25. Benson
Benson
Rock, Paper, Happiness?
My entire English class I spend thinking about dinner last night.
Dylan was starting to get worried about Zair and wanted to check this witch out.
I pushed all my feelings aside and joined him.
Shoving Zair harder than necessary after Dylan drew the short straw and had to be the one to touch the witch.
I finally understand ‘the lady doth protest too much.’ Guess I am learning something in English.
But then she threatened to scalp me with a goblin blade and I don’t think I’ve ever been so turned on. Goblins love fire, and I’ve never met someone who burned so brightly.
Someone bumps into my shoulder as I wait inside the doorway for Thea to come down the stairs. She blends in better in this school than in Otherfell. Maybe that was why I hadn’t realized she was a witch. I’d never seen one who didn’t wear heels all the time.
Her Converse appear and I step out, raising my hand to call her over.
“Hey, complete ass!”
“Human sandwich,” she calls back. “You look a little past your expiration. Definitely moldy.”
“I’m not moldy!” I reply full of indignation. “Just waiting for the right partners.”
She glances around and then settles on a blonde nightblind in blue. “You free to be his buns, or is that too much meat to handle?”
The guy takes a slow, deliberate look at me, then raises an eyebrow in offer. My ears heat up as I reach out and grab her arm and pull her outside.
“Er, Benson, my arm.”
Did I grab too tight, did I hurt her? “Shit, sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?” she asks. “You just let me curse you with matching hair.”
“What!” I fumble with my phone. Looking at my reflection and I’m relieved to have my normal green. I hate looking human. I glare at her as she barely smothers her laughter.
“Not into blondes?” she teases.
“You’re impossible.” I huff out a laugh. “Besides, he was nightblind.”
“That wasn’t a no,” she jokes.
“I like darker hair.” I can’t stop my eyes flickering to the braid over her shoulder. Yes, that color. “And goblins don’t mess with human men.”
“That’s fair, I don’t recommend them.” I snort despite myself. “Can’t even curse them into being halfway decent.”
“So are you a witch that can curse?” I ask, and not even because I’m scared.
“All witches can curse,” she says as we pass the library and into Otherfell.
I frown. “Zair said he can’t.”
“Then Zair lied.” I take a step away from her and her smile goes with it. “All goblins could crack my skull open too. We’re all dangerous.”
“Can’t argue with that,” I admit. Glancing at her arm to ensure I didn’t leave a bruise earlier.
“Witches have different strengths. Not all goblins are equally strong, equally good at crafting, or equally attractive.”
“Exactly,” I smirk. Happy to be back on joking grounds. “I got all the looks and there wasn’t any left for anyone else.”
“Does that mean you’re weak?” she challenges, raising an eyebrow. My mouth falls open as her laughter rings out and I can’t even be mad.
“Damn, walked right into that one. You should come with a warning label.”
“Zair didn’t warn you about me?” she asks with a smile but I feel mine drop. I force a fake one to replace it.
“Nope. He intended to keep you all to himself,” I say, trying to be playful. Her smile vanishes for a second before she controls it.
“Cursing’s one of the basics,” she tells me. “Like elemental manipulation or spell work. For most of history, that’s what mattered; core skills. It’s only recently that people act like a witch without ‘extras’ is weak.”
“What’s your extra?” I ask, feeling like I’m learning insider information on witches as we approach the dining hall.
“Haven’t you heard? I’m the weak one.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t believe everything I hear,” I say as we get in line.
“You heading to eat in the courtyard?” she asks while she waits for her double serving of lasagna and French bread. I look out the window to hide the smile. No arguing about low fat salad dressing from her.
“Not today. Can I eat with you?” I ask before I realize it’s out of my mouth. “I’ve got a sketch I’m working on and honestly, I could use the quiet.”
“Sure.”
She pays for my food and I don’t know if I should be offended or appreciative. She leads me to a corner booth and we both sit down.
“Thanks for the food.”
“Of course. My coven high priestess is the one footing the bill and is a bitch. Only wish I could see her face when she tries to figure out how I ate four servings of lasagna!”
She digs in like she’s never eaten. When I realize that I’m staring at her as she devours her food I pull out my sketch pad. I start eating as I sketch on my notebook. It’s nice. Calming.
“Do you draw?” she asks. I look up and see her plate is clean and she’s sitting looking at me with attention. Red sauce on her chin.
I smile.
“No. These are ideas for knives.”
“Oh. Are you a crafter?” she asks even more enthusiastically. She leans forward and looks at the knife and the notes I’ve written around the edge in Graven. I freeze, waiting for the insult.
“Doesn’t Vek mean safe?”
I’m pretty sure my eyes bulge out of my head. I clear my throat but it doesn’t help.
“Er – Yes and no. We don’t have as many words for things. I’m using it to signify that this design is tested.”
“Oh, that’s really interesting. I didn’t know that.
We had a goblin who stayed with our family.
” I smother an angry noise. Only one reason a goblin would be in a coven; in chains.
“He used to have me spell them out with rocks. I don’t think he ever got past the basics because he’d always get distracted telling me stories. ”
A smile splits my face. I grab a napkin and help her clean the red sauce off her chin. She chastises me for not telling her sooner.
“That’s how I learned it too. The storytelling is how we teach our morals.” Why would a goblin teach that to a witch? “I’ve never heard of a goblin as part of a witch coven.”
“Oh, he wasn’t. I lived in a…” She pauses as if trying to think of the word. “A school of sorts.”
“That’s very cool. Why didn’t you keep up your lessons? Did he move?” I ask eagerly.
Her face falls and I know what happened before the words are out of her mouth.
“He died in the same accident as my parents.”
Oh, that’s worse. She looks down at her plate as she composes herself.
“I’m so sorry.” It’s a stupid idea. Zair touches her. I reach out and very hesitantly touch her hand. Her eyes jerk to mine.
I squeeze it gently then pull back.
She quirks a smile. “It’s fine. Just hadn’t thought of him in a long time. Tell me about this knife.”
And I do. Telling her details I know that she has no way of understanding but she doesn’t seem to care. She asks me a dozen different questions about the form and when it’s time to head to my geology class, I have a new idea for my blade to work on during crafting.
“What class do you have today?” I ask as I take her tray and toss it.
“Advanced Curses,” she says, watching me for a reaction.
“Oh — um — is it fun?”
“It usually smells really bad,” she says with a smile. “Curses smell and breaking them smells worse. What class do you have?”
“Geology.”
“Does it smell?” she asks and I bust out laughing, drawing attention from a few witches as we head outside. Zair stands at the sound and waves, walking over to us.
“Hey,” he says, looking giddy as he reaches out to take Thea’s bag. I should’ve thought of that. We all walk together and when I’m peeling off to head to my goblin classes Thea stops me.
“Hey Benson, what color is your hair?”
“Green?”
“No, what stone?”
I can’t hide the smile. “Aventurine.”
Zair raises an eyebrow and follows Thea into class. Clearly lost on the whole conversation. We’ve been friends for three years and I don’t even know what kind of magic he has, he doesn’t know that goblin hair is a gemstone.
We know everything about Dylan. He never shuts up.
Maybe I should get to know Zair better.
Thea being around is just a benefit.