[story] making friends
author: hacy morris
When small, black spiders skittered out of the plastic lunchbox, the witchboy did not shout, but crouched and gave the lunchbox a sharp, quick tap against the floor.
More spiders scattered, making for the freedom of the open field, faster than Jocelyn thought possible. Now there were only a few, clinging to the other boy's hand. Those the witchboy shook off, almost lazily, before he stood up. He looked up then, and his eyes met Jocelyn's.
Without knowing why, Jocelyn found himself taking back a step. His fingers twisted around the paper bag that contained his lunch, and the rustle made him blush. That was why he was at the behind the cafeteria building; he didn't want the others to see that he had brought only a jam sandwich that day. Without looking up, he knew that the witchboy was staring at his bag too. He remembered that the witchboy's lunchbox was empty. "Um..." Jocelyn said very softly, but he had been taught to share. He swallowed. "Do you want to share my lunch?"
His stomach growled at the mention, reminding him that he barely had enough for himself. He blushed again at the sound, and looked at his shoes. They were a bit worn, and too big for him. "Er-" he tried again after several seconds had passed. He looked up and the other boy nowhere to be seen.
Being lucky enough to make it into a state school meant sharing classes with other children who came from real families. They hated Jocelyn who had no parents and no real family. It wasn't his fault, Jocelyn thought, but life wasn't fair, which was why he kept his head down and tried not to draw any attention unless it was necessary.
But he had heard about the witchboy too. Or more specifically, about the witchboy's mother. It was said that his mother was a powerful sorceress who could turn boys into frogs and girls into singing birds, and she could grind the bones of adults to make bread. It was said that she had snakes and slugs to do her bidding and that she kept her heart inside a duck who lived in a lake at the top of a mountain that was on the other side of the world, so that no one could kill her.
But the witchboy looked as ordinary as could be, Jocelyn thought. Then he sighed and concentrated on scraping the mud from his schoolbag. Even his books were covered with the black, gloopy stuff. Jocelyn had wiped them off the best he could, but they looked like they were ruined for real this time. His homework was gone, so were both his pencils and what was Sister Edna going to say?
"They threw your bag in the pond."
Jocelyn gave a shout, dropping his bag and the stick he was using as a scraper at the same time he stood up. "What?!" he said.
The witchboy was sitting down a short distance away, watching him. "They threw your bag in the pond," he said again.
It didn't sound like the witchboy was taunting him, Jocelyn decided.
"Yeah." He spared a look in the direction of the cafeteria; the sounds of the other children were still as loud as ever. After he'd thrown mud at some at them, they'd ran away, threatening to tell a teacher. "They messed up all my things," he said, and felt a prickling at the back of his eyelids, which he blinked away. "Bastards," he added.
He'd been so proud to go to a proper school instead of having lessons from Sister Edna in the big schoolroom, but real school wasn't what he thought it would be.
He took his stained bag over to the gardener's tap and turned it on. Sister Edna made the bag for him; he had to bring it back--if not exactly clean, then at least not black. It had rained yesterday and the pond behind the cafeteria was more like a mudpit than a real pond. Now, at the orphanage, they had a real pond, with fishes and-
"I'll help you."
Jocelyn, who had been aware that the witchboy was walking towards him, managed not to panic. "How?" he retorted before he remembered that this was the son of a sorceress. "You mean like magic?" he asked hopefully.
The witchboy's face grew dark. "There's no such thing as magic," he said.
Disappointment filled Jocelyn. For a moment he thought he didn't have to go back and explain to Sister Edna what happened to his books and things. And he didn't even do it! "Oh. Never mind then."
He turned back to his bag, which was looking grey now, and scrunched it the best he could, to wash the mud out. But the bag just looked greyer and greyer, and Jocelyn scrubbed until his arms were tired, but it still looked ruined. Jocelyn glanced at his equally ruined books, drying on the ground, and felt like crying. But he couldn't because he was too big to cry. Besides, he couldn't let the witchboy, who was still crouching beside him, see.
The bell went off. Jocelyn jumped, looking back from his bag to his books and towards the cafeteria, where the other children were going to class. His heart was racing. He had no more time. What was he going to do?
"Oh, all right," the witchboy said, and laid his hand over Jocelyn's, which were still on to the bag.
