Bewitched Read online

  “What do you mean you saw something?”

  He sighed. “I’m afraid if I tell you, you’ll think I’m crazy. And I might be.”

  “You can tell me. Come on, I’ve known you since kindergarten. If you can’t trust me, who can you trust?”

  Darren weighed that for a second, afraid if he told him he’d lose that trust. “Well, near the end of the game, right after Eubanks charged down the center, I had the ball, and I was getting ready to pass it off to T.J., when...”

  “What?”

  “It sounds crazy when I think about it. It’s going to sound insane when I finally say it. Alright, right above the bleachers, I saw this, mirage, I guess. It was this girl, floating in the air, watching the game.” He watched for Mike’s response.

  “A girl? Was she cute?”

  “What?”

  “This girl you saw floating in the air, was she hot?” Mike smiled his toothy grin at him.

  “I hadn’t thought about it. Yeah, yeah, actually, I think she was. But are you listening to me? She was floating, and she was see-through.”

  “Her clothes were see-through?”

  “No,” Darren snapped. “She was see-through. Well, I guess her clothes were see-through, too. I could see the wall behind her. It was like a light was on her and made her transparent. Does that make sense?”

  Mike clapped him on the shoulder again. “Man, you must have been missing some serious electrolytes out there.” He chuckled. “You weren’t crazy, you were dehydrated. You ought to go home and get some rest. Don’t tell Atavus. He’ll think it was a ghost that’s been haunting your family for years.”

  Darren threw a towel at his friend. “Hey, don’t rip on Atavus.”

  “Hey, Dare, I love the old guy too, but his reality is a chapter short of a fantasy novel, if you know what I mean.”

  Darren laughed. Though the comparison was apt, he was instinctively protective of the old man and wanted to say something in his defense.

  But he didn’t.

  ***

  As the two young men left the building, off a hallway to the right where it dead-ended, four people were whispering among themselves. They found the ball jumping back out of the net a little too strange, and they had a good idea what had caused it. That knowledge, however, did not give them any pleasure.

  Someone would have to tell Julander.

  From a dark corner, leaning against a bank of lockers, an anxious male voice said, “I felt the vibration of the spell and heard the chime.”

  A cultured male, standing with his back against the dim light of the window so that his form was in dark-relief, asked for the third time, “But you didn’t see anyone new? No casting gesture from a student?”

  “No,” replied the first man, irritated at having to give this answer again. “But a spell was cast. Either one of the students is a witch, or someone was among us using a blind-man’s spell.”

  A female voice broke-in from farther down the dark corridor. “The Warder’s grandson acted erratic on the court tonight. Somehow his behavior is related.”

  “He doesn’t even know who he is. His grandfather is on his deathbed and has told him nothing.” This voice belonged to a young man, a student. “I’ve kept a careful eye on him. His whole life revolves around basketball and that girlfriend of his.” He spat these last words as if admitting it was something unpleasant. “But there’s nothing else. I told you about his little escapade into the school last night. They were messing around. There was no witchcraft. And he’s showed no signs of being a Warder. If anything changes, I’ll inform you.”

  The woman from the dark hallway replied, “Yes, but perhaps today something did just change.”

  ***

  Darren’s father was certain Atavus was in the beginning stages of Alzheimer’s. Like all old men, Atavus reminisced about his life. Unlike other old men, Atavus’s stories entered into the realm of the fantastic. This propensity of Darren’s grandfather to remember the past as a fantasy had split those who knew him down the middle. There were those who feared Atavus was suffering from Alzheimer’s and that it was progressively growing worse. The rest found it to be an endearing quirk of the old man. Darren’s mother fell into this category.

  There was no doubt, however, that at the age of eighty-six, Atavus was suffering from old age. He spent most of his time in bed, struggling with the last stages of emphysema. He had never smoked a day in his life, nor had he ever been in a mine or worked around asbestos. Nevertheless, he suffered from this chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, or C.O.P.D, as the doctors referred to it. These physicians concluded that at some point in his life, Atavus must have been exposed to a dense concentration of carcinogenic particles. Matt believed it was due to barbecuing. The man loved to grill and always had. It seemed to Darren as if Atavus had a special way with fire.

