"Why not?"
"I don't know." I sighed. "There's so much about Devereaux that I don't understand, but... I feel this pull towards him. Is that strange?"
Pascal smiled. "It doesn't matter if it's strange. You should do whatever makes you happy. You deserve it, Florian."
My friend was too kind to me. I felt tears forming in my eyes.
"We should get some sleep before the sun rises," I suggested.
Yawning again, Pascal buried his head in my back. "You said it. I'm beat. Didn't even get to talk to Headmaster like I wanted to... Do it tomorrow..."
I'd forgotten about that. I'd asked Pascal to promise me he wouldn't do that, but we were interrupted by the man with the gold coin before he could answer. But in this moment, Pascal's determination to speak to Headmaster about me didn't seem so bad. My meeting with Devereaux had lifted my spirits. It made the world seem a little less dark.
I didn't bother asking Pascal not to go through with his decision, partly because I no longer minded but mostly because he'd already fallen asleep and was snoring softly against my back.
* * *
Two things battledfor attention in my mind: the fact that my birthday—and imminent homelessness—was less than a week away, and Devereaux.
I ambled through my daily chores. If Headmaster had any complaints, she didn't air them. I hadn't seen her at all today. It seemed like she was doing her best to avoid me. Part of me wondered if she felt guilty about her decision and that was why she didn't want to face me. But this was Headmaster. If that was how she truly felt, she could simply reverse her decision. She didn't.
Speaking of which, Pascal was still determined to speak with her. He wouldn't let it go. We talked as I swept the floor in the kitchen and he battled with a large lump of dough.
"I'm telling you, this is bad for everyone involved. Headmaster has to see that. Someone's gotta change her mind," Pascal said as he punched a fist into the dough like he was taking his frustrations out on it.
"But I already spoke to her about it," I said.
"No offense, Florian, but you're soft."
I stopped sweeping. "What do you mean?"
"You're just... you know."
"No, I don't. You're not going to hurt my feelings. Tell me the truth."
Pascal sighed and picked up the lump. "You're like this dough. You're soft and squishy and you take beatings without fighting back. Metaphorically speaking."
I raised a brow.
"Sometimes people don't take you seriously," Pascal went on, putting the dough back on the counter. "That's why I'm gonna talk to Headmaster on your behalf."
"But I wasn't meek or soft when I confronted her. There was just no changing her mind when she'd already made it up."
Pascal shrugged. "It might be different when I do it."
I frowned, feeling a bit annoyed. Did Pascal think I didn't try hard enough? He of all people knew how hard I tried at everything every day of my life. Then again, maybe he was right. Headmasterwasgoing to lose a capable pair of hands if she kicked me out, and Pascal couldn't handle the housework and cooking all by himself. It was beneficial to everyone if I stayed.
Still, I couldn't help but be anxious. What if their talk went sour? Pascal wasn't known for his filter. He had a good heart, but he tended to blurt out the first words that came to mind without thinking of the consequences. Combined with Headmaster's prickly disposition, it felt like a recipe for disaster.
"Pascal, I don't want you to talk to Headmaster," I said slowly.
He stopped, spinning around. "What?"
"I have a bad feeling about it."
He crossed his arms, getting flour on his skin. "Oh, like you had afeelingthat going to the fountain and making a wish was silly?"
"That was different."
