Of Witches and Warlocks: The Trouble with Spells

by Lacey Weatherford

Chapter 2

  It was Friday and my birthday.

  Shelly and I pulled into the parking lot, grabbed our bags, and headed toward the school, chatting between ourselves about my party, which was to take place that evening. I smiled at the few birthday greetings called my way by friends and students heading in the same direction we were.

  “Well, that’s interesting,” Shelly said with a slight smirk.

  “What is?” I asked absently, not following her.

  “Vance Mangum is staring at you.” She gave an almost inconspicuous nod over her shoulder.

  I couldn’t help myself, and turned my head to look.

  She was right. My heart skipped a beat.

  Vance Mangum was leaning against his jet-black motorcycle looking straight at me. For a moment our eyes locked, we simply stared at each other. I couldn’t seem to break my gaze away, until I tripped over the curb. Thankfully, Shelly caught me before I fell all the way down.

  I couldn’t resist a quick peek to see if he was still watching. He was, of course, and I was mortified. I turned and hurried into the school. All day long, I found my thoughts drifting back to the incident.

  Vance Mangum was in a class by himself. He was a senior, who had the reputation of a resident bad boy. Despite that, every boy in school aspired to be like him in one way or another. They were always trying to copy his cool messed-up hair or getting their holey Levis to look just as good. Some even attempted doing extra workouts to build their muscles so their t-shirts would stretch across their chests like his. But no matter how hard they tried, none of them managed to pull it off quite the way he did.

  Of course, the girls adored him. He was totally gorgeous, sporting the looks that went with the physique—luscious, dark-brown hair and chiseled features, set off by bright-blue eyes lined in thick lashes. The parking lot would come to a virtual standstill whenever he rode up on his motorcycle, decked out in a black leather jacket and helmet. All the girls would cease whatever they were doing and begin chattering about him.

  I definitely hadn’t been immune to him either—often catching myself joining with the masses to watch. In fact, if I were being truthful, I’d have to admit to the secret crush I had since I first noticed him. I couldn’t stop staring at the hint of tattoos on both his shoulders, which occasionally peeked from under the short sleeves of his t-shirts. I’d heard rumors that he had one down his left side as well, though I’d never seen it to know if it was true. Sometimes I wished I was brave enough to ask him if I could see them, but even the thought of doing something that bold made butterflies appear in my stomach. One did not randomly walk up and start talking to Vance Mangum.

  Vance never had a girlfriend that I could remember. He’d only lived here the past couple of years, and plenty of girls had paraded themselves in front of him hoping to catch his attention, but he seemed oblivious to them. His aloofness spawned many wild tales. Stories were told of how he was a drug dealer, or how he’d been in juvie because he beat up a guy in a bar fight. Another one said he’d gotten some girl pregnant and was forced to leave home and come here to live with his aunt. But the truth was, no one really knew anything about him because he stayed to himself.

  Shelly had a couple of classes with him. She said he always sat in the very back of the room and never said anything unless the teacher called on him specifically, but he always turned his work in on time and never harassed the teachers in any way.

  “Do you agree with that, Miss Mullins?” Mr. Harkins’s voice popped into my head, breaking me from my reverie.

  “Huh?” I said absently, before realizing I had no idea what the question was.

  “You better start paying attention in math, instead of doodling in your notebook.” Mr. Harkins frowned.

  “Yes, sir.” I sat up a little straighter, staring ahead at the problem he was working with the class.

  When Mr. Harkins turned back to the chalkboard, I glanced down at my notebook and saw I’d written the name Vance Mangum everywhere on it. I spent the rest of class furiously scribbling it out before anyone else saw.

  Later in the day, Shelly and I were sitting in the lunchroom. She was talking away about her frustration with an Honors English assignment while I glanced inconspicuously around at the other students. I mentally kicked myself, knowing there was no point in looking for Vance, since he never ate lunch in the cafeteria. I couldn’t understand why he’d been staring at me so intently this morning. Frankly, I wanted to see if it would happen again. I tuned Shelly out, but my attention was immediately averted back when she suddenly winced and grabbed her mouth.

