The Novella - 40 pgs.

“Do you cast spells? Do you what, like wave around a wand?” asked Jonas, his voice bordering on condescending

“Yes and yes, but Wicca is more than that,” Leo explained. “Wicca is a nature-centered religion, and I mean what I say when I say it is a religion. We have our rituals, prayers, and ethical codes just like anybody else.”

Jonas was skeptical and continued to poke and prod, debating the validity of Leo’s “religion.” At one point he challenged her to prove her powers by casting a spell. “Go ahead,” he taunted, “turn me into a frog. Give me warts.” Leo never wavered in her eloquent, defensive counterpoints. Again bringing up the fact that Wicca wasn’t solely about “spellcrafting.” Up to this point Collette had remained silent. She was still horrified by what she had said in her surprise, “Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.” It was from the Bible, Exodus 22:18 to be exact, but even so how could she have said something, so cruel and insensitive?

At least it seemed Leo hadn’t heard her; on the other hand, in Collette’s opinion Jonas was being obnoxious. Collette had encountered this side of him before when she was trying to bring up her own faith with him. Jonas prided himself on his ability to think reasonably and rationally about life. He believed religion was a crutch for those, who needed to validate themselves; he even called it the “opiate of the masses” to Collette’s face when she refused to eat a hamburger at McDonalds. It was a Friday during Lent, a day Catholics are prohibited from eating meat.

Collette wouldn’t have put up with his intolerance, except she saw how hypocritical he was being. She understood that his agnosticism was his own crutch and that because of his mother, religion was one of the few things he wasn’t able to think about clearly. Jonas’s mother was an excessively devout Catholic, who had pictures of the Pope hung in the bathroom and a crucifix on a wall in every room. Because she forced her children to church every Sunday and was always spewing Bible verses, instead of actually talking to her children, Jonas’s mother did more to cause them to hate Christianity, than both Satan and MTV combined could ever have done.

Collette didn’t like to be confrontational, so she held immense patience for those she thought were wrong. And because Jonas didn’t reject her outright for her continued “stupidity” – as he perceived it – Collette believed and hoped that through her example Jonas would come to see that being religious wasn’t equated with being weak. Today, however, Jonas’s raised eyebrows, squinted eyes, and patronizing chuckling weren’t directed at her. Jonas was directing his snobbery at Collette’s new friend or at least someone she wanted to be her new friend. Collette decided to interrupt his rant about New Age mumbo-jumbo.

“Leo,” Both Leo and Jonas turned to look at her expectantly. Despite Leo’s laidback appearance her defenses were up, she regretted revealing her belief in Wicca. She hadn’t wanted to seem ashamed, but now her bold declaration didn’t seem like such a wise move. She was dreading to hear what Collette would say now. Leo had heard her threatening mumble earlier. “Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.” When Collette had said that, Leo felt like she had been transported back to the dark ages. In a flash she imagined Collette leading a mob of angry villagers with torches and pitchforks, all screaming and chanting, “Burn the witch! Burn the witch!” Leo knew, however, that reality would likely be much worse. Collette would tell her friends and then her friends would be bitchy, which doesn’t sound all that bad. But you try staying happy and sane with a bunch of teenage girls whispering and giving you dirty looks every single day. It gets old real fast.

Collette didn’t know what she was going to say next only that she wanted to shut Jonas up and show her support for Leo. So what she said surprised even her.

“Leo, I am very curious to hear more about this witchcraft business,” Collette looked at the clock and realized that her lunch period was over, “but I have to go to my next class.” Leo thought Collette was being sarcastic, and Collette saw this so she went on. “Umm…would you like to come to my house tonight, so we can talk some more? My mom’s making lasagna.”

Leo didn’t know what to say to that other than, “Sure. What time?”

Collette told her that 6:00 would work best and then quickly gave Leo directions to her house. By that time she had to leave for her Honors Calculus class. She didn’t get to eat lunch, but that wasn’t all that uncommon. Collette sometimes did that on purpose; a hungry edge kept her awake during her afternoon classes, calculus, physics, and geography, her least favorite subjects. Fortunately, these classes were also the ones that required the most attention, and this kept Collette from overanalyzing and worrying over that night’s dinner.

