Chapter #7An Awkward Study Session by: Seuzz   The only thing worse than meeting Maize, you're sure, is not meeting him. But you'd rather take your chances on not meeting him than on the certainty of keeping that appointment. You sneak off the school grounds at the end of classes as quickly as you can.
* * * * *
You fidget unproductively in your bedroom after school, and you fidget during dinner, and you fidget again in your room after helping clean up. You've nothing particular on your mind. You've got things you should be doing, so you're not bored. But you can't concentrate. You don't know what your problem is. It's only when you put your hand on your doorknob and get a static shock that you're able to put the foreboding feeling into words.
It's like there's an electrical buildup somewhere, and you have the suspenseful feeling that it's going to discharge.
Maybe onto your head.
Without quite intending it, you call Lisa; it somehow feels like a path of least resistance, even though you've been resisting talking to her for a few weeks now. "Hey there," you say with a cheerfulness that seems to emanate from outside your own head. "Is there any chance we could get together tonight?"
"Oh, there's always a chance," she airily replies.
You hear your own breathing. Damn her for being so flippant after what she did to you.
Maybe she has felt your mood, for she follows it up with a more serious statement. "What did you want to get together about? I can meet."
"Well, what about for Walberg's class? We've got that paper--"
"That's perfect. What did you put in the capsule, anyway?"
"Um--" God, it would sound stupid over the phone. "Well, that's something to talk about, isn't it?"
"I guess," she laughs. "How about we meet at Besandwitched?"
"When?"
"Whenever you can get here."
"You mean you're already--"
"Sure, I've got the study group with me."
Shit. That explains the noises you were hearing behind her voice.
"Is there a problem, Will?" she asks.
"No." Yes, because I wanted it to just be the two of us. "Gimme twenty minutes."
"No rush. We'll be here awhile."
You twist over and pound the bed with your fist. No wonder she was so quick to agree to meet you. She knew she'd have her friends as a buffer. You bury your face in your pillow. Mansfield will be there too, you're sure, arm draped around her shoulder. But now you can't not show up, no matter how much torture it will be.
* * * * *
Besandwitched is a New Age-themed sandwich shop over by the Keyserling College campus. You'd never have thought such a thing possible--what does the occult have to do with sandwiches?--but there it is, and there it's been for almost thirty years, and it only takes you twenty minutes to get there. You stand in the doorway, gazing inside with a brooding presentiment, even though you spot Lisa's group almost immediately at one of the booths in the middle of the restaurant.
There are six of them. Lisa is sitting on one side of the table, facing you, and yes--you have to sigh--Geoff Mansfield is squeezed between her and a partition, with his arm around her shoulder. On her other side is Martin Gardinhire, one of Geoff's friends. You can guess with a sinking heart who the other three are, though you can only see the backs of their heads. You wonder where you're going to sit, since they take up the entire table.
It puzzles them, too, when you materialize to stand uncertainly at the table. "Hi guys," you say in a voice that sounds depressed even in your own ears. With all the plates and baskets, there isn't even any room on the table for anything you might order.
Lisa smiles at you. Geoff's lips curl up in a faint smirk. Martin regards you coolly from under skeptically arched eyebrows. You look at the other side of the table. Worse and worse. "Hi Will," Kelsey Blankenship says in a faintly cutting tone, and sips from her coffee without looking up at you. Next to her, Amanda Ferguson doesn't even give you that much of a greeting. And on the other side of Amanda, Ricky Golia looks back at you with blank bafflement.
There's a long pause. Kelsey doesn't move, and her lack of movement is as ostentatious as she can make it. Martin clears his throat, and then scoots over a little, which has the effect of pushing Lisa and Geoff even closer together. You can't help noticing that Geoff tightens his hold on Lisa as she snuggles up by his side. "We're going to have the fire marshal on our asses," Amanda says as you settle down next to Martin.
"So, Will," Lisa says, leaning around Martin to dimple at you. Damn her--again--for being such a dark-haired, dark-eyed beauty while not being your girlfriend. "You must have had a really clever idea for the time capsule."
I gave him a bottle of aftershave. As bad as it sounds inside your own skull, it would sound a million times worse in front of these people. "What did you give him?" you reply, temporizing.
