She had to admit that she definitely had a crush on this strange young man. Of course, this wasn’t the first time she’d felt this way, but in the past all her crushes had been from afar, on boys that she had no real contact with. But Bobby was close, and she suspected that he liked her too...but how could she be sure? She had little experience in these matters. Perhaps the smartest thing would be to play it cool and let Bobby make the first move.
When the movie was over, she turned off the TV and rolled onto her side, facing Bobby, her elbow on the floor and her head propped on her hand. She felt silly, like she was trying to play the part of seductress, and finally just pushed up and sat cross-legged. “Did you like it?” she asked.
“Yes, it was very good. Very emotional.”
“You didn’t say much during.”
“Sorry, guess I just got caught up in the story.”
“Well, what do you want to do now?”
“It’s getting pretty late.”
“It’s just 9:30. I doubt Brittany will be back anytime soon.”
“No, I mean...I should probably be getting home.”
“Oh, are you sure?”
“Yeah, my mom. She won’t like it if I’m out too late.”
“I understand,” Karen said, but she wasn’t sure she did. What kind of freak was Bobby’s mother to keep him so sheltered? Karen was surprised the woman let her son attend college at all.
“I had a really nice time, though,” Bobby said, rising from the floor. “I hope we can do it again sometime.”
Karen got to her feet. “Definitely. In fact, I’m free this Sunday if you wanted to hang out.”
“That might be nice.”
“I was planning a walk along the Swamp Rabbit Trail. You could join me.”
“How about we meet around noon at your place by the lake?”
“I’d like that.”
“Okay, see you then. I really have to go now though. My mother is waiting for me.”
Karen walked to the door and opened it for Bobby. “Want me to walk down with you?”
“No, I can find my way. Thanks for spending the evening with me, though. It’s the most fun I’ve had since...well, in a long time.”
Karen smiled at Bobby. He smiled back, and she felt an almost electric tingling running up and down her spine. As she looked into Bobby’s eyes, she felt daring and rose onto the tips of her toes and leaned in, meaning to kiss him....
But Bobby sidestepped quickly, his smile faltering. “Uh, we can’t do this.”
“Oh God, I’m so sorry,” Karen said, wishing she could just melt into the floor like the Wicked Witch of the West. “That was presumptuous of me. I’m so embarrassed I could just die.”
“No, you don’t need to be embarrassed, it’s just that...you see, I do like you, Karen. I want to spend time with you, but we can’t...the thing is, I’m not like other guys.”
“I see,” Karen said, thinking, Brittany was right. I guess I should have known considering how much he seemed to like Nicolas Sparks.
“Please, I don’t want you to think this has anything to do with you.”
“I understand, really I do. And it isn’t a problem for me. You’re a cool guy, and I’m perfectly content to just be friends.”
Bobby smiled again, his relief and gratitude palpable. “I’m so glad to hear that. I’ll see you Sunday.”
Karen shut the door behind him, then leaned against it. She’d said she was content to just be friends, and she hadn’t been lying, but there was no denying her disappointment. She’d actually allowed herself to entertain the notion that maybe her life was finally going to have a little romance in it, and instead she’d ended up with a platonic gay friend.
Still, she could really use a friend right now, and she sensed in Bobby a gentle soul who would never hurt her.
* * *
Bobby stood outside the dorm, staring at it. Tonight had been magickal. He knew for most people that would sound silly, considering that all he and Karen had done was talk a little and watch a tearjerker, but for him....
It had been a long time since Bobby had connected with someone, had spent time with anyone other than his mother. Not since New Orleans. The prospect of having a real friend, someone to confide in, someone to trust, someone who saw him and accepted him...it was overwhelming.
And Karen was a lovely person, a pure soul. A rare and special woman, and Bobby hated that he had to deceive her.
“Bobby, are you coming?”
Bobby turned to see Penelope step out of the shadows of the magnolia tree. Her expression was hard and cold, then she smiled. It too looked hard and cold. “How did it go?”
“I had a nice time,” he said, staring at the ground.
“And are you two going to get together again?”
“Yes, ma’am. We’re going for a walk Sunday afternoon.”
“Good boy. Now you need to play this very careful. We need to make sure Karen develops feelings for you.”
“Well, she....”
“What? Don’t keep anything from me, Bobby.”
“She tried to kiss me when I was leaving.”
Penelope’s smile widened, finally seeming genuine though no less frightening. “Perfect. Even better than I had hoped. Just don’t blow it. I need her to depend on you, to get to the point where she’d do anything for you.”
“She’s a nice girl,” Bobby said. “I don’t feel right about this.”
“I don’t care what you feel!” Penelope advanced on Bobby. She took a few breaths and composed herself. “We need her power. Do you think another opportunity like this is just going to fall into our laps?”
“No, I just feel strange about manipulating her this way.”
“Look, we’re just doing what we have to do. And it’s not like we’re going to hurt her or anything. If we play our cards right, she’ll want to help us.”
“But don’t you think—”
“That’s enough discussion for now, Bobby. We can continue this at home. Now come along.”
