The Witching Hour, WIP unedited

The Witching Hour (short story) 

As I stood in the doorway, my dad strapped my backpack on and gave me a reassuring pat on the back. “First day of school, huh?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yup,” I replied, checking my backpack to make sure everything was there. The Powers of Wizardry textbook, my lunch, and my pencil case were all in place. “First day of eighth grade!” I pumped my fist in the air, feeling a mix of excitement and dread. My dad patted my back again.

“Love ya,” he said just as the neighborhood trolley rumbled up to our door.

“Love ya!” I shouted back and dashed toward the trolley.

The truth was, I wasn’t really that excited for eighth grade. I just wanted to get it over with. I was terrible at magic; the strongest thing I’d ever done was teleport a whole two feet away from where I started, and then I’d passed out. The other boys didn’t like me, and my so-called friends had become so distant over the last year that they felt almost nonexistent. I’d been teased for my slight mustache and my messy, dirty-looking blond hair. Plus, I almost always wore my older brother’s hand-me-downs. The trolley was usually packed, but today it felt unusually crowded.

When I arrived at school, I shoved my backpack into my locker and headed to class. It was the worst one of the day: “time stopping.” I was at a first-grade level in that subject and had never managed to do it, not even once. I’d passed my classes by bribing my teachers with small gifts each year, hoping they’d feel pity for me. My grades usually hovered around Ds and Cs.

Five minutes into the lesson, while all the other boys were making time bubbles, I raised my hand and asked to go to the bathroom. I didn’t really need to go, but I often used that excuse just to escape the classroom. I wandered the halls, edging closer to the girls’ half of the school, marked by a thick black line painted down the middle. I kept strolling through the foul-smelling corridors, lingering longer than I intended. Then the bell rang. I hurried back to the time stopping classroom, grabbed my bag, and then returned to the girls’ side of the school.

Peering into a classroom, I felt a wave of envy wash over me. The girls’ lessons looked so much more interesting! They were healing wounds, talking to animals, controlling plants, and creating forcefields. That was simply awesome, at least to me. But I knew I couldn’t have it. Unless…? No, no, no. Well, maybe.

The rest of my classes that day dragged on. To make matters worse, two new blackheads had appeared on my forehead, adding to the teasing I already endured. I knew I wasn’t very attractive, but I didn’t need it shoved in my face like that.

Two more weeks passed in the same way, until one day, I packed my bags with the same items and, somehow, found myself stepping off the trolley at a girls’ fashion store. I bought a dress-uniform, or at least the closest thing to the girls’ uniforms at my school. I put it on, combed my hair out to make it look longer and less like a boy’s haircut, and hopped on the next trolley. My heart raced faster than it ever had—today, I was going to school as a girl!

I walked into the classroom, backpack in hand. “Hi,” I said shyly, my heart thumping so loudly that I was afraid the other girls could hear it. The teacher looked at me strangely.

“You’re not on my attendance list. What’s your name?”

“I’m… um, Mavis,” I managed to say, relieved I could come up with a believable name. “And I’m a new student here. I just moved to Valley Village a few days ago. I’m sorry my parents haven’t properly enrolled me yet.” I flashed my best smile.

“I don’t think that uniform is school protocol. The socks are the wrong color,” the teacher observed. “But it’s fine. It’s your first day, after all. Have a seat. Just make sure you’re enrolled by tomorrow.” She smiled, though it felt a bit forced. “I’m Ms. Christie. You can sit at that desk next to Allison. She might be able to help you out.”

I sat down, and Allison, a black-haired girl in the correct uniform sat primly and waved at me with a genuine, cheerful smile. I waved back, feeling a sense of relief. Ms. Christie turned back to the class. “Now, everyone introduce yourself.” I couldn’t believe it—one day, and the rest of my eighth-grade year was set. All I had to do now was secretly enroll myself on my parents’ computer. I looked around the room for the first time. There were about twelve people in the class, including me. They all said their names, which I completely forget, except for Allison, who passed me a note. I read it, giddy. 