  That was years ago, however. Now his grandfather had difficulty breathing and had to have oxygen always at the ready. When he did get out of bed, which was almost never, it was with the aid of an aluminum walker, and even then, he moved at a very slow pace. When he spoke, he would draw deep breaths and wheeze. And if he ever caught a cold, he was immediately taken to the hospital for observation and antibiotics to ensure it didn’t develop into pneumonia.

  One thing Atavus loved was to hear about the basketball games he wasn’t able to attend. He used to be Ethan’s greatest fan, and he’d even attended some of Ethan’s games before the emphysema had become too acute to allow it. Now, he was the only one in Darren’s family that cared about his successes on the court. His parents kept their distance from anything basketball related. It was too painful a reminder of Ethan. They simply ignored the fact that when Darren was gone it was to play basketball.

  When Darren arrived home that night, he went immediately to his grandfather’s room. He found the old man in his bed. His white hair lay unruly on the pillow. His face was gaunt, with evidence of once rugged features in the strong cheekbones and prominent jawline. Liver spots speckled his hands and face, and the rest of his skin was fading to thin transparency. Most prominent was a beak-like nose jutting up from the center of his face. This was the man everyone said Darren looked like—when he was younger, of course.

  “Atavus,” Darren said, gently waking him.

  “Darren,” Atavus wheezed. “I’m not sleeping, just thinking. How are you, my boy? How was the game? Did you win?” He finished by inhaling deeply. The air sounded as if it were being strained through a small reedy pipe.

  “Not so much, Atavus. Take it easy.” Darren rarely called the old man ‘Grandpa’. He preferred being called ‘Atavus.’ “Yeah, we won. It was a hard game; the Bears are a good team. As a matter of fact, they almost tied it up at the end.”

  “But they didn’t.” This comment was a wispy exhale. “That’s what counts.”

  “I guess so. That’s what everyone else thinks. But, Atavus, it was weird. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life. Their point guard sent up a three-pointer that went through the hoop and almost through the net, but at the last second, bounced out. Doesn’t that seem strange?”

  The old man frowned thoughtfully. At length he said, “Did you feel anything when it happened? In your stomach, up your spine or in your head?”

  “What?” Though puzzling, it was the kind of question Darren expected from the old man. “No, and I wasn’t the only one to see it. Everyone was talking about it. Their coach yelled at the ref.”

  “Hmm,” Atavus said. “You didn’t feel anything?”

  “I don’t think so.” There was so much going on at that moment, he wasn’t sure. Had he felt something when the ball flew back up through the hoop? He might have. He’d been pretty distracted by the ghostly-girl floating over the game.

  “Well then,” Atavus drew a long breath. “It must have just been one of those things. Life is like that. You think you’ve seen magic, but really, you’ve only seen something that doesn’t make sense from your point-of-view.” He wheezed heavily. “But
under different circumstances, it makes perfect sense.”

  “I guess.” Darren was oddly comforted by what his grandfather said. He had to be right. Something normal had caused the ball to bounce out; it had somehow bounced against something, even if they couldn’t see it. It seemed incredible to everyone, but it was probably a very normal physical phenomenon. As a matter of fact, at school tomorrow, someone would have probably figured it out.

  “Thanks, Atavus.” He patted the old man’s hand. “I’m sure you’re right. It just looked so incredible.”

  “I’m glad you won.” Atavus grabbed his grandson’s hand. He suddenly perked up. “This means you go to State, doesn’t it?”

  “Yeah. It will be us against the Titans next week.”

  “Excellent! Excellent! You know, Ethan would be proud of you.” Atavus settled back against his pillows. His hand shook and struggled with the oxygen mask at the side of his bed. He managed to put the cup over his mouth and breathe. His body visibly relaxed as his eyes closed.

