Thanks for reading and for golden feedback. For some reason this chapter was very hard to do and your feedback meant everything! Heartfelt thanks! 
Title: How I Met Your Mother*
Author: Ariel
Email:
blaziak@yahoo.com Feedback: All feedback welcomed, specific input appreciated, harsh on me via PM
Rating: NC-17 for W/T love, ratings can change on various posts
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, but I love to take them for a ride!
Summary: A/U before season 1, the summer after Willow's freshman year with a large dose of Queen Cordelia at her bitchy best and teen-aged angst.
*no connection to the sit-com of the same name
Thoughts are in italics. Her shoulders slumped in defeat and she walked towards their table and sat down.
Devola was impressed, “Wow, Willow that’s the worst singing I ever heard! Did you do it on purpose?”
Willow forced her lips into a passable imitation of a smile. “Yeah, yeah I did.”
Everyone sighed with relief. Then Tara slid an arm around her waist and pulled her close.
Part 35: Sweet Revenge!Cordelia came up behind them a moment later, “Willow. I have to thank you. I used to see deafness as a disability,” she paused, “until I heard you sing.” She laughed.
Tara looked closely at Willow’s bowed head and saw her eyelashes clumped together by the beginnings of tears and suddenly Tara was on her feet, shaking with anger as she faced Cordelia. “Y-you are so wrong! W-willow sings almost every night in our cabin and she s-sounds great! She just didn’t h-have enough time to l-learn the song!” She stepped closer and a small part of her was amazed to see the taller girl actually take a step back. “W-willow is going to sing tonight and she’ll s-sound just fine! N-now get out of h-here and leave her alone!”
Cordelia attempted a studied casualness as she turned slowly away, but suddenly sped up when Tara stepped closer.
Tara sat back down, her cheeks flushed, to see ten pairs of eyes staring at her. “What? Nobody m-messes with my girlfriend!”
Towanda narrowed her eyes for an instant, and then smiled broadly. “Wow, Tara, you were like scary there for a minute!”
Other heads nodded and Tara took a small bow. Then she looked curiously as every pair of eyes across the table widened and a heavy hand came down on her shoulder.
Tara gasped, “Mrs. Finch!”
“Tara, I’m glad to hear from you that Willow
can sing.” She turned to look at Willow, whose pale face lifted slowly to meet her eyes. “That’s the key, Willow! Do your best! Teamwork! Let’s just chalk this up to an ill-advised prank. And I regret,” she said stiffly, “Any slight over-reaction in my response.” She smiled, “So, after dinner then?”
Tara looked closely at Willow’s tense face and knew Willow wouldn’t be able to eat with this hanging over her. “M-maybe before?”
Mrs. Finch gave an enthusiastic nod. “Excellent! I shall be looking forward to it!” Then she hurried away.
Then Willow spoke up. “Um, Tara, regarding that speech you made about my singing. It was accurate, in a partly, somewhat, kind of not accurate way.” She paused, “I sing and it sounds fine, but that’s because of my method.”
Tara shot her a puzzled glance. “What method?”
“Ever hear of a ghost-writer?”
Tara nodded, having no idea where this was leading.
Willow continued, “They do the writing for someone famous who can’t write. So they’re invisible like a ghost but they do all the work.” She paused, “Well, I’m a ghost-singer, it’s kind of the opposite. I look like I’m singing but I’m not, at all. It’s silent singing, uh ghost singing.” She blushed, “And if I stand near people who can sing, then I sound pretty good.”
Tara’s jaw dropped and she took a deep breath. “W-willow, I’m so sorry! I j-just opened my big m-mouth and got you in trouble!”
Willow shook her head. “Mrs. Finch already took care of getting me in trouble. But her saying I had to keep singing until I sound great, well, the way I sing uh, eternity becoming an issue, here.”
Tara nodded and squeezed Willow’s hand. “First, you have to learn the song. We need to get M-Mrs. Gidden to play it. Anyone have a recorder?”
Devola raised her hand. “Veronica does. I was gonna borrow it to record scary sounds and hide it at night outside someone’s cabin.”
Tara shot her a look.
“But you can use it for Willow!”
Tara looked at Veronica, “Is that okay with you?”
Veronica nodded slowly, them smiled, “Go ahead.”
Tara continued, “So Willow, you get Mrs. Gidden to play the song a few times through and record it and then work on that today.”
Willow sighed. “Tara, these are good ideas but the essential issue is still the awful earful equation: Willow’s singing = suckiness to the 10th power! Even knowing the song won’t make me sound good.”
