Where Is Araminta Green? (ONC 2024)

Chapter 8: Closing Time

Cautiously, Jordan entered the already bustling classroom. The train had arrived in Portland slightly delayed, so instead of arriving thirty minutes before the seminar started, with plenty of time to find a seat and get set up, Jordan rushed in at the last moment with sweat running down his cheeks. He did not feel prepared to take on any challenging tasks.

Starting with finding a seat. A daunting mission in a mostly-filled classroom, where the majority of chairs were already occupied, necessitating Jordan to sit down next to someone and perhaps engage in dreaded small talk.

Surveying the crowd, he caught a glance of Derek's dark hair, pulled into a messy ponytail, and thick-rimmed glasses in the front row. It appeared the seat next to him was still unoccupied. Perhaps a normal thing to do would be for Jordan to sit down beside the guy he'd already chitted-chatted with online and strike up a friendly conversation. Unfortunately, doing what others would consider normal wasn't normal to Jordan. Before he could act a flurry of uncertainties began flapping their wings like butterflies, shading any instinct toward connection. What if Derek was waiting for someone? What if he wanted his bag to occupy that seat? What if he said no when Jordan asked if he could sit down?

So when a girl in the back row took her bag and moved to a seat further up, having seemingly spotted a friend, Jordan quickly snatched her seat instead. The back of the classroom was where he belonged. From there, he could observe the proceedings without calling attention to himself. He supposed his ability to notice things without getting noticed himself would be useful in his future career. Because as a journalist, Jordan wasn't the story; he was merely the medium through which it was told. That was a role he felt comfortable with.

While Jordan was still getting his bearings straight—pulling his jacket off and unpacking his laptop—Professor Carrigan entered the classroom, which made the casual chatter die down. Soon, slides on interview technique, source critique, and research methods flashed by in a steady stream, as the young professor—who clad in a hoodie and with his hair in a ponytail channeled the vibes of a hipster social media entrepreneur—enthusiastically shared his knowledge. Jordan took page after page of notes while also jotting down ideas on how to implement what he'd learned into his own podcast.

Still, despite his intense interest in the class, Jordan couldn't help but notice that the seat next to Derek was still unoccupied. Which must mean he hadn't actually been saving it for someone.

"And now, I want you to pair up two and two," the Professor announced from the pulpit. "This will be a partnership lasting for the rest of the semester, so pick someone you think you'll be able to cooperate well with. Perhaps someone working on a similar project or someone you have already shared your work with. The purpose of these partnerships is that each one of you will have someone to brainstorm ideas with because I think collaboration is important to create a qualitative product."

While students started to stir, finding their buddies and establishing partnerships, Jordan peered over toward Derek again. He still sat alone. Just like Jordan.

The easy route for Jordan would be to just stay where he was. Perhaps someone would come to him, or the Professor would pair stray students at the end of the class. That would be safe. That would be what Jordan did all through high school and that pattern of behavior was the reason why he never talked to Araminta, despite her sitting right across the aisle from him in History Class. He'd wanted to ask her to pair up on projects but never managed to work up the courage.

But today, Jordan decided to be brave and break the pattern. For Araminta's sake. For his own sake. Quickly, before the butterflies of anxiety were able to take flight, he stood up, grabbed his backpack and jacket, and walked down the aisle of the auditorium.

Derek looked over when Jordan approached. He smiled widely, pushing up his glasses from the bridge of his nose. In a mismatched probably-thrifted ensemble consisting of an oversized teal FILA sweatshirt and brown corduroy pants, Derek exuded the kind of casual coolness Jordan, who preferred muted colors and discrete fabrics, could only aspire to.

"There you are, Jordan!" Derek welcomed him. "I didn't see you earlier. I was looking for you when I came in."

"Hi," Jordan managed to squeeze out, encouraged by Derek's warm greeting. "I arrived late and sat in the back."

"I saved a seat for you." Derek patted the chair next to him. "But I guess the classroom was quite full when you got here, so you didn't see me."

So Derek had in fact been waiting for someone. He'd been waiting for Jordan.

"Yeah..." Jordan mumbled, cautiously sitting down beside Derek in the seat reserved just for him. "But I saw you now and I... was hoping that maybe—"

"We could pair up?" Derek ended Jordan's sentence. "I was thinking that as well. I actually listened to your latest episode during my drive here and I've been dying to discuss it! And I was hoping that maybe I would be able to get some inside scoop from the creator himself."

Derek's exuberance was infectious. Jordan forgot all about his usual worries in this delightful company. Instead, he found himself going through all the revelations from this morning—the obituary and the message from Christine—while Derek gasped and awed, not letting his attention stray from Jordan for even a moment. The conversation flowed with ease, moving seamlessly from vanished witches to endangered butterflies as they shared details from their respective projects.

Just as Derek was going through the different life cycles of a butterfly, and what dangers threatened them at each stage, their conversation was rudely interrupted. "Closing time, boys," Mr Carrigan announced, having snuck up behind them. "You don't have to go home but you can't stay here." The teacher snickered, seemingly amused by his own choice of words. "I didn't think I would ever have to say that in a classroom..."

Startled, Jordan looked around. The classroom was empty.

"I announced thirty minutes ago that everyone was free to head out for lunch whenever and then continue their discussions in whatever spot they chose. I just want every pair to hand in a plan for how they intend to collaborate at the end of the day," the professor explained. "But you two seemed so engaged in your discussion that I didn't want to disturb you. I'm kind of hungry myself now though so I was gonna head to the staff lunchroom. Which means I have to lock up the classroom."

"I guess we should find something to eat as well then." Derek reached for a silky black bomber jacket that was slung across the back of the chair.

At first, Jordan wasn't sure if "us" included him. Maybe Derek had planned to meet up with someone else? Then, he realized that he was silly. He needed to give Derek the benefit of the doubt, as he'd given Jordan no reason to assume he didn't want his company. "There is a great sandwich place by the library," Jordan suggested, not asking if he was included but assuming.

"Oh I love that place," Derek replied without missing a beat. "Awesome suggestion, Jordy!"

Apparently, they were now on a nickname basis. Jordan had never had a nickname before. Perhaps because he'd never really had a friend before.

"If we go there, we can go to the library afterward since they have subscriptions for ancestry.com on their computers," Derek, ever the idea-man, continued. "I used it for another project and I was thinking that maybe we can look up your witch there. The old one from the gravestone, I mean."

"That's a great idea," Jordan agreed, half-jogging beside Derek to keep up while they exited since his new friend walked as fast as he spitted out ideas.