  “What’s the matter?” I asked, concerned at her look of pain.

  “I think I broke a tooth,” she replied, throwing a half-eaten cookie with nuts back on her tray then reaching for her cell phone. She leaned over to show me, and sure enough, there was a chip missing from one of her molars.

  She quickly dialed her phone, grimacing as she held a hand to her cheek. “Mom?” she spoke. “I just broke one of my teeth while I was eating a cookie. It hurts really bad.” She paused, and I could hear her mom rapidly replying, but I couldn’t understand what she was saying. “Okay, thanks,” she said after several moments.

  “What did she say?” I asked, wishing I could help her somehow.

  “She told me she’s calling the office right now and telling them to excuse me for the rest of the day. She’s going to meet me at the dentist’s office. Her friend is the receptionist there and Mom’s confident she’ll be able to squeeze me in.”

  I was positive she was right. Shelly’s mom was rarely, if ever, refused anything she wanted. “I hope they’ll be able to fix it for you. I’m sorry you’re hurting.”

  She gave me a weak smile. “It’s not your fault. Thanks, though. Will you be okay to get home today?”

  “Yeah, I’ll catch the bus with the rest of the underprivileged kids who don’t have best friends with hot-pink Mustangs,” I replied in a teasing manner. That got her to smile a bit more. “Call me when you get home, okay?”

  She nodded as she began gathering her things. “Will do. Talk to you later.”

  I watched her leave the room, depositing her tray by the door with an irritated clunk before she disappeared. I decided to go too and head for art, my last class of the day.

  This class was one of my favorites. Depositing my things into one of the cubicles for our belongings, I headed to the supply closet and began dragging out the items I’d need for today’s assignment, which was supposed to be a small modern-art clay sculpture. We were concentrating on lines and movement of the piece. I loved working with clay and seeing it turn into finished pieces. My bedroom was littered with different projects I’d done in this class.

  Toward the end of class, I leaned back and sampled my work with a critical eye. I’d intended to make a thin curving vase, but imagining one thing and actually producing it was another.

  “What do we have here, Miss Mullins?” Mr. Stuart asked as he made is classroom rounds.

  I sighed. “It’s a pencil holder, apparently. And yes, I was totally going for that ‘made by a kindergartener’ look.”

  Mr. Stuart laughed. “It’s not as bad as all that. I think you’d have better luck with your design if you made the base a little smaller. That would better compliment the flowing look you’re trying to accomplish.” He glanced at the clock. “The bell’s going to ring soon, though, so you might as well cover and store it. You can work on it more next time.”

  The bell rang, signaling school was out for the weekend, and I quickly put away my supplies before heading to the sink to wash the clay residue from my hands. When I was satisfied they were clean enough, I grabbed my things and made the trip to my locker.

  I twirled my combination and quickly got the books I needed for assignments and headed toward the girl’s restroom. Glancing into the mirror, I looked at my woefully straight hair and heaved a sigh. Shelly was constantly badgering me to try and do something more with it.

  Shel
ly!

  “Oh crap!” I groaned loudly in dismay. I’d forgotten she was gone and I needed to ride the bus home. I spun around and ran back through the door, bolting down the long hallway that led to the bus gates.

  Suddenly, there was a blur of motion in front of me, and I collide with something hard and solid. I fell backward, and my book bag fell from my shoulder, hitting the floor beside me and scattering the contents everywhere. I scrambled about in a rush, trying to gather my things.

  “Why don’t you watch where you’re going?” I said, mostly under my breath. I didn’t even look to see who the intruder was, but I was completely irritated.

  “Hey now. You ran into me,” a soft, sultry, male voice returned.

  I froze. My gaze slowly moved to the feet in front of me and continued to travel up—over the black laced-up boots covered by tattered Levis, past the black belt with the silver buckle, to the ever-present, tightly stretched t-shirt with a leather jacket slung casually over the shoulder. I noticed the pulsating veins in his neck, and I paused at the soft, wide-set lips before looking straight into the piercing blue-eyed stare of Vance Mangum.

  I swallowed hard, and my entire vocabulary was suddenly reduced to only one word. “Sorry.” It came out like a whisper, and I wondered if he even heard it.

