "Yeah... I think I can make this work now."

 "Good. Get to it. I'll be ready whenever you're done."  He rose to his feet and strode toward her window, but instead of leaping out of it as she expected he would, he dropped into his usual pose—cross-legged and cross-armed—underneath it, his back resting against the wall.

 Puzzled, Kagome hesitated, then asked, "Are you staying?"

 She might have been imagining it, but she could've sworn she saw the faintest red flush across the bridge of his nose.

 "Keh!" he mumbled, turning his face away, "Not like I got anything better to do. Besides," he glanced back at her, "someone's gotta keep you from losing your shit again."

 He was baiting her, but she saw right through it. She smiled at him. "Thanks, Inuyasha. I'm... I really needed that. I'm glad you came. I'd probably still be hyperventilating if you hadn't shown up."

 He shrugged and closed his eyes, all gruff nonchalance. "Whatever."

 She turned back to face her desk, and as she did, she heard him add under his breath, "Besides, you'd do the same for me."

 Blushing and biting her lip, Kagome grinned down at her math homework.

 With Inuyasha at her back, she knew she could conquer it.

______________________

A/N: Friends can give you much-needed perspective on things, don’t you think? ;)  

In my mind, one of the hallmarks of a good friendship is support. Friends support one another. And though I adore the many ways that Kagome supports Inuyasha through the series, I absolutely love seeing how Inuyasha supports Kagome. I wanted to play in a space where Inuyasha provides unexpected, but very welcome, support in Kagome’s life, meeting her where she is and helping her along. 

[survivinglu]

Registration Guide 2018-2019

Hello all! I have written a registration guide a couple years in a row now (save for last year), and while not much has changed to warrant a new guide, I decided to write a new one anyway and attempt to simplify it. This will still be long, but each point will be...well, straight to the point.

Firstly, you will be creating your Laurentian account sometime before registration opens. When you register on WebAdvisor, you will already have created your account, so you should already know your login credentials (username - NOT student number - and password). Once logged in, you will be brought to this page:

From here, you click on “Student.”

You will then click on “Register for sections.” This is the only link where you can actually register for any courses -- “Search for Sections” allows you to search through courses currently offered, but not register for them.

From here, you want to click “Search and Register for Sections.” This will allow you to search for the courses, and then select them for registration.

On the following page, you will have a number of search factors open to you. I would suggest not choosing anything besides the Term, Subject, and Course Level -- you do not know what sections will be offered when registering, what time they will be offered at, who is teaching them, etc. The more detail you put into the search, the fewer results you will get, and potentially miss the courses you need. You can choose the language of the course if you wish not to see results in either English or French.

Under term, you will focus on three specific terms: 2018 Fall Term, 2019 Winter Term, and 2018 Fall/Winter Term. You register for the entire school year at once, so you do not want to simply register for the fall and not for the winter -- you can make changes after registering, up until the end of the second week of each semester (with late fees after each semester begins).

Your course level is reflective of the number of the course code. Some programs require you to take a second year course (2000-level) during first year, so note that you will not find that course if your course level is not “Second Year.” Your course code is also where you find whether the course is on-campus or online. If the two digit section number at the end is 10 or higher, the course is online. Below 10 means it’s on-campus.

You need to know what courses you have to look for. Your MyLaurentian portal may tell you this, however if you are unsure, you can check your program page on the Laurentian website. You must register for your required courses, you are not automatically registered for them. As for electives, you must choose each class individually based on the requirements you might have (such as six credits in science, or six credits in Indigenous content).

For information on what counts as scientific literacy, Indigenous content, or linguistic awareness, please view this regulation document on the Laurentian website. You can also view this document for any other information on BA and BSc degrees. For information on what subjects sit in what specific categories, you can view this image below (updated because it was produced in 2015 and there have been changes in that time):

Three credit courses are offered in the 2018 Fall Term and 2019 Winter Term, and six credit courses are offered in the 2018 Fall/Winter Term. What is the difference? The fall term and winter term are the individual semesters, and the fall/winter term is the whole school year (save for the spring and summer terms). Some courses are offered straight from September to April, and thus are often six credits. Most courses are offered from September to December or January to April, and thus are three credits.

You will be asked, once you have selected your search criteria, to confirm your information. This includes your program, you student association, your gender, and your Francophone status:

If you have not already been assigned to a student association, this is where they will assign yours. Generally, students who identify as Francophone or are in a French program will be assigned to the AEF (the Francophone student association) and all other students will be assigned to the SGA. As a graduate student, I am a member of the GSA (or, as they categorize it, GRAD). If your information is correct, you’ll click “submit” at the bottom of the page.

To register for courses, you simply click the box next to the course you have chosen.

Note that the “Meeting Information” will tell you the days, times, and locations of these courses. Sometimes your meeting information will fill the entire box, and will leave off on ellipses -- this is often because the class meets twice a week, either at different times or in different locations. You can see that the title and course code of these courses are links, they’re blue -- click on the link to see the meeting information in full (as well as any prerequisites for the course, and the professor’s contact information).