And before Jocelyn's eyes, bits of mud seemed to shake themselves from the bag and flowed with the water, leaving the bag clean. It was like those TV commercials that showed how detergent made clothes clean.
"That's amazing!" he whispered.
The witchboy was watching him. "Don't tell anyone."
"Uh-huh," Jocelyn nodded. "Can you do my books too?" he asked on impulse.
He got a widened look of surprise from the witchboy, who stood up and went to Jocelyn's books, staring down at them. Jocelyn wrung the water from his (now clean) bag the best he could and went to join him.
The witchboy waved a hand over the books. It didn't seem magical in the least. But before Jocelyn's eyes, some kind of dust started to rise from the books in a spiral, round and round, until it rose higher than Jocelyn could see. When he looked down, his books were normal again. His homework was intact too. "Wow," he said, gathering his things. "Thanks!"
He had to make up an excuse why he was late to class and why his schoolbag was still dripping wet and got extra homework as punishment when Mr Felder didn't believe him, but it was worth it.
Sister Edna had said that there was no such thing as magic. When she asked why he wanted to know, he mumbled something about the witchboy. Then he had got a long, long lecture from Sister Edna about how it was bad to call people names and put spiders in their lunches ("That wasn't me!") and that even if, and it was a big if, magic existed, magic or sorcery or witchcraft couldn't do everything.
Getting mud out of things was pretty useful, though, Jocelyn thought to himself. Sister Edna had made him wash his hair twice to get the mud out of it, and her shampoo stung his eyes.
But he was reminded of what Sister Edna said about magic not doing everything when he went to his usual spot behind the cafeteria the next day. The witchboy was there, tapping more spiders out of his lunchbox. Magic didn't stop people from putting spiders in your lunchbox or taking your lunch.
"D'you want to share my lunch?" Jocelyn asked. The neighbourhood bakery had started to give away its day-old bread to the orphanage and now Sister Edna packed him two sandwiches every day.
When the witchboy looked at him, Jocelyn said, "I didn't tell anyone!" Inwardly he twitched because he had sort of told Sister Edna but that didn't count because she was a Sister.
"Yes, thank you," the witchboy said.
the end
When small, black spiders skittered out of the plastic lunchbox, the witchboy did not shout, but crouched and gave the lunchbox a sharp, quick tap against the floor.
More spiders scattered, making for the freedom of the open field, faster than Jocelyn thought possible. Now there were only a few, clinging to the other boy's hand. Those the witchboy shook off, almost lazily, before he stood up. He looked up then, and his eyes met Jocelyn's.
Without knowing why, Jocelyn found himself taking back a step. His fingers twisted around the paper bag that contained his lunch, and the rustle made him blush. That was why he was at the behind the cafeteria building; he didn't want the others to see that he had brought only a jam sandwich that day. Without looking up, he knew that the witchboy was staring at his bag too. He remembered that the witchboy's lunchbox was empty. "Um..." Jocelyn said very softly, but he had been taught to share. He swallowed. "Do you want to share my lunch?"
His stomach growled at the mention, reminding him that he barely had enough for himself. He blushed again at the sound, and looked at his shoes. They were a bit worn, and too big for him. "Er-" he tried again after several seconds had passed. He looked up and the other boy nowhere to be seen.
Being lucky enough to make it into a state school meant sharing classes with other children who came from real families. They hated Jocelyn who had no parents and no real family. It wasn't his fault, Jocelyn thought, but life wasn't fair, which was why he kept his head down and tried not to draw any attention unless it was necessary.
But he had heard about the witchboy too. Or more specifically, about the witchboy's mother. It was said that his mother was a powerful sorceress who could turn boys into frogs and girls into singing birds, and she could grind the bones of adults to make bread. It was said that she had snakes and slugs to do her bidding and that she kept her heart inside a duck who lived in a lake at the top of a mountain that was on the other side of the world, so that no one could kill her.
But the witchboy looked as ordinary as could be, Jocelyn thought. Then he sighed and concentrated on scraping the mud from his schoolbag. Even his books were covered with the black, gloopy stuff. Jocelyn had wiped them off the best he could, but they looked like they were ruined for real this time. His homework was gone, so were both his pencils and what was Sister Edna going to say?
"They threw your bag in the pond."
