Wayward

by Ashley Girardi

  * * * * *

  The lunch period wasn't quite over when I made it back to school. I found Sam in the library, sitting at a table surrounded by a wall of periodicals. I dropped my bag on the table and she jumped at the sound.

  "Sorry," I said when her startled gaze flew to me. "How's the paper coming?"

  "Fine. How was lunch?"

  "About as good as you'd expect." I pulled out a chair and dropped unceremoniously into it. "Meaning horrible."

  "It wasn't fun? I figured, with Cynthie..." she trailed off.

  "What? You thought I'd get sucked into her gravitational pull and go all automaton on you?"

  Sam smiled shyly. "Maybe."

  "No chance. The only thing that Cynthie and I have in common is how much we hate each other."

  "That's good," she said, brightening. "But why hang out with her at all?"

  It was impossible to explain. "Our families are...close. You could say we're like distant cousins." That was the safest explanation I could think of, hopefully Sam wouldn't ask for details. "I can't exactly avoid her. Unfortunately."

  Sam twisted a silver ring she wore on her thumb. "Is she always so mean like that?"

  "Think of her like a rabid animal—best not to engage. But if you're cornered, always aim for the head."

  "Thanks for the advice," Sam said with a laugh. "I'll remember that for next time."

  I wished it was possible to explain that Cynthie was no ordinary schoolyard bully. She wasn't the type of problem that could be solved with a trip to the school guidance counselor and a video on self-esteem.

  "You'll do fine." I leaned back in the chair and noticed the tall stacks of books that sat on either side of her. "Are you building a fortress?"

  Sam blushed and looked down at her notebook. The pages were crowded with cramped handwriting. "It's research."

  "You were assigned thirty books to read for English?" I asked, incredulous.

  "Not just English," she said quickly. "We also have that research paper for History."

  "The one that's due in four months? I can see why you'd want to jump right on that."

  She began rearranging the books into neat piles, pulling them out of my reach. "There's nothing wrong with a head start."

  I tipped up the dusty cover of one before she could move it. "Nature Rituals of the Black Forest." I raised an eyebrow and flipped through the pages. "This is for History?"

  "Don't laugh," she cried desperately, reaching for the book.

  "I'm not laughing," I said as a large grin spread across my face. "What else do you have?"

  "I know it's silly." Her face was crimson. "I guess I just like to think that there's a part of the world I can't see. Is that weird?"

  "It's not weird." I scanned the spines. Subjects ranged from sacrifices of the ancient druids to demonology in Abrahamic religions. "You found all of this in the school library?"

  "We have a great reference section," Sam said cheerfully. "In the middle ages, people actually believed that demons walked the earth, eating the souls of nonbelievers. There are so many myths and legends. What if some of it was real?"

  Her face glowed as if a fire burned behind her eyes. I recognized that look. Belief. Belief that maybe there was something wonderful out there in a place just beyond what your eyes could see. All you had to do was trust in a world beyond your vision. I almost envied her.

  I grew up surrounded by magic, desperate to grasp just a small bit of it for my own. I didn't need belief when I had stark reality. I'd seen real magic. There was nothing wonderful about it.

  My family would see Sam as weak, naive and infinitely exploitable. She was a pawn in a game that she didn't even know was being played.

  I closed the book and slid it towards her across the table. "You never know." I shrugged. "What's the harm."

  She hugged the book to her chest and gave me a bright smile. "I'm glad you came back, Hex. It's nice to have a friend that understands."

  Sam wasn't ruined or broken. She could see true beauty and not want to possess or destroy it. I saw a girl I wanted to be.

  But it was too late for me.

  A horrible notion took shape in my mind. Something even I, the blackest of the family sheep, had never contemplated. I remembered the severe beating I received as a child from my father for presenting my beloved and very human third-grade teacher with a perfect yellow rose, enchanted to never wilt or fade. I stole it from our breakfast table.

  The heritage must always be protected, my mother said as I cried. Our power lay in our secrets.

  "I have an idea," I said so loudly that Sam jumped.

  "What?" she asked with a bewildered smile.

  "We should do this together." I tapped the side of the book. "I've always wanted to try out a Black Forest ritual."

  "You really don't think it's dumb?" Her expression was hopeful.

  "The druids weren't dumb," I said quietly. "Maybe there's a whole new world out there." I wrote my address and phone number in the corner of her notebook page. "Come over whenever."

  "This is so great." Sam clapped her hands together. "We can get together after school sometime and work on it."

  Her excitement was contagious and I felt small bubbles of effervescent happiness rise up inside me. My mother had been right about the need for allies, but I planned to choose my own.