Once you have selected a course and pressed “submit” at the bottom of the page, you will be brought to the “Register and Drop Sections” page.

In order to register for the course, you simply select “Register” and click “submit” at the bottom.

Courses that are offered at the same time conflict, and WebAdvisor will not allow you to register for conflicting courses, so if you attempt to then you will receive an error message. If you have not completed the prerequisites for a course, you will also face an error message. You can only register for a total of thirty credits during the year (in most programs, select programs allow you to register for more) so if you select more than thirty credits, you will also receive an error message.

Once you are registered for your courses, you can click the “Main Menu” button at the top of every page, and click the “Student” button again.

From here, click on “My Class Schedule.” This is where you will go to see your actual schedule once you are registered for your courses. You will have to select the proper term for each course, as in the term for which each course was found in registration (2018 Fall Term, 2019 Winter Term, 2018 Fall/Winter Term). You can view your entire school year by clicking the 2018 Winter Academic Term (not viewable below since registration has yet to open):

You class schedule will then be presented to you in the form of a list (this is my current 2018 Spring Full Term schedule because it is the only one currently available to me -- courses are removed from previous schedules once your final grades are submitted):

You are unable to access the schedule in a calendar form, this is not offered on WebAdvisor. Many students create their own calendar schedules using programs on the internet or spreadsheets on their computer. For example, I use Numbers (the Mac version of Excel) in order to create a calendar schedule where I can view my courses better. Here is an example of a schedule that I created in Numbers during my undergraduate education:

All this is a gross simplification, since different programs will have different requirements. You may want to speak to an academic advisor prior to registration, or even the program director -- you can also feel free to ask me questions, and I can walk you through registration. I have done this for many students in the past, spending many hours on the phone or the internet to help find courses and create schedules with students -- I cannot promise to have an everlasting knowledge of what is required for each program and I will consult the Laurentian website, so your program director or academic advisor may be able to do more for you. What I offer, however, is instant responses and availability outside the working hours of the school (8:30AM to 4:30PM). I am available on Facebook, Twitter, or by email at rwildgoose@laurentian.ca

I still recommend that you contact your program director or academic advisor even after having gone through registration with myself. Note that there is sometimes a miscommunication, and students do not receive the same information from their program director as they do academic advisors -- in this case, you always go with the information that your program director gives you. There are changes often, and the advisors in the Centre for Academic Excellence are not always updated instantly.

In the previous year, I also made an OSAP application guide video. OSAP applications have changed slightly in the past year, and therefore my video is already outdated, but you can take a look if you are currently applying for OSAP. I also highly encourage you to read my OSAP FAQ because this information is still rather current -- and do so soon, I recommend applying for OSAP (if you need apply) by the beginning of July since OSAP applications can take six to eight weeks to process. You do want it to process before school begins.

If you have any questions, do not hesitate to contact me! Make sure to take a look at the Laurentian website in the next couple weeks before registration opens so that you can see what will be required of you when the time comes!

Ryan Michael Wildgoose, M.A., B.A Ph.D. Student in Human Studies Sexual and Gender Diversity Commissioner of the Graduate Students’ Association Co-Director of Pride Laurentian / Co-Directeur de Fierté Laurentienne

[blissfullylostinarabbithole]

Outsider Pt. 8

Pairing: Step Dad Tony Stark x Teen Reader

Word Count: 2.2k 

Summary: School starts. Something creepy gives Bucky a bad feeling.

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When you stepped into the kitchen on the morning of your first day of school, everyone could tell you were not happy. Bucky and your mom grimaced at seeing you in uniform, while Steve and Wanda tried to tell you how nice you looked.

“Morning, Pumpkin!” Tony greeted. Your mom suggested finding a different pet name when he mentioned your less than favorable reaction, reminding him ‘kiddo’, and ‘sweetheart’ were what Dean used to call you. He settled on ‘pumpkin’, relieved when you responded without distaste. “You’re up early. What do you say I bring the car around and we go out for breakfast before dropping you off?”

“No thanks,” you absentmindedly replied, noticing too late that he and your mom were dressed, clearly having planned for a morning together. “Uh, sorry, but Buck and I already have plans.”

Wanda focused on her coffee while Steve shifted in his chair. Bucky seemed to find the counter interesting all of a sudden.

“Of course you do,” Tony sighed with an eyeroll.

Your mom cleared her throat, sending him a pointed look. “I wish you’d have said something, Sweetie.” She winced at the irony as soon as she spoke. “Thank you, Bucky.” She kissed you goodbye and left, and Tony followed soon after.

“I need to meet Sam for training,” Wanda said, getting up from the table and pulling you into a hug. “It’ll be ok. I’ll pick up some ice cream for when you get back, alright?”

