Different Kinds of Magic

The Substitute

Get in here, Aidan. You are so not going to believe this.

Aidan jumps at Celia’s voice inside her head. Sharp with excitement, it stabs through all Aidan’s standard mental defenses. Aidan glances at the reflection of the stalls behind her. Damn it, Celia, Aidan shot back. We discussed boundaries.

Celia ignores her. Freshen up and get your butt in here.

An image shimmers in Aidan’s head…black hair, green eyes– Aidan cuts her cousin off mid-pic sharing. If he’s that great, don’t ruin the surprise.

Sorry. Hurry.

Aidan shoves lip gloss back into her purse, grabs books off the sink, and strides into the hall. A couple of lockers slam and hurried steps chase the echoes as stragglers race to class. She glances at her phone. Less than a minute before the tardy bell rings.

She pushes through the door at the back of the classroom and heads for her seat behind Celia. Filled with the chatter of students, rustles of notebooks and thumps of large literature books hitting the desks, the room looks no different from any other day.

Aidan glances around, not seeing any new faces in the seats around them. “Where is he?” she whispers to the back of Celia’s dark head.

“Up there,” Celia answers softly and gestures to the front.

The teacher scratches out an assignment on the board. With his back to the class, Aidan sees no more than a trim figure and longish black hair. Certainly, it is not the very pregnant and familiar Mrs. Roman.

Aidan shrugs and pulls the literature text and notebook from her stack before she dumps the rest beneath her desk. What is so great about a sub?

You can’t see his face yet, but get a load of that tight ass.

Celia! Aidan glances up briefly then digs into her purse for a pen.

For crap’s sake, Aidan! You’re not a nun. Show some appreciation for something God clearly spent time on.

Fine. For crap's sake.

The bell rings. For a long time after, Aidan isn’t sure at that moment if it is the tardy bell or a warning siren in her head.

Aidan looks up and meets brilliant green eyes that spark with recognition.

Chills run down her spine.

The hair on the back of her neck prickles.

Goosebumps erupt over her entire body.

Her fingers and toes tingle as if they are losing circulation.

Her scalp crawls.

A faint sense of dizziness followed by nausea pours over her.

For the briefest of movements, she is in the middle of a horror movie just before the monster reaches out from the shadows to grab her.

She shivers and refocuses on the man at the front of the class.

Straight black hair falls across his forehead. Long fingers rake through the dark length carelessly and settle strands away from his eyes in a gesture of long habit. The entire class ceases its random noises abruptly as he smiles at them…at her. There is the barest hint of a dimple in his left cheek. Her heart skips. The term “breathtakingly handsome,” means something real.

She blinks.

A picture flashes in her mind: a white shirt drenched in blood so fresh the copper tang burns in her throat. A drop rolls off the top button, leaving it clean and shining before soaking into the red wetness below.