Life’s Witch and then you fly

Chapter 3

Seventeen was a strange age. At least for me, it was. Adults, whether it be teachers or parents and even some peers expected an answer when they asked what you wanted to do for the rest of your life. It was one of the more dreaded questions that I could've been asked, second to, can I try on your glasses? Most of the time, people weren't genuinely interested in your response. It was a question asked to stir up a conversation, a conversation that you could easily zone out and let the other person talk about their passion.

Everyone preached that it was okay to not know yourself, that your twenties—out in the real world was the time to explore the crevices of yourself—but we had to choose a career basis, life-altering and determining decision before we had the chance to discover who we were. It made no sense to me that before we could explore our options that we were made to choose.

The choices we made when we were young defined the opportunities and experiences that shaped us into who we were when we were older, and I didn't want to make life a hassle for the future Luna Leighton.

Daydreaming and fantasies felt shameful, especially when I couldn't give reality a deep and thoughtful consideration. Maybe that's one of the reason's the Griffin journal caught my interest so much; it was someone else's history and lore, and it didn't have anything to do with me so how could it make me feel bad about myself?

It was divided into sections, of the Griffin family and their hand-drawn portraits and their handprints. One page from each section had been ripped out, meaning someone was probably booted from the family or there was something to hide. The secrecy made me think that maybe I shouldn't read the journal as it wasn't my heritage to read.

But the words pulled me back to the pages as quickly as that thought struck.

That's why I sat in a lone corner in the library, riffling through the journal, about to delve into a way to cast spells by writing symbols on a piece of paper and burning them without an ounce of anxiety lingering in my bones, not until someone breathed down my neck without making their presence known verbally.

"Whoa, nerding it up, even more, this year, Looney?" A hand gripped the side of my face because I refused to look up from the book. He continued, "Hello, I asked you a question."

"No more than usual, Gabriel," I answered, shaking his hand off me.

"Nice goggles. Is that...is that tape?"

"I'm leaving," I said and stood up with the book under my arm. When Gabriel didn't get out of my way, I shoved my shoulder into his and walked by him.

"Stop, all right? Why can't we ever have a civil conversation?" he called from behind me.

"First of all, we're in a library," I pointed out in a whisper and swung around lazily. "Second, no. When you see an ex, the normal thing to do is pretend you haven't seen them, make a cringed out face and hide. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be hiding somewhere in this gigantic library. Or not. Point being, I'm hiding somewhere that you're not."

"We dated for three days," he said, running a hand through his hair. "Are we really exes?"

I smacked my lips together and pretended to consider his question. "Two and a half of them you spent sucking on someone else's face."

He wore a boyish and totally not regretful smile. "We were thirteen."

"We sure were," I confirmed.

"Luna," he started with a slight grin like he found me cute or something, "you said yes to going out with me and then ignored my texts and ran away when we saw each other in the hallway."

"Pre-emptive ex protocol."

"C'mon." He wandered over and swung his arm over my shoulder. "You friendzone me, I friendzone you, we enter the friend zone together," he forced us forward one foot after the other in an awkward huddle, "one step at a time."

"Why? Why do you want to be my friend so badly?" I asked, genuinely confused. "It's been four years."

"It's life, Luna, choosing someone who you find cool and annoying them into friendship."

"Or you can woe me into friendship? Or not do anything at all?"

"Where's the fun in that, huh?" he asked and whipped the glasses from my face and ran.

"Hey."

There was another whoosh, and suddenly the journal under my arm disappeared too.

"Oh, come on!" I whisper-yelled and took tentative steps in a random direction. "This is not how friendship initiations work!"

"You're talking to me, aren't you?"

"I'm yelling at you."

"It's more of a high-pitched whisper."

"I'll be friends with you?" I offered and stretched my arms out, feeling like a zombie as I made sure not to bump into anything. Honestly, he might as well have shut off the lights because I honestly couldn't tell where the hell I was going. When he didn't respond but laughed, I growled, "best friends even?"

"Somehow I feel like that's a threat," he commented lightly. "Turn left."

I turned left as he said and felt the edge of a bookshelf. "Take it or leave it."

Something tapped my shoulder and scampered off into a blurry distance. "Huh. This book looks interesting. Wait. This is... are you writing some sort of fanfiction, Looney? Doing research for a fanfiction? Some sort of fantasy thing. Magic. Magic. Magic. Harry Potter? Are you writing Harry Potter fanfiction? Oh man, this is why I friend crush you so hard. This is awesome. The glasses! Oh my, god you are role-playing as Harriet Potter!"

"They aren't round glasses," I grumbled, taking offense to his accusations.

"You'd think though that with magic he would have found a way to make his eyesight twenty-twenty."

I let my arms go limp by my side and responded, "Right?"

"Harriet Potter."

"Even Looney sounds better than that," I said.

"What is this book?" he asked.

"I don't know," I answered honestly. "But what I do know is if you don't give that back, and my glasses back, I will scream."

"Dare you."

I inhaled and exhaled deeply, preparing my vocal cords for complete and utter c*****e and disruption to the quiet atmosphere of the library.

Earthquake.

Fear overloaded my system.

There was no time to think. All I could think about was the fact that I couldn't see, and the library was probably the worst place to be considering the death-traps that were the bookshelves if knocked over. I gripped the side of a bookshelf and lowered myself to the ground. My knees made contact with the carpet, and instead of finding balance, I toppled over to my side.

There was no lead-up, no time to prepare because the shelves jumped across the floor like they decided to synchronise dance and books toppled on top of me in piles. There were loud clangs, one by one like dominos in slow motion and suddenly I was rolled to the side, and the loudest whack yet against the floor pierced my ears. The ground moved, and vibrations came from below. It felt like the bubbling of a volcano, ready to burst from the ground. The terrible rumble made my belly tighten in fear. The lights flickered rapidly before going out altogether, so I was in the same position as everyone else, blind.

