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An older man with graying hair and wrinkles around his eyes walks into the room. Those students who were standing, now fall quickly into their seats. Everyone seems to be preoccupied with gathering their materials and quieting down, so I find myself slowly relaxing.
Suddenly, something feels off. Wary, I scan the area around me just as a large figure looms in the classroom doorway. The air grows thick and heavy and I find beads of sweat lining my forehead. As my heart begins beating in my chest, the boy saunters through the classroom. Piercing yellow eyes almost glow as they stare intently my way. There’s something mysterious, ominous, and yet, strangely familiar about those eyes. For a second, I find myself lost in his gaze. Heart pounding, I divert my eyes away from him, and struggle to calm my growing nerves. Why am I freaking out right now?
“Hey, you’re Farrah, right?” A tall frame looms over the desk and I meet his dark eyes. It’s the boy– the one who seemed to suck all of the air out of the room with just his larger-than-life presence.
“Um…yes.”
This guy is the first person to approach me willingly and, suddenly, my hopes for a bright spot in my day grows... but the feeling is short lived.
“Great. Well, Farrah, I need you to get out of my seat.” His tone is menacing and I don’t miss the way his sharp eyes narrowed into slits as he stares down at me. A low growl erupts from his chest and I am stunned once again. Why do I feel like I’ve seen him before?
Gulping, I glance around as a few students turn to stare at me.
“Mr. Bardulf, is there a reason why you are not seated?” the professor asks, moving his glasses further up his nose.
“Yes,Professor Hagen,this new student seems to be lost and found herself in my chair,” the boy states, glaring daggers at me.
“Anson, just find another seat,” Kindle snaps, a low growl escaping from her lips. I swear-- I see steam come out of her ears and I can’t help but stare.
Still staring at me, Anson speaks. “No, I like my seat.”
As much as I hate to admit it, he is gorgeous with a golden tan and long muscular legs. His long, brown hair hangs gently over his brown eyes.
I roll my eyes at the spectacle he is creating. Even though I was caught in a trance, I realize that he is nothing more than a bully. Moving to stand, I have to slide out of the chair as Anson refuses to take a step away from me. I may not want to cause any trouble for myself, but I’m also not going to stand here like I don’t have any self-respect. I won’t let this guy belittle me. Regardless of how adorable he is. As my body brushes his rock-hard chest, I swear, goosebumps appear over my arms.
“Nervous, are we?” Anson asks, a sly grin over his chiseled face.
Seeing him taunt me only enrages me more. Pausing, I stop moving, and find myself face-to-face with Anson. His warm breaths brush against my cheeks and I can see his chest rising and falling rapidly. Is he the nervous one here?
“I’m not nervous at all. In fact, I was just going to help you find a new seat,” I say, pasting on a brave face that I definitely don’t feel. Refusing to cower down, I know that I may regret this later, especially as Kindle’s voice plays over in my mind. But, I’m stubborn and not one to let someone pick on me.
His eyes flash and I see a tick in his jaw as he watches me with careful eyes. Clearly, he wasn’t expecting my response. With a huff, he stomps off to the other side of the room and slumps into a chair. Clapping his hands, Professor Hagen begins class and instead of focusing on his words like I should be, I’m on high alert to Anson. I try my best to ignore him and the constant stares of the other students. Being the new kid wasn’t going to be easy, but I never expected it would be like this. Part of me wants to call my mom and beg her to take me home. I don’t because I’m not a quitter.
“One group that we rely heavily on is the Gullah, but they never send their young to our academy,” Professor Hagen explains.
My attention snaps back to the lesson. What is he talking about?
As he continues, I lean forward, doing my best to pay attention, but also keep my guard up about Ason. “Many of us have learned about the Gullah culture as we derive from the South. States like South Carolina, Virginia, and Georgia have large groups of Gullah who reside among the low countries while others opening live amongst the humans. Some work at plantations, telling the stories of their culture, while others may own magic shops. Then, there are the very limited few who remain in the low country, hidden among the swamps, that use magic to heal and help Supernaturals like us. The Gullah believe in witchcraft, which they cal lwudu or juju. They say that witches, just like many of you, can cast spells easily using the herbs and other items they provide. There are special individuals called "Root Doctor" or "Doctor Buzzard" who can provide protection against evil witchcraft or withdraw the effects of a curse. The Gullah also believe in dangerous spirits capable of enslaving a person by controlling his will.”
Several students begin nervously looking around the room. A few whispers and I can feel the tension rising. Was it a dangerous spirit that took the students from the academy?
“Why can’t we just ask the Gullah to stop the evil witchcraft or help us break the curses?” a student in front of me asks.
Nodding, the professor purses his lips. “Well, it does sound easy, but not all Gullah’s are open to helping us. They are very aware of the dangers that lurk around our kind. It takes someone very important to work with a Gullah. For now, you just need to know that these people are our allies, and are important to understanding the history and culture of our kind.”
I see a few more students raise their hands, but our professor changes the subject and focuses on the legacies of the school. Clearly, he is done with this topic for now.
Once class is over, I quickly flee from the room and somehow manage to get through the rest of my classes without any other incidents from Anson. While I’m not welcomed, at least people leave me alone. I just hope that tomorrow brings a better day.
Chapter 3
WhenIreturnbackto my dorm room later that evening, I am mentally and physically exhausted. Thankfully, Candi isn’t there, so I can enjoy the peace and quiet. Collapsing on the bed, I allow my eyes to roam around the blank canvas that is my new room. There’s no personal touch or resemblance that a teenager lives here. At home, my bedroom walls were painted a soft baby blue and lined with posters of my favorite bands and Netflix shows. Even though I just want to curl up in a ball and sleep away the day, I know that I need to unpack my suitcase and make this room somehow mine. It’s eerily quiet here. Loneliness sweeps over me like a tidal wave.
Sitting up, I go to reach for my suitcase when whispers outside of my room cause me to pause.
“Do you really think she hasn’t gotten her magic yet?” a voice asks.
My heart freezes as I know they must be talking about me.
