Pencils & Polaroids

07: house desk

"Don't breathe on that. It is to be earned." I dash the volunteers on my way to the corner table and grab the black binder with two very alert and protective hands. First, I secure it against my chest, and then, I wrap my winter coat over it. "Get your evil eyes off my binder, Bark." 

"Gladly. But let me remind you that in--" he checks his watch, "thirty-one hours, you'll be handing over that very valuable binder to my evil self." 

"We'll see." I give him a pursed smile that's enough to block all that confidence and exchange it with a whiny re-confirming fear. 

The first symptom of that reaction is matching steps with me and Rainer does just that. He follows me until both of us are standing on either side of the chair that's supposed to be the head of the table. "What do you mean we'll see? That's the order."

"Chair?" I raise an eyebrow and he immediately holds the chair out for me to sit. The moment I do, he gives the chair a nudge and puts me closer to the table. "Water," I say when he's about to leave. He returns, grabs my water bottle from my bag, uncorks it, and places it on the table. As soon as he sits adjacent to me, I hold out my hand. "Pencil," I beckon my fingers and he places a green pencil whilst rolling his eyes. 

How, you may wonder, have I managed to get the star boy of this school to act on my tunes today? Did I not tell you how powerful that black binder was? If the mighty opportunity weighed heavily on one side of the beam, the power to make anyone do anything for you equalized the deal. Today was Day Two of my queendom tenure. 

And Day Two of Rainer Barcross being my lapdog. 

The rules of his lapdog treaty were pretty simple. He picks me up from school and drops me back home on all three days. Gets me coffee, the way I like it, three times a day. Sets up my lunch and snack breaks, massages my shoulders when I'm stressed, and to top it all off, he follows me around as a puppy would to its owner. 

Yes, I owned Bark for three days and life has never been better. 

Yesterday, I couldn't torture Rainer that well because my mind was caught up in making ideas and formulating them for the working hemisphere of the school. I put up the best blueprint with Sam and Sadie's help before lunch and presented it while we ate club sandwiches in the art room. Apart from Rainer's appreciation that it was the first time I hadn't dozed in the art room, we got back to work in no time. And sadly, no ragging from my side.

But today, all the work was assigned. New volunteers had been welcomed into the workaholic zone, and the execution had started to take shape. My job, however, was to supervise. And Rainer's to become my personal assistant. We were both minding our businesses, very well. I must tell you, bossing him around is my new favorite game.  

I'm Sandra Bullock and he's my Ryan Reynolds. Except, minus the romantic angle and the chaotic proposal event. It's only just hating, hating, and more hating. 

"Team updates, Slytherin?" I tap on my notepad and wait for my interim captain, Samantha Welch to fill me up. 

"The promotion flyers with question marks have been aired. Not pointing out that we still are unaware of what the question marks stand for, but it's high time you let us know. Small snippets of videos have been shot around the school campus asking Cross students how excited they are for the Carnival. The color palate, as Sadie suggested, is orange and black. We're going with the tagline: Witching With Love!" Sam closes her green file and throws it on the table. 

The rest of us at the table give her a proud cheer. "Newbees take notes. That's the kind of briefing every manager wants to hear. Speaking of themes, Hufflepuff, fill me in." 

Sadie Harper clears her throat and unnecessarily stands up. "We, the team of Hufflepuff--"

I yawn. "Get to the point."