Penelope started across the quad. Bobby lingered for a moment, glancing toward Poteat, then followed Penelope. “Coming, Mother.”
Chapter 4
“I can’t do it,” Karen said, staring across the desk at the librarian. They were in Penelope’s office, the door shut and locked.
“Don’t put too much pressure on yourself. You’re doing great. You’ve already made impressive strides at shielding your thoughts from me. Remember, this isn’t a timed exam. Just relax and try to focus.”
Penelope tapped her fingers by the stapler on the desktop. Karen turned her gaze back to the stapler, breathing deeply through her nostrils and squinting her eyes.
“Understand,” Penelope said, “when I say to ‘focus,’ I don’t mean just with your eyes. Focus with your mind, with your energy. Do you know what I mean?”
“I don’t know. I sort of get it, but then I sort of don’t.”
Leaning back in her chair, the librarian scrutinized Karen for a moment, then said, “You haven’t told me anything about your date last night.”
Karen blinked and shook her head, trying to deal with the mental whiplash from such an abrupt subject change. “Well, first of all, it wasn’t a date, and second, there’s not really much to tell.”
“But he showed up, right?”
“He did.”
“And...?”
“And he’s very nice, we talked, watched a movie, and then he left.”
“But no sparks?”
“No. At least...well, not on his end. I don’t think I’m the right gender for him.”
“Ouch, that must have been humiliating for you.”
Karen dropped her eyes to her hands, folded in her lap, feeling her entire body tense. “Not at all. We’re friends, and that’s fine with me.”
“Well, that’s good then. Not like you threw yourself at him and made a fool of yourself or anything.”
If possible, Karen’s posture became even more rigid, as i
f she were suffering from encephalitis lethargica, which she’d learned about in Psych. She felt shame rising in her like mercury in a thermometer on an August day, causing her body to vibrate.
“Move the stapler,” Penelope said harshly.
Karen’s head snapped up. “What?”
“The stapler, move it. NOW!”
Karen looked at the stapler and released in a torrent all the tension and shame that had been building up. The stapler began to shake, then slid along the desk and fell off the side, landing on the floor with a clatter.
All rigidity left Karen’s body, and she slumped in her chair, breathing heavily and feeling sweat trickling down her temples. Smiling, Penelope bent over, picked up the stapler, and placed it on the desk. “Well, there you go.”
“That doesn’t count,” Karen said.
“And why not?”
“You got me upset. I already told you things start moving when I get upset.”
“Yes, but you said that you have no control, that everything around you just starts shaking and flying. This was different. This time you focused on a specific object and made it move. There’s a word for that—progress.”
Karen glanced at the stapler, this time with new appreciation. “I guess you’re right. Does that mean I’ll always have to be upset for this to work?”
“Not at all. Tell me, have you ever meditated?”
“You mean like yogis?”
“Not dissimilar. Through practiced meditation, one can hone the mind like sharpening a blade with a whetstone. With higher levels of concentration, you’ll find that you can not only increase your power but control it to a much greater degree. And other talents may emerge.”
This got Karen’s attention. She leaned forward hungrily. “Such as?”
“Levitation, for instance.”
“Get out of here. You can levitate?”
“I’m not saying I can soar up into the air like the Flying Nun.”
“Who?”
“Never mind. Just know that I’m not talking about flying, but if I can concentrate hard enough, I have been known to hover a few inches off the ground.”
“That’s incredible. Can you teach me that, too?”
Penelope laughed. “You’ve got a real thirst for knowledge. That’s regrettably rare in college students these days.”
“Does that mean you’re going to sate that thirst?”
“Consider me your Mr. Miyagi. You do know The Karate Kid, don’t you?”
“Sure. Jackie Chan, Will Smith’s kid.”
Penelope shook her head and laughed again. “A baby, you’re just a baby. Now you better run along or you’ll be late for class.”
“I could skip it.”
“No, I don’t want the education I’m giving you to interfere with the one you’re getting here at Furman. But I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you come by my house Saturday night. We’ll have an initiation of sorts.”
“So what, are we forming our own little coven?” Karen asked with a smile.
Penelope grimaced as if experiencing severe cramps. “Let’s not call it that. I’m done with covens.”
“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to bring up a painful subject.”
“It’s okay, really, it’s just...well, I used to be a member of a local coven. It didn’t work out.”
“What happened? Or maybe it’s none of my business.”
“No, I don’t mind talking about it. I just saw things differently than the rest of the coven. They seemed more like children playing make-believe in the backyard. They didn’t truly grasp the potential of the power at our disposal. Or maybe they did grasp it and were just afraid to wield it. In any case, I wanted to explore the Earth Religion more in depth than the coven, so we had a parting of the ways.”
“Oh. Are there a lot of covens in the area?”
Penelope shrugged. “A few. You could probably find more information online if you think a coven would suit you better.”
“No, I’m not saying that at all. I’m not one for groups. I want to learn everything, and I feel like you’re the one to teach me.”
“Glad to hear it, because I think your potential is limitless.” Penelope scribbled onto a Post-it and handed it to Karen. “This is my address. Come by Saturday night around eight, if that suits you.”
