The Boy Witch

Chapter 17

The following morning, Sam was sweeping the mansion’s entryway, when there was a knock at the door. He almost did not hear it because he was listening to music on an old CD player the witches had lent him while cleaning up. That was about the most technological thing the witches owned. Sam had to force himself not to pout when they handed him the CD player. He removed his earbuds from his ears and walked to the door, confused as to who it could be.

Opening the door, he revealed a young man, wearing a nice winter coat and his long black hair in a loose braid. He had bronzed skin and honest eyes. When he saw Sam, he developed a smirk.

“And who might you be?” The young man asked in a smooth voice.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Sam replied, defensive.

“Marina told me about a new witch who joined the compound,” he continued. “Is that you?” He seemed unconvinced, his eyebrow rising classily.

Sam was taken aback that the man knew about the witches. “No, I’m not,” Sam replied. “I’m just the new help.”

The young man nodded with understanding, coolly slipping his hands in his pockets. “I’m here to pick up Marina and Carrie Anne,” he explained, “and bring them to college.”

“I see,” Sam replied. “So, you know about the witches?” He did not know what to do with that information.

“I’m a friend,” the man continued. “My name is Ray. I’m a shaman from the nearby Ponkapoag Massachusetts.”

“A shaman?” Sam’s eyes opened wide with curiosity. He would not admit he did not understand the last words of Ray’s sentence.

“What? You think witches have the monopoly on magic?” Ray joked with a classy smirk. “Now, are Marina and Carrie Anne ready?”

As he asked his question, Marina and Carrie Anne made their way down the grand staircase, and out the door, past Sam, who turned around when he heard their footsteps.

“Good morning,” Ray wished his friends.

“I see you met the new guy,” Marina commented, almost ignoring Sam, as she slipped her backpack onto her shoulders.

“He seems nice,” Ray smiled, shooting Sam a look.

“Thanks, I guess,” Sam replied, mumbling a little.

“We better get going,” Carrie Anne intervened, annoyed. “I’m going to be late for class.”

“It was nice meeting you, new guy,” Ray waved as they started walking away.

“My name’s Sam,” Sam shot out in the distance.

“Nice to meet you, Sam,” Ray repeated, with a smile, waving again, but with his back facing Sam.

Ray and the witches disappeared through the scenery surrounding the mansion. Sam wondered just how many people knew about the witches. And he was curious, too, about the different types of magic. But his curiosity would have to go unsated. Sam got back to work, returning his earbuds to his ears, sweeping the floor without much interest.

***

Later was Sam and Miles’ first homeschool class with Felicity. Reagan and Eleanor were there, too.

Class took place in a classroom on the first floor populated with lavish desks and chairs. It looked nothing like the classrooms Miles and Sam were used to, with its elegant rug, mahogany desks and hanging light fixture. There was also an entire wall of shelves, filled with books, that Felicity used in her classes. When they entered the room, Miles and Sam took their seats, sharing a desk, whereas Eleanor and Reagan shared their own desk, too.

“…So, how does this work?” Miles asked Reagan and Eleanor.

The girls turned around to look at him.

“Felicity teaches us from a homeschooling curriculum,” Reagan explained. “Until it’s time to go to college.”

Miles nodded. He had never given any thought to an education other than a traditional one. His mother was not the homeschooling kind. Thinking about it, he was quite thankful he was never homeschooled, isolated from the world, alone with his mom, despite how little he enjoyed school. It had not been so bad after Sam became his friend.

“Do you like being homeschooled, Eleanor?” Miles asked the girl. He realized he had not heard Eleanor speak since arriving at the compound, but she always had a smile on her face. To answer his question, she nodded and smiled.

Miles was taken aback by her quietness and forced a smile, too.

“Oh, you don’t know yet,” Reagan let out. “Elly is a mute.”

“Oh,” Miles replied. “I see.” That explained a lot.

Eleanor smiled some more. Her good mood was contagious. Miles smiled back at her. She had the brightest eyes and Miles got lost in them for a moment.

“So, I met a shaman today,” Sam let out, snapping Miles out of his daze.