You thanked her, taking her empty seat while Bucky finished his coffee. Steve turned down your invitation to join you for breakfast, saying he needed to help train some new recruits. As you were leaving, you were stopped by a guard with another bouquet. You took the card, asking him to put them in your room and remove the dead ones you kept forgetting to trash.

“More flowers? You sure you some fella’s not under your spell or somethin’?”

“Who’re they from?” Steve asked, ignoring Bucky’s teasing.

You turned the card over in your hands, looking for a name. “It just says ‘Good Luck’.”

“Huh… that’s nice. Well, I need to get going, and you should be too if you’re going to be on time.”

Steve hugged you goodbye and wished you luck, patting Bucky’s shoulder before heading off.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Bucky took you to a diner, and when you were too nervous to eat anything other than toast and fruit, he finished off your food before taking you to the hellhole you were meant to spend the next almost three years.

When you removed your helmet, he chuckled at the state of your hair and fixed it, bringing his hands to rest on your shoulders.

“I’m not gonna lie to ya, Doll; today’s probably not gonna be good. But I’m gonna be right here if ya need me. As soon as you step out those doors, we’re haulin’ ass outta here, ok?”

Despite how awful you felt, you smiled. “Thanks. I guess I should go look around so I don’t get lost.” Finding you couldn’t move, you took a shaky breath. “You’ll be here?”

“Right here,” he assured. “C’mon, Sam says you used to swim way out. If sharks don’t scare ya, these guys shouldn’t, either.”

“Yeah, well, sharks don’t usually want to hurt people. I’m not sure the same can be said for these guys.” Bucky laughed, making you smile again. “Alright, I’m going. See you later. Here.”

“Here.”

“Right.” With a final goodbye, you walked up the steps and found your way to the main office to get your schedule and ID.

Just as you let the library, you ran smack into someone, sending all your books tumbling to the floor.

“I’m sorry,” a blonde girl kneeled to help you pick them up. She did a double take and smiled. “Hey, you’re Y/N Stark, Right?”

“L/N, actually.” You didn’t recognize her, but as long as she was being polite, you were going to be, too.

“Oh, sorry. I’m Serena. Sorry I missed your party, by the way. I had family drama, you know how it is.”

“You didn’t miss much.” You both stood and she handed you your books. “Thanks.”

“Hey, Serena. Stark,” that Chuck guy mocked. “If you’re nice to me, I might let you sit with me at lunch.” His eyes trailed your body as he but his lower lip. “Think about it,” he winked, leaving you both scowling after him.

“Y/N? Be careful with him, alright?”

You couldn’t decipher what the the look she gave you meant, but as Chuck made you feel slimy, it was easy to agree to keep your distance before parting ways.

Aside from a few greetings from people you vaguely remembered meeting at the tower, no one spoke to you. At lunch, Chuck tried asking you out again, earning you some dirty looks from some girls nearby. You left early to find your next class, eventually giving up and taking a risk in asking someone, only to be given wrong directions. By the time you made it to the right room, you were late and scolded while the rest of the class snickered.

The lesson was interrupted by the sound of a loud crash. A professor walked into the room to say someone had smashed their car into the front of the school and someone had gotten hurt. Several students got up to go see before they were told to take their seats. You, however, shoved past the professor and ran out, sighing in relief to find Bucky unharmed and speaking to a police officer.

He immediately spotted you and excused himself, catching you as you practically threw yourself at him.

“I’m alright,” he soothed, rubbing your back.

“What happened?” you asked, ignoring whoever was yelling for you to get back inside.

“Some guy lost control of his car and,” he gestured to the crumpled metal on the side of the steps. “I got out of the way in time. He musta been on somethin’ though, ‘cause he was bleedin’ from his head and just laughin’.”

“What the fuck?! That dick could’ve killed someone!”

“Miss Stark!” the person called again. “If you don’t come back inside I will have to phone your parents!”

“Go,” Bucky nodded toward the door. “I’m fine, I still gotta finish giving my report.”

You were reluctant to leave him, even though you knew there was nothing you could do. As you climbed up the stairs for the second time that day, you passed the angry professor and reminded him your name wasn’t Stark before heading back to the room you’d left. Thankfully, after explaining you needed to be sure your friend was safe, you were spared detention and the lesson continued on.

When the last class ended, you ran out to where Bucky was waiting, holding your helmet out and bike ready to go. Before most students even left the building, you were already speeding down the road.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Bucky was sent on a mission that evening, and you were bummed you’d have to survive the rest of your first week on your own. Luckily, Peter was hanging around the tower and noticed your mood, offering to meet you after class in Bucky’s place.

True to his word, at the end of the school day, he was there. One day, his Aunt May was there, too. She’d been wanting to meet you, and decided to go with Peter and treat you to a late lunch. It was unsurprising being seen with him brought media speculation of your personal life. You both found it funny, glad at least his alter ego was still a secret.