  Darren took the oxygen cup and set it back to the side of the bed; it was obvious his grandfather had drifted off to sleep. He had wanted to tell his grandfather about the floating girl above the bleachers. If anyone was going to believe a story like that, it would be Atavus. He sat back in his chair at the side of the bed and watched the feeble rise and fall of his grandfather’s chest.

  “He probably wouldn’t believe it either,” Darren said aloud. “A ghost at a basketball game?”

  He prepared to stand up, when his grandfather’s hand shot out and grabbed him by the arm. His grip was surprisingly strong.

  “A ghost?” he wheezed. “A transparent image, floating in the air?” Each word was a struggle. His eyes were opened wide and riveted on his grandson.

  “Atavus, calm down.” He stood and tried to comfort his grandfather. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

  “What did you see, boy? What did you feel?” His face grew chalkier than normal, but his grip remained firm on Darren’s arm. “Did it speak to you? Tell me!”

  Darren was startled by the old man’s passion. Suddenly Atavus released his arm and doubled over with a stream of racking coughs. Their violence shook his entire body as he struggled to breathe.

  “Mom! Dad!” Darren yelled, but they were both rushing in through the door before he finished.

  Matt moved for the oxygen and adjusted the flow. Amy went to Atavus, trying to soothe him. “Calm down, Atavus.” She rubbed his back. “Try to relax while I get your nebulizer.”

  Darren backed away. Why had Atavus gotten so upset?

  “What set him off?” Darren’s father demanded. “What upset him?”

  “I was just telling him about the game,” Darren lamely replied. He couldn’t tell his father about the ghost.

  “Sit back, Atavus.” Amy had the nebulizer in her hand and was trying to put it up to Atavus’s face. “Inhale this,” she instructed. Atavus continued to cough so hard it seemed as though he’d split in two.

  Matt brought the oxygen up to Atavus’s mouth, but Amy shooed it away.

  “He needs to clear his airway, give the nebulizer time to work.” She knew what to do, and the first thing was to get his airways cleared of the mucus. Right now he was panicking, which was causing his airway to constrict, preventing air from entering his lungs. Amy worked with him, let him cough, and after about five very long minutes, Atavus was breathing normally again. At last, Amy allowed Matt to hand Atavus the oxygen mask. He drew in the pure oxygen and lay back against his pillow, completely drained.

  Darren’s parents ushered him out of the room. Their grave expression served to make Darren feel guilty somehow, but with the emergency now averted, neither paid much attention to him. This was okay with Darren. He didn’t want them delving any deeper into what had upset his grandfather.

  Normally after a game, Darren would’ve headed over to Andrea’s house, or at least called her. Instead, his mind was too full of the happenings of the day. A nook off the kitchen housed some pantry items and a small desk with the family computer. Darren settled in and Googled the topic ghost.

  At first, the search returned images of “ghosts.” But the images didn’t resemble what he had seen. They were translucent, and whitish in color, and very vague in facial details. There was the confederate ghost that hovered to the right of a man in a cemetery; but it was very indistinct, with barely the form that suggested it was human. He checked out the Toys R Us Ghost, which had been featured on a television show. It was an infrared image of a young man leaning against some lockers. But this image had lighting behind it so that, though the image was clearly a young man, there were no distinctive facial features. The girl Darren had seen was very distinct and had been normal in color. Granted she wore a black dress, but she had normal skin tone, and her hair was obviously blonde. And her eyes were a very vivid green.

  As the night wore on, Darren read articles about ghost sightings and saw “real ghost” images. But nothing satisfied him. There was even a site for the movie “Ghost” with Patrick Swayze. He remembered seeing that movie and thought it portrayed what ghosts looked like better than these supposed ‘real’ ghosts. Of course, it was only a movie.

  Around eleven, he’d had enough and headed to bed. He stopped by Atavus’s room, thinking, now that his grandfather was calmer, perhaps he could ask what had upset him earlier. He also wondered what Atavus might know about what he’d experienced. Maybe Mike was right. Perhaps their family did have a ghost, and that’s what had agitated the old man. In any case, when he glanced in his grandfather’s room, Darren could hear him snoring. He sighed and headed up the stairs to his bedroom.

