Spellweaver

by CJ Bridgeman

  As he muttered, Felicity felt the air grow cold. A breeze whistled through the loose strands of her red hair. Her fear began to mount; she looked around the alleyway and realised that it had grown quieter. The sounds of the busy city streets had been muffled. Oliver’s unintelligible words grew louder. She wondered if she ought to run, but it somehow seemed like such a silly thing to do, so she stayed where she was.

  When she looked back at him, she saw that a strange orb of light had appeared before Oliver. It looked as though he was somehow holding it in his hands. As she watched, it grew larger. As it grew larger, the alleyway seemed to grow darker. Felicity took a nervous step backwards but found the wall behind her. Her mouth became dry as her heart thudded in her chest. Something was telling her that it was far too late to run now.

  “Fliss!”

  The call came from the entrance to the alley. Instantly, the glowing orb vanished and Oliver fled into the shadows. The air, the light and the sound returned to normal within a heartbeat.

  The next thing she knew, Felicity was looking into the worried faces of Hollie and Jamie.

  “Who was that?” Jamie asked, looking in the direction that Oliver had gone.

  Felicity couldn’t respond.

  “Was that Oliver?” Hollie fretted, her voice filled with distress. “What was he doing out here with you? We were dancing and then he - he - he just left me and he was gone and then Jamie found me and -”

  “Calm down, Hollie,” Jamie said somewhat irritably, and then he turned back to Felicity. “I saw you run off. What did Callum say to you?”

  Felicity finally found her voice. “What?” she croaked.

  “Jamie said that Callum was with you at the bar,” Hollie explained. “I’m so sorry, Fliss! If I hadn’t been with Oliver...” Her voice was filled with regret.

  “Look, Fliss,” Jamie said, placing a hand on Felicity’s shoulder. “Don’t listen to anything Callum Johnson said to you. He’s a nasty piece of work.”

  “He’s a pig!” Hollie declared venomously. “He’s a total predator. He probably saw you as an easy target and it’s all my fault. Did Oliver come to see if you were okay? He could’ve said something. And why did he run off like that?” She took a few steps further into the alley. “Oliver!” she called.

  “No!” Felicity exclaimed so suddenly and loudly that it surprised Hollie and Jamie. “No,” she repeated, more quiet and calm this time, and then she covered her face with her hands.

  After a pause, Hollie approached her. “Fliss,” she said gently. “What happened? Tell me.”

  Felicity shook her head. “Nothing,” she said. “Nothing...”

  Hollie and Jamie exchanged worried glances. Though it was obvious that something had happened, they knew better than to try and coax the information from Felicity.

  “Come on,” Jamie said. “Let’s get you home.”

  It was quite late by the time that Felicity reached the block of flats that represented home, and in spite of Hollie and Jamie’s protests, she insisted on going in alone. They reluctantly let her go, making her promise that she would see them at school the next day so that they could all speak to Oliver about what had happened. Just what had happened Felicity did not reveal, for she was unsure whether or not she had imagined it. She spoke not a single word for the entire walk, but this seemed to make the twins even more anxious and curious; Felicity could tell that they would not let the whole thing go easily.

  When she reached the door to the flat and went inside, she was surprised to find the light on and her father standing expectantly in the middle of the room. He had his hands in the pockets of his boiler suit and he was looking at her with a very unimpressed expression.

  “Where have you been?” he asked her.

  Felicity was not in a talking mood. “Out,” she said simply, and headed to her room.

  He blocked her path. “You were at that club, weren’t you?”

  Felicity frowned, and then she suddenly remembered her father’s objection to her visiting the Talk. She opened her mouth to respond but took far too long to decide whether to admit that she had gone against her father or lie to him, and it was this hesitation that revealed the truth.

  “I told you not to go there,” he said, pointing at her aggressively. “Why did you go when I told you not to?”