“A shaman?” Miles asked.

“Oh, you must have met Ray,” Reagan added. “He’s so hot.” She had a dreamy look on her face. Ray was not his type, but Sam had to admit he looked good.

“What does a shaman do?” Miles continued, curious.

“They can commune with the spirits, and predict the future and heal people,” Reagan explained. “Or something like that. Shamans are pretty cool.”

“Predicting the future does sound pretty cool,” Sam commented. He did find himself wondering how Ray did not guess who Sam was. But he figured Ray could not predict everything every time.

Eleanor waved her hand, with a bright smile, and Sam was not sure why.

“Elly has the gift of premonition, too,” Reagan stated. “She and Ray sometimes have contests on who can better predict the future.”

“That's amazing,” Miles chuckled.

Felicity finally entered the room. Miles and Sam quietened down, ready to listen, whereas Reagan was not paying much attention. “Good morning, everybody,” Felicity greeted them. “I hope you’re all ready for class.” She approached the group. “I heard you taking about shamans. The Ponkapoag Massachusetts are out brethren in magic. We learn from each other and commune together.”

“And in Marina's case, we date them,” Reagan added resentfully, crossing her arms over her chest as she has a habit of doing and pouting jealously.

“Reagan, Marina's affairs of the heart are none of your business,” Felicity explained.

“It’s just not fair, is all,” Reagan continued to complain. “Marina gets to have a boyfriend, Miles gets to have his boyfriend literally live at the mansion, and I can’t even see an available straight boy on a regular basis. Help me.”

“Wait, wait,” Sam protested. “Miles’ boyfriend… Are you taking about me?”

“Who else?” Reagan turned around with a defiant look.

Miles blushed madly. “We’re not dating,” he let out shyly.

“Seriously not dating,” Sam added. Sam was eager to disprove Reagan, his heart suddenly racing madly.

“Oh, just give it some time,” Reagan teased the boys. “A guy doesn't give up life as he knows it to come live with a bunch of witches for no reason.”

“He saved my life,” Sam rushed to explain, a bright blush creeping on his cheeks. But even he had to admit that was a pretty great sacrifice.

“Enough,” Felicity declared. “I’ve let this conversation go on long enough.”

Finally, Felicity got started with class. The teens all had math manuals tailored to their levels that they read and did exercises in with Felicity helping them out when they needed it. Sam enjoyed the individual work more than he did listening to a teacher all day, but he found himself wanting to do his exercises with Miles, since they were working off the same manual. At first, he did not want to create the wrong impression, with the witches’ rumor mill already working at full speed. But eventually, he decided he did not care.

While Felicity was busy helping Eleanor, Sam nudged Miles’ arm. “Hey, help me out with this problem,” he asked, holding his book towards his friend, pointing to the problem in question.

“Yeah, sure,” Miles replied with a smile.
Reagan snickered, not turning from her math manual.

Sam got frustrated. “It’s just a math problem,” he let out, bending over the table to look past Miles at Reagan.

“Yeah, but you’re not asking me for help,” Reagan argued. She was also the same age as the boys and working on the same manual.

“Well, I don’t know you,” Sam explained, furrowing his brow. “Besides, so far, I mostly find you irritating.”

“Is that right?” Reagan reacted, smiling playfully.

“Enough,” Felicity intervened. “There are some math problems that you need to focus on.”

With an annoyed sigh, Sam tried to turn back to his math problems, with Miles’ help, but he was distracted by Reagan still snickering. Sam wondered too why he cared so much about what Reagan thought. He was not that irritated when people thought he was dating Rebecca. Looking at Miles as he explained the math problem, Sam could not help but blush again.

***

At dinnertime, everybody sat around the grand dining room table. It was much too big for the people around it. After he had helped serve dinner and sat down to eat too, Sam struck a conversation with Marina, who was back from her day spent at university.

“So…” Sam started. “What do you study?”

“History,” she replied succinctly, taking another bite of her food.

