Witchy Dreams

by Amanda M. Lee

  Toward the tail end of lunch, a tall boy with long hair made his way over to the table. His hair was blonde – so blonde it almost looked like an ashy gray. He had warm brown eyes and he carried a skateboard. I smiled in spite of myself. A hipster carrying a skateboard indoors could only mean one thing: pothead.

  Brittany smiled when she saw the boy approach our table. It was a watery smile, though, and I could tell she was concerned about seeing him.

  “Mark,” she squealed, yes squealed, and threw her arms around him. It seemed like an extreme reaction for someone who looked surprised to see him a few minutes before and embarrassed to see him a minute after that.

  For his part, Mark seemed surprised by the greeting as well. Still, he hugged her back before returning his gaze to everyone at the table.

  Brittany was bubbly as she introduced Mark. “We went to high school together … although we didn’t really hang around in the same circles.”

  I smiled to myself. I could bet what circles Brittany ran around with – were the same circles I secretly dreamed of starting on fire when I was bored in detention. Mark, though, I bet he ran around in similar circles to me – and I bet those circles were often drowned in a haze of hemp.

  Mark must have sensed a kinship with me, too, because when Brittany asked him if he wanted to join us he immediately moved to the side of the table Paris and I were sitting on and wedged himself between us. I couldn’t help but laugh.

  Paris, Mark, and I enjoyed some idle chatter for a while. Paris asked him about his skateboard – even being so bold as to question him about whether or not she could ride it.

  I thought that was pretty brave. Most skateboard aficionados don’t let anyone touch their ride.

  Mark was either baked or laid back, as he acquiesced almost immediately.

  “You want to come try, too?” He seemed eager for me to agree.

  Interestingly enough, I did. I have negative balance on roller blades, but maybe a skateboard would be different. I could ski, after all. Of course, when you fall while skiing it’s usually in a big soft drift of snow. Pavement is a different thing.

  Paris, Mark, and I said goodbye to everyone at the table. I couldn’t help but notice a dark look emanating from Brittany as she watched us go. For a minute I wondered if she had a crush on Mark. I realized pretty quickly that probably wasn’t it. Still, I couldn’t figure out why she was suddenly so hostile.

  Pushing the thoughts out of my mind, Paris, Mark, and I went to the sidewalk area behind the dorm. There were a couple of blankets spread out in the grassy knoll being occupied by a few couples – but for the most part the area was empty.

  Mark gave us a quick tutorial on how to balance ourselves on the board before he nervously handed his pride and joy – which I noticed had Smurf decals on the undercarriage – over to Paris.

  I was surprised. Paris didn’t seem like the athletic type to me. She quickly caught on to the skateboard, though I had a sneaking suspicion this wasn’t her first time. I wondered – just for a second – if perhaps Paris was attracted to Mark’s folksy and laid back attitude. If she was, I couldn’t blame her. Her boyfriend was ugly. What? I said I was shallow.

  Still, Paris didn’t overtly flirt with Mark. For his part, Mark split his time between watching Paris navigate the treacherous sidewalk and trying to engage me in conversation. Luckily for me, the conversation was of the mundane variety.

  Which bands did I like? Band of Horses ruled.

  What was my favorite movie? The Goonies still stands up today.

  What was my favorite book? Lord of the Rings was cool before the movies. It’s still cool after.

  Did I like comic books? No, but I did like super hero movies.

  We had a lot in common. I couldn’t help but smile at him. He was a nice guy. And, after my run-ins with Aric and Rafael over the past two days, it was nice to find a guy I just wanted to hang out with and not picture naked.

  Whew, I wasn’t in heat after all.

  After Paris had monopolized the skateboard for a full hour, she brought it over to me. I looked at it dubiously. It had seemed like a good idea in the cafeteria. That really wasn’t the case anymore. Still, I didn’t want to look like a wimp.

  Here’s the thing, skateboards and in-line skates clearly aren’t my thing. I have no sense of balance. I wasn’t on the skateboard five seconds before I crashed to the ground and skinned my elbow.

  Both Mark and Paris tried to cajole me back onto the death contraption, but I declined – with profanity. After ten minutes, they both gave up and we agreed to walk over to the 7-Eleven for a Slurpee before returning to the dorms.

  While we were sitting at a picnic table outside the convenience store drinking our Slurpees and enjoying the nice weather – and the beginnings of what looked like a terrific sunset – my cellphone vibrated in my pocket.

  I reached for it and saw that it was Will calling. We’d both agreed to wait until Monday to talk. I guess he missed me. I smiled a little bit at the thought. This was going to work out great.

  “Hey,” I greeted him.

  “Hey, how’s it going?” Will was kind of a slacker at first glance. That was only the surface, though. He worked to put himself through school. His parents were moronic hippies who spent more time at Renaissance fairs than raising him and his brother. They even built a teepee in their backyard to live in during the summer. I’m not joking. It was baffling. I think they just did it so they could smoke their peace pipe near nature and not share it with their kids, although I had no proof of that.

