A.N.: This is from the perspective of Brad Alcerro, Harvey's best friend during senior year. Brad was descended from witch-hunters; mortals who can instinctively find magic, and seek out witches. Brad wasn't too fond of Sabrina, but her never gave a good reason why; he always said she was just "weird." Here's my take on Brad's thoughts…
The title is taken from a line in the song "Hallelujah" by Rufus Wainwright.
Disclaimer: I do not own "Sabrina, the Teenage Witch."
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"…I just don't see what's so wonderful about you."
The expectant look on her face crashes and dies, like a broken sunrise. She doesn't bother to mask the hurt in her eyes as she stares at me.
Probably used to adoration and praise, no doubt.
"Oh…well, then…" she begins, trying to charm her way out. I snorted. I'm not going to fall for this like Kinkle. "Forget it."
I've gone too far this time, I think. Small crystalline drops are beading at her eyes. She gives me a crazy, lopsided smile before turning around and nearly smacking into Gordie Rhinehart.
"Sorry," she apologizes in a voice that doesn't sound hers: high-pitched and wavering, but curiously dead.
Gordie stares at her, bewildered. "Uh, Sabrina, I….are you…"
She shakes her head frantically before she stumbles out of his arms and makes her way down the hallway to our left, occasionally stumbling into people and things like a moth crazily making its way toward a far-off light. She's probably run off to find that clumsy girl who sticks by her side like a puppy dog.
As she disappears into the mass of sluggish teenagers filling the halls, I realize that Gordie's been staring at her, along with me, the whole time.
Rhinehart's that quiet, nerdy kid who sits in the back of the classroom; the kind who knows the answers but never raises their hand, the kind who prefers to remain wallpaper. I only know his name because he won some award for community service that deserved an assembly. The poor kid nearly wet his pants in embarrassment from being pried from his wall.
That is the exact reason why I was so surprised when he whirled around to face me, an angry glare etched on his amiable, sheep-like face that didn't belong there. "What the heck is your problem?" he yelled.
For Gordie, that's the worst epithet that can be hurled at anyone. It's also bizarre, because this has to be the first time Gordie's raised his voice to someone who's a "social superior," the way one of the cheerleaders I know put it.
Keep it cool, Alcerro. It's just Gordie.
Cocking an eyebrow, I inquire, "What d'ya mean?"
"You said something mean to Sabrina!" Gordie accuses like a six-year-old child.
I shrug lazily. "I just told her that I'm not one of her little groupies." I lower my voice conspiratorially, hoping to bring him off his high horse. I hope he's not one of the dozens of guys crushing on her… "Between you and me, she's a little weird, you know?"
And she is. There is simply something that's not right with Sabrina Spellman. I can't explain it, but it's like an instinct, buried deep inside of me.
I'm normally fond of girls my age—hell, what red-blooded American guy isn't—but Sabrina just doesn't produce the desired result.
She's cute enough, but that's not the problem.
It's that…well, weird things happen when she's around. Things feel twisted and confused, like she carries this aura of unreality that is discordant with my senses. She's always inventing these lame excuses, before dashing off somewhere…and Kinkle believes it. He's got to be the biggest doormat I've ever met.
He just shakes his head and tells me I have to get to know her.
I admit, I'm brusque—more than a little, but the Alcerro family's always been like that—and I can be a little overbearing, but she seems to be terrified of me whenever I question her about something that's just happened.
I know she knows something. She's not telling the truth. And worst of all, she's keeping whatever secret she's got from Harvey. I'm his buddy. And buddies don't hide things from each other. I think of it as my duty to him.
But whenever I talk to her, I have this image in my mind…of a Puritan judge questioning a terrified young woman in dark clothing. Sometimes, if I look at her long enough, I can see her burning. Sabrina tied to a pole, with a pile of sticks at her feet, burning at the stake.
And then I back off, horrified. She's so confusing…I instinctively want to seek her out, find out why I have these visions, ask her what she's hiding.
But how can I, since whenever I approach her, I see her in flames?
It's a paradox of the finest sort; I want to hunt for her, but when I do, she repels me. If this continues, I may never find my answers. Her secret will remain buried. Which leaves me to ask one question:
Is this secret of hers worth learning, or not?
I force myself to look Gordie in the eyes. Strangely, he's relaxed. "Yes, she is," he murmurs. "And that's what's so wonderful about her. She's so approachable…it's those weird little quirks that make her so human." He shakes himself out of what's obviously an awe-struck reverie, and critically gazes at me.
"You can't appreciate it," he remarks, shaking his head. "You don't understand her humanity, or even care to embrace those little foibles she has. You don't want her to be herself; instead, you'd rather prefer her to not be Sabrina Spellman." And then, shaking his head at my folly, he wanders off.
He's left me, mute, in the hallway, even as the bell rings. Her humanity? I don't appreciate her humanity?
Maybe I don't…maybe I haven't brought myself to see past that strange topsy-turvy aura. Her humanity… No, I haven't. I haven't seen her humanity.
But I'll try. If I can believe in that humanity inside her Gordie spoke of, maybe, just maybe…
She may entrust me with her secret.