“That must be interesting.” Their conversation dried out for a moment, though it had just started. “You know,” Sam continued, “you strike me as the sporty type. Do you play any sports?” Marina had an athletic build and serious, competitive demeanor.

Marina looked up from her meal, pleasantly surprised. “I do. I play Lacrosse.”

“That’s really cool. I play, or used to play, basketball.”

“That’s not surprising,” Marina commented.

“I’d love to see you play sometime, cheer you on.”

Marina chuckled. “You’re welcome anytime.”

As they talked, Sam heard a knock at the front door. “I better get that,” he said.

Felicity rose before he could and placed her hand on his shoulder. “No, let me,” she insisted.

“Oh, alright,” Sam replied. He turned back to his dinner as Felicity walked to the door. Sam heard it open and the conversation of hushed voices.

When Felicity returned, she had a solemn look on her face. “Students,” she declared as the dinner guests placed down their forks, “please rise. The council has arrived.”

Miles and Sam imitated the other people at the table and stood, but a little awkwardly. Even Reagan was serious.

In came three guests, a sharply-dressed, dark-brown-haired woman, a flamboyant bald man and an eccentric-looking woman with straight white hair. They were all a certain age. Sam could not help but feel intimidated and he could tell that Miles was nervous, too.

“Come on now,” the white-haired witch started. “No need for such stiff formalities.”

“Now,” the male guest said, “where is the new Prime? The boy witch?”

Miles timidly raised his hand. Delighted, the man walked up to him, around the table, passing by other dinner guests. He grabbed Miles by the shoulders and placed two kisses on the boy's cheeks, as Miles stiffened under the man’s touch. “Aren’t you adorable?” He started. “I’ve heard what you can do and I can't wait to see how your powers develop.”

“Bartholomew,” the brown-haired witch intervened, “let go of him. You're making him uncomfortable.”

“Pish-posh,” the man named Bartholomew replied. “I’m sure that’s not the case. Isn’t that right?” He turned to Miles.

“I’m fine,” Miles lied, forcing a smile.

“There you go, he’s fine,” Bartholomew pushed away his colleague’s concerns with a flap of his hand.

Miles had to admit he was content to see another male witch, however flashy and unmindful of personal space he might be.

The other two members of the council approached him. “I’m Millicent,” the brown-haired witch declared.

“And I’m Philomena,” the white-haired witch added.

After greeting Miles, the members of the council spent some time saying hello to Felicity and her students. Sam noticed Philomena lingered around Marina, and Marina was all smiles around her. He guessed a complicity between the two.

“And who might this tall glass of water be?” Millicent turned to Sam, who was starting to feel out of place among the socializing witches. She seemed thoroughly unintimidated by Sam’s height. And Sam had to admit she was a little terrifying. She might as well have been the tall one.

“I’m Samuel,” he replied, straightening his back for good posture.

“You’re one of the victims of the shooting,” Philomena added. “You must be awfully thankful for your friend.”

“That I am,” Sam replied.

The council members exchanged a few more pleasantries with Felicity and her students, before turning solemn.

“Where's Mallory?” Millicent asked, suddenly bitter. Miles wondered, too, turning to Felicity to hear her answer.

“She’s in a locked room in the basement,” Felicity replied.

“So, my mother,” Miles started, curious but careful, “she ran away from the coven?”

“She escaped her responsibilities as the Prime witch,” Bartholomew explained, “which we hope you will take seriously.”

“What might those be?” Miles asked, a little concerned.

“The Prime witch is part of the council. And helps train young witches. But don’t worry, you won't be asked to participate for a while yet. You still have much to learn.” Bartholomew placed his hand on Miles’ arm warmly. “We’re really happy to have you among us.”

“Thank you,” Miles replied with a smile. “Tell me, what’s going to happen to my mother?”

“We heard some of the things she did to you and your father,” Millicent explained. “She will pay for her crimes, towards the coven and towards you.”

Miles seemed worried about what would happen to his mother, letting out a worried sigh. Sam squeezed his friend’s arm to reassure him, ignoring what Reagan might think of it. Sam was rather pleased Mallory would finally face justice.