Chapter 3
Teddy
“What did you think of the Quinn’s niece?” my mother asked the moment we were out of the restaurant. “I’ve heard she’s one of the most powerful witches in the family. She just got accepted to a French academy for her work in magical fashion design.”
“I didn’t know she was going to be there,” I replied flatly. “She was… sort of clingy.”
“Your father and I thought you might like to meet her,” she continued, clearly ignoring my comment. “She comes from a good family, she’s powerful, and she knows how to behave with witches of our stature.”
I couldn’t help but scoff. “You make her sound like a trained dog.”
“Theodore!”
My mother’s glare could have frozen hellfire. I tried not to wince under the intensity of it as we stood on the sidewalk waiting for our car. A few passersby glanced our way, curious about the tension crackling between us.
“I apologize,” I said automatically, not meaning a word of it. “That was disrespectful.”
My father emerged from the restaurant then, still deep in conversation with Mr. Quinn.
They were laughing about something, probably some business deal that would make them both even richer.
As if we needed any more money. The Quinn girl—Amelia?
Amanda?—trailed behind them, her eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made my skin crawl.
“Theodore,” my father called, waving me over. “Come here a moment.”
I shot my mother an apologetic look that I hoped conveyed enough false shame to appease her before trudging over to my father. He clapped a hand on my shoulder, squeezing just a bit too hard.
“Mr. Quinn was just telling me that Amelia is quite the swimmer herself,” he said, his smile not reaching his eyes. “She was saying how impressed she was with your form today.”
“Oh?” I managed, glancing at the girl. She couldn’t have been at the meet. I would have noticed her. Which meant she was lying to impress my father.
“I’ve always had a thing for athletes,” she said with a coy smile, twirling a strand of her perfect blonde hair around her finger. “Especially ones who are so... dedicated.”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. “Thanks.”
My father’s grip tightened on my shoulder. A warning.
“Perhaps you two could practice together sometime,” Mr. Quinn suggested, looking between us with obvious approval. “Amelia’s been looking for a training partner who can keep up with her.”
“I don’t think—” I began.
“That sounds wonderful,” my father interrupted. “Theodore has access to the academy pool. I’m sure he’d be happy to arrange something.”
I wanted to protest, to tell them all that I had enough on my plate without needing to entertain a future wife I didn’t want to my list of obligations. But my father’s expression made it clear this wasn’t a request.
“Of course,” I said through gritted teeth. “That would be... great.”
Amelia beamed, stepping closer to me. She smelled of expensive perfume and predatory instinct. “I’ll send you a letter,” she said, placing her hand on my arm. “I can’t wait.”
Our car arrived then, saving me from having to respond.
After another round of goodbyes and promises to meet again soon, we finally slid into the back seat.
I leaned my head against the cool window, watching the city lights blur as we drove toward the teleportation point that would take us back to Widdershins.
“That went well,” my father said, breaking the silence. “The Quinns were impressed with you.”
“They were impressed with the idea of me,” I corrected. “The perfect son who wins swimming medals and gets straight As and dates pretty witches from good families.”
My father’s jaw tightened. “Watch your tone.”
“Theodore is just tired,” my mother interjected, always the peacekeeper. “It was a long day, with the meet and then dinner.”
“I’m not tired,” I said, sitting up straighter. “I’m frustrated. You two arranged that whole dinner to set me up with Amelia Quinn without even asking me.”
“We did no such thing,” my father replied coldly. “The Quinns are important connections. And if you happen to hit it off with their niece, that would be a fortunate development.”
“I’m not interested in her,” I said firmly.
My father turned to face me fully. “And why not? She’s beautiful, well-connected, and from one of the oldest magical families in New York. What more could you possibly want?”
I opened my mouth to respond, then closed it again. What could I say? That I wasn’t attracted to girls? That I had been sneaking glances at the male waiter all evening? That I’d spent more time in the past year fantasizing about my next-door neighbors in the dorm than I had about any girl?