Debbie’s piping voice could be heard, “So do it like the battle of the bands thing from ‘Freaky Friday’.”
Devola sat bolt upright. “Yeah! One person hides somewhere and does the real singing and someone else stands up front and pretends to sing.”
Lisa smiled, “They do it in ‘Singin’ in the Rain,’ too.”
Willow grinned, her eyes brightening, “Ghost singing!
That I can do!”
Tara nodded decisively. “W-we’ll do it! I’ll hide somewhere and you stand near me.” She turned to Willow and threw an arm across her shoulders. “It’s time for ‘teamwork’ and a ‘positive attitude’. Veronica, get your recorder and help Willow m-make the recording with Mrs. Gidden then I’ll study it and w-we’ll practice getting our lips to match up so it looks right.”
Willow smiled weakly. “Right after the stall mucky-out-y stuff.”
Tara shook her head, “I’ll do that! Y-you just start learning that song!”
Suddenly Willow leaned over and clasped Tara in a hard, tight, hug and smiled at her cabin-mates. “You guys are the best! Thanks!”
Devola grinned, we need to find a secret hiding spot for Tara and get it all fixed up!” Her voice dropped, “This is a top secret, deadly and dangerous mission. It looks like a job for,” she paused dramatically, “Indigo Kane, Secret Agent!” She looked at Tara, “Don’t worry, chief. I’m on the case!” She turned to Connie, “Come on, Con, you can be my assistant.”
Connie gave an exasperated sigh but was already getting up to follow Devola out.
*************************************************
Willow worked alone, listening to the music and trying to learn the strange lyrics.
She grimaced,
Is she a woman or some kind of baby hotel? And who cares how pink she is! Then she thought of where Tara was pink and felt herself flush with desire.
That kind of pink is okay. Mmmmm a lot better than okay. She could almost feel herself inside Tara with Tara’s heartbeat pulsing around her fingers. She felt their desire warm between them, joined by lips, hands, and the tingling kiss of skin sliding on skin.
Almost before she knew it, she had pulled her pants and underpants down. By sitting at the very edge of their bed, she could touch herself freely and was stirring the soft ginger curls in search of her clit. Suddenly she closed her eyes, flooded by the memory of Tara touching her, bringing a new kind of fire on her fingertips. Then she felt Tara’s finger, playing her desire, and suddenly she touched herself more boldly and knew what to do.
She worked the rhythm of her arousal, rubbing her swollen nub in light, quick strokes while her left palm slid up her waist, cherishing the smooth softness, before continuing upwards. Then she palmed her breast, squeezed it softly and felt the tingling shock of her nipple’s response. She inhaled sharply and did it again then tested her reaction a second time.
Stimulus/response, she didn’t notice herself panting,
definite link . . between . . the . . two.Then she felt a flood of nectar between her thighs and science took a back seat to the immediate proceedings.
She sat, her head bent down, finger busy and felt the hot surge race up her body. She was trembling, on the knife edge of desire balanced between the shuddering pain of her need and the ecstasy of her approaching orgasm.
A thousand visions sparked and warmed and exploded inside her mind: glowing dust motes, Tara’s eyes: all blue fire and desire, the hay smell of the barn, her skin hot and tight like she was exploding out of it, reborn, a chrysalis transformed into something new and powerful and beautiful.
She came in a shuddering release almost painful in its all consuming intensity. She moaned, “Taaaarrrraaaa,” then slid her middle finger inside herself and imagined that Tara was there to fill her need.
Suddenly there was a frantic fumbling with the locked door. Tara stuck her head inside for the barest instant. Then Tara’s eyes went wide and she turned immediately to slide through the narrow opening then she slammed and locked the door behind her.
Willow sat frozen, arousal turning instantly to embarrassment.
Tara continued to stare. “I thought, I heard you call my name, and I—“
Willow came back to herself and frantically stood, took a stumbling trip forward since she was hobbled by her underpants, and pulled up her clothes in a series of awkward jerks.
Her green eyes were anguished and focused entirely on the floor.
Tara closed the distance between them and Willow felt herself folded into a close embrace with her head tucked under Tara’s chin.
“W-willow. I’ve done it, too. I’ve told you I did. Th-there’s nothing wrong with m-making love to yourself. You’re alone here, the door is locked and we’re the only ones with keys. I barely heard you call me and I m-made sure that I was alone and that I opened the door carefully. N-no one could have seen anything.