Jocelyn gave a shout, dropping his bag and the stick he was using as a scraper at the same time he stood up. "What?!" he said.
The witchboy was sitting down a short distance away, watching him. "They threw your bag in the pond," he said again.
It didn't sound like the witchboy was taunting him, Jocelyn decided.
"Yeah." He spared a look in the direction of the cafeteria; the sounds of the other children were still as loud as ever. After he'd thrown mud at some at them, they'd ran away, threatening to tell a teacher. "They messed up all my things," he said, and felt a prickling at the back of his eyelids, which he blinked away. "Bastards," he added.
He'd been so proud to go to a proper school instead of having lessons from Sister Edna in the big schoolroom, but real school wasn't what he thought it would be.
He took his stained bag over to the gardener's tap and turned it on. Sister Edna made the bag for him; he had to bring it back--if not exactly clean, then at least not black. It had rained yesterday and the pond behind the cafeteria was more like a mudpit than a real pond. Now, at the orphanage, they had a real pond, with fishes and-
"I'll help you."
Jocelyn, who had been aware that the witchboy was walking towards him, managed not to panic. "How?" he retorted before he remembered that this was the son of a sorceress. "You mean like magic?" he asked hopefully.
The witchboy's face grew dark. "There's no such thing as magic," he said.
Disappointment filled Jocelyn. For a moment he thought he didn't have to go back and explain to Sister Edna what happened to his books and things. And he didn't even do it! "Oh. Never mind then."
He turned back to his bag, which was looking grey now, and scrunched it the best he could, to wash the mud out. But the bag just looked greyer and greyer, and Jocelyn scrubbed until his arms were tired, but it still looked ruined. Jocelyn glanced at his equally ruined books, drying on the ground, and felt like crying. But he couldn't because he was too big to cry. Besides, he couldn't let the witchboy, who was still crouching beside him, see.
The bell went off. Jocelyn jumped, looking back from his bag to his books and towards the cafeteria, where the other children were going to class. His heart was racing. He had no more time. What was he going to do?
"Oh, all right," the witchboy said, and laid his hand over Jocelyn's, which were still on to the bag.
And before Jocelyn's eyes, bits of mud seemed to shake themselves from the bag and flowed with the water, leaving the bag clean. It was like those TV commercials that showed how detergent made clothes clean.
"That's amazing!" he whispered.
The witchboy was watching him. "Don't tell anyone."
"Uh-huh," Jocelyn nodded. "Can you do my books too?" he asked on impulse.
He got a widened look of surprise from the witchboy, who stood up and went to Jocelyn's books, staring down at them. Jocelyn wrung the water from his (now clean) bag the best he could and went to join him.
The witchboy waved a hand over the books. It didn't seem magical in the least. But before Jocelyn's eyes, some kind of dust started to rise from the books in a spiral, round and round, until it rose higher than Jocelyn could see. When he looked down, his books were normal again. His homework was intact too. "Wow," he said, gathering his things. "Thanks!"
He had to make up an excuse why he was late to class and why his schoolbag was still dripping wet and got extra homework as punishment when Mr Felder didn't believe him, but it was worth it.
Sister Edna had said that there was no such thing as magic. When she asked why he wanted to know, he mumbled something about the witchboy. Then he had got a long, long lecture from Sister Edna about how it was bad to call people names and put spiders in their lunches ("That wasn't me!") and that even if, and it was a big if, magic existed, magic or sorcery or witchcraft couldn't do everything.
Getting mud out of things was pretty useful, though, Jocelyn thought to himself. Sister Edna had made him wash his hair twice to get the mud out of it, and her shampoo stung his eyes.
But he was reminded of what Sister Edna said about magic not doing everything when he went to his usual spot behind the cafeteria the next day. The witchboy was there, tapping more spiders out of his lunchbox. Magic didn't stop people from putting spiders in your lunchbox or taking your lunch.
"D'you want to share my lunch?" Jocelyn asked. The neighbourhood bakery had started to give away its day-old bread to the orphanage and now Sister Edna packed him two sandwiches every day.
When the witchboy looked at him, Jocelyn said, "I didn't tell anyone!" Inwardly he twitched because he had sort of told Sister Edna but that didn't count because she was a Sister.
"Yes, thank you," the witchboy said.
the end