Trials of a Teenage Hedge-Witch

The druid with the goatee

Out of her classroom window, Carmen can see Maya waiting for the school bus. For some reason, the year elevens have finished early, and Maya is sitting on the backrest of the bus stop bench, her face covered by a book.

''May I go five minutes early please ma'am?'' She raises her hand. "I really need a whizz.'' Dismissed, she flies down the stairwell to the parking lot, a skinny blur of chalky skin and habitual black clothing.

''Hiya,'' she mumbles, approaching Maya and pulling the thermos from her stone-washed black bag. She brushes a few strands of hand-cut oleaginous blonde fringe anxiously from her eyes.

Maya looks up at her, surprised and releases her copy of Albert Camus onto her knees.

''Oh hey, Goth Girl... I mean, Carmen. You good today?''

Carmen shrugs. "I brought back yer thermos.'' She plonks the tartan metal cylinder onto the bus stop bench. ''It's clean and everyfing. Sorry I didn't see ye yesterday to give it to ye.''

''Well thanks,'' says Maya, she pulls the cannister towards her, opens the lid and sniffs suspiciously. Then she pops it into her backpack. She eyes Carmen warily. "Like I said, anytime, ok?''

The words are barely out of Maya's mouth when Carmen answers. "How 'bout today then?'' She shifts nervously from foot to foot, awaiting Maya's response.

Maya twists her neck around as if she is looking for someone in the parking lot, but it is empty as before. Carmen can't imagine who she could be looking for anyway since all the other year elevens have left already.

''Sure,'' Maya exhales an overlarge breath. ''Why not?''

No one needs to tell Carmen twice. She is up onto the back of the bench alongside Maya in seconds. ''So, what's yer book about then?'' she asks, examining the creased cover of the classic novel.

"It's about a guy whose life is ruined because he won't cry like people want him to,'' Maya says, her eyes a little glazed.

''Yeh? Sounds good. C'n you lend me it some time?''

''Soon as I am done.'' Maya smiles and the bus arrives, the hiss of pneumatic brakes coinciding with the end-of-day school bell. The two girls clamber aboard, Carmen taking a window seat and Maya the aisle beside her. As the coach pulls off, Truman exits the parking lot, walking loosely with his backpack slung casually over one shoulder.

"New boy?'' Carmen asks, glancing at Truman and twisting the tiny silver ring in her eyebrow thoughtfully.

''Yeh. American,'' Maya explains. "I had to walk him round the school yesterday. That's why I wasn't on the early bus.''

"'E's a long, cool drink o water, Inne?'' Carmen peers out the window in an obvious rubberneck, her face so close to the glass that it leaves a smear. With the sense of someone who knows they are being watched, Truman looks up at her and then his focus slides over to Maya. Their eyes meet and he grins, but instead of smiling back, Maya snaps her head dead-straight ahead and acts rather unconvincingly as if she hadn't noticed.

The bus trundles by him and on through the town: past the pretty, red-roofed village cottages and the few high-street shops and then left towards the outskirts of town. They pass the stop near the council houses where Carmen lives and continue out into the countryside. The early-summer hedgerows are in full flower: a festival of snowy hawthorn and marshmallow-pink dog-rose. Beyond them the hills rise in emerald patchwork, marbled with snaking stone walls. Maya's stop seems like the middle of nowhere, the house screened by trees and nothing but the large elder tree to mark the turn into the lane.

Carmen hops off alongside Maya, visibly relaxing as they turn into the lane. She even stops to pluck a head of the thick lacy cow parsley that overhangs the road as they head towards Bishop's End.