  “I’m sorry, I -”

  “You’re sorry?” he interrupted her, raising his voice. “You deliberately break the rules and you’re sorry? That isn’t good enough, Felicity. You need to do as you’re told. You need to show me some respect. I’m your father!”

  His hostility was on the increase, and it was beginning to frighten her.

  “You can’t behave this way,” he continued, his voice almost amounting to a shout. “You can’t come waltzing in here at any time you please. This isn’t a hotel - it’s my home!”

  Although he instantly realised the mistake he had made, the damage was done. Felicity’s fear vanished, replaced by a sudden burst of anger. She pushed past him and stormed to her room, slamming the door behind her.

  Her father let her go. He could have easily stopped her, for he was a man and she was only a young woman, but his guilt rooted him to the spot. Once the door slammed he turned to face it, considering whether or not he should go and say something, apologise maybe. But then his shoulders slumped and he trudged unhappily to the fridge for a can of beer.

  Within the privacy of her room, Felicity sat on her broken bed, hugging her knees close to her chest. She had always suspected that she was not welcome in her father’s flat, and now she was certain. She had invaded his space, interrupted his routine and was a drain on his hard-earned resources. This wasn’t her home - it was a place where she was living, where her father was obliged by law to keep her, but only for a time; in a couple of years, as soon as she was sixteen, she would find somewhere else to go and wouldn’t bother him any more.

  She didn’t admit to herself how much his words had upset her.

  5.

  Hollie couldn’t stop talking about Oliver at school the next day. Although she did enquire after Felicity’s health upon meeting her at the gate, she spent their walk to registration asking questions, answering them, formulating theories and expressing her exaggerated heartache over the failure of her date. She desperately wanted Felicity to tell her what had happened in the alleyway, but reluctantly settled for her friend’s explanation of ‘nothing’.

  For it had been nothing, Felicity had convinced herself. The more she had considered it, the more she was certain that she had imagined the glowing orb of light that had seemed so threatening. Perhaps she had even imagined Oliver’s presence. She felt quite silly, thinking about it now, and wished fervently that Hollie would cease her endless - and very vocal - train of thought on the subject.

  Her relief came in the form of Mr Oakley, the School Counsellor, who approached the two friends as they left their registration form.

  He smiled brightly at Felicity. “Ah, there you are. Are you ready for our next appointment?”

  Felicity blinked, surprised. “Uh, right now?”

  Mr Oakley nodded. “Right now,” he said, and headed off down the corridor.

  Hollie sighed. “I suppose we’ll talk later,” she said sadly, but as she was about to leave, she noticed Felicity’s panic-stricken face. “What’s up, Fliss? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost!”

  Further down the corridor, the counsellor had stopped and was waiting expectantly for his client. “Miss Lucas?”

  Felicity glanced pleadingly at Hollie, desperate for any source of aid, but she quickly realised that she could not evade her counselling sessions forever. With a heavy heart and her eyes down, she followed Mr Oakley to his office, dreading what was to follow.

  In spite of the freshness of the September morning, the office was still dull and musty, except this time Felicity caught the distinct aroma of coffee. She breathed deeply to calm the flitting butterflies in her stomach as she sat down on one of the cushion
ed chairs, telling herself repeatedly that it would all be over soon. At least this time she would be prepared for the blunt nature of his questioning.

  Clipboard once again in hand, Mr Oakley sat opposite her, smiling in a way that was intended to be comforting. If only he knew, Felicity thought, that there was nothing he could say or do that would make her feel more at ease - except, of course, allow her to leave.

  “So how are you today?” he asked her.

  “Fine,” Felicity replied quietly.

  “I spoke to your form tutor. She said that you’ve befriended a -” He glanced at his clipboard. “Hollie Clarke? Was she the girl with you in the corridor?”

  Felicity relaxed slightly; this territory was safe. She nodded.

  “This is my first time visiting Greenfields so I’m not familiar with her,” Mr Oakley said. “But I gather that she’s quite a popular girl. That should make things easier for you.”