Willow nodded miserably and felt Tara’s hands against her back, pulling them closer together. Then she felt Tara’s breath against her ear. “Y-you were beautiful. I w-wanted you so much.” Tara’s breath was ragged with desire and Willow knew that Tara wasn’t laughing at her, would never laugh and that Tara wanted her the same way she wanted Tara.
Willow squeezed her lover tight and they sheltered in each other’s arms until their pounding hearts slowed and ordinary things became possible again.
They had been rehearsing for over an hour when Devola and Connie knocked, were let in and headed for the kids’ room.
*************************************************
Connie sniffed in disapproval. “What is that ugly thing you have on?”
Devola grinned, smoothing the man-sized trench coat against her body with obvious pride, not at all dismayed that it reached to the tops of her shoes. “A trench- coat, Connie. Spies and secret agents and dangerous people wear them all the time.”
Connie sniffed again, “The only thing dangerous about that thing is the smell!”
Devola chose to ignore her and dug a battered, man-sized fedora out of her drawer. She put the hat on her head where it promptly dropped down and covered most of her face.
Connie smirked, “Now that looks good!”
But Devola removed the hat, promptly pulled her pillowcase off her pillow, and rolled it up and put it inside her hat. Now the hat fit.
“Voila! Indigo Kane, Secret Agent!”
Connie grimaced, “What’s ‘Voila’ anyway?”
Devola frowned, “I think it’s dish washing detergent but it’s what you say when you do ‘Voila’ kind of stuff.”
Connie looked at Devola. “You are totally crazy; you know that, right?”
“Not ‘crazy’,” she tapped her chest importantly, “Indigo Kane, Secret Agent. Now come on! We have to help save Willow from torture at the hands of the evil Finch-Meister!”
Connie shrugged and followed Devola out the door just as Faith walked in.
“What’s the word from music land?”
Willow looked up with a nervous smile, “I think we can do it!”
Faith grinned, “Good deal, Red. Hey, about this morning.” Her voice trailed off and she shifted her feet.
Tara met her Faith’s eyes. “About this m-morning, thanks for helping me m-muck out the stalls for Willow so she could get some help on the song.” She saw Faith still shifting her feet awkwardly but continued, “And thanks for finishing up the grooming for the last ride so that I could come here sooner and get started.”
Faith shrugged, clearly embarrassed.
Willow took pity on her. “Faith. Thanks and forget the rest, okay?”
Faith gave a quick nod of agreement and visibly relaxed. “So how about I get the kids to a quick softball practice, see how they shape up?” She hesitated, “If you still want me to coach.”
Willow smiled. “Hey, yeah we do! Want you to coach, you know, the kids and the softball-y strategy stuff.” She managed a small laugh, “Guess I’m only good for one crisis at a time and this song stuff is all I’m thinking about!”
Faith grinned, “No worries, Red. I got your back.” She headed out to round up the kids from swimming.
*************************************************
Meanwhile Devola made a game of slinking cautiously across the yard and ducking behind various obstacles while Connie followed her, enjoying herself but determined not to admit it to Devola.
They took the long way around the back of the dining hall, hiking through some long grass, and waited outside the back door for the cook, Mrs. Ellyson, to move away so they could slip past. A moment later the cook turned walked over to the large refrigerator and begin rummaging through it and Devola saw their chance, “Come on!”
They shot through the back door, just as Mrs. Ellyson turned and saw them. She screamed, dropped an entire bowl of Jell-O on her foot, and raced out the backdoor to Mrs. Finch’s office.
Connie stared at Devola. “That is the dumbest thing I ever heard of! Tara can’t hide in the janitor’s closet disguised as a mop! She’s a million miles away from Willow and it won’t sound right.”
Devola nodded agreement, “Under a table?”
Connie shook her head, “No. Someone would see and they’d hear her voice.”
They looked around the dining hall again. There really wasn’t much except chairs and tables.
Devola was thinking out loud. “If Willow was outside the door to the kitchen and Tara just inside the door.”
Connie nodded, “That’s it! Open the door a little, they’ll be right by each other!” She looked around, “We need to move the piano closer to the kitchen though but not too close.”
Devola nodded, “So Mrs. Gidden can’t hear the difference and figure it out.” Fortunately the piano was on wheels and the move was awkward, but not impossible.
*************************************************
Mrs. Finch looked up sharply as the cook’s bulk hurtled through her office door. “Sit down, Mrs. Ellyson! You look white as a ghost!”
