Beat Me

Imelda Reyes always knew how to shake up her classmates, if not the whole of Hogwarts, and by the seventh year, it had only gotten worse. Her restless spirit of excitement and competition spared no one. She would bet on wizard’s chess, despite the teachers' direct prohibition and exclamations of "what have you made of an intellectual game!" or make the new girl fly with her on broomsticks to race Merlin knows where in the mountains. Oh, yeah, the new girl. Her arrival at school had been a disaster. That blond, curly-haired head had an unnatural way of attracting trouble. And it would be all right if everything was limited to the dragon attack or a troll... Though even those things alone should have been enough to raise a lot of questions and seem very suspicious. The girl herself was a walking disaster. She was openly helping Garreth Weasley blow up cauldrons in Potions class, or demanding ransom from Cressida Blume, blackmailing her with the pages of her diary. Only a true snake could do that, which Amanda apparently was. How could she ever get sent to Hufflepuff...? And when Amanda and Imelda were together, it meant only one thing — it was time for everyone around to hide because the actual end of the world was coming. “Reyes! Grant!” The Gryffindor Prefect was chasing them down the corridor while the fourth years were standing agape there, their mouths exploding with fizzy caramel instead of the promised chocolate frogs. Ten people had fallen for such a generous offer and were now paying for their gullibility with red smoke coming out of their ears. Imelda and Amanda hid in an alcove around the corner and pressed themselves into the wall with all their might, clinging to each other as their hapless pursuer ran past. They tumbled out of there and started laughing uncontrollably, bending in half and leaning on each other. “Oh... Oh," Imelda was catching her breath. “I won! The prize is mine! I got six to take the exploding frog, and you only got four! “Take your miserable galleon, you bastard," Amanda handed her the coin. “But don't get too excited, I'll win it back!” “Dream on," Imelda smirked. “I didn't even notice you trying to win. You won't, sweetheart. And don't say I didn't warn you.” Imelda's chest rose and fell softly from heavy breathing after running. The white moist shirt with the green Slytherin ribbon clung to her body, and Amanda's gaze dropped to it for a second, but immediately went back up, focusing on the brown eyes with the slightly smudged black eyeliner.

***

“Hey, Hufflepuff!” This was the first thing Amanda had heard addressed to her a few months ago from an unfamiliar girl, whose arrogant gaze appraisingly glided over her, stopping at a yellow-trimmed robe. It was as if her eyes were passing a verdict, unequivocal and ruthless. But Amanda wasn't the type to let herself be treated like that. “I actually have a name. Amanda Grant!” Amanda said and bowed theatrically. "So you're Imelda? Nice to meet you... not. I would never have come myself, but Albie Weekes sent me here.” “Ha! Did he now? The guy who's messing around with the brooms improvements?” Imelda replied only to the last remark, blatantly ignoring the rest. "And now he's dragged you into this? A rookie? This, of course, will increase his chances of success. Aren’t you the naive little one?” Imelda's gaze remained skeptical and icy, not tolerating objections. Few people in the castle liked Imelda because of her bluntness, so she wasn't the least bit surprised by this outburst. She only continued to stare at Amanda as if she was a flobberworm. In response, Amanda instantly pulled out her broom and took off into the air, not giving Imelda a chance to speak or brag about her position as a captain of the Quidditch team, or at least explain the rules of the race. Imelda's eyes widened, but her trained hands quickly grabbed the broom and steered her forward. And who said Hufflepuffs were supposed to be nice fluffy Puffskeins? Perseverance, patience, and loyalty don't necessarily turn a person into a dutiful worker. With such a set of qualities, one can be a desperate ludomaniac, who will persistently and patiently bet more and more money on zero while staying true to themselves. This seemed to be exactly Amanda's case. Amanda didn't like to lose. She flew through the rings in the Quidditch stadium, figuring out her route as she went. Several times she almost crashed into the stands, a few times into a tree. And she even managed to dodge and not hit a Ravenclaw student walking on the ground. She flew crookedly, jaggedly, without skill or strategy, but she was very brave and fast: faster than anyone else. “SUCK IT, Imelda!” Shouted Amanda almost at the finish line. "Do what? What does she mean? Her? But she doesn't have...," Imelda didn't understand, slowing down for one second. And Amanda crossed the finish line that very second, leaving her competitor behind. “Oh..." Amanda tried to catch her breath, barely able to stay on her feet. “And that was... Great. Can you imagine, I actually liked it. Tell me, am I good?” “You won, it's true. But you can't tell much by one race. You were just floating around the room like a deflating balloon. On a harder track, you'll deflate. You're just a green snot who thinks too much of herself. Don't think you can earn my respect so easily," Imelda said in a flat tone. “Shove your respect up your... See you later!” Amanda responded cheerfully and hurried away. “See you later,” Imelda repeated, following this strange newcomer with her eyes. And in this look, a barely noticeable light flashed. "No, we're not going to be friends with that bitch. I may have fought her back, but it's not worth taking it every day. I better steer clear of her," Amanda thought as she walked back to the castle. But avoiding her didn't work: Amanda kept bumping into her in the Great Hall and in class. Her eyes would find Imelda's chestnut head in the crowd and wander through her hair, always in a tight, low ponytail. Time after time she saw those high cheekbones, dotted with freckles, and heard the familiar shameless laughter – sometimes condescending, filled with a sense of superiority, sometimes lively, real. And sometimes it seemed to Amanda that those moments of strange conversation with that pretentious girl were the best thing that had ever happened to her during her time at Hogwarts. The pushy Gryffindor broad Onai annoyed her, and the overly nice classmate named Poppy made her sick. Amanda's appearance, with those funny curls and those clear blue eyes like a moon calf's, gave the wrong impression to others, and they were all over her. And they would run away in horror, encountering the real her, which Amanda was only glad of. The Slytherin upstart seemed like the nicest possible company, and Amanda had the thought of approaching her and talking to her first. As for Imelda, her situation was even worse. Ever since Quidditch was canceled, Imelda had been howling and kicking the walls out of boredom and resentment. Her talents were being left to rot and she felt like a bird put in a cage. Her strong muscles were melting before her eyes, and her attention, filled only with universal longing, was dissipating. The very flavor of life itself was gone. Apparently, along with her appetite – she lazily slid her spoon across her plate at breakfast. Every day she was getting sadder, and even organizing broom races couldn't replace the feeling of playing, because no one was her equal. But this new girl... Like a Hungarian Horntail or some other majestic dragon, she flew into her life out of nowhere and breathed fire into her soul. She took no offense at Imelda's forthrightness and didn't give up during the competition. Gathered all the sticks and leaves along the way, but she made it to the end. She didn't shed tears in response to her teasing but responded in kind. The first person in the school to think of it, except for Leander Pruett. She was special. Different. And even her insults were kind of nice. “And how do you like the new girl? She's crazy, right? Are they telling the truth about her?” Nerida, Imelda's roommate, asked. “The truth. And you know, probably… I'd like to be friends with her.”

