chapter two

I BITE my pencil, as my dad, moony, goes on and on about a concept that i think i should know, but somehow, i can't remember. a kid i don't know raises their hand, and asks a question that seems too smart to be discussed in a year 5 classroom, but my dad gladly answers, like he was expecting someone to ask that exact question.

and i'm supposed to be ravenclaw. right.

i sigh. i've been checking my phone all morning, and no message. i haven't even seen fred, george, or lee today. it's like they're out, skipping class or something.

my dad finally dismisses the class, and i head straight to lunch.

i impatiently check my phone on my way to the great hall. nothing.

what if they're ignoring me? no, they're not like that. at least, i don't think so.

i sit down in my usual spot, the gryffindor table, and wait for richie and conan to arrive.

as i wait, i try to ignore the feelings of frustration that are building up in my chest. even if i didn't make it, why didn't they talk to me about it? it's insensitive. here i am, worrying, stressing, over a stupid text all day, when they're probably having fun with their new lead singer.

i pick at my food. i'm not hungry, anymore. thinking about their little band made me lose my appetite.

"you okay, jazzie?" richie asks as he and conan sit down on each side of me.

"yeah. just thinking."

i pick at my food more aggressively. how unusual it is for me to even think i could be in their band. to be with fred.

"what's wrong, honey? you never pick at your food." conan grabs my hand in both of his. he looks at me, concern filling his features.

conan notices everything. happiness, sadness, anger, jealousy, worry. not only that, but he never ceases to make me feel better. he's amazing. i love him.

it's true, though. what he said. i never pick at my food. a minor change in my behavior, but still a change, nonetheless.

"no text?" richie slides me my favorite blueberry muffin. they rarely give these during lunch anymore.

i shake my head. "no text."

i take a bite out of the muffin, and its brilliant flavor explodes on my tongue. it's a shame i only eat these once a month now.

"thanks," i mumble.

i finish my muffin, and leave the wrapper at the side of my plate.

"well, well, well. look who's here." richie nods his head towards the doors of the great hall. i watch as fred, george, and lee all enter with clipboards in their hands. looks like they're barely deciding on their new lead singer.

all my frustration immediately goes away. i knew there must have been a reason. i'm just glad i know what it is now.

"there. i knew there must have been a reasonable excuse. they're probably barely deciding." i finally start to eat my food; chicken with a side of mashed potatoes and peas.

"yeah, i guess that's reasonable," richie remarks sarcastically.

"what do you mean?"

"well, they had enough time to decide. the auditions were yesterday. and i know it wasn't just me that noticed that they weren't in class today."

"yes, but... isn't it difficult? i mean, to choose a good singer for your band? you would have to consider all the variables, like, personality, vocals. am i right?"

richie shoots me a glance.

"why are you defending them all of a sudden? these were the jerks that wouldn't even text you. the least they could've said was that they were still deciding."

i place my fork down. i honestly don't know why i care so much in the first place. i never would have even cared about the auditions if i hadn't known that fred was a part of the band.

"to be honest, i don't care anymore. if they texted, or if they didn't. for all i know, they probably didn't text anyone else who auditioned. i might not be the only one."

conan slides me another blueberry muffin. i smile gratefully at him.

just when i'm about to take a bite, i hear richie say, "speak of the devil. here comes one of the twins."

i follow richie's gaze. he's right.

"looks like george," conan comments.

i nod my head a little. our trio has always been able to tell the twins apart. i don't even know how. nobody else seems to.

george sits down in the free space in front of us.

"hey, jaz. conan, richie." he nods his head to my friends. "sorry we didn't text. we were, uh... still deciding. i mean, they were. i knew you were perfect from the start."

my heart skips a beat.

perfect?

he continues, "so, uh, are you still willing to be the lead singer of 'bad idea'?"