Ernest Redmond

'Anyone who was anyone' only barely covered Ernest Redmond. A tall, lanky senior with a crooked smile, he moved through Eastlake High without attracting too much attention. Truth be told, most of the attention he DID get was from teachers and the parents of his classmates, who appreciated his studiousness, wide-ranging intellect, and desire to stay safely out of trouble. These were traits, he'd reflected more than once, that would probably serve him well in college, and better in his life after that, but weren't exactly designed to win him popularity or romantic interest at Eastlake.

His invitation to this particular party was more of a courtesy invite, which Ernest understood as well as anyone. He and Jess had been partners on an American History project during the last part of junior year, and they'd done well enough on their presentation on Rutherford B. Hayes to earn the highest grade of the term. It helped that Ernest had written the entire thing, but Jess had been the one to deliver it -- Ernest had a lot of background knowledge and a penchant for research, while Jess had a natural stage presence that few people could hope to match. At any rate, he and Jess hadn't become friends in any real sense, but the experience had been painless enough -- and their grade high enough -- that the blonde cheer captain was willing to do Ernest a solid and give him a token invite to her birthday party.

He'd come alone, having no girlfriend to ask to bring along as a plus one. Ernest honestly wasn't much for parties; there were always so many people, and things were so loud. Nonetheless, he'd given Jess her present -- a ballpoint pen with her name engraved on it that he'd picked up at a mall kiosk, the sort of thing that he figured she might at least be able to use. Shopping for the girl who had everything was a fool's errand, especially if you didn't have the kind of money that Jess and her family had. But it was something, and she'd at least been pleasant about it. This was followed by Ernest walking around the party, saying hello to the handful of people he felt like he ought to greet: Tamara from third period biology last year, James, who lived a couple houses down from him, Jess's friend Tiffany, whom he'd met a few times at various school events. All relatively quick, low-key, and uneventful.

And now, though the party was still in full swing, Ernest figured he'd more or less done what he came to do. Sure, he was envious in a way of the football players and rich kids playing beer pong with the busty cheerleaders and teenage socialites, but he was self-aware enough to know that his status at Eastlake wasn't nearly high enough to insert himself into that scene. Besides, none of those girls would have an interest in him anyway, and it was best to avoid setting himself up for a high-profile rejection and the embarrassment that would follow.

He was walking across the back lawn, planning to go back through the house and start on his way back home -- it was only about a mile, if he took the shortcut through the park -- when he saw something gleam on the grass next to the garden. Curious, he walked over and picked the object up.

Ernest's blue eyes widened. A ring, with an ostentatious emerald set in gold. This thing probably cost more than everything he owned put together, and here it was, just lying in the grass? He put it on his finger just to see how it felt; the weight of it meant that it was definitely real gold. It had to belong to someone here, but as Ernest scanned the yard, he couldn't see anyone who looked like they were looking for or had lost something. He'd prefer to do the right thing and return it to whoever had dropped it, but that wasn't looking particularly easy to do at the moment.

"Damn," he said to himself, "I wish I knew who this belonged to."

Jessica groaned when Ernest stood up and she got a good look at his face. It could have been much worse -- that slimeball Kevin, for instance -- but the mere fact that someone besides her was in possession of the ring was a calamity, and the fact that it wasn't one of her good friends made it that much more complicated. She saw Ernest look around the yard, and then, though it was much too loud for her to have heard anything he was saying, his voice came into her head anyway.

"Damn, I wish I knew who this belonged to."

Immediately, her entire body was buffeted by a wave of pure pleasure. She let out a loud moan, and momentarily sank to her knees in a frustrating moment of bliss.

In some universes, this might have been the end of the story. Ernest would have known that the ring belonged to Jess, have gone inside and returned it to her, and continued on his way without ever knowing how close he'd come to unimaginable power.

However, in the strictest sense, the ring didn't belong to Jess. She was bound to it, as her mother had explained, but the actual owner of the ring was the person who possessed it. Since Jess had lost it, and Ernest was now holding it, by the strictest possible interpretation of the logic involved, he was the one who possessed it. Its owner.

Jess's Master.

Ernest didn't have any way of knowing that last part, of course. What he did know, suddenly, but as deeply as he knew his own name, was that the ring was his. He couldn't have explained how he knew that, or the precise justification for it, but he knew it was true, in a much deeper way than any ordinary 'finders keepers' sort of thing. No one was looking for it, and it was his.

He ran one hand through his curly brown hair and shrugged. Well, that was at least a positive end to his evening. But surely now it was time to head home, as he'd planned?