“Hey!” Was all it said. I smiled at her and mouthed “hey” back as the lesson went on. And somehow, throughout the lesson, I was decent at the witch magic. I was still completely behind everyone in our class, but I had started off at a sixth grade level, Ms. Christie told me. And apparently, that was extremely good for my first day. I beamed with pride for the rest of the lesson. I hadn’t completely considered that I wouldn’t be, because I was doing everything in such a flash, but there I was, healing the wounds of squirrels and then asking them how they were afterwards. I was actually the best of my class. 

Allison was impressed and even asked me for help during extension. I was glad I’d be in the same class as Allison all year…or week, however long this lasted. The thing was, the girls had one teacher for everything, while the boys had rotating teachers. I surprised myself at how good I was at forcefields and healing. And making plants come alive again. And making plants grow so that they twisted around me, and such. Ms. Christie even gave me the girls’ textbook, The Powers of Witchcraft. 

I met Allison in the library during extension. I was amazed at how big the girls’ library was. I was sure it had more funding than the boys. The ceiling was a stained-glass skylight of a big hawk-looking bird. “Woah! This library is so cool!” I said, staring up at the skylight. “The b-“ I stopped myself from saying something about how the boys library was worse. “Nevermind.” Allison didn’t seem to notice. 

“Yeah, I know right! It’s super cool! And guess what?” She said, a sprinkle of a twinkle in her eye as I followed her down a small pathway in between bookshelves. We walked two shelves down until there was a little table with four chairs around it. A quiet part of the library with cream-colored curtains and a wonderful dolloping of light across the back of the library. “This is the spot I always go to study. But now it’s yours, too!” I didn’t know what to say, so I just said,

“Um…thanks!” And smiled. We both sat down, and took out our textbooks. I admired Allison’s perfectly placed back bow. It matched the uniform, and I bet it was school-issued too. It looked classy. It looked rich. Meanwhile, there I was with maroon colored socks and a dress that was a size too big for me because that was the smallest size they had. I turned to page thirteen in the book, and turned to it in Allison’s, too. 

“Okay, so the way I do plant control is I try to connect to the plant using strings.” I looked at her, confused, and she cocked to her head to one side in order to explain. “See, on page five it explains what I mean, but I’ll just tell you. Strings are these fiber-like things you feel when you really connect with the thing you’re doing magic on. Here. Focus on the plant, not on me, and you might feel strings.” I looked at the vine of the ivy, observing its shapes leaves, and crevices. Then I felt them at the tip of each of my fingers. I looked towards Allison in excitement, but that made the strings disappear. She smirked. “You need to not look at me. Keep your focus on the ivy plant. And pull when you have a strong grasp in order to make it grow.” 

“Okay.” I stared at the plant with a furrowed brow. I felt the strings appear quickly and like Allison said, I yanked them up. The plant burst up, and I had to pull the strings abruptly down to make sure they didn’t crush through the ceiling. I looked at Allison and giggled. She started giggling, too. The plant’s middle had become thick, thick enough that I couldn’t put my hand around it. And it was in a weird bend shape that took a sharp right at the ceiling. 

“Oh my gosh, this is so crazy!” 

“Wow!” Was all Allison said, looking at my ivy plant. “That really is a weird angle at the top there.” We giggled some more. “Do you want to do some material spells now? They are probably further down in the curriculum, but they’re a lot harder to master.” 

“Sure,” I said. “But what is a material spell?” I asked.

“Oh. It’s when you use strings to do something. Like make fire, turn invisible, make water. Stuff like that.” 

“That is so cool.” I said. “So what page is it on?” 

“I think I saw it on eighty-three.” We both flipped to the page. She searched for the easiest material spell. “Aha! How about a light spell? It’s the easiest one!” I smiled. 

“Okay. How do I do it?” I asked, itching the back of my boys’ haircut. 

