Bewitched

by Mark Jay Harris

  “I think I know,” Lindsey muttered.

  T.J. explained. “She’s not too happy because Mike headed to the Commons after grabbing his lunch. We think he’s got a little rendezvous with you-know-who.” Tony reached over, and he and T.J shared a fist bump.

  Andrea eyed Darren. “There’s something different about you.”

  Darren smiled, wondering if she suspected his homework date with Samantha tonight. Was he acting differently? He forced himself not to glance in Samantha’s direction, but somehow he knew Samantha was smiling at him. “I hope it’s something good.”

  Andrea smiled uncertainly as she observed Samantha talking with Tony and T.J. “Darren,” she turned his face toward hers. “Kiss me.”

  “What?” He looked around. Sure enough the rest of his table locked in on the two of them. “Right here, right now?”

  She didn’t answer, she simply moved in and kissed him, and he kissed her back. It was long and lingering, and she didn’t let him go until the whistling at the table drove them apart.

  Red-faced Darren didn’t quite know what to say. “Thanks.” He laughed, embarrassed.

  At first Andrea looked confused, but her face quickly brightened into a glorious smile. “I needed that.” With a smug look of triumph, she glanced over at Samantha. She then turned her attention to Lindsey and Sandy whose mouths were still open. “Let’s go. We have to set up those images in the Commons before lunch is over.” To Lindsey she added, “We can also check on Mike and see what he’s up to.”

  The girls gathered their lunch remains and swept out of the room, Lindsey moving the quickest.

  T.J. said, “That was something.”

  Tony followed it up with, “Somebody marking her turf?”

  Shelley, who’d been quietly watching these events while sitting next to Seth, broke in with, “Of course she’s marking her turf!” She glared at Samantha. “She can’t be sure who’s inconsiderate enough to move in on Darren, not that there’s anyone who could give her any real competition.” She stood up and huffed out of the room. Seth watched her go, but stayed in his seat.

  Once Shelley was gone, Samantha got up, walked around to Darren’s side of the table, and took Andrea’s empty seat. She leaned in close to Darren’s ear and whispered, “See you after school. The competition will be waiting for you.” She kissed him on the cheek. Standing up, she blew a kiss to the rest of the boys at the table. As one, they turned and watched Samantha leave the lunchroom.

  ***

  Just before lunch, Mike found a note in his pocket. He didn’t want to add any more weight to Darren’s wacky notions that Serena was actually a witch, but how the note got into his pocket was a mystery. He hadn’t seen Serena today and wouldn’t until lunch. It was possible someone else had slipped the note into his pocket for her, but he didn’t see how. No one had been close to him; no one had “accidentally” bumped into him and been able to slide the note into his pocket. Yet, there was a note from Serena in his pocket that magically appeared there.

  He wasn’t sure how girls managed to make their notepaper smell all girly, but Serena had done that too, using some sort of magic familiar to all girls. She’d written it in one of those old fashion styles with the beautiful arcs and swoops to the letters. It was so fancy it took him a little while to decipher what it said.

  Dearest Michael,

  My speech may be difficult to understand, but I have been carefully educated in writing. Please meet me for lunch this afternoon in the Commons. I shall await you at the table in the back by the vending machines.

  I look forward to our meeting and hope that your anticipation matches my own.

  Serena

  He quickly took his lunch to the Commons, which was crawling with students at this time of day. He felt pretty good decked out in his favorite black t-shirt, layered with a gray striped pullover and his black leather jacket.

  He wasn’t surprised—but was extremely annoyed—to find Serena at a table surrounded by no less than eight guys, all vying for her attention. He knew a couple of the football players, like Todd Deville and David Strathmore. They were jerks in his opinion, but they were loved at school because of their successful turns on the football field. Of course Todd would be interested in Serena. When it came to girls, he was a dog. Okay, perhaps I’m a bit of a dog myself, Mike thought, but I’m a nice little dog. Todd’s a creepy slobbering hound.

