by K. G. McAbee
What if I don't get to see him again? What if he has to leave?
I shook the thoughts away. I could still find a way to say thanks for what he did for me the day before. Maybe I could do something to show him I didn't care about what could have been.
Then I have to leave him alone. I have no choice.
A silver sweet voice whispered in my mind I should reach out to him. I should try to thank him somehow.
Pull the cord closer...
As the teacher began to describe the requirements for our homework assignments and the importance of understanding poetry, I grabbed a sheet of pale yellow paper from the folder Aunt Evie insisted I keep inside my bag and started to write.
Tommy—
I don't know what I'm doing, or why I am doing this. I'm sure you've got more things on your mind than what happened yesterday when we met. I can't forgive my rude behavior to you after you stepped in. I'm used to being the damsel in distress, but more like the one who is tied to the train tracks and never rescued.
So with these words you have my thanks. You will never know how much I appreciate what you did for me.
Sincerely,
Anya
P.S.—Please accept my condolences for your terrible loss. I'm so sorry.
I folded the letter and held it beneath the palms of my hands while I hoped my face gave nothing away to the teacher who was droning on in the front of the class. I slipped it into the matching envelope hidden near the bottom of that same folder. I gave a silent thanks to Aunt Evie for making me carry such tools in case I needed 'otherworldly' help.
Class broke for lunch at 11:30 and as I mingled with the crowds heading toward the cafeteria, I debated my actions regarding the letter. I left the building and walked over to a large oak tree away from the craziness, and I reached in my bag to pull out a book I could pretend to read.
Deep down, I knew the letter was a sad attempt at trying to contact Tommy. But I couldn't think of any other way to do it. After seeing the look on his face this morning in the mirror, the need to try to save him the way he had saved me pulled me toward him. At least, my thoughts were being pulled toward him. Anything else would have to wait until after school.
With Tommy gone, the protection his new status offered dissipated. Yet I was so distracted by my internal argument, I failed to notice how quickly the stares and murmurs had returned. It wasn't until Jordan and his friends approached I realized what was being said.
I was propped up against the base of the tree, holding my copy of Crime and Punishment open to a dog-eared page, when a shadow fell across it. I looked up to see Jordan, his pack, accompanied by a few females this time. I dropped the book and stood to face them. Here, at school where the teachers were abundant, I felt more secure; my anger at them flared up before I could push it back.
"What?" I crossed my arms and tilted my head to the side to get the sun out of my eyes. A curious thing happened. The entire group seemed to lean back away from me.
"How'd you do it, witch?"
Jordan's face was white beneath the tan he'd earned over the summer break. A fear in his eyes I'd never seen before made him seem skittish. I had to admit it was a satisfying sight.
"What'd I do now? Bring a plague upon all your houses? Cause you to slip in the bathtub? Oh, no, wait; you don't take baths much, huh?" It was my voice, yes, but mingled with something I didn't recognize; a new mixture of mockery and hatred.
Jordan looked around as if to make sure the people were still standing behind him before he jabbed a finger in my direction. "You cursed him! Tommy Hopkins! We know you did! That's why his daddy died! It's all because of yesterday."
That one hurt. I knew school was going to be bad; it always was. But this was too much. The words he had spoken to Tommy resounded through my mind as it struggled to comprehend what he had said.
". . . she'll curse you like she will us now..."
I dropped my head for a moment as I struggled to contain the words I wanted to say. To tell him where I thought he should go. To shove all Southern training on how to act like a lady out the window and hurt him. There was no chance of that. But I wanted to.
I managed to get control of my senses before I responded. "Thank you, Jordan, for thinking I am so powerful I can cause freak accidents half a state away. It's kinda flattering. But if that were truly the case, do you really think I would have let you get close enough to hurt me yesterday? Or anytime?"
I knelt down to put the book away and gathered my things. When I stood, the others were looking to Jordan for a sign, any sign of leadership. Jordan's face was pale green.
He truly believed I did things no human being could possibly do.
That I could dictate the movements earth and cause them to hurt people.
It was sad more than anything else.
I slipped past them and into the halls of the school building. The encounter had made my decision easier regarding what to do about the letter to Tommy.
I had to reach out to him, but now it was for more than just staying in contact.
I had to make sure he didn't blame me, too.
***
His address would be easy enough to find. The only nice houses in town lined Clarke Street, so as soon as the final bell rang, I jumped on the bus going in that direction. The bus itself was empty aside from the few not old enough to drive themselves, and I leaned back against the smooth vinyl of the seat to watch the school fall away into the broken buildings making up most of downtown Manning.
The emptiness of this place I'd called home my entire life was a tragic sight. Yet it was to be expected. Built up around the textile mills that had cluttered the South, Manning once boomed with the success built from hard jobs and harder lifestyles. Those mills left even more quickly than they came, taking only the good things with them as they shuttered their windows and locked their doors.
Many of those who came to work the mills stayed on, including the first Blanchetts who had run the looms during the day and plied their magic at night. These were my grandparents who passed their power down to my mother and aunt.
And, supposedly, down to me.