+ + +

The end of the day came all too swiftly. At 2:40 Collette went to her locker. She bent over to retrieve some textbooks from the very bottom of her locker. As she was straightening up, she was startled by a sharp clang right above her head. She dropped all of the books, and the exceedingly heavy calculus text slammed onto her toe.

“Frick! Troy, you’re such a jerk!”

Her younger brother and a sophomore at St. Eloi had snuck up from behind and pounded the locker beside hers. Now he leaned nonchalantly against that same abused locker.

“Nice to see you too, Collette,” Troy drawled and then asked, “How abouts you let me drive home today?” Troy had recently gotten his license. However, since Collette had gotten her license over a year ago, their mother had bestowed the keys to the car to her.

“But, Troy, I really don’t think Mom would approve.” Collette said. She dreaded driving, but at the moment she was enjoying her position of power.

“Mom, won’t mind. I’ll be doing you a favor. I'll walk to the car and pick you up in front. That way you won’t have to walk through the cold. It'll be like having your own personal chauffeur,” said Troy. He put on his begging puppy-dog look and tagged on a whining, “Please.”

“Hmm…let me think about it.” Collette took out the car keys and twirled them around her finger. Troy glared at her teasing. “Fine,” she dangled the keys in front of his now smiling face, and he snatched them away before she changed her mind. He took off down the hallway before she could get in another word, so she was forced to yell over the crowd and noise, “But if Mom gets mad, this was done against my will.” Troy didn’t look back. Collette rolled her eyes. She hadn’t told him that she would be a while more. It would serve him right to have to wait for her.

When everything was finally stowed away in her backpack Collette headed to the stairwell. Her mother’s classroom was in the basement of the school, or the dungeon, as her mother was fond of calling it. As Collette descended the stairs, she started to think about her impromptu invitation to Leo. What had she been thinking? Quite obviously, she hadn’t been. She couldn’t believe she had invited Leo over for dinner. How un-cool was that? “My mom’s making lasagna.” Seriously. How socially inept could she possibly be? And then there was the other side of things. What would her mother think? “Yeah, Mom, meet Leo, my new bff. She’s a witch. Oh, what's this? No don’t worry about that. Leo only curses people that piss her off, like Catholics.” Collette groaned. The evening was going to be a disaster.

Collette found Room 012 terrifying. For starters it was in the basement of an old school, meaning it was dank and moldy. The boiler room was next door, and at random intervals loud rattling and banging would come from behind the walls. But the most horrid things in the room were the health education posters. Lining the walls were such inspiring pieces as “What if smoking did to the outside what it does to the inside?” which depicted a woman with rotting and tar-covered skin. Her eyes shone in pale horror through the cigarette smoke curling around her face. Another favorite poster of Collette’s was sponsored by the American Cancer Association. This particular poster had words, “FRY NOW. PAY LATER,” emblazoned across the top, and beneath it, the picture of a beautiful model’s body shimmering in the sun. Atop the model’s golden body was a skull. There was also a poster warning against drinking and driving, showing the twisted metal of a car accident and another showed an emaciated female, ribs popping through skin, that had the heading Eating Disorders.

As the St. Eloi health teacher, Clara Duffy couldn’t take credit for the decoration of Room 012, that interior design award belonged to the recently retired Sister Arnold, who believed in the educational powers of a good and healthy dose of fear. However, Collette didn’t understand why her mother hadn’t bothered to take anything down. She thought, perhaps, she didn’t know everything about her mother. Although Collette thought of her mom as a clean cut Catholic teacher, who was regularly involved in church activities, maybe her mother had a dark sense of humor that she was unaware of.

