Mythfits

18- Steve

"Hey guys!" I walk over to the lunch table where Ella and Christine are seated, Ella poking grimly at her unidentifiable school lunch mush while listening to music, and Christine flipping through her US History notes, looking bored out of her mind.

"Sup?" Christine nods, looking up from her absent-minded note reviewing. I look over at Ella expectantly, who just flicks her eyes in my general direction for split second and the turns her music up louder.

"Do you have something?" Christine asks, welcoming any excuse to do something besides pretend to study for history, which I completely respect.

"Yup!" I smirk, pulling the printed-out sheets of paper out from my backpack. Sliding Christine's binder onto the chair, I spread the sheets of paper (crumpled from their time in my backpack, despite my best efforts to keep them relatively neatly folded) out on the table, smoothing them carefully so as not to rip them and ruin all my hard work.

"Ooh, what's this?" Christine peers at them excitedly, her eyes shining.

Ella, finally looking up, joins her, "So you actually have useful information this time?" She mutters to herself, though I open my mouth to think of a comeback, but think better of it.

"Look at this!" Christine exclaims, pulling on Ella's arm in excitement, despite Ella's uncomfortable squirming at being pulled anywhere, "I didn't even know that some of these spells existed! I can't wait to try them out!"

"Yeah," Ella replies, totally deadpan, "I definitely want to try this one." She points to a spell on turning your adversaries into mushrooms. Suddenly afraid for my non-mushroom state, I edge away from her, although I knew that rationally, werewolves weren't very good any most types of magic. However, I didn't put it past her to go ahead and try, and while it may not work, I am still hesitant to have any ill-intentioned magic cast on me. I like not being a mushroom very much at the moment.

"So..." I ask, uncertain of what they were looking for, "Do these help?" I glance down at them, not seeing a spell entitled how to cure a grumpy werewolf's sick younger sister, but clear, up front directions were not to be expected of anything concerning magic. No, everything must be written in vague, nonspecific, mysterious lines of bad poetry.

"Maybe." Ella says begrudgingly, like she doesn't want to admit that I did something right. Well, surprise. I think bitterly, I can do things right. Then I shift my weight uncomfortably, remembering all times I've lost things, made them backfire, break or dissolve into a pile of bits and pieces. I can do thing right occasionally, I amend.

"Yes, definitely!" Christine adds, much more enthusiastically, elbowing Ella in the ribs until she scowls.

"Sure." Ella rubs her side, glancing warily at Christine's elbow like it was a deadly weapon, which it, in a way, kind of was.

Satisfied, I linger at their table a while longer, until it truly became awkward. Heading away from their table, I run into my friends and we get distracted trying to see what the grossest thing we could mix with hot dog condiments was. My personal vote was pickle relish mixed with sweet and sour sauce mixed with ranch mixed with mustard, spread on a bagel. What made it worse, or maybe better, is that Kevin actually ate it.