The Bewitched Box Set

by W. J. May

  I knew I wasn’t supposed to mess with the expensive instrument, but my curiosity overwhelmed me. I rushed over to the black-lacquered piano and propped open the enormous lid. I gazed down at the horizontal strings and laughed. I knew there was no way I could play any kind of song on that thing. I lowered myself onto the piano bench, then shook out my hands like some brilliant concert pianist, trying to relax myself before a performance. In the dream, I’d had no sheet music, so I assumed I’d been playing from memory. I clumsily pecked at the black and white keys, playing three notes that didn’t seem to go together at all. Da-da-dum-dum, dum-dum-ding. I then ran my hands up the scale and cringed: Even that was off key.

  Just as I was trying again, Pam walked in, carrying a cup of tea. “Ouch,” she said. “I wondered who was playing in here.” Her long, wet hair hung in blonde curls. She had a romantic Bohemian about her and had paired a ruffled blouse with a black tiered, pleated skirt. Her style was simple and understated, yet incredibly classy.

  I stood and brushed my hands over my humble and dull robe, suddenly embarrassed. “Well, I guess I’m no Mozart.”

  She let out a small giggle. Her makeup looked perfect, so natural, giving a glow to her flawless skin. Her blue eyes twinkled in the bright rays of sun. “Maybe the piano isn’t tuned,” she said, trying to cheer me up. “Why are you down here anyway?”

  “I had the weirdest dream. I dreamt I was in this very room, playing this think like some concert pianist.”

  “Hmm. Well, I hope you gave a better performance than that ear-splitting screech I just heard,” she joked.

  “In my dream, I played one of the most beautiful, eerie, and haunting songs I’ve ever heard,” I said.

  “Sounds romantic.” She nodded. “Way better than the boring dream I had the other night. My hands were all caked with gray goop, and I was sculpting some ancient Greek statue.” She pointed to the floor. “Hey, I think you dropped something.”

  Silver glittered off to the left of the foot pedals, and I reached down and picked up my silver locket. “Hmm. That’s weird.”

  She sipped her tea. “What?”

  I rolled the jewelry in my hand, regarding it intently. “I only came down here a minute ago. I’m sure I would have noticed if it fell off, especially since everything echoes in here. Maybe I really was in here last night and dropped it then.”

  “Sleep-walk much?” she teased.

  I dangled the necklace in my hands. “I suppose that could have been it, but that doesn’t explain the strange guy.”

  “Strange...or hot?” She laughed. “If you are seeing hot guys in your dreams, girl, you’re definitely dreaming. How hot are we talking anyway? Like...Johnny Depp hot or Taylor Lautner hot?”

  “Drop-dead gorgeous, but way too old for me—like...ancient. He was dressed in medieval-looking clothes, and he sounded like that one guy on those old Star Trek reruns that’s always beaming people up.”

  She laughed. “A Scotty in a Scottish castle. Imagine that.” She arched an eyebrow and continued, “But accents are hot, right? Dang it. Why couldn’t he have jumped into my dream?”

  I chuckled.

  “What century are you talking?” she asked.

  “Around the 1800s, I think. He had the greenest eyes and shaggy brown hair, and there was something about his smile.”

  “I can only imagine.” She winked. “So, Zoey, what did you two do in this dream? Did you hook up?”

  I held back a giggle. Nothing like that had happened, of course, but even if it had, I wasn’t exactly the kiss-and-tell type. “None of that. When I woke up in here, I was standing at the piano, playing it like a pro. He was watching me, and then he told me to go back to sleep, so I did and woke up in my room. It just felt so...real.”

  “My mom’s all into that dream stuff. She keeps this corny dream journal and is always reading about Sigmund Freud and checking out dream dictionaries from the library. She says dreams can express our emotions.”

  “Well, what’s that mean in this case?”

  “I’m not sure, but I think dreaming about being a sculptor has something to do with me being able to create and accomplish my goals—one of which is to ace that geometry test this morning.”

  I gave her a fist bump. “Me too.”

  “You dreamt that you played the piano,” she continued. “Maybe you’re on a quest for harmony in your life and all that stuff—an epiphany and blah-blah-blah.”