“Not – a - ghost, Mrs. Finch!” The big cook fanned herself, panting from the unaccustomed effort of attempting to run. “A midget homeless person, some kind of flasher or pervert in a ratty trench coat and a hat! He ran into the kitchen, probably to steal my fruit Jell-O,” her eyes widened in shock, “or something else even worse!”
Mrs. Finch took charge. “Please, Felicia, sit and recover. This is serious, I’m calling the police!” She made the phone call. “Then I’ll check the dining hall to make sure it’s safe and gather us all in one place if it is!”
She left Mrs. Ellyson to recover in her office and headed cautiously to the dining hall to find the piano moved and the dining hall empty. Then she picked up the PA microphone and called all campers into the dining hall.
The dining hall was packed as Mrs. Finch took the microphone again. “Campers, we are investigating a situation. Until it’s resolved we are using our emergency procedures. You will stay in the dining hall. No playing on the yard until I give the okay. If you need to go to the bathroom, let your counselor know and you will be escorted by three staff members. If possible, use the rest room in groups and come right back here when you’re finished. We’ll be setting up a movie tonight, popping popcorn and serving ice-cream instead of a campfire. There’s no reason we can’t follow the rules and still have fun.”
*************************************************
Towanda pounded on the door of their cabin and Willow ran to open it.
The little girl gasped, “Quick! Come to the dining hall! We’re all supposed to be there! Some kind of trouble! They’re gonna count us!”
Tara and Willow jumped to their feet and followed Towanda to the dining hall. Then Towanda stopped, just outside the door.
“Hey, can you do it? Sing together?”
Willow nodded happily. “Listen, we’ll do it really softly.”
She and Tara stood side by side while Towanda watched critically.
Towanda shook her head. “You don’t match enough, Willow! They’ll see, they’ll be able to tell!”
Willow’s face turned white. “But we did great in the cabin!”
Tara grabbed her hand and met her eyes. “W-we were l-looking at each other, taking cues of each other’s face! N-now what are we doing to do?”
At that moment Mrs. Finch stepped out onto the porch to round up stragglers. “There you are! Willow, I need you to lead off. There’s some nervousness in the air and the police, frankly, are searching the grounds right now for some sort of midget in a trench coat. So you need to be our morale-booster and take everyone’s minds off the uncertainty.”
Willow stared wild-eyed into the director’s face, hearing her heartbeat pounding in her ears. “Sure,” she whispered, “No problem.” Mrs. Finch clapped a heavy hand around her shoulder and marched her off while Tara and Towanda stared at each other in dismay.
“Campers and Counselors, we have another treat in store for us. At lunch Willow played a prank on us.” She shook her finger playfully at Willow, “Naughty naughty,” but this time she will, truly, unleash the full power of her magnificent voice upon us all. Please welcome the star of the Sunnydale High school, Miss Willow Rosenberg!”
Willow stared helplessly around her as the applause mounted to a crescendo. She clutched the music in her rapidly dampening hand.
Wish it could help me! Wish I could read it or wish it was big enough hide under! Hide under . . . that’s it! She turned to the audience. “I’m really excited
if ‘terrified’ is the same as excited to be singing for you today.” She looked at the tables closest to her. “Uh, you may want to back off because there have been apparently documented cases of human spontaneous combustion and I’m feeling pretty uh combustible right now. Uh, where was I?”
Mrs. Finch’s mouth hung open.
“Uh yes, mouth opening. Breath incoming, song outgoing, that’s the idea. But I have to apologize
now I remember what I was saying! that I still haven’t learned all the words so I’ll be relying on the lyrics in my hand, reading them, the lyrics that is, so I can sing them!” She experimented with raising the paper just above her mouth and then completely hiding her face before deciding that just covering her mouth looked the most convincing although hiding entirely had an undeniable charm. She saw Tara’s reassuring wave from the doorway and knew that she’d be running around to the back door and would be ready in just a moment.
She straightened quickly,
let’s get this nightmare over with! And now I’m ready to sing!” Suddenly she saw Cordelia and Harmony grab Tara’s shoulders and engage her in apparently urgent conversation on the dining hall porch.
Now what the fuck am I supposed to do? Can I swear in my own mind if it’s against camp policy? Shit, well I am swearing, I don’t give a flying fuck! How do you like that, Mrs. Flying Fuck Finch Face! You and your evil prune juice! My heart is pounding, I think my body is returning to a liquid state, please please let it be sweat not pee! Spontaneous human combustion: fact or fantasy? I swear, I’m gonna find out right now!She looked up again, Tara looked even more frantic than before but could not seem to extricate herself from the conversation with both girls clutching her arms and leaning in close.