When she entered the room Collette avoided looking around, but instead looked right to her mother’s desk. The one thing Mrs. Duffy had added to the room was a computer. She was sitting in front of it now. Her face illuminated by the glow of the screen. Collette saw the flush on her mother’s face, the faint trace of a smile, and she assumed her mother was reading an email. It was most likely from her father, who was away on business for a few months in Russia. Collette’s father, Fred Duffy, worked as an IT man and helped train different international organizations to use the software his company had developed. He kept in contact with his family through regular emails.

“Hi, Mom. Another email from Dad?”

Clara Duffy jumped, and then for a brief moment looked lost.

“Goodness, Collette!” she said gathering her senses, “No, it’s just an email to the faculty. I guess we’re not being strict enough with you kids and the uniform codes.”

Collette smiled, “Maybe they should bring back Sister Arnold.”

"Uh, huh," her mom acquiesced distracted by other thoughts, “Was there something you needed?”

“No. Well, yes. Could I have a friend, Eleanor St. Clair over for dinner tonight?” Collette asked.

“Of course,” replied her mom, already returning to look at the computer screen, although this should have come as a greater shock. Collette rarely, if ever, invited someone over.

Good thing she said yes, Collette thought since I already told Leo she could come.

When Collette continued to stand in the doorway, her mother added, in a tone bordering on impatient, “Anything else?”

“Troy’s driving us home,” Even if it meant ratting out her brother, Collette wouldn’t lie to her mother.

Collette’s mother sighed, “I guess that’s all right. Just make sure he doesn’t speed down 9^th Street. I should be home in another hour or so.”

“Sure thing, Mom,” said Collette, as she stepped out the door and hopped up the steps.

When she got to the front of the school, she could see Troy waiting in their dad’s forest green Honda Civic. Although he had probably been waiting a good ten minutes, Collette trekked very slowly across the sidewalk. She justified this obnoxious gesture with the rationale that she didn’t want to slip on the ice and break her neck just to appease her brother’s impatience.

Her brother didn’t say anything to her when she got in the car, but he muttered darkly, about what sounded like, global warming and rising gas prices. On the short ride home, only about five minutes, he didn’t talk to her, just played the rock station loudly and sped down 9^th Street.

+ + +

The time was 5:55. Collette circled the dining room table. First setting out the cloth napkins and nice plates, followed by the silverware, Collette became dizzy from her frantic circular movement. Her thoughts mirrored her actions, circling around Leo’s imminent arrival. Every imaginable catastrophe danced around in her head. She imagined Leo not showing up, leaving Collette to face her family’s questioning and pitying looks. On the other hand once Leo started talking, Collette could see her mother calling Leo the devil and throwing her out of the house. But the worse thing that could happen, the thing Collette dreaded the most was Leo biting into the lasagna and making a disgusted face.

The doorbell rang. Collette said a quick mental prayer, “Please God, make the lasagna tonight the best ever,” and then rushed to answer the door.

“I’ve got it!” she yelled out. She wanted her mom to keep focused on making the dinner. Collette took a deep steadying breath, and then opened the door with a welcoming smile, “Hi, Leo! Come on in.”

Leo returned the greeting, and then turned to wave towards the road. A car honked and drove off into the darkness.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Leo said turning back to face Collette, “but I’ll need a ride home.”

“I’d be happy to,” returned Collette sincerely, grateful she could do something for Leo. Collette stepped to the side to let Leo in from the cold, and as she turned to shut the door another face appeared from out of the dark. Collette smiled and let him in as well.

“I see introductions are in order,” Leo said noticing the new arrival.

Collette laughed and said, “Leo, meet my cat, Turnip. Turnip, be a gentleman, and say hello to the lady.”

Turnip was part Russian Blue, which gave him a thick grey coat and sage green eyes. It created an aristocratic facade, but Turnip was originally a farm cat, so had never been completely tamed. Collette’s mother referred to him as “that demon cat” because of his fondness for materializing beneath your feet at the most inopportune moments – like when carrying fragile dishes, and because of his uncanny ability to escape the house, no matter the closed doors and windows. Turnip walked over to sniff Leo’s shoe. Leo looked askance at his odd stagger before inquiring, “How did Turnip lose his paw?”