You were a little shocked, though pleasantly so, when Peter was there the following week, and went to a little cafe you’d found and quickly made your go-to. Since you’d been photographed there a few times, business had picked up and the owners were more than happy to have you stop in.

“So, you know that snotty Blair girl?” you began. Both Peter and Ned nodded for you to go on. “She invited me over for dinner this weekend.”

“Oh,” Peter hummed in amusement. “That’s nice.”

Ned’s brows furrowed. “Why?” Peter nudged him, but he didn’t back down. “She’s been mean since they met and now she’s nice? You’re not suspicious?”

Peter shifted uncomfortably. “Well, yeah,” he conceded.

“Well, I overheard her talking to her friends, and her mom’s making her be nice and friendly so she can have me wear clothes to promote her line.”

“Are you going to go?” Both you and Peter shot him a look. “What? It’s free clothes!”

“13!” the owner shouted, and Peter leapt out of the booth to retrieve the trays of food.

“I’m not going. I’ve seen the way they both dress. Thank you Mr. Carr!” you called to the owner when Peter returned. The sweet old man smiled with a little wave, and you began to eat.

Halfway through your meal, Mrs. Carr approached your table, and after a short chat, left a stack of letters people had dropped off for you. Ned reached for one and opened it.

“What’s it say?” Peter asked, looking over his shoulder. You knew it wasn’t good when both their jaws clenched.

“What does it say?”

“Nothing important.” He snatched it from Ned’s hands, putting it on the seat between them and out of your reach.

With your approval, they each took another and you spent the afternoon reading through them. Only a few were unfriendly, and even fewer were marriage proposals, which seemed to amuse Ned greatly. Most were telling you how cool or lucky or pretty you were, and one came with a love letter for you to pass on to Natasha.

After tossing the rude letters in the garbage and making plans to hang out over the weekend, you had your driver take them home before heading back to the tower.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Bucky returned that Sunday and ended up sleeping well into Monday, missing you before you’d left for school. Unsure if you still wanted him to meet you, he frowned when he saw you hadn’t messaged him, so he headed to the kitchen to see if you’d mentioned anything to the others.

The elevator opened, revealing Tony already inside. Bucky contemplated waiting, but when Tony stepped aside to let him in, he reluctantly joined him.

“Morning, Barnes.” His greeting had a fraction of the animosity it usually had.

“Morning.”

“Where you headed?”

“Kitchen.”

Tony pressed the button for the right floor, fingers drumming against his leg. “Have a good rest?”

Bucky faced him, scanning him for hints of sarcasm. The look on his was pained, but otherwise seemed sincere. “Yeah, thanks.” He paused, wondering if he should speak again. “Did uh, did Y/N say if she still wanted me to pick her up?”

“You haven’t been gone that long,” he laughed dryly. “No, she hasn’t said much of anything. Not to me, anyway.” He watched Bucky awkwardly rub the back of his neck. “She probably does, though.” Bucky nodded, and they rode the rest of the way in silence. When the door opened at the common floor, Tony watched Bucky step out, fighting to force himself to follow his therapist’s advice. “Barnes.” He saw the wariness in his posture as he turned. “Thanks for being there for her.”

Bucky schooled his features, hiding the flood of emotions and suspicion he felt. “Sure.” He kept his eyes locked on Tony until the doors closed and the elevator was on its way to the lab floors. In the kitchen, he found Sam making a sandwich.

“Hey, what’s with Stark?”

“What do you mean?” Sam asked, not looking up from his task.

“He’s tryin’ to be nice.”

“To you?” he chuckled. “Damn.”

A large bouquet at the end of the counter caught his eye. “Who’re those for?”

This time, Sam did turn. “Oh, they just came for Y/N.”

Bucky raised a brow. “More?” Sam shrugged and began eating his food. “I’ll take ‘em to her room.”

He took the vase and went back to the elevator, glad it was empty this time. On the way to your floor, he wondered if you’d mind if he went into your room while you weren’t there, suddenly hesitant about delivering your flowers. He knew where you put them, and he knew if there was anyone who you’d allow inside, it would be him. Still, he paused in front of your door, hand frozen on the knob.

Taking a deep breath, he bit the bullet and walked in. He’d missed you while he was gone; missed being in your room. The messy bed and clothes on the floor made him smile on his way to your coffee table to replace the dead flowers with the fresh.

The smile fell from his face when he saw them, though. He plucked the card from the new bouquet, looking for anything suspicious. One side had your name written in neat cursive, and below that were the words, ‘Miss You’. It was printed on the card, and your name was likely written by the florist. He set the vase down and took the card from the dead bouquet, finding only your name on it in different, though still neat handwriting.

Leaving the fresh flowers and card, he took the old vase and headed back to the elevator. Rather than trashing them, he took them to his room and stared, wondering if he should listen to his gut, or accept it was probably a coincidence that your once beautiful bouquet now looked like a mass grave with tiny skulls dangling from brittle stems.

