“Fuck, I think I hurt my head,” Luke moaned from the floor.

“Mr. Hamilton, remove yourself from the floor, please, so we can continue class.” Dr. Philips’ salty grey beard appeared to frown with his annoyance.

Luke grumbled and exhaled a few creative expletives as he regained his seat at the table. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from giggling with glee.

Class continued with other students piping in with their thoughts on Puritans and sex. I zoned out, remembering Luke’s fall and wondering if I’d wished it to happen hard enough to make it so.

After all, we were in Salem. Accused Witches were killed here, but today the streets were filled with shops selling magical potions, cauldrons, and books on Wicca to modern witches and tourists. Not that I believed in witches. Or magic.

“Next week we’ll be discussing The Crucible, Arthur Miller’s take on the witch trials that made Salem famous, or infamous as it were.” Philips stood and gathered his things.

“Great, more prudes and bitches,” Luke mumbled.

I shot him a look. “Seriously?”

He met my eyes and a slow, sinister smile spread across his beer bloated face.

“What are you smiling about?” I sneered.

“Prudes and bitches. This class could be about you.”

“Shut up, Hamilton.” I moved around him toward the door.

“If the names fit.”

I flipped him the bird over my shoulder without turning around.

“Aww, don’t be Mad. Oh wait, I guess you don’t have a choice,” he called after me, laughing at his stupid joke about my name.

“Argh!” I stomped down the hall. Outside of the glass doors large raindrops splattered the brick walkway. “Could this day get any better?” I asked myself out loud.

A pale hand with long, familiar fingers held one of those tiny collapsible umbrellas in my line of sight. “Here.”

I looked up to meet the dark eyes of Andrew. His lanky frame towered over mine. From his black Chucks to his almost black hair, he could have been a hipster, but he was too nerdy, too cool, too something, to be that trendy. Maybe it was the glasses; the thick black rims were not exactly stylish. His messy hair hinted at a lack of combing rather than bedroom shenanigans. He looked smart, if intelligence had a facial expression. Too-smart-for-his-own-good smart.

Andrew cleared his throat.

“Oh, thank you. I have my hoodie.” I reached behind to pull my grey hood over my hair. “I’ll be fine.”

“Okay.” He held my gaze as he stuffed the umbrella into his backpack. “No problem.”

Something about him made me tingle. He unsettled me, and I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. I hesitated before I gave him a small smile, and dashed out the door.

The rain sputtered into a mist a few yards down the path, and I pulled down my hood. Maybe my day had started to turn around. Smiling, I searched for Andrew in the doorway or on the steps behind me, but he’d disappeared.

Sam sat at our usual table inside the campus cafe.

“I bought your favorite… a pumpkin spice latte,” she greeted me. Today, her long blonde hair was in two braids, which were wrapped around the crown of her head. She looked like a milkmaid with the figure of a German beer garden girl.

I inhaled the steam. “Thanks. I need this.” The rainy day called for the warmth of fall in a cup. I shook out my damp hoodie and ran my fingers through my newly bobbed hair.

“Rough day with the Puritans?” she asked.

“Rough day with Hamilton.”

“He’s a flaming toadstool.” Sam never swore. She never used typical curse words, but the intent was the same.

“He really is.”

“What did newt brain do now?”

I explained his comments in class and we laughed over the karma of his fall.

“Maybe it wasn’t karma. You wished for him to shut up and it came true.”

I gave her a sidelong glance. “Sam.”

“Maddy.”

“I’m not a witch. No magical powers.” I wiggled my fingers in front of her face.

“You don’t know that. You’ve never tried.”

“My ancestors might have been from Salem, but we all know those witches weren’t witches.”

“Maybe not the innocents who were killed, but that doesn’t mean magic doesn’t exist here.”

I rolled my eyes. “I think you’ve spent too much time downtown at the tourist shops.”

Sam mirrored my eye roll. “Such the skeptic. Where’s your sense of imagination and wonder?”

“I must have lost them when I stopped watching Disney princess movies.”

“My mom never let me watch those.”

“Ah, that explains it all then. More Snow White and less Wicca.”

“Speaking of Wicca, will you come with me to The Spelling B after classes? I need to buy a new set of Tarot cards.”

“What’s wrong with the set you have?”

“I think Lucy’s bad energy ruined their mojo.”

“Lucy Lucy?” I stared at my roommate.

“I know, I know. Yes, that Lucy, but she paid me twenty bucks for a reading.”

Lucy was Hamilton’s girlfriend. She swam in the same shallow pool he did, and believe me, they deserved each other. I frowned at the thought of the two of them procreating and creating more obnoxious humans.

“Her reading was terrible, just so you know.”

“That’s some comfort.”

“Maddy, would you still want to date Hamilton?” She teased.

I shuddered. “We never dated. I wouldn’t call what happened freshman year dating. What was I thinking?”

“You weren’t. You were a horny freshman.” Sam’s laughter sounded like delicate wind chimes, until she snorted. “I still can’t believe you kneed his crotch in the middle of the dorm lounge.”

“He grabbed my boob in front of everyone.” I crossed my arms to protect my chest from the memory.

“I still don’t know what you saw in him.”

“Neither do I. Yuck.” I shuddered. “Let’s chalk it up to hormones. Can we talk about something besides Too Much Tongue Hamilton?”

“Maybe you need some sort of cleansing. We can get you smudged! Or maybe find you a love spell.” She wiggled her eyebrows.

“Smudged?” My skepticism reared its head.

“With sage. We can buy some downtown.”

“Uh huh.” I furrowed my brows. “Won’t I smell like a roasted chicken? I’m sure that will attract all of the boys to my yard.”

“At this point, what do you have to lose?”

Nothing. It was the beginning of junior year and there wasn’t an eligible bachelor in sight. I sighed. Pickings were slim these days. Decent guys had girlfriends or were gay. Even the not-so-decent-guys like Hamilton were paired off. Brown eyes behind black frames flashed in my mind, and I instantly wondered if Andrew had a girlfriend. She was probably a theoretical math major, or some esoteric French poetry focus, which required imported cigarettes and red lipstick.

“You’re right, nothing to lose but my dignity.”

“So you’ll come with me? It’s stopped raining. No excuses.”

“The rain wouldn’t stop me. I don’t melt in the rain. Doesn’t that prove I’m not a witch?”

“Only in Oz.” She grabbed her bag and stuffed her books and notes from the table inside, including a random spoon. “Don’t judge. All of my spoons keep disappearing from our room.”

“Maybe they’re finding their way back to their proper homes.”

“Or someone’s been stealing them.”

“Wouldn’t that be ironic?” I nudged her with my elbow as we exited the cafe. Sure enough, the clouds were still heavy, but the mist had stopped.

A strand of bells around the door handle jingled as we entered The Spelling B, Sam’s favorite shop for all things witchy. The scent of incense and dried herbs permeated the tiny, dim space. Tilting shelves bowing with the weight of jars, candles, and books crowded the walls and formed narrow aisles. I tucked my overstuffed laptop bag closer to my body, afraid of the handwritten ‘you break it, you buy it’ sign on the door.