Once Upon a Witch's Moon

Once Upon a Witch's Moon: Part 1 - Ch 4

CHAPTER FOUR

Twist walked into the teeming hallway of Rock Cove High -- or as she liked to call it, the gantlet of a thousand tiny deaths -- accidentally brushing against a locker bearing dark thought dust palm prints. OMG. I'm late. Late. That can't be.

A bright red backpack clipped her from behind as the owner rushed past. I hope I didn't get Mr. Gonzalez for Spanish again.

Brushing against dark emotions was like a hit of sadness, a buzz of frustration -- things she'd learned to shake off. Trying to help made things worse, but that didn't make the wanting to help less urgent.

She darted out of the way of a shoulder-to-shoulder group of four jocks, avoiding a couple of steel hued lascivious thoughts. Just to balance things out, she deliberately brushed against a few shiny thoughts.

This year, I'm not going to be a dork.

I love the way school smells.

Middle school can kiss my ass!

She smiled, remembering how she had felt that way her freshman year, too. Poor kids were in for a shock when they found out you couldn't shed your dork skin just by moving up from middle school to high school.

She took out the sea glass heart her dad had given her. Feeling the smoothness between her thumb and fingertips calmed her. She stood by her locker for a moment, looking at the writhing mass of humanity in Rock Cove High's main hallway while trying to pretend she was just one of them. Normal. She took a deep breath. The first day was always the worst.

The summer had changed them all in some ways - the guys were taller, more muscled. The girls were tanned and rocking new hair styles. Normal, as always, had shifted a bit while she was busy gathering eggs, helping in the garden, and trying desperately to get rid of her nightmare.

Maybe she should have left her hair free instead of braiding it? No one was giving her the stink eye - and none of the guys were checking her out, either - so she couldn't be too far from forgettably normal.

She saw Brian MacAdams at his locker, across the hall from hers. He'd grown at least three inches over the summer. His brown skin seemed a little darker, as if he'd spent the last three months in the sun. Clearly he'd been working out. His rangy lean body of last year had broadened in the shoulders enough so that she wouldn't have recognized him if he wasn't turned toward her so she could see the distinctive cleft in his chin.

Everyone said hi to him, and he smiled and said hi back in a way that didn't encourage any more conversation. Some of the girls flipped their new hairstyles at him flirtatiously, but he didn't look at them any differently than he had last year. No one seemed to notice that the smile didn't reach his deep brown eyes.

Twist pulled the band that held her braid and shook her hair loose. She pretended to bend down and look for something in her locker, turning her head so that her hair would fall and hide the fact that she was spying on Brian. He always had a friendly smile, even if it was a little sad. Only maybe no one else saw the sadness. Because no one else saw what he left behind on everything he touched.

Shame burned heat up her neck and into her cheeks. She knew more than she should about Brian MacAdams. She had eavesdipped on him. He didn't see school as a place he belonged, but as a hurdle to jump before he started his real life, just like Twist.

They had something else in common, too. He was the oldest of a large adopted family of odd and assorted children from every race and nationality and disability.

His brown skin was exotic in her school of pinky-pale and peachy faces, which had led to trouble a couple times. Nothing more than a few bigoted words, maybe a birthday invitation or two that never came. Enough to make him feel alien. Like Twist.