  Vance slowly squatted down to my level with a slight smirk on his lips.

  “Where were you going in such a hurry?” he asked, lifting one of my books and handing it to me.

  I threw a glance toward the glass door just in time to see the last of the buses leave the lot.

  “I was trying to catch the bus,” I explained, feeling more than a bit dumb. “I forgot my friend Shelly, had to leave early today.”

  “Ah,” was all he said. I was surprised when he continued to help me gather my things.

  He handed me my last book and stood, holding a hand in front of me. I was shocked by the gesture, but I took it, feeling sparks shoot up my arm at the contact as he pulled me to my feet.

  “I can give you a ride,” he offered, letting go of my hand, and I felt a little sad at the loss of it.

  I couldn’t speak. Vance Mangum had offered me a ride home. What should I say? I must have stood there looking bewildered because he spoke again.

  “Of course, if you’re afraid of motorcycles . . . ,” He let the sentence trail off, almost like he was accusing me of being scared.

  “No. Not at all,” I replied with a bravado I didn’t actually feel. I raised my chin a notch, determined not to let him see how nervous he made me. “I’d be happy to accept a ride.”

  “Great.” He smiled widely, and I almost choked.

  I suddenly realized I’d never seen him smile before, and it was devastating to my girlish heart. I’d never seen anything so beautiful—perfectly straight, white teeth, framed in by those great lips and masculine dimples which suddenly appeared in his cheeks.

  The guy should be a model, I thought to myself. He’d make millions.

  Vance took off down the hall, and I slung my backpack on, trotting after him like a willing puppy.

  When we reached his massive motorcycle, he took his helmet off the seat and handed it to me.

  “Safety first.”

  “What about you?” I objected, reaching to take it.

  “I’ll be fine,” he replied, swinging his leg over the seat while knocking the kickstand up in one fluid motion. “Hop on behind me, and hang on around my waist.”

  I stood there for a moment, struggling to adjust the strap on the helmet. Vance reached to help me with it, tightening it nicely around my chin.

  “There you go. Perfect,” he said, and he jump-started the engine.

  Yeah right, I thought. I probably looked like an idiot with my hair sticking out of this thing and hanging down around my geeky backpack. Thank goodness I’d worn pants today!

  Throwing my leg across the seat, I settled on it comfortably and wrapped my arms around Vance’s waist. I didn’t know what to do with my feet, though. Vance patted my leg and gestured for me to put my feet on the pegs next to his.

  As soon as I was situated, he took off, catching me by surprise, and I found myself grasping his waist tightly with both arms. I couldn’t help notice the stares of many onlookers as we passed them on our way out of the parking lot. I didn’t blame them. I was in shock too.

  My next surprise was when Vance dropped me safely off at my front door without any directions. I hopped quickly off the bike, even though I was sad to let go. He helped me again as I struggled with the chinstrap, and when he was done, I took the helmet off and handed it back to him.

  “Thanks for the lift,” I said, casually straightening my wayward hair and hoping he didn’t notice how horrible I must look.

  “No problem,” he said, not breaking eye contact with me.

  We waited there awkwardly for a couple of seconds, not knowing what else to say.

  “Well, I guess I’ll catch you later then,” I said, feeling dumb, because I knew that wasn’t likely.

  He nodded, and I turned away, tempted to run up the sidewalk to escape further humiliation.

  “Hey!” Vance yelled when I’d gone only a few steps.

  I turned around.

  “Happy birthday!” He gave me another devastating smile, the engine roared to life, and he was gone.

  I stood there staring down the street after him until I couldn’t even hear the engine anymore. With a silly girlish giggle, I turned and ran into my house hoping Shelly would call me soon.

  The football game was in full swing by the time Shelly and I finally arrived. She had been at the dentist for a long while, so when she came to get me, we were running late. We pushed our way through the throngs of people gathered around the fence that surrounded the field and track, quickly making our way to the standing student section near the pep band in the stands. I glanced at the scoreboard and saw the game was tied at fourteen early in the second quarter. Tense faces watched the action around me, craning their necks in anticipation of what might happen next.