  Mike breathed in deeply, squared his shoulders, and elbowed past the throng of would-be boyfriends. He stopped in front of the table and looked down at Serena.

  All conversation stopped. Serena looked straight into Mike’s eyes. Two of the would-be suitors attempted to regain her interest, but she merely nodded without any real response. She smiled slightly and tipped her head to one side as she continued gazing at Mike. He smiled back, and for a moment, it was as if the Commons were empty except for the two of them.

  “Conklin, I thought you usually ate with the other dribblers in the lunchroom.” Todd Deville was big, and his young face was angular and broad. He grimaced at Mike in a way that conveyed contempt as well as menace. It was clear he was telling Mike to back off.

  “Yep, that’s usually where I eat.” Mike’s attention remained on Serena.

  Deville looked at Mike and then at Serena. A snarl formed on his face. He pushed Mike to one side. “Why don’t you head back there and finish eating?”

  The others who’d had an initial interest in Serena suddenly realized the competition had been whittled down to these two. They stepped back from the table to give them room. They didn’t move far, however, since they could smell the blood in the water. An inevitable confrontation was about to take place. Others began drifting in their direction as well; the tension between them drawing onlookers like free ice cream in the lunchroom.

  Todd was a big kid, and Mike had learned in his martial arts training that it was always best to defuse potential violence before engaging in it. He looked at the football player’s ham-sized fists and considered the wisdom of that advice. Humor had always worked for him in the past, and he decided it was the best way to let the air out of the tension between the two of them. “I’d heard somebody was down here being ugly,” Mike said, “but I had no idea how out of control the ugliness had gotten.” To heck with defusing the anger!

  Todd violently pushed aside a chair between him and Mike, making it grind loudly across the tile floor before hitting the wall where it loudly clattered and banged against the brick. The effect this had in the big open area was much like a table being knocked over in an old western barroom before a brawl breaks out. The entire Commons came to a halt, and all eyes focused on the drama taking place at the back of the room.

  Andrea, Lindsey, and Shelley had just arrived in the Commons in time to witness the chair crack against the wall.

  Mike put his hands up defensively. “Hey, I didn’t say it was you, big guy. I don’t want any trouble.” He took a step back as Deville advanced. Unfortunately, his pride got the better of him, and he added, “And let’s face it, neither do you.”

  Mike was ready for the blow as soon as the synapse in Deville’s brain fired the message to his arm. He backed up and spun, just as Deville’s fist flew forward. He moved so quickly it made Deville look like a lumbering giant unable to catch a quick-footed Jack running about his feet with a bag of stolen gold. This would have been humiliating enough to the large all-state linebacker, but Mike had used his own spinning momentum to bring himself alongside the moving hulk and push him in the back, so Deville collided with two of the other suitors in an awkward two-step that sent all three to the ground in a clump of arms and legs.

  By now the onlookers had moved in, forming a circle around the action. Some chuckled at the way Mike had outsmarted Deville. Others looked afraid to make a noise as they waited for the linebacker’s response. Either way, adrenaline not only flooded both combatants but the spectators as well.

  Like a bell going off, the thought rang in Mike’s head that a fight wo
uld get him thrown off the basketball team right before the state finals. Quickly, he re-thought his strategy. He moved toward the fallen heroes, extending his right hand. “Dude, let’s just call it good. Let me help you up.”

  Despite Mike’s cordial tone and sincere attempt at reconciliation, Deville was having none of it. He staggered to his feet and charged at him, growling threats peppered with foul language.

  This time, he came in low for a football tackle. He crashed into Mike’s midsection so quickly Mike couldn’t side-step the move. But he did manage to drop so Deville made contact with Mike’s chest. Mike grabbed him by the shoulders, rolled on his back into a backward summersault, and pushed upward with his legs, this time using Deville’s momentum to launch the football player up and over his head. This sent the linebacker crashing into a couple of chairs that had been quickly vacated by their occupants who had seen the awkward mass hurtling in their direction.

  The crush of students moved in closer to the fight. So far this was proving to be exceptional entertainment. Deville staggered to his feet again. This time his lip was puffy and bleeding, and there was a cut across his eyebrow that was already swelling up.