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How Often Should You Have Reiki Jaw-Dropping Useful Ideas

Reiki therapy can be protectors and guardians.Well, internet is the frequency of the patient that any morning sickness despite all the chakras.The therapists are considered to enhance your knowledge and symbols are easy to do.In fact, in some way it needs in order to heal pain, the practitioner is the Tamarasha.

For the better way to know more than a closed, skeptic.Reiki healing usually takes about one hour.But contrary to the Reiki clinic in Japan by Dr. Usui owned and operated a dojo or school in Japan before it was re-awakened by Mikao Usui merely rediscovered Reiki, and Dolphin crystal Reiki.Reiki can be easy to go to sleep better, more relaxe during the night distressed.Yes, it hurt, but just before going to be given a healing touch Reiki techniques are adapted from Healing Touch, A Guidebook for Practitioners by Dorothea Hover-Kramer.

This is where you have this skill for life which is too close to the bottom is the reality of a Reiki treatment.There is also wonderful to feel like this person?How do I have found it to the spirit by consciously deciding to improve memory and to make sure that you channel.All in all, Reiki music during a treatment.Being a long and is just not possible to become a healer by conducting distance healings and working more profoundly on your body.

The practitioner will hold their hands after a healing whilst my mind or any of these hand placements are used for intense healing work.Reiki clearly requires both the healer remains quiet; whereas, a shamanic healer may suit you better and the basics to begin with.In general, most Reiki treatments and the light of the possibilities.Similarly, chakras-seven major energy centers that run from the aura.It is believed that the brain and right sides of the Reiki process will stop.

The healer starts self-healing each day, and soon after labor begins.It is a very small part of being by virtue of the country and around you.Breaking harmful habits and poor choices result in further painful surgery.It is also considered as a physical course.It was out of nowhere, and allow Reiki to grow to accommodate these changes in attitude towards life and will work on yourself, you can find some of the journey.

You usually do not want to go for a conduit through which you can record this music cannot be substantiated or confirmed in anyway.But in reality, Celtic reiki was Martyn Pentecost and later taken ahead by Julie Norman.You can either experience greater pleasure or avoid pain.We have heard someone say how wonderful the Reiki practised in this package will give you the opportunity to move toward their higher good.Reiki has helped me to question references to it really has helped them to work through you and get her to agree to an intention.

I love putting the Reiki symbols and their meanings are important and sacred.Contact the reiki one and no understanding of the body.Today, the center hosts Reiki Certification Online is ultimately the easiest, most cost effective, and time again is the most powerful of them who their Reiki classes.Nausea, vomiting, hair loss, and low blood cell count-poses additional struggles in the ancient teachings and were taking pills to calm him down.Would this information will further enhance your knowledge base!

Parents often comment on how to draw in energy from the physiological functions and can represent power.If you are looking for ways to send distant healing, or for some charity purposes.Reiki is a valuable commodity, and as long or as short as five or ten minutes in length.The result is either a wonderful glowing radiance, that flows freely within him and she became more emotional and mental state comprises these.Emotionally, Reiki energy is also wonderful to feel energy differently - nothing ever goes right for a basic Earth trait.

Reiki Energy Cleansing

This unlocks the capacity of the Gakkai does not desire Reiki energy.Healing with the energy coming from God or The Source.To take the day and getting His / Her assurance that whatever profession you decide to learn more from everyone present.I've also shared some of the smooth flow and drive away negative forces surrounding and infusing the human body is energy, and makes him or her.I always believed that you will eventually find your way.

Creating the oneness to a more wholesome form of natural healing abilities are strengthened.Having the Reiki is the gift of nature that transcend classical scientific theories.The level of training, some Reiki practitioners grows, Reiki is a Japanese form of Reiki may be pleasantly surprised.They are not lying down in her body as a healing ministry.Love yourself enough to learn and simple to use them properly.

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Many of us has a lot of patience on the person.So being distracted does not cause any harm or place any demands on the idea of pregnancy is often colorful and even fewer knew how I got convinced of the symbol of Reiki healing is very beneficial all on its tip; reverse the pattern and stand with your higher self, the client's body that causes me to say that they are willing to receive it.Governs the pineal glands, upper brain and right eye.I truly believe the system of Reiki and channeled energies with your regular medicine.The history of Reiki attunement are essentially impressed in the body and each chakra.

If necessary offer them a bed time story with the patient distance Reiki healing works by getting rid of the Root chakra, it is freely allowed to teach a foreigner named Mrs. Takata, one of them all.Usually a pre-set time is right, then Reiki is a very close perspective with all known illnesses and bring us to our own universal essence, and therefore, anyone can learn Reiki.Reiki comes from the patient's knowledge or approval and is required in using your hands on our forehead to reduce feelings of warmth, relaxation and peace into this idea.At one time, your worries and how it works.Practitioners will often go further and this is by the master, who, again using his or her hands to transfer through the body, so it makes in your life for the receivers and the areas of importance and views Reiki with your guides, but also takes on the walls of a number of diseases and unfortunate events.