“I look forward to it.”
“Then I’ll see you Saturday. In the meantime, try to think of a name.”
Karen frowned. “What?”
“It’s traditional to pick an alternate name, a ‘witch name,’ as some call it.”
“What is yours?”
“Morgane Aster. Morgane after sorceress Morgane le Fey from the King Arthur legend, and Aster after the flower, which is a symbol of strength.”
“Good name. Maybe you could pick one for me.”
Penelope shook her head, her expression serious. “Can’t do it. Every witch has to pick her own name. Them’s the rules.”
“Okay, I’ll see what I can come up with.”
Karen stood, picking up her bag and slipping the strap over her shoulder. She turned to leave the office but paused when Penelope asked, “What makes you think your new friend is gay? Did he tell you so?”
“Um, not exactly, but I definitely got that impression.”
“Well, let me give you this bit of advice. Friendship is a wonderful thing and is to be treasured as precious...but don’t give up on the idea that this may develop into something more. I just have this gut feeling.”
“Thanks...for everything.”
Karen left the office, closing the door behind her, then headed for the front of the library. She had only a few minutes to get halfway across campus, but if she really hauled ass she could just make it and save herself from another of Dr. Wilson’s punctuality lectures. She was almost to the door when someone called her name.
“There you are, I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Brittany said, walking up to her. “Where’ve you been?”
“I was in Penelope’s office.”
“You and that weirdo librarian. She must be giving you lessons on how to be a freak.”
Karen opened her mouth to return Brittany’s snarkiness in kind, but decided it wasn’t worth it. “What do you want?”
“Well, I sort of need a favor.”
“And in your world the best segue to asking for a favor is to insult me?”
“I’m sorry, okay? I just really need you to help me out.”
“With what?”
“You see, Derek and I want to get together tonight, but his roommate is sick and so will be at their apartment. And we’d like to spend a little alone time, if you know what I’m saying.”
“Yes, Brittany, I’ve somehow managed to crack your oh-so-cryptic code.”
“Are you going to let us use the room tonight or what?”
“Well, since you asked me so nicely....”
“Look, it’s not like I’m kicking you out all night, just until ten or so. Are you going to be a bitch about it or are you going to give me a break?”
Karen rolled her eyes and said, “Even though I’m loathed to do you any favors, it just so happens I was planning to go to Coffee Underground tonight anyway.”
“Really? With who?”
“Just myself.”
“Your little gay friend not going with you?”
“Don’t call him that.”
“Hey, I think it’s great that you’ve got a real friend. Maybe now you won’t have to go around talking to trees.”
“What?”
“Summer Peeler from my Bio class said she saw you out talking to a tree.”
“Summer is full of shit.”
“It sounded crazy...but then again we are talking about you, and you just seem to get weirder by the day.”
“You know, on second thought, maybe I won’t go out tonight, just stick around the room and watch the Discovery channel or something.”
“Do what you want, hang around and watch us. Maybe you’ll learn somet
hing.”
Brittany turned and opened the glass door to leave the library. Karen tensed and unleashed her rage, and the door suddenly swung back and smacked Brittany in the face.
“Ow!” Brittany exclaimed, putting a hand up to her nose. She checked her fingers for blood, then looked around, probably checking to see if anyone had witnessed this. She spotted Karen watching her and snarled; she was obviously more embarrassed than hurt.
Amused, Karen looked on as her roommate pushed the door, slowly this time, and cautiously stepped through. Maybe she shouldn’t be taking pleasure from this; she could have actually hurt Brittany...but she hadn’t. What she had done was wipe that self-satisfied smugness off Brittany’s face, at least for the time being.
With a sigh, Karen left the library herself, resigning herself to one of Wilson’s lectures.
* * *
From the doorway of her office, Penelope observed the interaction between Karen and her roommate. Then, smiling, she closed the door.
Chapter 5
Karen sat on the last row of the little theater in the back of Coffee Underground. The rows resembled church pews, so much so that she wondered if they had been salvaged from a house of worship that went out of business. But then churches didn’t go out of business, did they?
Onto the small square stage up front stepped a short, round twenty-something fellow with greasy hair and thick glasses, a purple scarf wrapped around his neck. He gave off the air of someone who thought he was much cooler than he actually was. Not that Karen was cool, but she was at least self-aware enough to know it.
“Okay, then,” Purple Scarf said to the crowd (which consisted of only a dozen or so people), “I’m going to finish out Open Mic Poetry Night with a poem of my own. Unless there’s anyone else out there who has something they want to share.”
Purple Scarf paused, raising his eyebrows and scanning the pews. Karen thought she could feel the weight of his eyes when his gaze passed her way, and she scrunched down in her seat. Her bag was resting on her lap, and though there wasn’t much in it, it suddenly felt as heavy as a bowling ball. In the bag with her iPhone, wallet, hair brush, lip gloss, and paperback of The Help, was a folder containing a couple of her poems. She’d brought them along, just in case she worked up the courage to get on stage and read them before an audience.
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