Silence overcame us and our bodies laid still.

At first, nothing happened, no one moved, all I could hear was my breath in quick bursts, and the body that shoved me out of the way of something gripped onto the side of my waist.

Normally I wouldn't have hated for someone to be touching me, especially if I didn't know who they were but considering they probably saved my life and all, I couldn't complain. Besides, being trapped in their arms, whoever they were, calmed my body down a bit. In intense situations, body contact helped. I never believed that until that moment. Because the earthquake then felt as dangerous as fighting with feathers or as dangerous as swimming in a bathtub—not at all.

I rolled over onto my back and flipped a few books off me in the process. The person beside me let out an audible sigh and proceeded to do the same.

"Rosalie Griffin," she introduced herself almost casually. "Pleasure to meet you..."

"Luna," I muttered and immediately I thought back to the graveyard, to the book and wondered if it was too good to be true. I had found the supposed owner of the journal. "Luna Leighton."

"Luna," she repeated. "I think these might be yours?"

Rosalie placed a pair of glasses on my chest, making me breathe out a laugh. I sat up and put them on and looked down at her still laid flat on her back on the ground and inhaled sharply. Blue denim jacket. Icy blonde hair. Beautiful beyond comprehension. Both abstractly and in the finer details.

"Oh man, you are too pretty," I muttered, finally agreeing with my best friend's assessment because even with the cracked glasses, I was close enough to see all the details that passed me by before.

"Excuse me?" she responded with a laugh, obviously hearing me and giving me the chance to change my first impression.

"You're pretty," I repeated stupidly. "Sorry. Totally an obnoxious thing to say when you saved my life. Thank you for that, by the way."

"Anytime," Rosalie said and beamed up at me. "You're pretty too."

"I—right. Thank you." I coughed. "Sorry."

"Are you apologising for complimenting me?" she asked.

"Maybe?"

"Never apologise for that. In fact, I'll more than happily accept any more you want to give me."

I fought back a grin at her easy-going nature around my awkwardness and said, "I'll keep that in mind."

Rosalie sat up and reached forward to adjust the glasses on my face. She paused and looked me dead in the eyes and attacked me with her stunning face up close and personal. "Make sure you do," she said quietly before she stood up and offered out her hand. "Now let's get out of here before—"

"What in God's name happened in here?"

"—That," she muttered. "Before that."

I placed my hand in Rosalie's and let her haul me to my feet. I peeked my head around the corner and saw Mr. Philips red and angry face speaking to Gabriel. His body towered over Gabriel as he wildly pointed a finger in every direction possible. I narrowed my eyes as I saw something similar to my own name fall from Gabriel's lips.

Traitor.

Just when I considered friendship.

I slipped back around the corner, confused at why Mr. Philips was practically murderous instead of concerned for his students. I opened my mouth to voice my thoughts when Rosalie placed a finger over my lips and left it there as she inched forward and closed her eyes to listen in on their conversation.

I stood there, wide-eyed and lips tingling, not daring to move my lips.

I could've accidentally kissed her finger or something.

Don't move your lips, I chanted in my head.

Don't move your lips.

Don't be weird and kiss her finger.

"Your friend landed himself detention," Rosalie informed me and glanced in my direction. She pursed her lips as if not to laugh at my face and removed her finger from my lips. "Sorry. I forgot I left my hand there."

"It's okay," I said slowly.

She raised her eyebrow as if that wasn't the appropriate response.

"No harm, no foul?" I offered.

Rosalie pinched my cheek and said, "You're a complete dork, aren't you?"

I opened my mouth to protest but snapped it shut. I nodded slowly. "Yeah. Just a little. Maybe."

"Don't ever change," she told me.

"Alright?"

"Ladies," Mr. Philips said, making me jump at the sudden loudness of his voice. He gestured to around the place, and I finally realised the bookshelf we stood behind was the only one standing in the entire library. "Care to explain...this?"

"Earthquake?" I answered.

"Don't be a smartass," he snapped. "Detention. All of you."

"I'm so confused," I admitted.

"Are you stoned?" he asked.

"No?"

"Are you asking me or telling me?"

"Telling you?" I responded. "Telling you."

He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. "Detention. You, Gabriel and Rosalie here can clean up this place, every day after school until it's in tip-top shape. Do you hear me? Every damn year you have detention for all of September, Luna. For once couldn't you skip tradition? For once, could you have saved the destruction for outside of the school grounds? For once!?"

I fidgeted with my glasses. "It's not like I created the earthquake, Mr. Philips. I know my reputation on the first day is a bit wrecked, not going to lie, but even I don't possess the power for this type of wreckage?"

Mr. Philips narrowed his eyes and looked to Rosalie. "When she comes back to reality, Ms. Griffin, remind her of her detention, won't you?"

Rosalie offered up a half-smile that looked charming. "Of course, sir."

Mr. Philips clapped his hands together and left the library, not before telling us to stay and start cleaning up.

Gabriel lumbered over and sheepishly handed me the journal and said, "I thought you were going to scream, not shove a bookshelf down and create a domino effect, Luna."

"I didn't shove a bookshelf down?"

"It's okay. We'll have a bunch of bonding time," Gabriel told me and then faced Rosalie. "Hey. Guess I'll be seeing you a bunch too."

"I suppose so," she responded, sounding a bit subdued compared to earlier.

"So, there wasn't an earthquake?" I asked.

Rosalie offered a wry smile and shook her head. "No, Luna, no there wasn't."

It was easier finding a descent from the Griffin bloodline than I ever imagined and I wasn't sure if I was ready to depart with the journal yet.