"Some predictions I found on the internet, of what life would be like in a hundred years," she says. "You?"
You just look at the others. No one says anything for a moment. "Some spurs that belonged to my grandfather," Kelsey says with a sniff.
"He was a cowboy?" you ask.
"He was from Arizona," she replies sharply, "and he was the chief of staff for Barry Goldwater for seventeen years. And they're silver spurs." You wince back from her outburst.
"I put in an iPod with some contemporary political speeches and some political podcasts," Geoff says from the other end of the table. "Bought it special for the project." Fucking show off, you think.
You shift uncomfortably, and Martin apparently thinks you've nudged him. "Currency," he says. "US hundred dollar bill. Some euros, yen, renminbi, won, rubles. And you?" He lifts his cup to his lips, but doesn't drink.
Your heart crumples up and caves in, like a Styrofoam cup. "Some aftershave."
No one says anything, until Amanda raises her hand. "Can we get some coffee over here?" she calls in a loud voice. "I'm suddenly drowsy from boredom." Your fingers curl under the table, and your toes curl in your shoes.
"That's interesting, Will," Lisa says. Her voice is bright and friendly, but there's no missing the note of strain in it. "Can you tell us why you--?"
"Who are you?" Amanda cuts in. "What happened to--?"
"Ursula? She's on break." You do a double-take at the server, who has seemingly blinked into existence right by your elbow. He's young--probably about your age--and crisply but casually dressed in a white button down shirt and cream trousers, and has a dirty napkin elaborately draped over his forearm. He fills Amanda's cup from a great height without spilling a drop. He grins as he does so, and his eyes glint from under shaggy blonde hair.
Kelsey frowns and cranes her neck to look off into a corner. "Weren't you sitting over there?" she asks. You crane your neck to follow her gaze, toward a table where a dark-haired student sits. He stares moodily at your table.
"Yes," the server says. "But I'm filling in. Much against my will. She cast a spell on me." His eyes go glassy and cross-eyed. Kelsey snorts. But he continues. "So you noticed me over there? I noticed you." His eyes flit around the table. "One couple, two couples." His smile brightens as his glance falls on you and Martin. "Maybe three, since everyone's gotten so broadminded lately?" His glance returns to Kelsey. "That leaves you the odd girl out. Got room for me at this little klatsch?" His smile widens even as Kelsey's eyes narrow. "Maybe room for a little love potion in your cup?" He tilts the carafe over her mug, but she puts her hand over it. It's got to be your imagination, but it seems like a stream of coffee has reversed itself and slid back up the spout.
"I liked the other server better," Kelsey snaps.
"Ursula's sweet, but she doesn't believe in magic. Not the old, real black magic." He steps away so quickly you barely have time to register his movement before he's gone.
"This place just gets creepier and creepier," Amanda shudders. "I don't know why we come."
"I never liked it," you say, and glance around. The walls are black, with white moons and stars and suns and pentagrams painted haphazardly on them.
"There's nothing wrong with this place," Kelsey archly says. "Except the people they hire. Or let in through the door." You notice she has glanced at you as she says this.
All at once something in you snaps. "Well, maybe if you'd gotten a good look at real magic you'd see what's wrong with it," you hotly declare, just for the sake of arguing.
And several people laugh all at once. "The fuck are you talking about, Prescott," Geoff barks. "You've seen real magic?"
"I found this weird-ass book," you retort before you can stop yourself. "And it-- Oh, fuck you."
"No, I wanna hear about this," Geoff chortles back. "It sounds more interesting than aftershave."
Your jaw tightens. "It was this book, and it had these weird faces in it, and you had to put blood in it, and--" You look around the table, and your face reddens. They are looking at you like you're crazy. As well they should. "I don't know why I came here," you say, and stalk from the table. Geoff's mocking laugh follows you.
You're in your truck, and have pulled back into the street. You are just about to shove the stick into "Drive" when you glance in the rearview mirror.
That crazy server is standing right behind your fender, glowing in the dark like an apparition. You wheel around to look directly at him, but the street is empty. You swallow. Crazy imagination.
You'd really like to shut Geoff up. Only way to do that, though, would be to get the book back from Justin so you can show it to him.  | Members who added to this interactive
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