“He got in a fight with a dog.”

“Oh gods above, how awful.” And it had been awful for Collette. Her family had been moving boxes into the new house, and the neighbor’s horrible boxer had torn across the yard right towards Collette. Turnip, having already managed to escape from his carrier, tackled the dog from the side. A vicious battle ensued.

“You should have seen the other guy," Collette nodded with pride. "Turnip’s quite the feisty scrapper.”

“Hmm…indeed very fierce and mighty. He is a credit to the feline race,” Leo looked contemplative. “A cat with thirteen toes. He would make an excellent familiar.”

“Actually, Turnip has four toes per foot, coming to a grand total of twelve toes. What do you mean familiar?”

“You know, familiars don’t have to be black cats, or for that matter they don’t even have to be a cat,” Leo attempted to explain. When Collette still looked confused, Leo went on, “You’ve never heard of a witch’s a familiar? A close animal companion? I don’t have one myself, but a friend of mine, Beverly, has a raven familiar.”

“Oh,” Collette didn’t like where this was going, even though the idea of Turnip being a witch’s familiar was humorous. Collette stepped back and took in Leo’s gypsy-like appearance. She wore a long midnight blue skirt, with tiny sequins clustered randomly about. For jewelry she had silver crescent moon earrings. Leo bent over to pet the cat. Turnip gave a chirping meowl and closed his eyes basking in the attention. The picture she was looking at now screamed witch. She decided that for the sake of harmony later on, she would have to be rude now.

“Listen. Leo, it might not be a good idea to bring up that sort of stuff in front of my mom.”

Leo didn’t look fazed, as though she had expected no less; she gave Collette a blank look and replied, “It won’t be a problem,” and then returned her attention to Turnip. And that reaction – more so than anything else Leo could have said or done – made Collette feel guilty. So, Leo had come here expecting to be treated boorishly.

“Look…” Collette started to apologize, but Leo stopped her with a forced smile.

“Collette, hakuna matata,” she said gently.

“What?” Again Collette was finding it difficult to follow Leo.

“Hakuna matata,” she repeated. “Does the Lion King ring in any bells?”

“Oh, right. No worries,” said Collette. It was a motto she had always had difficulty following.

+ + +

“In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit,” Collette’s mother finished grace with the sign of the cross. Leo hadn’t made the sign of the cross, but at least she had closed her eyes reverently. Collette bit into the lasagna. It was cheesy, delicious, and even better it was vegetarian lasagna. When Leo had said she was a vegetarian. Collette nearly had a panic attack. But she had forgotten about her mom’s recent health kick. Funny, how those things sometimes worked themselves out. An added bonus was Leo’s vegetarianism gained her an extra point in Mom’s book.

“No, ma’am,” Leo replied to an inquiry of whether or not she had siblings. The politeness was also impressing the parental unit. Collette’s mother was grilling Leo. She had already asked about parents. Leo's mother worked at the bank, and her father was an English professor. This met with mother’s approval and Collette’s surprise. She couldn’t believe Leo had normal parents. Collette thanked the Lord that her mother had assumed Leo was Christian and hadn't even bothered asking about Leo’s faith. But then Collette’s mom asked about sports. Although Leo didn’t play any, this led inevitably to Troy jumping in and completely taking over the conversation.

Troy played on the St. Eloi Eagle’s varsity basketball team. He wasn’t actually conceited about it, telling just as many basketball stories about himself as his teammates. He just loved the game so much, so he didn’t understand that other people might not want to hear every blasted detail about that last game his team had played. Collette pitied any future girlfriend, yet she, herself, didn’t mind attending Troy’s games. She could go to a game just for the sounds: the thumping rhythms of the ball hitting gym floor – a beat both fast and slow –, the smack as the ball shot from one set of hands to another, the barking commands between players, the squeak of sneakers, and the satisfying hiss as the ball swished through the net. She liked watching the fluidity of the players, long running strides and short swift pivots. When blended with the soundtrack, it was like watching a dance.