Ivy and Evie were twins, but you'd never know it by being around them, or looking at them. Ivy was pale and delicate compared to Evie's sturdy build. Where my mother was flighty, Evie was grounded. When Ma went into dramatics, Evie calmed her down. I smiled as I thought of how appropriate their respective elements were.
The little I knew about my family came from the snippets of memories from my lessons in magic, or in the bedtime stories Evie would tell me to bring on sleep. Those history lessons seemed like fairy tales beneath the Carolina moon. It wasn't until I was older I realized not every family could make such tales a reality. Mine could, and did, with the spells they practiced.
The bus rolled to a stop at the end of a tree-lined street committed to keeping people like me off of it. The houses gleamed in the afternoon sun as they had for decades. Clarke Street meant only one thing to the people of Manning. Money. This was the neighborhood of bankers, doctors, and lawyers who had built a community for themselves outside the prying eyes of the less fortunate. As I walked up the pristine sidewalks covered with shade, I began to ask myself just what it was I was doing there.
I assumed his house would be the one with the flower delivery vans in front of it. I stopped across the street from the grandest house I'd ever seen.
It was a Victorian. A large porch circled the front and disappeared around the sides, edged with ferns and some flowers I recognized from Evie's garden. Azalea bushes rose to meet the stairs leading upward to a stained glass door welcoming all who passed.
Although the front was clear of any disturbance, the train of flowers and boxes was hard to miss; delivery boys marched up the driveway on the right side of the yard. I swallowed hard and started to shove the note back into the bag when the voice in my head stopped me.
You've come so far, Anya. Do it now.
No!
I knew I was
arguing with myself. That fact alone confirmed my suspicions I was going crazy.
The responding laughter rolled in peels as clear as the glass windows of the big house.
He'll want to see you. Especially after what you did last night.
He's...I need to stay away from him. Binding or no, I have no place here.
A man's voice interrupted me. I looked up to see him crossing over the street in my direction.
"Miss, are you lost?" he asked.
See? He knows I don't belong here. Why don't you?
Go on. Now you have to do it.
I fought back the urge to run, to take the stupid note and throw it off the first bridge I came to. Instead, I found myself squaring my shoulders and throwing what I hoped looked like a million watt smile in his direction.
"I certainly hope not." I stepped forward; not recognizing my own actions. Actions that were making me face a stranger instead of shying away as I usually did. I reached my hand out to him, confident he would accept it.
"I'm Anya. I'm a classmate of Tommy's at Cothran High. The word has it ya'll have suffered a tragedy here."
Well-trained eyes examined my rag-a-muffin exterior and his rejection was immediate and obvious. He took my hand as if it were something dirty he'd like to throw away.
I grasped his hand and concentrated all of my energy onto it with the image of a hearth, a beloved family gathered around it as it popped and crackled away the cold. That energy calmed me and worked its way to him. His suspicious scrutiny disappeared in a second. That was all I needed.
His hands cupped over mine. "Yes, ma'am, I'm afraid we have. Mr. Hopkins..." His voice broke, but I wondered if he would truly miss his employer, or the job the employer had given him.
"I'm very sorry, sir. Truly I am and I'm certainly not here to disturb you now." My words came out in a murmur meant to soothe. They sounded too rich for me. I wanted to shudder as I watched this man take in my facade based on the spell.
I wanted to tell him to run away before my magic could hurt him. Hurt Tommy. I couldn't do it without confirming the fears Manning had about us, so I kept my mouth shut as the energies around us focused on the task I was completing.
Suddenly, I didn't care if Tommy blamed me like the others. I just wanted to make sure the sadness I'd seen in his eyes that morning went away. To make sure he wasn't hurt.
It took a moment to pull my hand away, but as soon as I did, I was holding the envelope I realized now held the faint scent of vanilla.
Evie...
I groaned inside. "Could you do something for me, sir?"
His eyes told me he was still bewitched by my meager attempts at magic. His feverish nods confirmed it.
"Anything, Miss..."
I held out the envelope. "Could you give this to Tommy for me? Again, I don't wish to disturb the family during this difficult time. I just wanted to send my condolences to him."
The man nodded and took the envelope in gentle hands. In his eagerness to help, he turned away from me to rush toward the house. I stopped him with fingers that just grazed the back of his arm. Briefly, I wondered exactly what he did for the Hopkins that made him so willing to obey. Or perhaps they were all like that. It was something I could never know.
His eyes were puzzled as he turned to face me, and I had to catch my breath before I could get the words out.
"No. Not now. Tonight for sure, but you'll know when the right time is, sir. Give it to him, then forget all about it. And thank you. I do hope no harm comes to you or yours for this."
He nodded and bowed his head in such a slight motion I wasn't sure if I saw it at all. I released his arm.
A glint of the sun against a second story window caught my attention and broke the hold casting the spell had over me. I wanted to panic, sure my distraction had released the man as well. Yet he secured the envelope in his breast pocket and smiled.
Still awaiting his commands...
"Go now, sir. You shall be yourself again once the work is done."