Mrs. Finch found her voice at last. “Willow! What are you waiting for!”
“Uh.”
Okay, Willow! What are you doing? a) fainting b) peeing c) dying d) all of the above e) Something bizarre and agonizing, beyond anything a human being has suffered? Answer: e). She clutched her hair,
why is it always e)? "I’m waiting to express all that this song means to me!
Willow! Brilliant! Use the lyrics! She stared at the lyrics. “Uh, this is a song about love.” She nodded happily then realized she would have to keep talking. “He uh, the guy, singing the song is singing about love. Right, said that. So he’s listing what the girl he dreams of will be like.”
On a roll, Rosenberg! Keep talking! Uh, so he dreams of her being soft and pink like a nursery. Um, my mom’s a psychologist and she would probably say that he is infantilizing women into something baby-like and dependent or that he wants kids but doesn’t know it! He uh wants a doll he can carry but not a real woman and he thinks that’s the best. Uh, it’s a song,” she groped for more words, noticing that Mrs. Finch’s face was shocked by her interpretation.
This is it! Please, god-of-spontaneous-human-combustion, take me! I can’t think of another damn thing to say! The babbler is de-babblified for the first time ever! Let me die! Die! Die! Die!Then she caught a movement outside and saw Tara jerk herself free and sprint around the corner of the dining hall then she heard the faint creak of the kitchen screen door opening. A moment later Faith stepped through connecting door and planted herself in the doorway. She held the swinging door open with a shoulder and winked at Willow.
Willow looked down at their kids, all staring at her with wide eyes with the exception of Bettina, who was apparently crossing herself and muttering prayers for her survival.
Willow cleared her throat and pasted a bright smile on her face. “So! What are we waiting for!” She raised her voice, “I’m ready to sing ‘The Girl That I Marry’ from the musical ‘Annie Get your Gun’.” There was silence and Willow felt the familiar terror racing through her body like a fast-acting poison.
Why isn’t the music starting? Is this some kind of conspiracy?“Willow!” Mrs. Finch pointed to Mrs. Gidden who had her fingers poised over the keys, waiting for Willow’s signal.
“Right! Of course! Mrs. Gidden! Okay,” she raised her voice again, “Starting now!”
Mrs. Gidden began the musical introduction and Willow promptly raised the lyrics up to just under her eyes. Then Tara’s voice came in right on cue and Willow did her best to stay with her. She felt her breathing stabilize.
It’s Tara, sounding beautiful, loving me and saving me and I love—shit! Where am I? She found her way back to the lyrics and even managed to sway and make occasionally appropriate gestures. Then the final note rang sweet and clear on the evening air, then stilled to silence. Willow lowered the lyrics sheet and bowed to a storm of applause.
Mrs. Finch wiped tears from her eyes, then honked loudly into a lace trimmed handkerchief. “Exquisite! Delightful!” She placed a hand over her ample bosom in the approximate area of her heart, “I flew, simply flew! You are a songbird, Willow! Such a gift!”
Willow looked past her and saw Tara standing in the doorway applauding her and smiling warmly. She smiled back, raising her hand in the sign for ‘I love you’ and saw Tara return the gesture and impudently offer her a ‘WAVE’ as well. Willow blushed, then practically ran from the scene of the near-catastrophe to fling herself into Tara’s arms while a crowd of little girls formed a hug circle all around them.
Willow was grinning broadly as she wiped the perspiration from her forehead and stepped away from Tara. “Okay, we did it!” She looked at the smiling faces around them and felt her tummy rumble audibly. Everyone laughed and headed into the dining hall as the serving tables were being loaded with dinner.
Dinner was festive and full of high spirits. Willow sighed with happiness,
Life has a kind of extra-life-y goodness when you’ve almost died!By popular choice, ‘Moon’ continued as their swear-word-of-the-day and dinner was enjoyed with gusto. Devola and Connie described their successful spy mission and Willow shared a few of her more G-rated and humorous thoughts from when she was up there waiting to begin.
After dinner, Faith walked to their table with a large cake on a serving tray. “We always celebrate summer birthdays at camp with a cake for each table. But we have an extra. The baker’s son slipped me one more ‘cause he wants to get into my pants—paints! Paints!” She blushed, “We both like finger painting and he keeps trying to get into my paints and use them all up!” The girls nodded understandingly, sometimes boys could be hard to deal with and sharing wasn’t always easy!
