Mind If I Hide Here

Mikey looked at her for a second, almost surprised that she'd actually agreed. He had been ready to convince her. He wasn't sure how exactly, but there had definitely been some kind of argument forming in his head about homework still being there tomorrow. Now he didn't need it. Nothing about the last half hour made Stelle look like the troublemaker between them. Mikey had been the one who came flying into the courtyard looking over his shoulder, asked a stranger to hide him, and then admitted the person he was hiding from probably wasn't even chasing him. Stelle had just been sitting there with a book. If a professor had to pick between their stories, Mikey knew exactly whose they were going to believe.

He stayed where he was instead of immediately heading off. They had agreed to go flying, but there wasn't much reason to rush. The afternoon wasn't going anywhere. Besides, Mikey realized he'd actually started enjoying sitting here. It was quiet without being completely silent. People came and went along the paths, the wind occasionally moved through the trees, and nobody had come storming through the archway looking for him. That last part was particularly nice. Mikey glanced at the entrance again. Still nothing.

He got up from edge of the bench, his satchel hanging from one shoulder. The crumpled sandwich wrapper was still somewhere inside it now. Probably buried beneath everything else he'd shoved in there over the year. He'd deal with that later. Or he'd forget about it until September and wonder why his bag smelled strange. Both seemed equally possible. His attention moved back to Stelle. It was strange to think that less than an hour ago he hadn't known her name. Now they'd apparently established that she was reasonable, he wasn't, and both of them were willing to abandon whatever productive plans they'd had for the afternoon.

He was beginning to think Stelle might actually be good company. She didn't seem bothered by his habit of saying whatever crossed his mind, and she had already figured out how to give it right back to him. That was usually a good sign. Some people took a while before Mikey knew how to act around them. With Stelle, he'd skipped that part almost completely. Probably because he'd already embarrassed himself within the first thirty seconds. There wasn't much left to protect after that. Mikey looked toward the open sky above the courtyard. The breeze had picked up a little, just enough to move the branches overhead. It really was good flying weather. Not too hot, not much wind, and barely a cloud around.

His thoughts wandered to the pitch. He could already imagine being up there. The feeling of pushing off from the ground never really got old. Neither did that first burst of speed when the broom responded and everything below suddenly started shrinking. Quidditch had made flying competitive for him, but he'd loved it before matches and practices became part of his routine. Sometimes it was better when there wasn't a Quaffle coming at his head. He looked back at Stelle. "So what kind of flying are we talking about?" He was curious now. Stelle hadn't sounded nervous when she'd agreed. She hadn't given him the usual warning that she was terrible on a broom either. Maybe she was actually good. That possibility immediately made the idea more interesting.