Young Writers Society

Wilson felt the strangest rush of relief when James started to join in with Boris’s laughter with a little chuckle. What were once tears of sadness (and who knew what else) were now tears of joy - or, if not joy, at least amusement on both of their behalves for being completely incompetent when handed plastic water bottles.

Wilson found herself giggling. Their laughter was contagious.

“You shpilled,” James said, his voice punctuated by hiccuped laughs as he stated the obvious. He sat up in his chair, finally righting his poor, drunken posture.

But his already weak, almost half-hearted laughter was waning, and Wilson was eager to take hold of this moment to make him happy.

She clapped lightly near him. “Hey,” she said softly. “Hey!” A little more cheery. James, with his face tear-stained, looked at her with an unfocused, confused gaze. Like how a fish might stare at their reflection in a tank before attacking it or running away.

She clapped her hands again, before reaching out and lightly grabbing the tip of his nose. As she pulled her hand away she stuck her thumb out between her pointer finger and her middle as a cheap gimmick to show she had his nose there.

“Ha! Got your nose!”

James stared at her with what she could only define as a very, very drunk man’s bewilderment.

Then he reached out to her hands, trying to snatch his not-nose back. She giggled, pulling her hands away with a chiding, “Ah-ah ahhh, mine now.”

But James was persistent. He caught her arm, and as he did, she leaned forward and touched his nose again, like a benevolent god blessing a mere mortal… with his nose, which was already there.

“Boop! All fixed,” she said with another giggle and a smile.

James pushed her arm away and felt for his nose, feeling all over his face (unnecessary) as if to make sure it was all intact (it was).

Wilson looked to Boris as she summoned a sturdier bottle of water from behind her back and handed it to James, cap already off. James took it and started drinking like he hadn’t seen water in days.

“No worries, Boris,” she said in a sing-song tone. “I can take care of you guys, and you nose it!”

Schadel let out a sigh of relief when Wilson took care of the situation with James - admittedly with some help from Boris. Edward looked relieved, too, as he chugged his water down.

But then Wilson gave James the new, uncapped water bottle.

Schadel blinked.

Then she pinched her arm, too, just to be on the safe side.

She hadn't imagined that, right? Wilson had just made a water bottle appear out of thin air. Schadel was very tempted to look into her soul to satisfy her curiosity, but Schadel had to make sure it wasn't a problem on her end. She couldn't get drunk. She knew she couldn't get drunk. And she felt sober, which was something she was pretty sure drunk people didn't feel when they were drunk.

She looked over at Edward.

He hadn't even noticed.

She gave herself one more pinch to be on the safe side.

No, she definitely wasn't dreaming or half-asleep.

"Where did you get that water bottle from?" Schadel slowly asked, looking directly at Wilson.