The servant walked away from me then as I saw movement behind the curtains. I had done what I was meant to do, and I sighed in relief. I slipped back into the shadows offered by the trees to start the journey back across town as the glittering world Tommy lived in disappeared behind me.
***
Wednesday was nothing special. Tommy was still absent from school, and the other kids would part the way for me whenever I had to walk by them in the halls. As if the peaceful Monday I had enjoyed had been nothing more than a figment of my imagination. I made it through the day, and most of Thursday as well, once again with same treatment I'd been used to since junior high school.
After classes on Thursday, Jordan's pack struck again. I couldn't prove it, but as I approached my locker to put away the books I wouldn't need, I found the pale yellow surface of it marred with thick black marker. I stopped in front of it, and sighed, examining the crude drawing and messages had been left there.
A stick figure woman was hanging from a noose, much like the ones drawn when playing Hangman. But this one was different. This one had a ponytail, and a crooked pointy hat hung in the same unnatural position as her neck. Whoever had drawn this had also been considerate enough to leave me a message. The words Die, witch, die! and Thou shalt not suffer a WITCH to LIVE Exodus 22:16 framed it. I snorted as I turned the combination lock and threw my books inside.
Cute. Real damn cute, Jordan.
I had no real proof he wrote those words, but the whole thing certainly had his stamp of approval written all over it. I grabbed a marker out of my bag and drew an 'X' through the 16, replacing it with 18.
A voice behind me interrupted just as I finished the correction. "Miss Blanchett, what are you doing?"
My English teacher, Ms. Lofton, stood behind me with her hands on her ample hips. I shrugged as I recapped the pen and tossed it back in my bag.
"Making a correction. The least they could have done was get it right." I tried a smile as she continued to stare at me incredulously. Perhaps she was in shock because of the message behind me. Or because I had dared to answer her.
It turned out her surprise was from neither.
"You come with me at once, young lady! Out of all the students here, I never would have suspected I would catch you defacing school property!"
Wait...what?
I followed her, no doubt with the same look of disbelief on my face she had on hers only moments before. We entered the administrative office and I saw Michael Pitts sitting in his mother's desk chair, flipping through a magazine as he waited for her to finish her secretary duties for the day so he could go home. A grin crossed his face as we passed into Principal Fisher's office, and as the door shut behind me, I could hear the sound of his chair scraping across the floor as he moved it closer.
"Good afternoon, Ms. Lofton. Anya." Principal Fisher nodded to both of us as he gestured to the seats in front of his desk. "I'm surprised to see you in here, Anya. I wasn't going to call you in until tomorrow."
"What?" I unhooked my bookbag from my shoulder and dropped it on the floor beside the chair before I sat down. "Why would you need to speak with me?"
Ms. Lofton took the chair next to me, but she may as well have disappeared. My shock over her reaction was nothing compared to what hit me when the Principal began to speak.
"Anya, we've received several reports you've been cheating in your classes during your time here at Cothran. Now, I know you are going to deny this. That your exemplary grades are nothing but a product of your hard work. But we must investigate these complaints."
"They are a product of my hard work." I spoke slowly, wondering just where all this was coming from. I'd always been at the top of my classes at Cothran. In fact, I was slated to be the valedictorian for the upcoming graduation in May. How, why, was anyone questioning it now? I watched as he glanced over to Ms. Lofton, who nodded, before he walked around the desk and sat on the edge of it.
"Can we ask you something, off the record, Anya
? And will you be honest?"
"Off the record. Sure, why not? I don't have any reason not to talk to you."
Principal Fisher smiled, and I got the feeling it was the same one he gave to all the students he questioned when they had been sent into his office. His thick hands clasped in his lap and he nodded.
"Good. Now, Anya, you know the rumors about your family. Did...well, did you ever call upon the Devil to help you with your grades?"
I was afraid I was going to start laughing. Turns out, I couldn't help myself. It came out so suddenly I almost missed the blush spreading across his shiny bald head. I leaned down to snag my bookbag, moving to stand, before I responded.
"Even off the record you can't ask me that, Principal Fisher. Separation of church and state and all that. You know, all those messy constitutional rights we have. I'm sorry, but I'm not going to justify such a question with a response."
I had almost made it to the door before Ms. Lofton spoke up from behind me. "There is still the matter of the locker, Ms. Blanchett."
"What matter? I didn't do anything wrong."
She filled Principal Fisher in on how she had walked up on me drawing on my own locker, marking out the numbers and replacing them. He nodded, listening to her before turning back to me.
"Is this true, Anya?"
I clenched my teeth as I shifted the weight of my books on my back. "Yes. I did mark through those stupid numbers. But I didn't put the drawing there in the first place. Nor did I write my own death threats."
"Very well. But since you were the one seen drawing on school property, you will be the one to suffer the consequences. Starting tomorrow, you will have two weeks of detention. And your first day will be spent scrubbing the markings off."
"You can't be serious."
"I am very serious. I will come by tomorrow after school myself to ensure you are there."
I walked out of the room before I responded the way I wanted to. As I crossed the threshold, I saw Michael must have heard every word. He was laughing until he caught sight of me, and then he started singing under his breath.