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There's been an airline crash in St. Louis, and we are pretty certain Tracy was onboard."Jim sobbed out, "You can't be right. She was coming from California." Ellie is certain she was on the flight. They'd swapped text messages just an hour ago. Tracy was able to get out earlier than her original plan, and she took a connecting flight through St. Louis – where the crash just happened a few minutes ago. It's on the news. She was trying to get home early." I'm turning. What am I doing? How bad is it? Talk to me." I'll let you know in a few minutes. There are survivors, but you're heading to St. Louis. Turn on your car radio to the news station. I'll call you back in minutes."Matt got on the phone with a Transpac Airline agent, explained what was going on, that he was booking for a relative who had a sister on the crashed plane, and got immediate attention. In a few minutes, he'd arranged a first class flight for Jim to St. Louis on another airline. He called Jim back with the details. Her hand leaped to her mouth, and her eyes darted from McGonagall, to Snape, to the other professors in turn and then back to McGonagall, and she read in each countenance the awful truth, that their headmaster, the greatest wizard any of them had ever known, was dead."No!" Pomfrey shouted. "It can't be!" The heads of houses moved out of her way, and Pomfrey walked to the other end of the infirmary where the remains lay. It was a scene McGonagall and the others expected to see amplified hundreds of times over when the entire student body was informed that Dumbledore was gone. Madam Pomfrey stood by the bed for a moment, and then her knees buckled under the weight of her grief. The heads of house turned away to allow the healer a moment of privacy, but they could not close their ears to the woman's sobs, and they were grateful for the speed with which Madam Pomfrey regained mastery of herself. The healer rose, and lowering the shroud, commenced her examination.The face of the corpse.
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My gorgeous, tanned, lithe friend Kirsty, after whom all the boys in our year lusted. And who had kissed me. Me! I looked down my body, and even though the drops and rivulets glinted in the morning light and softened my looks, I found it hard to believe that someone as pretty as her could be attracted to this pale skin that stretched over a clearly visible tummy, to too thick thighs and knobby knees. I stared at my tits that were somehow pointy and looked too soft with their huge nipples. Now that the wheels in my head had finally started spinning again, another realization came forward and I let out a chortle at my own ignorance. This was about more than just kissing. This was about all the things we had whispered about in sleepovers without really saying them aloud, about all those touches and tastes I had avoided on those few dates I had let myself get talked into. I had always thought that, once in the big city, the boys would be different and attractive and I’d finally feel.

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