#rochellebc

I think I did a bad thing today that I am not very proud of, maybe. Deuce was playing casketball at the park close by my building. He was playing by himself, and I told Roux to bring me the ball. Roux flew down and snatched the ball from the air, and flew back up to our roof. I could hear the yelling and running below, so I knew she got the ball. Deuce made it to the top of the building, and I pretend to scold Roux for being a bad griffin. Deuce was surprised to see me and happy to have his casketball back. He took off his glasses and wiped the sweat from his eyes. Ahh ... such a beautiful green ... we hung out on the roof and talked for what seemed like the hours about many things. He is also très drôle. I did not know this about him. Then Cleo called him. He put his glasses back on, and he had to go. Yes, I know, I know. This is a thing that can only end in tears, and I do not want that.

I was late for class today, and as I hurried to avoid detention, I hurried into Deuce Gorgon and Il est extrêmement beau! He was hurrying in the direction opposite on the same path, and so I knocked him down. I am not very big, but I am ... solid for my size. His glasses flew off, and he was so surprised that he forgot he was a Gorgon and looked right into my eyes. For the moment, there was sadness in his eyes and then surprise again as I handed him back his sunglasses. "You didn't turn to stone?" "Non," I say. The Gorgon and the basilisk, I told him, do not affect my kind. He covered up his eyes with the sunglasses again and asked, "Really?" I smiled and said, "Oui." "Wow--cool," says he, and then he is hurrying again to class. Yes, I know who his girlfriend is; but those eyes of emerald green are something perhaps I shall hurry to see again, non?

Roux and I were chasing the pigeons from our roof today. She is great at the chasing part but not so much at the catching because when she is sneaking up, she makes a little screeching noise, and the pigeons fly off. It is still fun, and the pigeons stay off our roof, at least until we go inside.

Today I had an appointment with Monsieur D'eath. I do not know why I think this, but I think the students make him nervous, and I think that he maybe owns a cat. I do not know why but I do. He checked my file many times, checked my student ID once, and twice asked for the spelling of my name. Maybe he was just being thorough, or maybe is afraid of a trick being played upon him. As he was looking at the file, I looked around the room, and I noticed a picture of Scaris, and from the angle and view of the other buildings, I knew it had to be taken from the rooftop of where I used to live. When I mentioned this to him, he almost came alive. Now the rest of the time, our appointment was filled with him asking so many detailed questions about living in Scaris that I assumed he must have lived there or visited many times. When I asked if this was so, he went back to being sad once more. "No," he said, "I have only been there in books and movies," I told him he should go and see it for real. He said it was on his "casket list" of things to do but that his work with the students was so important he did not know how he could spare the time. He reminds me of some gargoyles I know that sit together on the same building. Some face only east, and some face only west. They tell each other how beautiful the sunrise and sunset are, but they will never turn to see for themselves because what if the sunset is more beautiful than the sunrise, or the sunrise is more beautiful than the sunset? They think this will make them unhappy with what they see every day. Maybe this is the same with him, or maybe there is just no monster to take care of his cat when he is gone.

Ghoulia is mon amie, and I am always on the lookout for her, so she is well protected, but it's not something she has asked me to do, and today I think I made the mistake of being ... how shall I say ... overprotective? She was going into the catacombs to see the new roller maze course, but I told her, "Non!" It is too dangerous for you. You may not go. Then she made a noise between a snort and a laugh. I told her that I am très grave and that I would not allow it. But it was next Ghoulia's turn to be grave, and she said: “Rochelle, you are my friend, not my mother. Now you may accompany me, or you can get out of my way because, in case you had not noticed, I am a big ghoul who is completely capable of navigating her way into the catacombs and back again!” It is a most difficult thing to feel that what you do best is not wanted, but I do not think she meant it that way. Perhaps a true friend cares more for who you are than what you can do for them?

Do not think you can read my diary without me seeing you!