Chapter 2-3
717 Words
The moment I stepped out of the portal, I looked around, getting familiar with the area.
It was the first time I was outside the Academy's building. When I attended it in ghost form, we were limited to the main building's grounds.
The portal stone was in the middle of a plaza, surrounded by statues, fountains, and flowerpots, with a wide, central path that led directly to a large building. I assumed that was the Academy.
I started walking toward it, with the layers of petticoats swooshing around me, slowing me down. Everybody told me that hoop skirts are better for creating the voluminous look that was so fashionable here, but I preferred to wear many layers of skirts to those weird bone structures. Besides, it's weird to sit in them.
At least layers of skirts were something I was familiar with. I once saw representation by the ballet school back on Earth. I knew that people used to wear silly clothing back on Earth too, but I'd never met anybody who did that nowadays.
I'd rather be considered unfashionable by others than consider myself a freak by my own standards.
It's good that I came early, because it took me much longer to walk, dressed as I was, than it would take me in my ghost form. But then, I'm not even sure how moving with your ethereal body works in practice. I know I moved, but I didn't really understand how it worked.
At least I wouldn't have to look for the classroom. As soon as I stepped into the Main Hall, I saw Marty, with his friends.
"There you are," he said, coming towards me to hug me. I freed myself quickly, not wanting to be a public spectacle, but he kept me by his side, his hand on my shoulder. That's where the boning of the hoop skirt would be useful in providing a buffer.
"Stop that, Marty," I said, elbowing him.
I wasn't entirely comfortable with us being a public couple. In fact, I wasn't entirely comfortable being a couple, period.
Yes, I'd given up on fighting the magic that seemed to pull us together. I had agreed to be engaged with him and eventually marry him.
Some day. In five years.
That was plenty of time to get used to it.
I'd never had a boyfriend before, and it was hard to get used to it. I'd rather take it slowly, while Marty seemed to go at lightning speed.
I was also his first girlfriend. Maybe that's what made him so eager. And awkward.
"You still call him that?" Zethe Zawada, one of Martinus' friends, asked me.
We didn't like each other much. But then, I didn't like most of Marty's friends.
"Call whom what?" I asked.
"Call him Marty," Zethe said, nodding at Martinus. "He doesn't like it. Hasn't he told you to drop it yet?"
I looked at Marty… Martinus. He never said anything about it. I only ever started calling him the second time he saved me, when I started liking him.
He shrugged when confronted by my questioning gaze.
"I don't mind when you call me that," he said. Then turning at his friends. "But you guys still can't call me that."
"Why?" Zethe asked, in a slightly higher-pitch, annoying tone. "Why can she call you that, and we can't?"
"Because there are certain things you can only call somebody you're in a relationship with," Marty said. "Or would you like me to call you 'darling', or 'pumpkin', as I call Amy?"
Zethe shook his head, his face expressing fear. I can imagine the teasing he would get if Marty called him 'pumpkin'.
"For the record," I said, "I don't like 'pumpkin' either. You must come up with something else."
"What about 'babe'?" Marty asked.
"That's even worse," I said.
"And what about 'doll'?" Marty continued, as we started going toward the classroom. By the glint of his eyes, I could see he was teasing me. Each endearment was worse than the previous one.
"Nope," I said.
He continued, while I said no with more and more frustration.
In the end, when we reached the classroom dorm, tired of the enumeration (and the chuckles from his friends), I turned to face him.
"You can stop," I said. "I know what you should say. I'd like you to call me 'My queen'".
His friends burst out laughing, while I could see by the devious gleam in Marty's eye that this wasn't over.
- Writer