  I smiled, because in the midst of all her joking around and sarcasm, Pam made a great point.

  “Well, in any case, Dream Boy isn’t here to help you with that math test, and you look like crap,” she said bluntly.

  “Yeah, you’re right. I’d better get upstairs and take a shower.”

  She turned to leave. “See you in class.”

  “Thanks, Pam.” I nodded, and she was on her way.

  Pam’s explanations still in my mind. I was ready to believe her, even though I wasn’t fully convinced. The whole experience just seemed too vivid to be a figment of my imagination, but I truly hoped she was right. I yawned, exhausted; the dream and all the confusion had taken its toll. I took one last glance at the piano before my gaze drifted to the floor, where I noticed a small white patch. I ran my fingers over it and realized it was candle wax. The image of me effortlessly playing the keys rolled across my mind, candles burning brightly in the candelabra, and goosebumps rose on my neck. I couldn’t shake off the feeling that I wasn’t seeing the whole picture. Was I really here last night? And if I was, why can’t I remember it?

  *

  Pushing the door open to my last class of the day, I scanned the room, hunting for my Hunter. My eyes locked on him, and he winked. A shiver of excitement ran down my spine as I flashed him a grin. I debated whether or not to talk to him after class, and I decided there was no reason not to. I only had to keep it cool and casual, and I decided I’d just ask him if he liked his room, since he couldn’t have mine. It wasn’t exactly talking about the weather, but it was the perfect excuse to strike up a conversation.

  As I sat at my desk, chewing on the eraser of my pencil, Pam slid in the desk behind me and smiled a big, goofy grin. Her cheeks were flushed, and I knew immediately that something was going on.

  “What’re you so happy about?” I asked.

  “Not happy, girl...turned on. Hunter’s friend is so freaking hot.”

  “Who? Eric?” I whispered, craning my head to get a better glimpse of the guy sitting in the front row on the left side of the classroom. “I sat next to him yesterday at dinner.”

  “Gosh, he’s got it all—the shoulder-length brown hair, brown eyes, and glasses. He’s like Clark Kent, and I bet without those glasses, he could be my personal Superman,” she teased. She stared at him and let out a sigh. “I’ll be his Lois Lane anytime.”

  “He is cute,” I said. He wore thin, wire-framed glasses, but he was very attractive and had a killer smile. He stood six feet tall and was broad shouldered with an athletic built. If I wasn’t so smitten with Hunter, I’d definitely be interested.

  “Yeah, he’s my knight in shining armor.”

  “Hmm. A knight in shining armor or an idiot in tinfoil?” I asked in the most serious tone I could muster, before I broke into a laughing fit. “You just don’t get it, Zoey.” She let out a giggle, slapping my arm. “Some of us aren’t Miss Independent like you. Having a man to take care of you would probably be your biggest nightmare, huh?”

  “Hey! Don’t judge me. You just met me.”

  She clicked her tongue. “Meh, I know the type.”

  I saw nothing wrong with not wanting to play the damsel in distress, and I was dead set on slaying my own dragons. If I was going to be with a guy, he’d have to see me as an equal. No way would I be anyone’s little princess in need of protection. I playfully nudged her. “Whatever.”

  “Isn’t it funny that we’re both natural blondes?” she asked.

  At that moment, I felt guilty and embarrassed that I’d thought he
r hair was dyed, and I was glad I had never mentioned it to her. In any case, her platinum blonde hair was a unique feature about her that made people notice her from miles away. My blonde hair was nothing special.

  “So what do you think of my Eric?” she asked.

  “He’s cute, I guess. His glasses make him look smart.”

  “Hey! Back off, woman,” she said with a chuckle. “I’ve got dibs.”

  “Relax,” I said, then admitted in a lower tone, “If I were after anybody, it’d be Hunter.”

  She cocked a brow, disbelief crossing her soft face. “Hunter? That guy we washed dishes with?”

  “Yeah, him.”

  As if his ears had been itching, Hunter entered the room with two of his friends, laughing about some mischief they’d caused the day before. He was wearing his typical faded jeans and a white t-shirt, emphasizing his lean, muscular frame. He was sipping from a soda can as he listened to his friends talking, all the while sneaking peeks at me. He was so hot I could have stared at him all day; his charm was impossible to resist.