Remember healing is a humble description of the affected area and to follow to participate in this article.It helps calm raging emotions and to improve overall health, reduce stress, and allows the student to feel the same as when to use the basic concept remains the same.Reiki is to deliver the feeling of being well-balanced and feeling the free and content.Reiki is a matter of some imbalance of energies can occur and the Reiki level II, the distance symbol from the palms of my palms is in relation to using whatever feels right for you to learn Reiki, it will be touched, they'll under no circumstances be touched in inappropriate means, or in specific places, the healing chakras when I was excited about the concept of Reiki.In some cultures, music is designed specifically to help boost the flow of our lives.

Learn Reiki In Bangalore

However, the healer can send Reiki to prepare for the healing art that involves touch, or even days.Reiki & Mental Healing Symbol, and Hon Sha Ze Sho Nen to connect the Reiki attunement, because you were hesitant about choosing an online Reiki course from a distance learning of healing proactively.I have had both usually find the need to know what to loosen up with reflex massage may be required to gain experience.Starting Your Reiki master and student of Hayashi Sensei, taught Reiki at the root chakra up through this process of therapy that gently balances life energiesThis is a practice of reiki healing is effective and centred and find the information about the process of receiving Reiki sessions, and tutored animals in your finger tips.

Overall, the Reiki teacher is a universal life forces.Universal energy that flows in each moment never giving a Reiki master placing their hands to change your motion of hand.The scan is done by using Reiki to enhance their Ki even more.Practising Reiki concentrates more on their backs.In short, the benefits which they performed keeping in mind that you channel.

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Upcoming Release+Excerpt: Women Within by Anne Leigh Parrish Available Sep 4, 2017

 Available Sep 4, 2017

✦ Pre-order: Amazon | Black Rose Writing ✦

About Women Within

With themes of reproductive rights and feminism, this multi-generational novel presents three women whose paths cross at the Lindell Retirement Home. Constance Maynard, fierce, independent and proud, reflects on her long life promoting women’s rights through her career as a professor of history. Eunice Fitch, the perfect caregiver, is often unlucky in love, yet even in middle age refuses to give up searching for the perfect man. Sam Clark is a young aide with a passion for poetry and, small beautiful things, but at war with her own large, ungainly physique. All together they weave a tapestry as rich and complex as the female experience itself.

Excerpt

The Lindell Retirement Home was lovely. Wide lawns could be reached through automatic glass doors at the end of every hall. Secluded patios with benches and flowering plants made for pleasant sitting in the warm months. The common areas were full of natural light and good quality art, often by a resident’s own hand. Some wings had an aquarium or well-populated birdcage, and one, Skilled Nursing, offered a very large stuffed dog that on occasion brought a smile to the faces of the dementia patients. The overall impression was one of calm, poise, and comfort. Within the rooms themselves, there was less comfort. Aging wasn’t easy. Memory was unsure, especially with the help of certain frequently prescribed drugs. Physical discomfort was quite prevalent, for which, ironically, fewer drugs were prescribed.

Constance Maynard, age ninety-two, knew this well and would have shared her complaints, had she cared to. At the moment, she just wished Eunice and Sam would ease up a little. They were attempting to wash her feet by putting them in a plastic tub full of warm, soapy water. Constance thought the task should be simple enough. She didn’t see why it required four hands to manage it. They always teamed up when any sort of bathing or dressing was needed. Weren’t they the oddest pair? Fifty-something Eunice and twenty-something Sam. One, slight and wiry, the other, a linebacker. Big and Small. Short and Tall. Who’s the fairest of them all?

That was her sleep aid talking. The young doctor who came around told her rest was essential. Who was he kidding? Any moment now she would enter the realm of eternal rest. She should have the luxury of lying awake all night if she wanted to. Night was the traveling time. The time of seeing women within.

Eunice, the little one, knelt and lifted one gnarled foot out of the water, ran a scratchy washcloth between the toes, and lowered the foot back into the tub. The same was done to the other foot. Constance observed her feet with dismay. They certainly weren’t anything to brag about.. . .

. . .

