Chapter 1- Discovery
I enjoy long walks to obscure spots along riverbanks, baseball fields, and hot pockets. I also enjoy practicing magic.
I'm sure high school can be a defining time in many people's lives, but it wasn't for me. I hated getting shoved into ordinary classes to learn unnecessary things, when I was not destined for that. Not that I knew anything about my destiny yet; I didn't find out that I was a witch until I was 15 when I exploded a fish tank in my principal's office. I couldn't take another story about how rare and valuable those fish were, 'chubby' the African who-the-fuck-cares. I just wanted to leave the school and leave nothing but destruction behind me, and as soon as the thought passed through my mind I felt a sudden rush, and it shattered.
At first I didn't believe it was me, I thought that god had taken a little break from whatever he does to personally make my life better. I left a soaking wet room and poor fish flopping around the floor to do what any teenager would do in that situation; tell everyone. When I rushed off to tell my friends about it, I realized that I wanted it to me; I wanted to be special and different. I also realized with a deep hidden confession, powerful. So I told everyone that I blew it up, and not surprisingly, they didn't believe me. I had to do something else to prove it, to myself and everyone else. That led to something else and something else, until I blew up the school bus. That's when I got my first letter.
From the address, I was tempted to junk it right away as another stupid college letter, but luckily I decided to open it for the confidence boost. The letter was from the University of Nevada Witch Craft and Wizarding. I reread that about four times too, don't feel bad. Sadly my life was not full of endless possibilities and bright shining horizons, so I, intrigued, read the letter and was blown away. I read about wizards and magic as a child like everyone else in the world, and I too dreamt of that world being real. I rationalized that it could never be true because of this and that; and yet here I am, blowing things up with my mind and will. Vala Burton, my admissions counselor from WCW, also insists that it's not a joke.
I'm graduating from my high school in a week, and though this used to cause anxiety to the point of nausea, now I'm excited like every other college bound youth. The reason I was so nervous was my virtual lack of aspirations and dreams. I didn't have a plan. I didn't ever dream of being a nurse, or a doctor. My life was going nowhere, so I made my decision on a lucky eight ball. Should I go to community college like all my other stoner friends, or should go to Crescent Valley, Nevada to attend a strange, insane school of my dreams? The ball answered yes to little valley. My heart agreed shortly after.
I'm excited to finally take classes that will empower me and change me. I always felt like this world was too normal for me, and so confining. This is my path, this is my future.
When I finally told my parents about WCW I think my dad was honestly just happy that I wanted to go to college, any college. I could have said the University of Pancakes and he would have had to same look of happiness on his face. His low standards didn't surprise me, but they did remind me of all the messing up I had done in the last couple of years. My mother however laughed; loudly and cawingly as if I had made a clever pun.
When the brown owl arrived the next day in my kitchen window, I think she started to believe me and stood by in shock. Sometimes when my mother finally listens to me, she actually understands, and realizes I have made my decision and she should just support me. This was not one of those times. I ignored her yelling and took my letter from the owl's beak. The text on the front of the package was calm and comforting in its soft blue Calibri font. The package inside described several aspects of the school and a list of items to bring. This amazing unknown magical school delivers pamphlets with owls?
When my mother finally calmed down about my decision to become a witch I was packed and had all my luggage piled in the back of the pickup truck. I was headed to the airport to catch a 10pm flight to Crescent Valley, Nevada to begin college, umm my education… or training (whatever you call it.) My mother walked me to the door of the car, and right before I slammed it shut she muttered goodbye, and I stopped. I looked up at her and realized that I would look just like her in twenty years. Tall, thin and narrow faced; with fading freckles still dark enough to see against pale skin and light blue aged eyes. This was my mother; I look like her, feel like her and came from her body. Why did I feel no allegiance?
My father dropped me off at the airport, and I kissed him goodbye. I always loved my father. Though I was my mother physically I was my father emotionally, and intellectually. He always had a book in his hand, he was calm and collected, and more than anything he loved unconditionally. When I said goodbye to him I meant it and I prayed like the neochristian I am; eyes-open, standing-up, and iPod-playing. I prayed that I would have fun in this new life of mine, and I prayed for his life too. I said goodbye to all the people I cared about, and left the place I had always known as I walked onto the plane.