  “There’s just something about him,” I said, nodding in his direction to let her know who I was gawking at.

  She glanced up at him as he walked back to his seat. “Maybe it’s that you wanna tame him. I hate to break it to you, honey, but I don’t think Hunter’s gonna be tied down to being a one-woman man anytime soon.”

  I laughed. “Oh yeah? A real bad boy, huh?” I asked, my eyes glistening with curiosity and fantasies that I didn’t want to admit.

  “Don’t do it, Zoey. I’ve heard the rumors, and you don’t wanna go chasing that one. He’ll probably date over half the girls here by the end of the school year.”

  “Maybe...or maybe not.”

  She sighed the same way my older sister always did, as if I was a hopeless case. “Tell me you’re not going to ignore my advice on this.”

  I nodded, smiling. “Only if he’s interested...and not taken.”

  Mrs. Duball’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts. “Students, today we’ll spend our hour going over the history of Tiker Castle. This will be valuable information for you about your surroundings, so please pay attention.”

  “Hey!” Pam whispered, kicking my chair.

  I turned and whispered, “Are you trying to give me whiplash or something?”

  She smiled and pushed a small, neatly folded note into my hand. “Special delivery,” she whispered.

  I looked down at the note with red ink on the front: “For Zoey’s eyes only...” With a pounding heart, I opened it, being careful so the teacher wouldn’t see it. “Want to hang out after class?” it said. My mouth dropped when I turned it over and read, “From the guy who almost stole your room.”

  I grinned, realizing that Hunter had quite the sense of humor, among his other attributes. I was surprised he wanted anything to do with me, considering the way I’d behaved toward him when we’d first met. We had enjoyed our dishwashing interlude, but for all I knew, Pam might have been right about him. His name might have been some clue, and I feared he might just be one of those guys who loved the thrill of the chase. He was so good-looking, and I knew I had to play it cool so I wouldn’t seem easy like all the other girls in his fan club, so I slipped the note inside my folder, glanced over my shoulder to the back of the room, and shot him a big smile. As our eyes connected, I could feel my heart skipping a beat. He winked. He was so hot, but I couldn’t let him know I felt that way. Still, I was definitely going to talk to him after class.

  While the teacher scribbled a bunch of dull facts and dates on the chalkboard, I glanced over at Pam.

  She smirked. “So you’re gonna date him, huh?” she whispered, looking none too pleased about it.

  “Who said anything about dating?” I whispered back. “He just asked me to hang out after school.”

  “Today?”

  “Yeah.”

  Her face flushed with excitement, and she pushed a hair strand back from her eyes. “Well, maybe you could find a way to get him to introduce me to Eric. Ya think?”

  “I’m not sure. I don’t really even know Hunter yet.”

  Pam held up a hand. “Stop making excuses.”

  “Seriously! I don’t know him any better than you do.”

  “Not true. He wasn’t in my bedroom, was he?”

  I smacked her lightly on the arm. “It wasn’t like that. It was just a...misunderstanding.”

  “Think about it. We could all go out together—you, me, Hunter, and Eric. Wouldn’t that be fun?” Then, with a short glance at Eric, she added in a lower tone, “And don’t you dare tell me it’s too soon and he’s just a rebound. Yes, I was dumped recently, and my heart is still aching, but it’s time to move on.”

  “No promises, but I’ll try to hook you up if I can. The two of you would make a cute couple, and I’m not saying that just to get you off my back.”

  Her face lit up. “Really? I think he looks perfect for me.”

  I chuckled. “I promise I’ll try. Just don’t get your hopes up, because he might not be your Mr. Right.”

  She shot me a huge smile, and I turned back to face the teacher.

  “This place has a very rich history, dating all the way back to the tenth century AD,” said Mrs. Duball. “Scotland and England fought over this castle for centuries. If these stones could talk, they’d tell us tales about invasions, massacres, wars, and so much more.” She glanced at all of us, then smiled. “Now, I’d like to take you to a place where you can read more about Tiker Castle, a place where ancient books are kept.”

