Witches Don't Wear Socks

Chapter 2, Part 2

Homeroom in the art room was a tumult of teen bodies, everyone – except me – in a buzz about the day's activities. I sat at a table near Mr. Klassen's desk, slumped down into my seat, wishing I had another cup of coffee and a 'Lumberjack Special' on the side as my stomach growled. I pulled out my sketchpad and flipped to a clean page. As soon as I could pull out a charcoal pencil, my hand was making weird swirls on the page.

"Don't get so excited, Alex. You're disturbing the rest of the students." Mr. Klassen sauntered up to his desk, tossed a stack of papers onto it and started to take off his jacket.

"Can't help myself. You know me, the life of the party, the hub of all things exciting." I couldn't get past a monotone delivery.

"I've been wondering if you were going to finish up your papier-mâché sculpture anytime soon." He gestured to the corner table behind his desk, where a spread-winged eagle prepared to launch. "You haven't touched it all week. What's up?"

"Nothing's up. I just haven't had the time." I hadn't been able to focus on her with all the disturbing visions darkening my muse. "I should be able to make some progress during lunch break."

Klassen took a step closer. His long, curly blond hair swung forward as he leaned over my table. "I've seen you looking rather distracted the last few days. Are there any problems at home?"

I snorted. "As compared to every other week? No, there's nothing going on at home that's out of the ordinary, at least for our family."

"Boy problems, perhaps?" He smirked as he raised his eyebrows. "You haven't broken out of your reclusive shell and joined the human race now, have you?" Klassen usually razzed me about being a tortured, hermit artist. He didn't know the half of it.

I felt my face redden. What was up with that? "You don't want to go there. Nothing to see, nothing to do." I tried for nonchalant. I'm not sure I pulled it off.

He chuckled as her pushed himself off the table. "You mean you don't want to go there." He straightened and faced the rest of the class. "Okay people, it's time for attendance. Keep it down to a dull roar." He gave another self-satisfied chuckle as he sidled over behind his desk. I heard him mumble under his breath, "Alex had a boyfriend, Alex has a boyfriend..."

"I do not!" I hissed back at him.

"She doth protest too much."

I shook my head as I slumped lower in my chair. I should have known better than to let him bait me. If I came away from this life having learned one thing, it was that I wasn't Cassie. I couldn't tell people what to think. They always just believed what they wanted to believe, truth or not. I bent over my sketchpad and let my hand do its thing.

A notebook slammed into the table next to me, making me jump. "Hey Alex, you brown-noser, it's not even art class. What are you drawing?" Even though Kayla was a tiny blonde wisp of a girl that would blow away in a stiff breeze, she carried herself like an NFL linebacker, banging doors, slamming down books, bumping into things and causing a general ruckus. Cassie – the budding psychologist – says she behaved that way to get noticed. I knew better. She had four older brothers who started rough-housing with her before she could even walk. She 'behaved' like a walking tornado out of self-defence.

Not that anyone else noticed over the din in homeroom today. There was a weird kind of buzz going through the student body, one I wasn't quite plugged into, but still had a sense of. Like an electric current in the air, a nervous excitement.

I closed my sketchbook. I didn't want anyone to see the odd things that were coming out of my pencil lately. "Just killing time. Are you sticking around for the football game? I was thinking maybe you could come over and watch movies, and then we could throw burnt popcorn at trick-or-treaters from my bedroom window."