Once Upon a Witch's Moon

Once Upon a Witch's Moon: Part 1 - Ch 5

CHAPTER FIVE

Thought dust overload hit her before noon. Twist checked her watch to make sure the lunch bell was about to ring and hung back from the hungry crowd that swarmed the door when the bell rang. She was the last to leave the classroom, hoping to be unnoticed. There was one place she could go for a real thought dust break - if she were very careful to avoid being seen. The janitor's closet.

Only the janitor was allowed to be in there, although she occasionally came across signs of others who'd crept in secretly -- usually in pairs - but that wasn't often. Today, being the first day of school, there was no sign of anyone at all. Not even the janitor himself.

The janitor, Mr. Shipley, was an old man, who walked like he was still an active Marine Sergeant. His thought dust was very simple, like her dad's. Some small unhappiness about the way the world wasn't quite as neat as he liked, and some major satisfaction about the work he'd accomplished to restore a bit of order in his tiny corner.

She wondered how it would feel to be Mr. Shipley, and be proud of a well polished floor, or a fingerprint-free window pane. Maybe when she was a hundred she'd feel that way. Maybe.

It was funny, how the emotions of those quiet feelings of accomplishment didn't fade nearly as fast as the bursts of love and hate and despair outside the quiet janitor's closet. She didn't really mind those quiet feelings. They comforted her, like the smell of Sylvia's lavender soap or Bob's prized leather jacket.

She sat on an industrial-sized crate of toilet paper rolls and closed her eyes, inhaling the smells of organic cleaning supplies and the faintest hint of bleach. She didn't need to grab lunch, she just needed to grab some peace and quiet so she could survive the rest of the day.

She couldn't get the mocking voice of the woman in her dream out of her mind, not to mention the clacking skulls commanding her to take hold of the marble figure glowing inside the hollow heads.

Everything had seemed so real that she'd forgotten she was dreaming for a second. If she had reached into the skull's mouth, would her memories of long ago have returned?

She blinked, remembering that flash of a boy's face. Was that real? Or just more of the tortured nightmare?

"Be you true, Maiden?" the woman's voice had asked her. True to what? True to who? The woman? The boy? Herself?

She took the marble pawn out of her pocket and stared at it. She didn't want to remember. She didn't want to dream. She didn't want to know what everyone else was thinking and feeling. She just wanted to be normal.

Was that being true to herself? Or was she somehow untrue to herself when she retreated to the janitor's closet at lunch and closed her eyes, becoming one with the dust mops and brooms?

The lingering effects of thought dust overload haunted her as she sat waiting for the bell that signaled the end of the school day, letting Mrs. Nugent's voice turn into background music.

Restless, but not wanting to bring Mrs. Nugent's attention to herself -- she'd only ask if Twist had something to share -- she eavesdipped her fingers through Sarah Laverdiere's romantic breakup, which was shadowing the seat back in front of her. Bobby has to see she's no good. Not like me. I'd do anything for him. Anything. Why can't he see?

One part of Twist wanted to help. To tap Sarah on the shoulder and tell her that Bobby Briggs had had a firefly crush on her, at first, but now it was dead and gone. She resisted the urge. Bitter experience told her that would only make things worse. Why did everyone seem to want most what they clearly weren't meant to have?

For Sarah it was Bobby Briggs. For Twist it was friends.

Sofia sat not too far away, and Twist could see her smiling at the girl next to her, as they passed back permission forms for next month's traditional junior class trip to the Senior Center.