Collette connected with Troy’s basketball because it brought back memories of when she had been in ballet. After a year at the new dance studio here in Indiana, Collette had dropped out. She told her mom it was because she wanted to focus on her schoolwork, and advanced level classes demanded too much of her time. In truth, Collette left dance because the dance instructor was cruel and referred to Collette as “thunder thighs.”

By the time Troy finished recounting last week’s game, dinner was almost over. The phone rang and Mrs. Duffy rushed to answer it. Collette could hear her mom’s teasing tone and happy murmurings. Snippets of conversation, “the kids,” “only if you want to,” and “God bless,” drifted into the dining room. Collette assumed that her mom was talking to Mr. Duffy. Mrs. Duffy came back in to explain that she needed to go to school at seven; she was helping the school secretary put old records onto the school’s new computer system.

At this point, Troy interrupted asking permission to drive the truck to Nick’s house; they were working on a group project for their church history class, he explained. He said they would be working on it late, so he would need his weeknight curfew extended to eleven. Although Mrs. Duffy was reluctant at first, Collette rolled her eyes knowing Troy would get what he wanted. The youngest always did. She then told her mother that she needed the car to go to the Y and the library. Her mother agreed, but said she should be home by ten. Talk about double standards, Collette thought.

Leo, still minding her P’s and Q’s, thanked Mrs. Duffy for the wonderful food and Collette for inviting her. Collette, Leo, and Mrs. Duffy put on their coats and scarves and headed out to the garage. The night was cold.

“I think it is going to snow,” said Leo, her skirt swirling around her ankles as she stopped and looked up at the starry sky.

“I doubt it,” said Mrs. Duffy disagreeably, “The sky is clear, and besides, it’s too cold.”

“Too cold to snow?” Collette laughed.

+ + +

Collette dropped her mother off first. Mrs. Duffy told Collette not to worry about picking her up; she would hitch a ride home from someone. This left Collette alone with Leo in the car. The radio played softly into the hush of the two silent occupants. This made Collette nervous and twitchy. For some reason she couldn’t stop scratching her nose. On the other hand Leo seemed comfortable in the quiet and would only interrupt every once in a while with a “turn left here” or “make a right turn after this stoplight.” To Collette the road never seemed to end.

Finally, they pulled up to an old Victorian-style house. Collette couldn’t make out the details in the dark, but it loomed large and she was impressed by its size. Leo sat for a long moment, until the point where Collette was just about to break down and say something.

“Collette, thank you for bringing me home, and I want to let you know I count you as a friend.”

Collette wondered what sort of test she had passed to be told as such, and she wasn’t able to utter anything other than an eloquent, “Uh…”

“I know – at this moment – it might seem otherwise, but I sense something beyond this. Please, count me as a friend,” said Leo, “Feel free to come to me with problems, either with school, Jonas, your parent’s divorce –”

Collette interjected, “Divorce? My parents aren’t divorced!”

“Oh,” Leo looked confused, “but your father wasn’t at dinner and your mother…”

“I guess I can see how you might think that, but my parents are happily married,” said Collette. “My father is overseas on a business trip.” She paused but a moment and then added, “Goodnight, Leo.”

Leo opened the car door and stepped out, but before shutting it said, “I apologize. That was my mistake. I’ll see you tomorrow at school. Maybe we could have lunch together?” Leo gave one last smile, “Merry part and merry meet again.”

Collette considered driving to the Y and running a few miles on the treadmill, but she felt too drained by the tense evening, so she did a u-turn and headed home.

+ + +

When Collette got back Troy had already left and the house was dark. She headed to her room to do some homework. She turned on the lights and sat down at her desk. Collette’s room possessed an innocent child-like quality. The walls were painted lilac and a poster of a unicorn adorned the wall beside the door. Gauzy, white canopy netting floated above and about her bed. Beneath its shroud lay a flowery quilt and two stuffed animals, a pink bear and a penguin. Collette loved the fuzzy nonsensical feel of her room, but it wasn’t very conducive as a studying environment.

