@CelineBurningBright, don't worry about ruining the plot at all!  

~Violet~

"So-" I start, but am interrupted by a sound at the door. "Oh! There's someone there!" I speed-walk over to the door and open it. "Mr. Erlenmeyer, right? Nice to see you! Come in!"

Mr. E nods and steps inside. "Thank you for letting me stay here, Violet."

"It's really no problem at all," I reply. "We're glad to have you! Stay as long as you'd like. You know where your place is, I hope?"

"Down the hall to my right, if I'm remembering correctly," he responds, a hint of a smile on his face. 

"Alright. Enjoy your stay," I say. I wait until Mr. E disappears down the hall before turning back to Ky. "So as I was saying, the Zeithran Star supposedly grants temporary extra abilities." My voice is an excited whisper. "And since everyone here only has one ability, this star was always thought of as miraculous, legendary."

Ky nods, looking serious. "So are you suggesting that the reason why the Zeithran Star disappeared is because…someone went after it?"

I shrug. "Who knows? Maybe. Or it just…magically disappeared on its own. You do realize that the Zeithran Star is a legend, right?"

"So it is," Ky muses. "But just wondering…Mr. E is a science teacher or something like that, right? Do you suppose he knows anything about this star as well?" He glances over at Celeste. 

@Celine, it’s perfectly fine not to be writing all the time and to be scared of messing up the plot. (You aren’t, by the way.) I’ve also been suffering from things such as writer’s block, full schedules, and now (not-very-serious) illness again (fate is cruel). Anyways…

—————————

—Morrigan— 

I am wondering what Casey Rosenberg was doing in the bookshop, and, thankfully, he comes back.

“I’d like to make a return,” he says to me. I’m at the counter and he has made his way into the checkout line.

“What do you wish to return?” I ask.

“These.” He puts down two books, both about local history.  

Normally we don’t do returns, but truth be told I’m kind of scared about Casey Rosenberg. I scan the books  back into the system and hand him the money. 

“Thanks,” he says.

“My pleasure,” I tell him. It really is very pleasing, because masquerading as a dollar coin is a tracker that my parents gave me so I wouldn’t lose things.  Hopefully he won’t give it away.

~Dorrie~

Science is hard again. Ugh. 
"I've decided that our Friday quiz will now take place on Mondays," says Mr. Grebnesor. Someone raises their hand.
"Yes, Perry?" Mr. Grebnesor calls on them.
"Will the quiz be of the last week's work or the coming one's?" I don't know Perry well, but I hope that it's the last week's, because otherwise it's just plain irrational.
"That's an interesting question," he says. The answer is pretty obvious is what I would say if I were in the mood. "However," he says, "that question shouldn't merit thinking about whatsoever because a quiz of material I haven't taught is irrational. So, you'll be doing two extra questions just to make sure you know how to think. Rems, goes for you too. Instead of eleven every Monday, you'll be doing thirteen." 
Thirteen is my least favorite number. Some people think it's lucky. I can agree with some people on other things.  Perry looks defeated.
"So! Pencils!"

-Celeste-

"I don't really want to disturb him, though," Violet replies. "I mean, he's our guest. Let's try to figure things out ourselves before we ask."

"If you say so." Ky nods, not looking satisfied, but resigned nonetheless. "Well," he says, getting up. "I better go do some research. I'll be taking my leave now, if that's okay." 

"Go ahead," I reply. "Perhaps we should go to our rooms as well."

"Of course," Violet agrees. "I need to work on my research paper."

"Ah, and I forgot about my math worksheet," I say. "Okay, let's go." 

I'm really sorry I haven't been posting; I've been working on other projects and now I'm having writer's block and I don't have much time between being home from school and swimming and I'm also really stressed…

–Morrigan–

The person must be good at telling fake coins from real ones, because it stays in the side of a street for a while. I'm very sad about the loss of the tracker; the day I plan to retrieve it after work, it rains and the coin is swept down the drain. 
So much for that, then.

~Dorrie~

On Tuesday, Mr. Grebnesor is playing with a coin. He flips it up and spins it on his desk. It's big and not too shiny. I wonder why he likes it so much. Suddenly he throws it into a wastebasket and then goes to retrieve it.
"Anyways," he says, "today we're learning about types of metal. Dollar coins are made of silver, which tarnishes. However, most fake coins are made of aluminum, which does not. So, I'm going to ask you which of these coins is fake." 
"What educational value does this have?" asks someone. I turn my head: It's Becca, who's all the teachers' pet but doesn't like the teachers at all. She always does her homework, but if it's boring or doesn't work with her standards of what's right, she writes a note on it. 
"Um, it builds your understanding," says Mr. Grebnesor. "Now, look!" He takes the wastebasket coin and two other dollar coins and puts them on his desk. We crowd around the desk and it takes me only a minute to tell that the waskebasket coin is fake. 

After school, I tell Morrigan about it. 
"That was me," she says. "Unfortunately. I would have sold it for more than a dollar and fairness is fairly speculative. I thought he let it wash down a drain, but I guess he picked it up." 
"Okay," I say. 

–Morrigan–

Ethics, ethics, ethics. Running round my mind at ten o'clock. I go onto the roof and back down again. I even go for a run.
Should I pay Casey Rosenberg?
No, I shouldn't, as he's a criminal, so I return to bed and fall asleep uneasily.