  Despite the lateness of the hour, he had a hard time getting to sleep. He wanted to believe it really was dehydration that had led to him seeing things, just as Mike had suggested. But she was so distinct, so clear. She even looked at him like he was crazy for not moving with the ball. Would a mirage do that? But then, what was the alternative to that belief? That he’d actually seen a real live—well not live, perhaps—but a real ghost hovering in the school gym?

  He wished Ethan were still alive. He’d always been able to talk to Ethan. Ethan used to listen to everyone, especially Atavus. He was among the few who didn’t think his grandfather was going senile. The two of them had often had long talks Darren wished he’d been part of.

  The idea of senility brought a disturbing alternative to mind. If he hadn’t seen a real ghost, perhaps it was because something was seriously wrong inside his head. What if there was something in the genes? What if something inside him was broken, or breaking? What if he was becoming delusional like his grandfather?

  CHAPTER 4

  There’s a New Girl in Town

  The day after a game, there was no early morning practice. Instead of showing up at six-thirty in his gym clothes, Darren wandered into the school at seven-thirty, wearing jeans and a sweater, feeling better than he had the night before. The halls were full of students talking and laughing, pushing and shoving, a few running, but primarily filling the halls with the clamor of preparing for class.

  Darren opened his locker and pulled out a literature textbook and a binder. English was first period with Mr. Whitmore. Dean Whitmore had started teaching at Sky View only two years ago, but was already a student favorite. He had an excellent command of the English language with a subtle British accent and a gift for making literature interesting.

  “You got any mints?” Mike appeared like magic from the flow of students. Darren took in his wide grin.

  “You forget to brush?” Darren tossed him one of the three white round circles on the shelf in his locker. He had no idea how long they’d been there, but nothing seemed to be stuck to them.

  “As if. You just never know when you’re going to meet someone new.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Darren asked.

  As they made their way to English, Mike said, “I just passed by the office, and maybe saw something.”

&n
bsp; “A new girl?”

  “Yep. And she’s hot! As in smokin!”

  “Was she blonde by any chance?” Weakness crept into Darren’s knees, but he tried to sound unconcerned as he posed the question.

  Mike laughed. “She’s not your little delusion from yesterday. For one thing, she was standing on the ground. For another, I can’t see her being blonde. Let’s put it this way, her skin color’s closer to mine than yours. Actually, she’s darker than I am.”

  Darren visibly relaxed. “Oh, cool. Cute, huh?”

  “I didn’t say cute. I said hot. We’re talking, red-hot poker hot!” Darren’s eyes grew wide as Mike nodded wolfishly. “Hot,” he said in an airy, heated voice.

  “Baby!” Darren grinned.

  “Baybee!” Mike emphasized. “And she’s a senior. That much I heard. Yummy!”

  Darren laughed. “She’s got to take English.”

  They entered their class and moved to the back where they normally camped out next to each other.

  “You know it.” Mike waggled his fingers, and Darren joined him.

  “You must have seen the new girl.” It was Travis, a lanky kid from across town. He sat in front of Mike and traded comments with them from time to time. “Ooh, baby.” He winked from behind his glasses.

  “You saw her in the office, too?” Darren asked.

  “No, I’m looking at her right now.” Darren followed his gaze to the front of the room and saw the back of a blonde girl talking with Mr. Whitmore.

  Darren whipped around toward Mike. “I thought she was black?”

  “Dude, she is. This is some other girl, I swear.”

  Darren’s mouth went dry. He could feel his heart pounding in his ears. He knew as soon as the girl turned around, she was going to be the mirage from yesterday. She’d have those striking green eyes.

  Mr. Whitmore finished talking to the girl and pointed to the back of the room to the empty seat next to Travis and in front of Darren. Darren tried to swallow, but it felt like his whole throat would have to roll up and go down in order to do so.