***

Amanda was leaning against the wall they'd been hiding behind a moment ago and looked directly into Imelda's brown eyes. She scrutinized each lower lash, each hair, thickly painted with charcoal mascara. She admired the skillfully applied, even edge of black eyeliner on the lower eyelid, the mystical smoky shadow that emphasized the predatory look of its owner. She saw a smudged line at the corner of her left eye. “What are you staring at?” Imelda asked. “You've got a..." Amanda answered and reached up to touch her face. Imelda flinched faintly when the pads of Amanda's fingers reached her skin, but she didn't move or object again. Amanda removed the excess blackness on the left side, correcting the right side for symmetry. “That's it," Amanda said, holding her hand over her friend's face for a second longer than necessary. “Thank you," Imelda said. “Could’ve used a spell, couldn’t you?” “I keep forgetting about it," Amanda shrugged. The girls walked down the corridor toward the north gate and came to the lawn by the large fountain. It was a warm fall day, and almost all the seniors who were having a spare period were hanging around the courtyard or relaxing on the benches. Imelda turned to Amanda and asked: “Up for a rematch?” She twirled the gold coin between her fingers. "No," Amanda said, trying unsuccessfully to snatch the galleon from her hands. “I can see that you are," Imelda grinned. “Are you afraid you won't be able to bear several defeats?” “No," Amanda said firmly. “I don't want to go on like this. I'm sick of it. To tell you the truth, Reyes, you and I are doing some stupid bullshit. It's like we're two redheaded boys and not two grown-up girls. I had fun racing broomsticks with you, but I'm not going to slip people any more exploding frogs, thank you very much.” “Uh-oh," Imelda said. “So the little girl wants to play seriously? I have an idea.” The girl looked around the yard, opened her mouth, smiled, and looked Amanda in the face. “Seduce someone faster than I can.” Imelda had expected some sort of more vivid reaction, but Amanda looked unusually casual as if they were discussing what they had for breakfast. Her expression became strange for a second, but Imelda couldn't read what was the emotion behind it. “That's a curious idea," Amanda pointed out. “But first of all, what if I don't want to? And secondly, I don't know all the nuances of your relationship with others. What if you're secretly fucking Garreth and you're presenting it to me as a new achievement?” “You're perceptive," Imelda replied. “I do fuck him. I didn't know how to tell you when you told me you were, too.” Amanda just shrugged, not surprised at the news at all, as if she'd guessed it herself long ago. Garreth Weasley, who had seen the girls walking together from afar, tried to get up from the edge of the fountain and hide in the crowd. “Idiot," Imelda smiled. “Anyway, I didn't mean it like that. Just get any sign of attention, an obvious one, and I have to see it. And no Amortentia! The game must be fair.” “And who should I be charming?” Amanda replied indifferently. “You can choose your victim to your liking.” The girls looked around. “No, not Sallow, he's been hitting on everyone, that doesn't count. And don't even look at his blind friend, his family will kill you if they find out," Imelda said. Grant thought for a second. Imelda felt like she would do anything right now, whether it was to give up the whole thing or to make it even tougher. Anything to make Amanda stop being so cold and detached and go back to being that phoenix-like rival who was fun to be around, whether she was losing or winning. “All right, nerd, I got another option. Don't charm. Make them moan.” “Oh!" Amanda replied cheerfully. “I can do that. I know a couple of spells that might work…” “In Merlin's name, Amanda! Moan in a good way. Not in pain.” “How about both?” Amanda grinned. “Any way I want? I could do that.” “You can do that. Yeah, any way you want.” “I'm in!” The girl clapped her hands impatiently, which made Imelda lick her lips. Amanda looked around the courtyard thoughtfully, passing her eyes over the students walking by. Her gaze paused a few times, considering something. Then something shone in the corner of her iris. “I've picked one, but I don't want to say in advance who it is. I hope to surprise you. Can I write it down on a time-stamped parchment or something, as we did with the robe swap?” “Yeah, no problem. Then I'll do the same. Prepare to lose, Hufflepuff!” “Don't forget, snake, Hufflepuffs are known for their tenacity. Shall we raise the stakes?” “Ten," Imelda said defiantly. “Oh, half of Sirona's bar card, I like that. Don't go broke. We'll start tomorrow because I'm tired today.” But both Imelda and Amanda were the kind of people who never took the easy way out. And each thought she was the smartest. Or definitely smarter than the other. None of them could think that they had the other in mind.