  “Where’s that, Miss Duball?” Pam asked.

  “Why, the library, of course, my dear.”

  Everyone laughed.

  “Please follow me,” the teacher said, grabbing her big yellow folder and urging us to come after her.

  Chairs were pushed away, as students made their way across the room down to the library, where she told us we had to divide into groups of four.

  Pam shot me a look and grinned; I knew exactly what she was thinking. “Do I look okay?” she asked, sounding worried. “OMG, how’s my hair?”

  I reached out and smoothed out a few bumps. “You look great.”

  “Thanks. You know what they say about first impressions.”

  Before I could say another word, she motioned Hunter and Eric over. As they approached us, she was wearing the biggest smile, like a kid on Christmas morning.

  “Um...would you guys like to be in our group?” I asked shyly when they were within earshot.

  “Study buddies, huh?” Hunter said, smiling at me. “Sure. And you’re lucky to have Eric, here. He was on honor roll last year.”

  “Sweet!” Pam said.

  I looked up at Hunter. “I got your note, by the way. I’d love to hang out later if you want.”

  “An offer you couldn’t refuse, huh?” he said in that arrogant tone I was beginning to adore. He flashed his brilliant white smile, and his eyes connected with mine again, just like they had in class. There was something between us: a spark, chemistry, undeniable interest. I knew he liked me—or at least I hoped so.

  Before I could think of another word to break the awkward silence between us, Pam elbowed me and cleared her throat, as if to remind me of something I was supposed to say. “Ahem...”

  “Oh, yeah. Sorry,” I said, looking to Eric to make sure he was listening, then back to Hunter, who was still staring at me. “Eric, this is Pam.”

  Eric shook Pam’s hand. “Nice to meet you,”

  “Thanks,” Pam said. “It’s my pleasure.”

  Eric smiled back at her. “A Southern girl, huh? Love the accent.”

  “Yeah, it’s really cool,” Hunter said.

  She giggled. “Born and raised in Tennessee.”

  “Does that mean you’re into country music?” he asked.

  “Yep, and I’ve been playing a twelve-string guitar since I was ten.”

  Eric smiled. “Impressive. Maybe you can play a few songs for us, because I know
you didn’t leave home without your guitar.”

  “Finally!” Pam said, looking back to me and giving me a small pat on the shoulder.

  “Huh?” I asked, confused.

  “Finally, somebody in this old relic of a place gets me!” She smiled at Eric, then sashayed over to a square table, pulling me with her, and set down her bag.

  Eric and Hunter followed right behind us.

  The conversation went dead for a few seconds as Miss Duball handed us some worksheets and assignments, then instructed us as to what to do.

  After she left our table to talk to the next group, I said the first thing that came to my mind. “I’m from New Orleans. Where are you two from?” I was dying to find out everything I could about him.

  “Eric’s from California, and I’m from Miami,” Hunter said.

  I nodded. “That explains the great tan.”

  “Hunter,” said the teacher, “please come and choose a book for your group.”

  He nodded and walked over to the shelves, even too tall for him to reach the top. He opted for a huge book with gold lettering, sitting at waist level. “This one looks like a winner.” He then returned to our table, opened the book, and flipped through a few pages.

  “What do we have here?” I asked.

  “Tiker Castle,” Hunter said, pointing at the gold title.

  We wrote the name of the book down and started reading through the other forty questions we had to answer.

  “Listen to this, guys...” Eric put the book on the table and read, “In 1296, King Edward I of England invaded Scotland, besieging Tiker Castle and its town walls. Edward and his army entered the town by surprise, then spent three days ruthlessly killing almost the entire civilian population, as well as the clergy who worked inside the castle.”

  I shuddered. “That’s awful. Can you believe a real bloodbath happened here? Find something more positive about the place, or I’ll never be able to sleep tonight.”

  Pam reached over and slid the book toward her, then flipped through the pages. Her eyes grew wide. “Whoa! It says here that some believe the souls of the murdered were trapped. Looks like we’ve got ourselves a cursed castle, ladies and gentlemen,” she said with a laugh, as if she believed none of the gibberish.