  “It’s going good.”

  “You get your books?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You get all your stuff unpacked?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You know where all the buildings you have to go to tomorrow are?”

  “Yes, Dad,” I sighed in irritation. I could tell Will was smiling on the other side of the phone.

  “You’re all set then, right? You’ve done everything you have to do?”

  “I said yes.”

  “Good, you want to come over and do me?”

  Wow, I stepped right into that one. “Do I want to come over and do you?”

  “He’s a smooth talker,” Paris giggled.

  I noticed Mark’s eyes had darkened slightly. He was clearly listening to the conversation – even though he was pretending not to.

  “Why don’t you come over here?”

  Will snorted.

  “What was that noise?”

  “I’m not coming to the dorms.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m a junior.”

  “So?”

  “So, juniors aren’t seen at the freshman dorms. People will talk.”

  “People will talk about what?”

  “They’ll say I’m trying to pick up a freshman or something.”

  “You are trying to pick up a freshman.”

  “No, I’ve already picked up a freshman – a hot freshman.” Well, that placated me a little bit. “A hot freshman who I’ve known for years and been having sex with for a respectable amount of time.”

  I was getting annoyed again. “What’s your point?”

  “I’m not coming to the dorms.”

  “Well, I’m not walking to your frat house.”

  “I’ll come pick you up.”

  “So you’ll come pick me up at the dorms, but you won’t come into the dorms?”

  “Right.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “It is what it is.”

  “I guess you’re sleeping alone tonight then, Mr. Junior.”

  Will paused on the other end of the phone. I could tell he was mulling things over. This hadn’t worked how he thought it would. He decided to try a different tact.

  “I wanted you to meet my frat brothers.”

  “I met them when you moved in two weeks ago.”

  “Not all of them.”

  “I met enough of them. You haven’t met my roommates.”


  “I’ll do that later.”

  “When?”

  “Later.”

  Now I was really getting irritated. “Just come over here.”

  Will decided to dig his heels in. “I don’t want to go over there.”

  “Well, I’m staying here tonight.” I realized we’d both started yelling at one another somewhere in the last few minutes. I struggled to bring my tone down. People were starting to stare.

  “Fine,” Will was clearly as aggravated as I felt.

  “Fine,” I agreed.

  There was an uncomfortable silence. Will finally broke it. “I’ll come over and meet your roommates tomorrow.”

  “Thank you.”

  After disconnecting, I couldn’t help but wonder if this wasn’t going to be as great of an arrangement as I had originally thought.

  Six

  The first day of classes came quick – seemingly too quick, for a slacker like me, anyway.

  Technically, I’m not a slacker. I am academically lazy, though. Things have just always come easy for me when it comes to school (math notwithstanding). I have a borderline photographic memory – which has been a godsend when it comes to schoolwork. Also, I can write faster than most people can read – so that’s also been a benefit. The problem is, the ease in which I’ve approached school has made me indifferent when it comes to pursuing higher education.

  College was going to be different, I promised myself. I was not only going to embrace an academic environment, I was going to pursue it.

  I’m not sure I totally believe it either – but it is a righteous goal.

  My first class didn’t start until 10 a.m., so Paris and I both got up early and got ready. Brittany’s first class had been at 8 a.m. She’d actually been excited about it. I thought that all classes should have been offered after noon. I didn’t get to decide these things, though.

  I wasn’t sure what time Tara’s first class was, but she was gone before Paris and I even got out of bed. Since we still had half an hour before we had to leave, we decided to stuff ourselves with a quick breakfast. I doubted that would be a normal thing – but I figured we might as well take advantage of being up while we could.

  After eating some eggs and hash-browns – I noted with disgust that Paris drowned her breakfast in ketchup – we headed off for our first day of academic success.

  “Are you nervous?”

  Paris and I were going to the same building – even if we didn’t have a class together until later in the afternoon. She was starting off her day with English 101 just like I was – she just had a different professor. After that we had astronomy together and then I finished the day with Journalism 101.

  “No, are you nervous?” I actually wasn’t nervous. I think it was fair to say I was cautiously optimistic.

  “Not really. I just don’t know what to expect.”

  “Me either,” I admitted. “In high school it was easy. I don’t think this is going to be as easy.”

  “I don’t think you’ll have too much trouble,” she said.

  “I hope not.”

  We walked in companionable silence for a few minutes. I could tell something was on her mind. “How’s Mike?”

  “He’s fine.”

  “How’s Will?”

  He’s an asshole. “He’s fine.”

  We lapsed into silence again.

  “Aren’t you glad we both have boyfriends so we don’t have to go through this whole mating ritual of looking for someone, like Brittany?”

  “Totally.”

  “Totally,” Paris echoed.

  I wondered if my reply sounded as hollow as hers did.

  “Aric seemed nice.” I thought that was a little pointed.

  “I don’t know about nice.”

  “He seemed hot.”

  “He’s definitely hot.”

  Paris giggled and I couldn’t help but join in. “I just don’t think he’s nice.”