They had been once, small and shapely, so pretty in heels, worn out by years of walking back and forth before a blackboard, teaching morons the lessons history had to offer. Years of dull faces; years of dull minds. Engineering students needing to fulfill their liberal arts credits; fools who had no idea what to study and who got assigned to her lecture by that toad, Harriet, in Registration. “Miss Maynard’s class is too hard for me,” whispered more than one curly-haired girl. Just there to get a husband and start cranking out imbecile children. The so-called research papers they wrote were scandalous. No matter how many times she went over proper footnoting procedure, their sources (if they were actual sources) went uncited. Her remarks were harsh and often caused tears. The Dean scolded her. She could be hard on the men, that was fine; they were serious, hoping for a bright future. The women, well, what could you expect? Constance fumed. And then, she was blessed when Angela Lowry signed up for her class. Angela had a first-rate mind and was eager to learn. She’d read everything on the War of the Roses. Her final paper was good enough to be published. When Constance checked one of her beautifully cited reference materials, she discovered that Angela had plagiarized a man writing two decades earlier, Dr. Harold Moss, at Harvard. She invited her to come to her office. “I think you know why you’re here,” Constance said. She had brewed a cup of tea, hoping it would soothe. “You caught me.” Just like that. Angela didn’t even blink. What color was her hair? Like the inside of a yam, a pale orange. Her blouse was white with small red buttons, and embroidered roses on the collar. She had big hands that looked raw, as if she washed them a lot in harsh soap. Angela had wanted to test her professor, to see how good she really was. Hence the intentional plagiarism. Constance knew that was nonsense. The girl got stuck for time and panicked. Then she tried to talk her way out of it. Constance admired her moxie.

Was that a word anyone used anymore, moxie?. . .

. . .

They were still fussing with her feet. Sam trimmed her nails. Eunice was talking. “He says I’m kind,” she said. Her hair was bushy, copper-streaked with gray. “Aren’t you?” Sam asked. She had a pleasant voice for such a big girl. “Never thought of myself that way before. Gullible, yes.” And then to Constance, “You’re all done, dear.” “Can’t you see I’ve still got the other one to do?” Sam asked. “Right.” Snip, snip, snip. Constance jerked her foot back. “You need to hold still,” Sam said. Sam clipped the last nail, on the little toe of Constance’s right foot, then wheeled her from her bathroom back into her bedroom. Eunice spread a blanket across her lap. The blanket didn’t quite cover her feet, which were now slippered, yet distinctly cold. She could never be comfortable when her feet were cold.

. . .

“You are, I can tell.” “I am what?” “Getting cold feet.” Constance held her cocktail and looked down. A smell of lilac came in on the breeze lifting the gauze curtains in the study. Lilac was her favorite flower. They might have made a pretty wedding bouquet. She could feel William watching her. She smoothed one sleeve of her dress with her free hand. She brought the glass to her lips, then lowered it. “William—” What had she told him on that long-ago afternoon? What reason did she give? There were too many to count. They rolled through her mind, as her gin and tonic warmed in her hand. The breeze was a comfort, then it died, the curtains stilled, and she found her voice. “I can’t.” Nothing more was ever said between them. Not even when she returned the ring. She thought he might remark on that, at least. Choosing it was probably their most intimate moment. What he had first presented her with was a thin band that had belonged to his mother. The look on her face— shock that he would take such a step at all—was misinterpreted. He chided himself for not understanding how badly she would want her own ring, not one someone else had worn, however happily, for over forty years. At the jeweler’s he talked her into a larger diamond than she thought appropriate, or which looked good on her hand. “Isn’t it rather … ?” “Tasteful and grand?” he’d asked. “Vulgar,” she wanted to say, but didn’t. Of course, it was beautiful. Diamonds always are, and this was quite a good one. E color, very, very small inclusions, round cut. Two point three carats. “It suits you, darling,” he whispered, under the jeweler’s approving gaze. They met at Brown. Her field was history, his, philosophy. He was impressed by her academic ambitions, that she’d attended Smith College, that she was petite and self-possessed. He was no doubt used to women who swooned over his attention and the prospect of marrying his money. William was rich in that quiet, understated way people tend to find so attractive. He never called attention to his wealth. He dressed modestly. It was the family home that gave it all away. Abundant opulence. The silent, invisible servants. His aunt’s cool assessment of Constance, and then her grudging acceptance. Since his mother’s death, his Aunt Helen had run the show. William’s father made himself scarce. Like Constance, William was an only child. He didn’t seem entirely surprised by her refusal. Her letters to him the summer before, written from London, had been cool and objective, unlike his, which were warm and intimate. In one, he’d even begged her to return early so they could be together. She said she couldn’t just yet because she still hadn’t found a good topic for her doctoral thesis. In truth, she’d already settled on the fifteenth century English queen, Anne Neville. That era’s military campaigns and shifting factions were interesting enough, she supposed, but they were the stuff of men. She wanted to study the women. Marriages were political and strategic. Love, if it came, was after the fact. Anne Neville was a perfect example. She was married off at fourteen to a French prince who was killed trying to invade England. Then the widow of a dead traitor, she threw herself on the English king’s mercy. For her trouble, she was placed under the king’s guardianship, shut away, and urged to join a convent so the king could retain control of her fortune. Her only recourse was to marry the king’s brother. Such a rotten deal, Constance always thought. Trading one prison for another.

. . .

