#cecelia summers

Samuel Summers wasn’t normally a lurker.  By and large, he could be heard coming from a mile away, and those moments when he startled someone by NOT being heard coming from a mile away made his insides churn. There was good attention, and there was bad attention, and being a lurker never got good attention.

He was a lurker today, though, waiting for his older sister to pass by on her way back from class. She’d probably be with a bunch of her friends, because girls traveled in packs.  Like wolves, only not like wolves, because wolves didn’t mysteriously disappear into the loo together or give each other enigmatic looks while you were talking to them or laugh when you hadn’t even MEANT TO BE FUNNY. Wolves were actually easier to understand than girls.

They also probably ate you, so it was a toss up about which he’d rather encounter in the corridor at Hogwarts.

Cecelia Summers appeared, blessedly alone, and Sammy popped out of his lurker spot just inside a classroom door.  Her eyes widened slightly at the sight of him, but it was generally a fairly mild reaction to lurkering.  Lurking. Lurkerdom.  “Did you miss me, or are you lost?”

He’d been lost like ONE TIME his first year, geez.  “Can I talk to you?”

“Sure, Sam.  Of course.”  He was glad he’d caught her alone, because her friends would tease him or be sarcastic or ask extra questions, but Cece just went soft around the eyes and closed them both into an empty classroom.  “What’s up?”

And now the moment was here, and it felt TERRIBLE.  Like pulling his own teeth, only it was like pulling his own teeth except without knowing where his teeth were or having any tools to do it with.  “Why… are… girls…?”

“Yeah, right?”  Cece took a seat on the top of a desk like it was a padded throne.  “Why ARE girls?  Impossible? Complicated?  Mean but nice but mean when you want them to be nice and nice when you want them to be mean?  And so pretty all the time, like is that FAIR?  And why are girls so confusing?”

Sammy sagged a little with relief.  All those things.  Yes.  “Yeah?”

Stark Kids First Generation -  Phoebe James @fifiinthesky, Theodore James,  Yolanda Luna,  Octavia Stark @taviestark,  Cecelia Summers @ceceliasummers,  Flynn Whitlock @flynnlock 

“Shoes off, face me on the mats,” Genevieve James faced her nightmare, a group of eager-faced six-year-olds.  She watched warily as they fumbled their shoes off and tumbled into a rough version of a line.  “Flynny, shoes off your hands too.”

There were probably other skills she could share, maybe use her Potions degree, but for some reason, she’d volunteered to exercise their tiny bodies instead of their tiny minds. It seemed like an important and valuable contribution at the time… but the reality of teaching self-defense to small children made her feel crazy.  Crazy for offering, crazy for showing up every week.

Vivi ran the children through their warm-ups, her expression bemused as little Cecelia jumped her jumping jacks into Yolanda, and Phoebe burped dramatically every time she dropped to the floor in a push-up, and Theodore wandered off mid-tree pose to stare out the window.  

Do not murder the babies. Do not murder the babies.

“Let’s try something else. Let’s try… sparring.  Find a partner.”  Vivi knew a moment of gratitude there was an even number.  At least she wasn’t going to have to go up against someone who was three feet tall and had fists the size of walnuts.

Except.  “Nope, Fifi, you’re with Cece.  You’re too mean to Teddy.”  And he let her be, the adorable idiot.  “And Teddy with Tavie.  Flynny with Yoyo.  Assume your stance, and bow to your partner.”

On the mats, Flynny showed Yoyo a new dance move he’d made up.  Teddy pulled the bright purple braid hidden in Tavie’s hair and kissed it.  And Fifi cupped Cece’s face and very intently invited her to punch her in the face.