Collette opened to a random page of C.S. Lewis’s a Mere Christianity, and read, “For the longest way round is the shortest way home.” If that’s a preview of what’s to come, Collette thought, I give up. She looked wistfully to her bookcase containing C.S. Lewis’s Narnia series, a gift from her father on her 6^th birthday. They were well-loved and grubby having born readings and re-readings. From there her eyes traveled to the picture on her desk. The photo was several years old and featured her, Troy, and their cousins at the pool. Each of them was dressed in matching polka-dotted swimsuits, Christmas presents from Grandma. Everyone was sporting toothy grins. Collette was struck by cheerful nostalgia, and she could smell the tang of the pool’s chlorine. Although times had changed, it used to be that over Christmas break her family would travel to Mrs. Duffy’s parent's house in St. Louis. Almost everyday, Collette and her cousins would swim for hours at the local indoor swimming pool. They were a family of otters, always wet and playful. Collette’s second home was filled with laughter, laughter echoing off high walls, blue tile, and rippling water.

Filled with these happy memories, Collette looked at the statue of St. Francis that was beside the photo. About six inches tall St. Francis held an arching banner of doves above his head. Another gift from her father, this one had been given to commemorate her First Communion. He had handed it to her saying, “Remember Collette, faith isn't about what anybody tells you. It's about what you know.” What Collette knew was her father's pride that day, as she walked up to receive the blood and body of Christ. She knew her brother's grace in basketball, her mom's home-made lasagna, and her cousins' laughter in the pool. What Collette knew of faith she knew from her family.

It was now eight o'clock, and Collette still hadn’t started her homework. To prevent herself from further distractions, Collette got up and clicked off the main bedroom light. This left only her desk lamp on, and her world narrowed to the small space illuminated by light. She picked up Mere Christianity. She was nearing the end of the reading assignment on Christian marriage and skimming through, “The function of the husband is to see that this natural preference of hers is not given its head,” when she heard a car pull up to the side of the house. Collette was pulled from her slight trance. She looked up and out the window. It was snowing! The light snowflakes were illuminated against the dark of the night.

Collette walked to the window. With her room darkened and therefore no glare reflecting off the glass pane, Collette could see out into the backyard with unsettling clarity. She felt like a ghost watching from the windows of a haunted house. She saw Father Thom get out the car and walk over to passenger side. He opened the door and took the lady’s hand, like a true gentleman. Mrs. Duffy’s chuckle was muffled by the falling snow. They stood close together making small talk, as though reluctant to part. Collette watched Father Thom and her mother’s breath rise like the smoke of incense. The light from the kitchen cast their dark shadows onto the freshly fallen and glittering blue snow. Collette watched as the shadows merged into one. Father Thom touched Mrs. Duffy’s shoulder and leaned over to kiss her on the lips.

Collette stepped back from the window and onto Turnip’s tail, who yowled. Collette walked to her desk and turned off the light. She got into bed still dressed. The sound of the back door opening was jarring and caused her to tremble uncontrollably under the quilt. This stopped when Turnip jumped up and curled around Collette’s feet.

Collette lay awake in the dark and couldn’t stand its press against her sanity, so she opened the cabinet of her bedside table and pulled out a flashlight. She clicked it on. The bulb was dim, and the battery, dying. She flicked the light across the room. It landed first on her collection of the Narnia books and then flashed on to the photographs on her desk. The yellow beam, finally, came to rest on the right side of the room. The light encircled the crucifix hung above Collette’s door.

She looked at the crucifix, and for the first time in her life realized the horror of it. For the first time she saw Christ’s upturned face, his eyes and mouth drooping in agony, and his swollen ribcage, heaving in pain. For the first time the nails driven into bony hands and feet, the thorns scraped across his scalp, and the blood streaming from these wounds were illuminated. How could she ever have knelt before this monstrous image? Her father’s words echoed and twisted in her mind as she fell into troubled sleep. "Remember faith isn't about anything you know; it's about what you've been told."