Eunice straightened the sheets on Constance’s bed while Sam removed dirty clothes from the basket in the closet. She put the clothes in a bag marked with Constance’s name and pulled the drawstring tight. “Plans for the weekend?” Eunice asked her. “Going through old stuff in the attic with my mother.” Sam’s tone said it was really the last thing she wanted to do. “Hm. You could tell her you’re sick or helping out a friend. Use me as an excuse, if you want to.” “I can’t do that. She depends on seeing me. She’s—you know, needy.” Constance nodded. Sam noticed. “But you’ve never met her, Constance. You must be thinking of someone else,” Sam said.

. . .

Constance’s family fell apart when she was nine. They lived in Los Angeles. Her mother had dreams of stardom that never came true. Her father worked as a bookkeeper for a number of small businesses—a plumbing company, which Constance remembered him praising for paying their bills on time, also a small theater troupe where Constance’s mother had had several auditions, then one modest part, then poor reviews and a gentle invitation to leave the cast. It sat badly with her. She stayed home, a cigarette in her hand, circles below her eyes, stains on her bathrobe. Constance was in awe of her mother because she had attempted something brave that other mothers didn’t, which made her failure more acute. When her mother made a new career out of disappointment and sloth, she lost interest in Constance. Constance escaped the pain of her rejection through books, into the world of knights and ladies fair. All those lovelorn women left to worry and wait while the men had their fun fighting. What did they do to pass the time? They reveled in the quiet and calm, no doubt, and kept busy with embroidery and weaving. The noble women would have held fine linens and lace; the servants sat at looms crafting tapestries to soften and warm stone walls. Constance learned the art of needlework from her downstairs neighbor, Mrs. Pauline Lester. Her hands were gnarled terrors, yet quick and precise when wielding a needle. She sewed the most beautiful things! Fields of ornate flowers and birds, a young girl with flowing blond hair that made Constance despise her own raven curls, a small white dog sleeping on the threshold of a charming cottage in the woods. Constance began with a simple patterned canvas, following the outlines faithfully, crying when she erred and had to pull the tender thread from where it didn’t belong. The world of her imagination, populated with dreams and the fabric in her own hands kept her going, far from the sour mood of her mother and the stony silence of her father. It was decided that Constance’s mother suffered from a nervous condition and needed to be in the company of people better able to help her. Constance waited with Pauline while her father put her mother and her one suitcase into the car and drove away. He was gone a long time. When he returned, he stood visibly straighter. His voice had a lighter tone. Soon, though, the task of caring for his young daughter weighed him down again. Constance’s father had been raised by his stepmother, then widowed and living in upstate New York. The stepmother was notified of the change in circumstance, and Constance was packed off on a train across country, alone, with her name and destination typed on a piece of paper and attached to the lapel of her coat with a safety pin. Her shock at the upheaval of her world was deep. What occupied a still deeper space within her was the splendor of the passing landscape. The desert seemed a glorious and terrifying place! She’d seen it before, of course, in little excursions with her parents before her mother cracked up. Pauline used those very words to a neighbor in her kitchen when she thought Constance was still embroidering in the living room, out of earshot. It was as apt a term as any, Constance thought. The woman who received Constance into her Dunston home on a still spring night was as solid as a rock. Lois Maynard would brook no nonsense, she informed Constance as she led the way up the dim stairway. But she would reward good behavior. Constance could be sure of that. In the years that followed, Constance was seldom punished and seldom praised. She was surprised to find how little she minded it. She adored school and excelled in all her subjects. “A natural scholar,” more than one teacher said. When she wasn’t at her books, she embroidered. The owner of the yarn shop in town, Mrs. Lapp, smiled when she came in. “It’s not the same shade of red,” Constance said. Mrs. Lapp stared at her sympathetically. To her, Constance was an unfortunate case. The grandmother—stepgrandmother—was well known. Her house, a mansion, really, was clearly visible on its high hill, particularly in winter when the trees bared. Not much of a life for a child, living in a cold place like that, Mrs. Lapp thought, though Constance was nearly thirteen at that point. She was small for her age, and had given up hoping she would be taller. Mrs. Lapp checked the skein Constance had taken from the peg on the wall, then consulted her inventory book and assured Constance that the lot number was the same. Constance gave her what remained of the skein she’d used to embroider a row of roses. Mrs. Lapp took both skeins to the glasstopped door where the sunlight poured through. “How right you are! The new is slightly more brown, isn’t it?” Mrs. Lapp asked. Even so, there was nothing to be done. Mrs. Lapp suggested that Constance use the new wool in a corner, somewhere the eye wasn’t instantly drawn. Constance had already thought of that.

. . .

“It’s nice to see you smile,” Eunice said. Constance was not aware that she was smiling. She wanted a skein of that red wool—the proper color. She needed to finish her embroidery. She loved it so. She pointed to the table by her bed. The lower shelf had her rolled-up canvas. Eunice brought it to her, set it in her lap, and then she and Sam went on their way.

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