“First, you need to find the right focus. Just like with the plant, you’ll want to connect with the energy around you. The book says to visualize a small orb of light in your hands. Make it grow by pulling on the strings.” 

I grunted, Lazar focused. I closed my eyes so that I didn’t have to feel Allison’s presence. Then I saw the light begin to grow. “Whoo!” I yelled, and I heard a distinct “shh!” From the librarian. A bobble of light lifted from my fingers. It made my eyes sparkle in its beams. “Woah…” I said, breathless. 

“Yeah.” Allison twiddled with her hair absentmindedly. “How about fire next?” I looked at her with a concerned expression. She laughed. “Joke, joke. I think this is enough for today.” I smiled and we closed our textbooks and walked each other out as the bell rang. 

“Oh! Perfect timing.” I said. “See ya!” 

“Bye!” She winked at me and I winked back. 

I jumped on the trolley, waving goodbye to Allison. I had a peaceful ride home, which was great because I wanted to relax before hacking into my parent’s computer to enroll myself to this school. If I was gonna be Mavis, it was all or nothing. I was going for all. It was really my only chance at good grades. Or happiness, for that matter. 

I got home, and that was where the tricks began. 

As soon as I was in, I ran upstairs, knowing my mom and dad would be in their room working. I heard a yell of, “Hey kiddo! I just finished my call early!” From Dad. I panicked, and undressed completely, stuffing the clothes in my drawer. I put a big shirt over myself and my dad walked into the room. 

“You wearing that to bed?” He asked, and sipped a beer. 

“…yeah.” I fake-smiled, and secret sweat ran down my cold neck. 

“Alright.” He took another sip of beer. “Just wear something on the bottom when it’s dinnertime, alright?”

“Yep,” I said, purposefully being terse with him. 

“M-kay.” He said, took another sip of beer and walked away. Phew. I had dodged the first bullet. Now to enroll myself. As soon as Dad was down the stairs, I tiptoed over to the other room, the “office”, and clicked the computer on. I entered the passcode, got o the school website and—

I heard Mom calling “DINNER!” And closed the tab, deleted the search history. I would have to try again after dinner. 

After dinner, I snuck back upstairs, logged onto the computer, and enrolled myself under the name, “Mavis Scarlett-Belladonna”. I used my real last name because I thought it would be even stranger to use a new name. Well, Mavis was a new name. But one can’t really pass off as a girl with a name like Emanuel. As I was closing the tab, I heard my dad’s footsteps up the stairs. I quickly pressed the power button, short and hard. It worked. When I saw my dad at the door, he looked concerned. 

“What’cha doing on the computer?” He said with a high, nervous voice. But I’m sure my heart beat so much faster. 

“D-drawing.” I spun around on the wheelie chair and tried to “act casual.” I pulled on a fake smile and reached behind with my other tab to pull up the drawing app. My dad went over to the computer and took a look. 

“Ope. Yup. Nice fish over here.” He clicked on one of the drawings of a mediocre fish I’d drawn a few years back. Sweat ran down my temples as I hoped he didn’t notice the small text at the top, where It said, “last edited four years ago”. He didn’t seem to. He pulled away from the computer and I let out a small unrecognizable sigh of relief. “You got a little more time with that fish of yours before lights out, E-man.” I prickled, and didn’t know why. My dad’s pet name for me had always been E-man. E-man this, E-man that…I didn’t even think I had an early memory in which he wasn’t calling me E-man. Plus, I had never thought it was wrong until now. Thoughts flickered in and out of my brain bout how it should be “M-girl” or something. Or “M-gal”. Or just Mavis, that would be fine too. While I thought, my dad stood there waiting for a response. Staggered in timing and a little self conscious, I replied, 

“Okay.” It seemed too quiet and too dull for him to hear, so I said it louder. “Okay.” But by the time I’d said the first “okay”, he was already clomping down the stairs.