  Felicity shrugged.

  “So did you do your homework?” he asked her, and then, upon seeing her slightly dazed expression, he added: “I asked you to write down some of your feelings.”

  Felicity had entirely forgotten the counsellor’s assignment. “No,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” Mr Oakley said, waving his hand dismissively. “But I want you to make sure you do it for next time. It’s really important for us to form a basis for our talk. Whatever you write could be the key to helping you deal with your loss.”

  Felicity nodded helplessly. She had no intention of writing down her feelings.

  “Good, good,” the counsellor said happily. “So tell me about your mother. What did she do for a living?”

  The question caught her off guard; she had just managed to calm herself, to convince herself that she could handle this intrusion into her private life, when he began asking about her mother again. She opened and closed her mouth like a goldfish.

  The knock at the door was her saviour. With a frown, Mr Oakley put aside his clipboard and went to answer it. Felicity emitted a long, deep breath, wondering how she was going to answer the many questions this counsellor seemed to have about her mother. The last one was particularly strange.

  Mr Oakley returned to the room. “Miss Lucas, I have to pop out quickly,” he said, reaching for his jacket. “You’ll be alright waiting here, won’t you? I won’t be long.”

  He left, and Felicity heard his shoes clicking in the corridors as he went. As soon as the sound died, the door opened again, and Felicity looked up to see Hollie and Jamie entering the room with movements that could only be described as sneaky.

  “Fliss!” Hollie cried as soon as she saw her, and rushed to embrace her. It was strange, feeling someone else’s arms wrap around her, fully enclosing her so that she had no chance of escape, but it was even stranger that Felicity couldn’t help but hug her friend in return. It must have been the shock, she decided. It lasted only a brief second before she pulled away.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, grateful yet confused.

  “We’ve come to rescue you, of course!” Hollie said with a small giggle. “I saw the look on your face when that counsellor came to get you. You needed someone to save you - and who better than me, your BFF?”

  “And her idiot brother.” Jamie moved past them, nodded at Felicity, and then sat down at the computer. He didn’t look happy.

  “You said it, not me!” Hollie chuckled, and then, seeing Felicity’s enquiring gaze, she smiled brightly and explained: “We’re gonna get Olly’s phone number. Just while we’re here, you know? Jamie knows how to get onto the school system!”

  Felicity shook her head in disbelief. “But - but why?”

  “Because she fancies him, that’s why,” Jamie said over his shoulder, and Felicity could hear the irritation in his voice.

  “Ignore him,” Hollie said, waving her hand. “He’s just angry because I blackmailed him into helping me. Oh, it’s okay,” she added, seeing Felicity’s concerned look. “This isn’t the worst thing to happen at Greenfields. Last year Callum Johnson locked our teacher in the cupboard and we all ran off. It took him the whole lesson just to get out. It was so funny!”

  Felicity shuffled uneasily; the mention of Callum’s name brought back unpleasant memories, and it wasn’t much easier to hear Oliver’s name, either. “Why do you need Oliver’s number?” she asked.

  “Our date didn’t really go very well,” Hollie said regretfully, her excited tone vanishing. “I need to see him again but he isn’t in school today. Don’t worry, Mr Oakley won’t be back any time soon. We told him that he was needed at, like, the far end of the school. We’ll be gone by the time he gets back. Ooh, this is so exciting!”

  With an elated squeal and a trio of claps, Hollie bounced over to the computer, eager to watch her brother’s progress. The two of them bickered as Jamie typed and clicked his way into the system, and Felicity could see how annoyed he was at being forced into doing it. It had not taken her long to realise that Hollie was the master of truancy and homework evasion, and Jamie was her polar opposite. He was intelligent, well behaved and dedicated to acquiring the best grades he could. Whereas it was obvious that this wasn’t the first time he had broken the rules, he did not revel in it as his sister did.