  “You don’t know him.”

  “No,” I conceded.

  “Do you want to know him?”

  “No!” I felt like I’d answered that a little too quickly. Maybe she hadn’t noticed.

  “I’d want to know him.”

  “You seem like you want to know Mark.” There it was. I’d said it out loud.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean you seem interested in Mark.”

  “He’s nice. He’s just fun to hang out with.” Paris was getting defensive.

  “Fine.”

  “Fine.”

  “He’s cute, though.”

  “He’s totally cute,” she agreed.

  The Covenant College campus isn’t big – which is a plus. It’s not tiny like a community college or anything, but it’s not so big that you can’t walk to class either.

  The building Paris and I were going to was located close to our dorm and nearly adjacent to the UC. Luckily for me, the bulk of my classes were located in this building. Since I was a journalism major – or at least thought I would stay one – most of my classes would remain in this building. Once Paris started getting into the core of her curriculum, though, she would have to walk to a building on the far edge of campus.

  Once we got into Leeland Hall, we both found ourselves checking our class schedules. My class was on the second floor and hers was on the first. We said our goodbyes at the stairwell.

  “See you in an hour for astronomy,” she said brightly.

  I smiled and waved to her as I climbed up the flight of stairs.

  When I got to class, I was surprised it was so small. It was certainly bigger than my high school classes had been – but it was also small enough to be considered cozy.

  The rest of the class filed in before the professor – a dazed looking woman who declared all modern literature dead – made her first appearance. Even though I found the teacher scattered, the class looked easy. I only had to read five books for the semester and write five papers. That wouldn’t be hard at all.

  After class, I traipsed back down to a lecture hall for my astronomy class. Paris had gotten there first and saved me a seat. This was what I always pictured college to be like -- a big auditorium with hundreds of kids milling about and forming cliques. I was actually surprised that so many kids wanted to take astronomy – but then again they were probably like Paris and me. They just didn’t want to dissect anything.

  The class went by pretty quickly. The actual lecture didn’t seem like it was going to be hard. The lab portion, though, was probably going to be a pain. We were going to have to go up on top of the science building – no matter how cold it was – to draw star maps. Paris didn’t seem deterred – but she was an art major. That didn’t sound fun to me at all.

  After class, I bid Paris goodbye and walked to the far end of the building where my Journalism 101 class was going to be held.

  When I entered I was relieved to find myself in another small class environment.

  The class was pretty full, but I slid into a desk next to a pretty girl who looked like she had some Italian heritage to go along with her darker skin and full mane of wavy brown hair. I smiled at her as I sat.

  “I’m Matilda,” she said immediately. I was glad to see that she didn’t try to shake my hand.

  “Zoe,” I replied.

  “Is journalism your major?”

  I considered her question seriously. “It is right now.”

  “Yeah, I’m not all that sure either,” she said.

  Matilda and I exchanged mindless chatter for a few minutes. I found out she lived one floor above me in the dorms – oh, and she was obsessed with one of the Ricks. I wasn’t sure which one, but if I had to guess I figured it was the hot one, aka Rick No. 1.

  “Do you know him?”

  “We’ve met.”

  “Do you like him?”

  “He seems fine. I haven’t had a chance to talk to him all that much.”

  “Well, now I have a reason to be down on your floor.”

  I must have
looked confused.

  “We have class together. We can study together.”

  I’d always considered studying to be a solo endeavor, but I let it slide. I figured this was just some mindless infatuation that she’d get over – or maybe I just hoped.

  I noticed the class had gone silent and I turned my attention to the front of the room. I wasn’t sure what I expected, but this wasn’t it. The guy who had taken his place up at the podium looked young – not student young -- but like forty-young. Instead of a suit – like I’d seen other professors in the hallway clad in – he was wearing blue jeans and a rock T-shirt. Sure, it was a Strokes T-shirt, but he could have been wearing a Nickelback shirt or something and really thrown my day off.

  “I’m Sam Blake,” he introduced himself, flashing his bright blue eyes around the room. I couldn’t help but think he was awfully hot for a professor. “You can call me Sam or Mr. Blake. You can also call me professor, but I sometimes forget I’m a professor, so I might not answer you.”

  I heard a few giggles behind me and turned to see a group of four girls flashing him big smiles. What a bunch of whores. Whoa, where did that come from?

  Sam continued to prove that he wasn’t a normal teacher. Instead of pulling out a syllabus, he went around the room and had all of us stand up to introduce ourselves.

  When it got to be my turn, I was a little nervous but I didn’t see any harm in the endeavor. “I’m Zoe.”

  “What’s your last name Zoe?”

  “Lake.”

  “Where are you from Zoe?”

  “Uh, a small town about an hour away from Traverse City.”

  Sam Blake’s eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at me. “What town is that?”

  “Why does it matter?” I challenged. I don’t know why it was such a big deal, but I wasn’t keen on divulging my hometown.

  “I guess it doesn’t,” Sam said. “I was just curious why it was such a secret?”

  “I didn’t say it was a secret.”