The words caught in my throat. It wasn’t that I thought my parents would disown me.
They were progressive enough in that regard.
But admitting I was gay would just become another thing for my father to manage, another aspect of my life he would try to control and optimize for maximum social benefit.
Then it wouldn’t belong to me anymore… just another piece of myself to put on a social calendar.
“I just want to focus on swimming and school right now,” I said instead, the lie bitter on my tongue. “I don’t have time for dating anyone.”
My father scoffed. “There’s always time for building the right relationships. Your mother and I met at school, and look how well that turned out.”
I glanced between them, wondering if he actually believed that. My parents’ marriage had always seemed more like a business arrangement than a love match. They were cordial to each other, respectful even, but I’d never once seen them show real affection.
“I have midterms coming up,” I said, changing the subject. “And Coach wants me to add morning practices three times a week. I really can’t add anything else to my schedule right now.”
My father studied me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he nodded once. “Fine. Focus on your studies and swimming for now. But the Quinns will be at the Halloween gala in two weeks, and I expect you to be there as well.”
“Yes, sir,” I replied automatically, knowing there was no point in arguing.
The rest of the ride passed in silence. By the time we reached the teleportation point, I was exhausted, my earlier disappointment from the swim meet compounded by the tension of dinner.
We stepped onto the ancient stone circle, my father muttering the incantation that would take us back to Widdershins.
The familiar sensation of being pulled apart and reassembled washed over me.
When the world solidified again, we were standing in the teleportation circle at the edge of Widdershins campus.
The ancient stone walls of the academy loomed in the distance, lit by floating orbs of magical light that cast long shadows across the grounds.
“We’ll see you at Halloween,” my mother said, straightening my collar unnecessarily. “Try to get some rest this weekend. You looked tired at dinner.”
“I will,” I promised, knowing I wouldn’t. Between homework, extra practices, and the constant pressure to improve my times, rest wasn’t really in the cards.
My father shook my hand formally. “Work on that turn, Theodore. That’s where you lost those three seconds today.”
Of course he’d been analyzing my performance. He probably had the whole race memorized and would send me a detailed breakdown by magical letter in the morning.
“Yes, sir. I’ll focus on it.”
They stepped back onto the teleportation circle, and with a shimmer of magic, they vanished.
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, my shoulders sagging with relief.
The walk back to my dorm would take fifteen minutes, but I welcomed the solitude after a night of constant socialization.
The campus was quiet on a Friday night. Most students were either at parties or had gone home for the weekend. The crisp autumn air felt good after the stuffiness of the restaurant, and I loosened my tie as I walked, finally feeling like I could breathe again.
By the time I reached my dorm building, my mind was racing with everything I needed to do. The spellcraft project. Extra laps to work on my turns. A history of magic essay due Wednesday. Sleep seemed like a distant luxury.
I paused outside the building, not quite ready to go inside. The thought of sitting at my desk trying to focus on homework while my mind replayed today’s loss over and over again was unbearable. I needed something else. Something to clear my head.
The swimming pool. That’s where I always felt most at peace.
I changed direction, heading toward the athletic complex instead. At this hour, the pool would be empty. Coach Mathers always locked up after the last practice, but I knew where the spare key was hidden. It wasn’t the first time I’d snuck in for a late-night swim when my thoughts became too loud.
The athletic building was dark when I arrived, but I knew my way around well enough.
I slipped through the side entrance, making my way through the shadowy corridors toward the natatorium.
The chemical smell of chlorine grew stronger as I approached, a scent I found oddly comforting after all these years.
I pushed through the double doors into the pool area.
The water was still, reflecting the dim emergency lights that remained on throughout the night.
The place felt different after hours. It was peaceful, almost sacred.
This late, there was no one to impress, no one to beat, no one watching and measuring my every move. Just me and the water.
I was about to head to the locker room to change when movement caught my eye. Someone was already in the pool.