Free Bewitched by Daisy Prescott Page A

too late. His arms flail, struggling to stop the inevitable. With a loud clatter, Luke and his chair smash to the floor.
    “Ha!” I glance around to see who heard my outburst. Most of my classmates are failing to stifle their own laughter as everyone stares at the empty spot at the table where Luke had been sitting. My eyes once again meet Andrew’s. He dips his head and pushes his glasses up his nose with his long, slender finger, but his lips curl and a faint dimple creases his cheek.
    “Ouch, I think I hurt my head.” Luke moans from the floor.
    “Mr. Hamilton, remove yourself from the floor, please, so we can continue class.” Dr. Philips’ salty gray beard twitches with his annoyance.
    Luke grumbles and exhales a few creative expletives as he regains his seat at the table. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from giggling with glee.  
    Class continues with other students piping in with their thoughts on Puritans and sex. I zone out, remembering Luke’s fall and wondering if I’d wished it to happen hard enough to make it so. If I can make Luke fall over, what else could I do if I wish hard enough?  
    After all, we are in Salem. Accused witches were killed here, but today the streets are filled with shops selling magical potions, cauldrons, and books on Wicca to modern witches and tourists. Not that I believe in witches. Or magic. That’s all hocus-pocus and not real. I might love romantic heroes, but I know fiction when I see it. Even when everyone was waiting for their letter from Hogwarts, I knew without a doubt, I was a muggle.  
    Philips stands and gathers his things. “Next week we’ll be discussing The Crucible , Arthur Miller’s take on the witch trials that made Salem famous, or infamous as it were.”  
    I’ve really spaced and missed the rest of the class.  
    “Great, more prudes and bitches,” Luke mumbles.
    I shoot him a look. “Seriously?”
    He meets my eyes, and a slow, sinister smile spreads across his beer bloated face.  
    “What are you smiling about?” I sneer.
    “Prudes and bitches. This class could be about you.”  
    “Shut up, Hamilton.” I move around him toward the door.
    “If the names fit.”
    I flip him my middle finger over my shoulder without turning around.
    “Aww, don’t be Mad. Oh wait, I guess you don’t have a choice,” he calls after me, laughing at his stupid joke about my name.
    I stomp down the hall. Outside of the glass doors, large raindrops splatter the brick walkway. “Could this day get any better?” I say out loud. Shouting in class and now I’m talking to the weather.  
    A pale hand with long, familiar fingers holds one of those tiny collapsible umbrellas in my line of sight. “Here.”
    Not sure about the day getting better, but it seems it can get more awkward.
    I glance up to meet the dark eyes of Andrew. His lanky frame towers over mine. From his black Chucks to his almost black hair, he could be a hipster, but he is too nerdy, too cool, too something, to be trendy. Maybe it’s the glasses; the thick black rims are not exactly stylish. His messy hair hints at a lack of combing rather than bedroom shenanigans. He looks smart, if intelligence had a facial expression. Too-smart-for-his-own-good smart.
    Andrew clears his throat. I’m staring at him. Definitely more awkward. I fumble with something clever to say.
    “Oh, thanks. I have my hoodie.” I reach behind my head to pull my gray hood over my hair to prove it. “I’ll be fine.”  
    “Okay.” He holds my gaze as he stuffs the umbrella into his backpack. “No problem.”
    He doesn’t say anything more. I decide to keep my mouth quiet so I won’t be more embarrassed by my awkwardness. Beyond that, something about him makes me tingle. He unsettles me, and I’m not sure if that is a good thing or not. I hesitate before I give him a small smile, and dash out the door.  
    The rain sputters into a mist a few yards down the path, and I tug down my hood. Maybe my day has