Willow laughed till she cried and had to lean on Tara to stay upright. It felt beyond wonderful to not be the embarrassed person for once! Finally Faith’s laughter joined hers and the whole table rocked with high spirits.
Cordelia and Harmony approached. Cordelia sniffed disapprovingly then leaned in closer to examine the sliced strawberries used in addition to confectionary flowers and swirls of frosting.
“Why did
you get cake? Other people are more talented than you are! I’ve taken tap and jazz dance since I was six!”
Faith offered a twisted smile, “Goody for you, Princess! But Mrs. Finch said I could give Willow this cake to thank her for her singing.”
Harmony smirked, “’Her singing’? Now
that’s a funny one!” She was about to say more, but Cordelia signaled her to be quiet. Then Cordelia and Harmony each moved to stand, with Tara trapped between them. Cordelia bent down, her voice soft, “Tara, did you give Willow our message?”
Tara’s face was white and strained. She shook her head.
Cordelia leaned closer and Tara looked away. “You had better tell her then.” She looked again at the cake, then licked her lips. “And maybe you should share some of your cake. Let’s say half.”
Willow felt a fury surging up inside her. All Cordelia’s horrible meanness cried out at once to be avenged. Her voice was as soft as Cordelia’s own. “You want some cake, Cordy?”
Cordelia nodded.
“Then here it is!”
With one smooth gesture Willow pushed hard from underneath the platter, moving the platter sideways and smashing it straight into Cordelia’s face!
Cordelia gave a series of cake-strangled shrieks of rage while attempting to claw chunks of frosting off her face so that she could see.
Faith meanwhile grabbed the platter in one hand, pretended to brush cake from Cordelia’s face while grinding the remainder into Cordelia’s breasts.
Cordelia finally freed her mouth. “You! Bitches!” She grabbed a handful of cake and smeared it over Tara’s face, down her neck and shoved the rest down her shirt and the free-for-all began.
While the little girls sat frozen in mingled states of shock and delight, Willow swung into action and mashed a strawberry into Harmony’s white blouse and attempted to decorate Cordelia’s ears with frosting flowers.
Cordelia, for her part, snatched the plate away from Faith and rubbed the whole thing up and down Willow’s face and torso while Tara shoved a handful of strawberries down Cordelia’s neck in the back. Cordelia shrieked again, caught the strawberries and shoved them down Tara’s pants and then did the same to Willow.
An unknown combatant grabbed Cordelia from behind and she whirled to the attack jamming a frosting rose directly into the breast of – Mrs. Finch.
There was a horrible silence, broken only by strawberry bits and melted frosting making a small plipping sound as they dropped to the floor.
Mrs. Finch’s voice was also very soft. She glared at Cordelia and Harmony. “You two, into the showers right now!” Then she raised her voice to shout, “Carly!” Carly raced up, “You mind Cordelia’s cabin! Hallie!”
“Right here, Ma’am!”
“You mind Willow’s and Tara’s cabin, remember any bathroom trips require escorts!”
“Yes, Ma’am!”
Then she looked hard at Tara and Willow. “You two, join me in the counselor’s circle right now!”
The two cake-covered counselors made their sweet and sticky way to the counselor’s circle and sat, dreading the worst. The silence lengthened. Finally Mrs. Finch smiled, “You two seemed to have come to a sticky end!” She chuckled over her mild joke and waited for the girls to speak and finally she continued when Willow and Tara remained silent.
First she offered her disapproval about using cake as a conflict resolution device. Then she explained that it had, however, created laughter in a tense situation. Therefore, there would be no punishment. Then she talked for a long time about artistry and the sacred responsibility that talent required. She expounded on the obligation to art that Willow owed to the world while Willow nodded and agreed and Tara fought back her laughter, somehow struck with the utter absurdity of the whole situation. Meanwhile Willow had cleaned off the cake-covered face of her watch and realized that they had spent almost forty minutes absorbing wisdom at the feet of the Finch.
“So there you have it.” Mrs. Finch finally concluded.
Willow sat up with a jerk, having lost the thread of the conversation some time ago.
Willow ventured a question. “So now what do we do?”
Mrs. Finch sighed. “I should think that the answer to that question would be obvious even to such an absent-minded genius as yourself, Willow. Take a shower!”
Poor Willow...at least she tries!
I have a theory - that Finch is a demon - a scary demon that get its power from frightend children 
deserves lots of 
and 
The punishment for Kelly was really cool!
there was a bit of the funny . . . 
Devola is adorable and my kind of kid!!
, but I’m back again.