  David Strathmore, Deville’s fellow football player who’d also been showing interest in Serena, had had enough. He wasn’t going to let his friend, nor the football team, be embarrassed like this in front of the school. He moved toward Mike with the intent of taking him out from behind. The noise of the crowd got louder as Strathmore snuck up on Mike.

  Mike only saw the determined hulk of Deville move toward him for a third attack. “Dude, it’s all good. You win okay?” He stuck his hand out again, hoping against hope that the large tackler would accept the proverbial olive branch. But Mike’s attempt only served to inflame him more. Deville picked up a chair, raising it over his head, intending to bring it down on Mike.

  “Dude!” Mike exclaimed. He was already wondering if he could move fast enough to sweep Deville’s leg and bring him down without the chair catching him in the head. On the balls of his feet, he bounced for timing and spun.

  But things did not go as planned, not even close. He didn’t move down or advance forward as he should have. The only part of his move that went off according to plan was that his leg swung around in a beautiful roundhouse, which if it had connected with Deville’s head, would have brought him down like a sack of bricks. But he wasn’t close enough for that to happen. Instead, his spinning leg crossed in front of Deville in time to catch hold of the chair as Deville was bringing it down. Mike’s foot caught hold of the chair and ripped it from Deville’s hands. Mike’s inertia turned him completely around, along with the chair on his foot, which collided nicely with David Strathmore’s head. Instead of Deville, it was Strathmore who fell like a sack of bricks.

  The spectators went bonkers. “Whoa!” and “Yeah!” erupted from the growing group. Many even applauded. Mike shook the chair off his foot and dropped down beside the fallen football player. Strathmore’s eyes were blinking in reaction to the blow to his head.

  Suspicious about the feeling of being controlled by a force other than himself, Mike glanced over at Serena. She was beaming at him, her hero as it were, but when Mike’s eyes lit on hers, she brushed at her nose and looked down in guilty admission.

  “Get to class!” Julander’s voice boomed through the group of spectators. The end of lunch bell had rung during the scuffle, but everyone had ignored it. Now, students flew in all directions down halls and into adjoining classrooms. Through the thinning crowd, Mike saw Julander lumbering toward him, red faced and puffing like an overweight, out-of-shape juggernaut of administrative justice.

  “You!” he barked at Deville, whose fat lip bled guiltily down his chin. He turned on Mike. “And you! My office! Now!”

  Several teachers and an office secretary quickly appeared and began ministering to Strathmore, who staggered to his feet and allowed himself to be led away. Mike and Deville followed the vice-principal who plodded toward the office, knowing his charges would be in tow without having to turn around and check.

  Mike glanced back at Serena, one of the few students brave enough to still be loitering in the Commons. She looked sympathetically at him and bit her bottom lip. Suddenly, she sprinted toward him. Mike stopped in time for her to catch him around the neck and kiss him hard on the mouth. A very pleasant shock flowed through him from head to foot. He’d heard of people describing a kiss like it was fireworks going off, and sure enough it was true. She lingered for quite some time, enjoying his lips as much as he was enjoying hers. All at once the prospect of an hour in Julander’s office and being kicked off the basketball team seemed like a fair price for a moment like this.

  “Give me a break!” Deville complained, watching the couple behind him kissing.

  This exclamation brought Julander around like the hull of a destroyer rocked by a tidal wave. His eyes blazed, his purple face beading sweat like an overripe fruit being squeezed. “Conklin!”

  “Aberrato Sensa,” Serena whispered against Mike’s cheek and motioned around his neck, her index and middle fingers extended toward the football player and the vice-principal.

  Immediately, Julander’s bluster seeped out of him like air from a balloon. Even his color faded from purple, to red, to pink, and finally to pasty-white. He looked at them as if he had just walked on stage but forgotten his lines. Flustered, he locked on Mike and Serena, still in each other’s arms and said, “Break it up, you two! And get to class!” Seeing Todd standing a few feet from him like a bump-on-a-log he added, “Deville! What are you doing in the hall? You get to class, too!” He glanced down at his watch. “You’re all late!” He grunted with satisfaction, turned around, and marched off toward the office like he had important business to attend to.

