bitchcraft//fillie

Chapter Two

fleetwood mac - "dreams"  

Finn's first day at Davern's High School was mediocre. He wasn't expecting it to be too amazing considering that he knew absolutely no one and that it is indeed high school; nobody can enjoy it too much. But none of it mattered to him; he knew that he always had his friends to talk to over the phone and to Skype with back home in Vancouver to satisfy any feelings of loneliness from the lack of any new friends he didn't care to have. 

 He kneeled onto the ground covered by a tan colored carpet inside of his mostly empty navy blue painted bedroom with only a made bed that was covered with plain white sheets, pillows, blankets, a plain wooden desk, and a black cushioned computer chair, as he began to unpack more of his personal belongings that needed to be removed out of those tightly fitted boxes. 

He was a perfectionist in particular ways. Things always had to be right where they were supposed to; that's why it surprised him as to why he hadn't unpacked all of his belongings from the first day he and his dad even moved into that old house. A part of him was angry that they just had to up and move so suddenly, but another part of him didn't mind at all. Finn just goes with the flow of things. 

As the dusk approached the skyline right outside of Finn's curtainless window, he glanced up to silently watch the different shades of bright colors splash against the sky by pausing the process of placing video game discs into a neat pile, cd's of his favorite artists, and picture frames with him and his friends, mostly him and Josh. His brown jeans scraped the soft black cushion of the chair as he plopped down into it to aimlessly stare out into the open, absorbing the view, closing the lid of his Mac laptop without averting his eyes away. 

"Finn, come into the kitchen, dinner's ready!" His dad shouted from the end of the hallway, as Finn stole one more quick glance of the view that pulled his sole observation from almost finishing something that he'd been so eager and ready to do, as he then stood up off of the chair and exited his bedroom to obtain his father's orders. 

The bacon that sizzled on top of the scalding frying pan could be heard from a mile away, as Finn hovered inside of the doorless portal that separated the empty living room and the somewhat filled kitchen in which his father stood flipping the cooking food, snatching a glance at his teenage son. "Thought we could have breakfast for dinner since I know that it's your favorite." He smiled warmly that caused a fraction of his grey beard to up-curl along with his lips, as Finn softly smiled back on the way to take a seat on one out of two wooden dining chairs, the wood scratching the black and white square tiles of the floor. 

"What, you aren't gonna tell me how your first day went?" His dad questioned as if he were offended his son hadn't told him from the second he arrived back home, as Finn locked his eyes towards the mass of his for some reason, clammy hands. "It was boring, really. Had to introduce myself to seven groups of people who couldn't give a shit. I've had better first days, I guess." Finn couldn't help but admit to a dreary persona, as his father silently exhaled a large breath. 

"I know, son. It's going to be hard at first, being around a bunch of people you don't know, but it'll get better in a week or two. The most important thing is your education and protection, especially in this place. No one exuded signs, did they?" His father at first warm-heartedly advised before he got too caught up with what he obsesses about daily, by asking his son if anyone at his school gave off any red flags of practicing black magic, or in better words, if they were a witch.