our high school Chem lab were arranged in neat rows, each with seating for two. The space was filling quickly, so I found a good seat near the window. Something about being in the middle of the room freaked me out.
Toni was somewhere on the third floor, getting settled for her first session of the academy’s English Literature course, which I wouldn’t have until midday. We’d be together at lunch, and then again after that for our final course at the end of the day. So, I was on my own for now.
My eyes shifted to the front of the classroom when the instructor wrote her name across the whiteboard in perfect penmanship. Lowering her marker to the ledge, she turned to face us as she clasped both hands as stragglers tiptoed to whatever seats were left near the front.
A foul smell wafted through the air, and I knew before lifting my gaze who had entered. To those with supernatural abilities, the odor of a witch who practiced the dark arts was unmatched, and Blythe’s stench was particularly potent. She’d gone dark around the time our friendship ended, early junior year.
I peered up just as she sauntered past, staring blankly. She dropped down into a chair a couple tables ahead of mine without saying a word to the girl seated beside her. With the shutters open, a warm breeze swept through the window, lifting Blythe’s long, dark hair with it. The movement sent more of the offending odor rushing through the room.
Reminding myself of the new rule I’d set to ignore her, I focused on the instructor again.
A sweet smile brightened the teacher’s face.
“Good morning, class.” The small woman greeted us as she peered over red-framed glasses. She spoke with a heavy southern drawl that reminded me of my grandfather, Dallas.
“Good morning,” we echoed collectively.
“Welcome! I’m Ms. Audrina, your Intro to Sorcery instructor,” she beamed. “If you would please—”
Her statement cut short when the door flew open.
“Excuse me. Sorry. Pardon me, ladies.”
Every eye in the classroom was drawn to the one who’d just interrupted, and our sudden interest had nothing to do with the noisy entrance. There was something far more peculiar to focus on than that.
For starters, the intruder was a dude. And it was common knowledge that all witches were female.
“Uhh … Hello, young man,” our instructor said sweetly. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“No. I’m so sorry for interrupting. I went to the wrong building before finding this one, but I hauled a—” He paused, seeming to remember his manners. “I mean, I ran as fast as I could to get here.”
“You didn’t interrupt, because I hadn’t quite gotten started, but you’ve missed the point.”
Not taking Ms. Audrina’s cue, the guy plopped down in the seat beside me, accidentally knocking my bag to the floor with his elbow.
“Sorry,” he said to me in a frazzled whisper, reaching down to retrieve my belongings.
“I believe you’re in the wrong room. This class is for witches only,” Ms. Audrina smiled.
“Yes, ma’am. I understand,” he explained. “The thing is, I’m scheduled to be here. My name’s Tristan Montgomery. I should be on your roster.”
Out of sorts from running across campus, and sweating profusely, he pushed a hand through his scattered, sand-colored curls while waiting for the instructor to confirm. Several of the girls stared, and a few whispered with telling smiles set on their lips as they looked the guy over.
I quickly categorized him as handsome in the traditional sense. Meaning, with his hooded gaze, he reminded me of the actors who starred in the fifties classics Aunt Hilda loved to watch. Thinking of it, I imagined him with a t-shirt with its sleeves rolled to his shoulders, a cigarette hanging off his lip while he leaned against a Chevy Bel Air Convertible.
“Tristan,” Ms. Audrina said to herself. “I do believe I saw your name, but—”
“You assumed someone named Tristan would be a girl,” he interjected with a confident smile. “Yeah, I get that a lot before people meet me.”
There was a brief moment of silence while a very confused Ms. Audrina double-checked the attendance sheet.
“Forgive me. I still don’t understand. The Registrar must have made a mistake.”
Tristan shook his head as he continued to grin, slipping out of his blazer to cool down. “It’s not a mistake,” he confirmed. “I know it’s confusing, but I assure you I’m in the right place.”
Before Ms. Audrina could speak, Tristan’s left hand lifted into the air and, with it, the marker