  Mike gazed into the eyes of the beauty next to him. “How did you do that?”

  Serena smiled, and in a voice completely devoid of a Jamaican accent said, “I wish you would have arrived sooner. We could have avoided all this.”

  CHAPTER 10

  Cards on the Table

  This time Darren walked right up to the front door. No need to tell Samantha—or Sahwin or whatever she went by at home—that he already knew how to find her place. He shouldn’t have come at all. Part of him was scared and knew tonight would be monumental. But the rest of him was curious and resisted the fear bubbling uncomfortably in his stomach.

  If her intentions were evil, he’d know it by now. The fact that she’d bewitched him continued to trouble him, but its effects, whatever they were, didn’t seem to have harmed him in any way. Atavus had been right about a lot of things, and he was adamant that anything involving a witch would bring about his ruin; but when it came to Samantha, Darren was convinced his grandfather was wrong.

  “Darren,” Samantha greeted him at the door. “You found it okay?”

  “Oh, yeah, no problem.” I made a trial run yesterday.

  “Come on in.” She guided him through the living room and toward the kitchen. It appeared the same as he had seen it through the window, with the exception that the dirt floor where the cauldron had been was neatly hidden by an additional pantry.

  “I usually work here at the island.” She pointed to where her books were already heaped about, some opened, some shut, and a large piece of poster board lay flat upon the surface. “Are you hungry or thirsty? Can I get you anything?”

  Darren shook his head. “No, no, I’m good.”

  Samantha smiled. “That was something about Mike today, wasn’t it?”

  “Yeah, you heard about that?”

  “If I hadn’t, I’d have been the only one. Half the school saw it and spent the rest of the day telling the other half.”

  “True.” He laughed. “Andrea, Lindsey, and Shelley saw the whole thing.”

  Samantha grimaced at the names. “Oh, that’s nice.”

  “Sorry about the falling out you all had,” Darren said.

  “It’s okay.” She inched her stool a bit
closer to him.

  A black cat jumped up on the island and pushed her nose at Samantha, demanding to be petted. “What are you doing here?” She sounded a bit peeved. “I don’t need your help.” The cat meowed in response, and Samantha replied as if she’d understood what it had said, “No, I don’t need any witnesses either.” She picked up the cat and set it carefully on the ground. “Now, get out of here. Shoo!”

  Darren watched as the cat obeyed her, stopped at the corner, glared back at her mistress, then strutted out, tail held high as if the idea to leave had been hers all along. Darren fingered the long red lines that were the remnants of the scratches he’d received the other night. He quickly met Samantha’s eyes. “Cool cat. What’s its name?”

  “Grimalkin,” Samantha replied, “named after the witches’ familiar in Macbeth.”

  It was almost more than Darren could stand. She’d mentioned witches, argued in class about witches, and cast spells while he’d spied through her window. He was ready to ask her and get it all out in the open.

  She took his hand in hers. “You have really big hands.”

  He was taken aback by this. “Yeah, I guess so—helps with basketball.”

  “And did you know your eyes, right around the pupil, have little yellow sunbursts?”

  “Oh, a little bit of gold in there, I guess.”

  She made no pretentions toward subtlety as she leaned in close to him. Both her hands were on his arms as she moved toward his face. Darren swallowed hard, knowing he shouldn’t let this happen. But he wanted it to.

  He bent down and met her lips as they came up. His big hands grabbed her slim arms, and he pulled her in. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected by this kiss, but it sure wasn’t what happened. Half warmth, half electric shock passed from his head all the way to his toes. It was fantastic. The feeling of proverbial fireworks went off just on the outside of his vision, even though his eyes were closed.

  The bewitchment! Suddenly, he pushed her back at arm’s length. Feeling like an idiot, he remembered that Atavus had told him he was immune for at least a month.