  I covered my mouth with my hand as I tried to bite back a giggle at the row of shirtless guys who had their chests painted in purple and black.

  “Defense! Defense! Defense!” they shouted loudly, and the rest of the fans joined their chant gradually getting louder and louder until the home stand was shaking with noise.

  The crowd suddenly roared its approval, several spectators jumping to their feet, when one of Sedona’s players intercepted a pass.

  “Run! Run!” I found myself shouting along with everyone else, the excitement pulsating through me as the ball crossed the goal line.

  “Touchdown!” A voice roared through the loudspeaker as everyone shouted with glee.

  “It’s Brad! It’s Brad!” Shelly screamed into my ear over the deafening sound of the pep band.

  The announcer’s voice came again a few moments later, “And the extra point is good!” making the packed stadium roar again.

  The score was now twenty-one to fourteen, in favor of the Scorpions. The rest of the quarter was a tough struggle between both teams without either one scoring. When the buzzer finally announced it was halftime, each of the teams ran to opposite ends of the field to huddle with their coaches.

  Shelly and I left the bleachers and headed toward the concession stands.

  “Brad’s doing so great tonight!” Shelly said with a big smile, linking arms with me.

  “He always does well.” I laughed at her. “That’s why he’s one of the captains.”

  “Oh, I know,” she sighed. “It’s just he’s . . . always much more fun after winning a game.”

  “I’m sure most athletes are the same way,” I reminded her, taking a place at the end of the line.

  We waited our turn and ordered sodas, but when we turned to walk back, a group of kids called Shelly’s name and motioned for her.

  “Hang on a sec,” she said and turned to throng her way through the thick crowd.

  I walked tow
ard the fence to wait for her, but stopped short when I saw Vance leaning against it casually watching me, his arms folded across his chest.

  I stood still for a brief moment, staring back before deciding to go speak to him.

  “Hey. Thanks again for the ride,” I said, feeling extremely stupid. What was I doing talking to him like I knew him?

  “Any time,” he replied, his gaze flickering over me.

  “Really?” I blurted before thinking. I felt the crimson color of my blood flooding my face as the heat crept into it.

  “Why not?” He gave a half grin. “I kind of enjoyed running in to you.”

  I met his piercing eyes stare for stare—trying to see if he was only messing with me—before breaking contact with him and becoming suddenly interested in the ground beneath my shoes. I toed a crack in the sidewalk.

  “Do you like football?” I asked, not knowing what to say and glancing at him out of the corner of my eye. I’d never noticed him at a game before.

  He looked toward the field and shrugged slightly. “It’s okay, I guess.” His eyes moved back to capture mine once again.

  I laughed loudly. “Don’t let the fans hear you talk like that. You might get mauled. People around here love high school football.” I wondered why I couldn’t stop babbling on like an idiot when I was around him.

  He chuckled slightly at my response but didn’t reply, instead quirking an eyebrow at me as if he was puzzled by something. I stood there awkwardly for a few more moments before I heard Shelly call my name.

  “I need to go,” I said, still feeling stupid. Why did I need to explain myself to him?

  He didn’t reply, so I turned to walk away. I stopped after a few steps and looked back. “Hey, I’m having a birthday party tonight. You’re welcome to come.” I found myself holding my breath while I waited for his reply.

  He seemed to ponder this for a few seconds before he answered.

  “Maybe,” was all he said, continuing to stare at me with that unreadable expression of his.

  I returned his look for a couple of moments, wondering what he was thinking of my invitation, before turning to walk away.

  “Were you talking to Vance Mangum?” Shelly asked with a disbelieving look on her face.

  “Yeah,” I replied, my head still swimming over the interaction.

  “Wow! Twice in one day!” she exclaimed. “I think he likes you. He never talks to anyone.”

  “Whatever!” I laughed, nudging her with my elbow. “Let’s go sit down before the second half starts again.”

  She linked her arm in mine, hurrying me toward the stands. I couldn’t resist one more glance over my shoulder toward Vance. But when my eyes rested on the fence, I discovered he’d already gone.