  Felicity stood awkwardly in the centre of the room, holding her arms tightly across her chest. She did not enjoy being back in the musty, cluttered office. It still felt overly warm in there, in spite of the fact that it had not been used since yesterday. The blinds were drawn, allowing only the tiniest peep of sunlight to leak inside. She glanced at the door, expecting it to open at any moment. The thought of being caught terrified her, for it would mean meetings, phone calls and letters to her father. At least, that was what she understood of the disciplinary system, and she wasn’t keen on the attention such things would attract, not least another confrontation with her father.

  And then she caught sight of the clipboard on the table, and instantly her anxiety was replaced with curiosity. She found herself wondering what Mr Oakley had written about her, and whether or not she could use the information to avoid more counselling sessions. The opportunity was too good to miss.

  She picked up the clipboard and began reading almost before she even realised it. The piece of paper seemed quite standard for a counselling session; Felicity’s name was printed at the top, along with her date of birth and address. The reason for counselling was listed as ‘maternal bereavement’. There were a few notes from her teachers about her behaviour, listing words such as ‘quiet’, ‘unresponsive’ and ‘shy’, but that was not what drew Felicity’s attention. Attached to the top of the sheet was a scrap of paper with a list of names. She didn’t recognise any of them, but she instantly noticed that they were all female. A few of them had been crossed out. One of them appeared to be of particular importance, for it was both circled and underlined several times. It was Felicity Lucas.

  Confused and intrigued, Felicity lifted the page to reveal a bunch of newspaper clippings. They were not front page news stories, and few of them had pictures, but as her eyes traced the words of the headlines and scanned the images, Felicity realised that every article was about a car accident. She flicked through them, skimming the articles, until she came across one that she recognised. It was the accident that had caused her mother’s death.

  She was so surprised that she dropped the clipboard and it clattered noisily as it landed on the floor.

  Hollie and Jamie turned around at the noise. “You okay, Fliss?” Hollie asked.

  “Uh, yes,” Felicity stammered as she bent down to scoop up the papers that had come loose from the clipboard, hesitating as she came across the newspaper clippings. With shaking hands, she piled the papers back in the order in which she had found them and replaced the clipboard on the table. The news article relating to her mother, however, found its way into her blazer pocket.

  Something caught her eye as she was about to stand up. On the floor, next to one of the chairs,
was a briefcase. It was open, and spilling out from the top of it was a wide variety of papers, folders and books. It must have belonged to Mr Oakley, for the way in which it had been so carelessly packed was reminiscent of the cluttered, untidy nature of the office.

  One of the books was open, and Felicity saw that it was filled with handwritten notes. The strange nature of this school counsellor caused her curiosity to get the better of her once again, except it was now mingled with an unnerving suspicion, though she knew not what for. Without any regard for the consequences, Felicity pulled the book out of the suitcase and began hastily flicking through it.

  Notes, diagrams, symbols and images littered the pages. Some of it was in a language that Felicity couldn’t read and didn’t even recognise. She did, however, recognise the style of the handwriting. The loops and curls were unmistakable. It wasn’t Mr Oakley’s harsh, capitalised style, but the feminine script of her very own mother.

  “What?” Hollie’s cry made Felicity’s jump and slam the book shut. “What do you mean, he’s not there?”

  “His number isn’t here,” Jamie explained less than apologetically. “I looked through the entire system. No personal info, no contact details, no timetable - nothing.”

  Felicity shoved the notebook in her satchel and joined the twins at the computer.

  “What am I gonna do?” Hollie moaned. “How am I gonna find him?”

  Jamie shook his head as he stared intently at the computer screen. “It’s bizarre,” he murmured. “Even his grade predictions are gone. It’s like... it’s like he was never even here.”

  “I can’t end our relationship on that first date,” Hollie continued. “It was a disaster!”

  “Oh, grow up, Hollie,” Jamie groaned.

  “That’s easy for you to say!” his sister said. “You don’t have a love life, and probably never will. But I have a reputation to think about!”