Rebecca Smythe: Witch in Training || ONC 2021

Becky the Stage Manager

During the weeks leading up to the showcase, Rebecca felt like she was glowing. She had told Caldwell (almost) the whole truth and instead of causing him to hate her, she felt herself being pulled further into his orbit. She found herself craving his company and when he went into town or visited Melinda, she felt a sense of loss that she didn't understand. 

Caldwell had enchanted several trees in the garden to grow together in order to form a small living stage. Although he had coached her in what to say about the Merlin Institute, Rebecca tried not to think of the speech Mr. Plimpton expected her to make. She distracted herself by writing a script for the showcase loosely based on a play called The Tempest. The twins seemed to be enjoying the rehearsal process. What Melinda lacked in cooking skills she certainly made up for in the special effects department. Because Caldwell had undoubtedly told her, she harbored no expectations that the twins would be doing any magic themselves during the showcase. Instead, they were provided with all manner of enchanted props and the stage was equipped with elaborate pyrotechnic charms. Any audience member would be convinced that the children were young warlocks of great skill without them needing to perform a single spell.

The night of the showcase could not have been more perfect. A cloudless sky revealed numerous twinkling stars, and the garden was alive with the sounds of summer insects. Mr. Plimpton's colleagues were all gruff elderly men with portly stomachs, white mustaches, and fashionable wives. They looked like a line of overindulgent nutcrackers as they filed their way into the seats Rebecca had laid out on the lawn in front of the stage. 

Rebecca sat in the front row between Melinda and Mrs. Plimpton. She had tucked Liza's bracelet under a feathery white dress she had found in the bureau in her room. The dress was a bit tight but Rebecca didn't mind. She felt regal. Caldwell stood to the side of the stage so he could have a vantage point of both the twins and the audience. He wore dark green velvet and from where Rebecca was seated, his eyes looked electric. As everyone took their seats, Caldwell dimmed the candlelight with a flick of his wrist and the showcase began.

Charles appeared on stage carrying a large wooden staff.

"I AM PROSPERO THE WARLOCK." he shouted. Rebecca had told him during rehearsals that it was difficult for her to hear him and he seemed to have taken this note to heart. "THIS IS MY BROTHER WILF- ERIC." At that line, Wilfred appeared onstage next to Charles holding a glass sphere Rebecca had found in the kit Alston had given her.

"Together we control the elements," said Wilfred. Unlike his brother, he seemed afraid to look at the audience and was instead speaking directly to his shoes.

"THAT'S RIGHT." shouted Charles. "OUR JOB IS TO USE OUR POWERS TO SAVE THE SHIPS THAT CRASH ON OUR SHORES." Just as in rehearsal, Charles struck the floor with his staff and water sprung up in a geyser from the stage, flowing into a channel formed by the trees. Wilfred gestured shyly with the orb and a small wooden boat drifted down the channel and into view. Rebecca heard murmurs of appreciation from the audience and smiled.

"Look," mumbled Wilfred, still looking at his shoes, "another ship struggles to our shores." He swung the orb around once again and Rebecca saw Melinda's hands subtly twitch in the direction of the stage. Fireworks exploded above the garden. The fiery reds and yellows took the form of a massive ship being thrown against the rocks by a glittering green wave.

"WE MUST SAVE THEM," Charles shouted. He and Wilfred clambered into the wooden boat and Charles placed his staff in the water. At that instant, the small boat lifted off from the water and up into the air where the glittering firework shipwreck was still suspended. 

Rebecca felt a knot of anxiety begin to form. This was the most challenging part of the production. In the last rehearsal, the twins had plummeted giggling from the sky before reaching the shipwreck only to be caught by a very panicked Caldwell. This time, however, the boat soared into the air and began slowly circling the firework ship. Charles and Wilfred seemed to have forgotten they were in a play. They were both grinning from ear to ear as they flew far above the garden party.

Rebecca looked at Caldwell. A broad smile lit up his face as he, like Melinda, made small gestures with his hands to bring the twins safely back down to the stage. Rebecca found herself smiling because he was. Because the whole garden was smiling. Because somehow, against all odds, everything was working out. She tried to catch Caldwell's eye and her heart leaped as he turned towards her. Then his gaze slid right past and his smile broadened as his eyes found Melinda's. Rebecca's heart dropped. Suddenly she couldn't stand to be there any longer. She felt a lump rise in her throat and stood abruptly from her seat. In her hurry, the bracelet on her wrist snagged on one of the nails holding the chair together. Rebecca heard it rip and felt it fall but it no longer mattered. She felt hot tears begin to prick her eyes as she walked up the sloping lawn back towards the house.

Her pace quickened as she approached her room. She had been so stupid to think she could possibly mean something to someone like Caldwell. He only had eyes for Melinda. Sparkly, shiny Melinda. And to make matters worse, Rebecca couldn't blame him.

She sat with her back to the doors leading to her room. The tears were coming in earnest now. It was as if every emotion she had stopped herself from feeling over the past several weeks was pouring out all at once. She cried thinking of Caldwell, thinking of the safety of the life she had lost, thinking of Liza and the other women from the dairy who had been her family although there was nothing truly special about her. The lights in the far-off garden party seemed to be dimming now. The showcase was coming to an end.

"Becky?"

Rebecca brushed her tears away and looked towards the source of the voice. It was Melinda.

"Becky, what's wrong?" Melinda asked.

"Sorry," said Rebecca, desperately trying to regain her composure. "I just found myself feeling so sad all of a sudden."

"Do you want to talk about it?" asked Melinda, taking a seat on the steps next to Rebecca.

"I think I have to go make that speech," said Rebecca.

"Don't worry about the speech," said Melinda, soothingly. "Caldwell is taking care of it. The showcase was a huge hit."

"That's wonderful to hear," Rebecca gave Melinda a watery smile.

"So, honestly Becky, what's bothering you on this night of all nights?" Melinda placed a hand gently on Rebecca's shoulder.

"Sometimes I just don't feel good enough. I look at you and Caldwell and I'm the odd one out. I didn't have the best childhood but at least home was somewhere I felt I belonged." As she said them, Rebecca was surprised by how true the words were.

"I understand not fitting in," said Melinda. Her voice was soft and she pulled her hands into her lap.

"I can't imagine that," said Rebecca looking at her. "Everything about you is perfect- your looks, your magic, even your name! What would ever make you feel like you didn't fit in?"

"Becky, you've seen my cooking. I'm hardly perfect. One time I accidentally poisoned my town's sheriff with a strawberry muffin recipe." Melinda forced out a laugh but her expression was unreadable. "In all seriousness," she continued, "it's difficult to grow up in a magical family when the town you are living in hates all things magical. I was always laughed at in school for being 'different'. Melinda isn't even my real name. It's my middle name. I stopped using my real name because I was made fun of too much."

"Oh no!" said Rebecca, but she was feeling more at ease. "If you don't mind me asking, what is your real name?"

"It's Andromeda," said Melinda. "The kid's used to call me An-Drone-eda because I talked so much. An-Drone-eda Drones." Melinda rolled her eyes and chuckled. Rebecca laughed along until something at the back of her mind made her laughter catch in her throat.

Andromeda M. Jones

Charge: Poison