"I'm Willow, by the way," the redhead said as they walked out of the dorm building together. Tara had already forgotten which building it was, and as they exited, it took her a moment to place where on campus they were. The sign outside read "Stevenson Hall," but nothing looked familiar.
"Tara," Tara replied, still sweeping her gaze across the campus lawn, trying to figure out if she had ever passed this way before. She admittedly hadn't been paying much attention as she had walked from her dorm room to the library for study group, but it still seemed bizarre that she would end up walking past the library to a random dorm building and then climbing the stairs to the second floor, all just to knock on a stranger's door. Even a nice stranger. Even a nice, cute female stranger about her age. Even a nice, cute female stranger about her age who would touch her arm and whose room smelled faintly of candle smoke and magical herbs.
"So are you new here?" The redhead- Willow- asked her. Tara gave a slight nod, returning her focus to her new acquaintance.
"Yeah. I-I mean, I'm a freshman. So kinda new." She shrugged self-consciously. "But I've m-mostly been okay finding my way around. I mean, I've n-never knocked on someone's dorm room door while looking for the library." She attempted a weak smile, watching Willow out of the corner of her eye. She didn't want Willow to think she was stupid. People already assumed that enough because of her stutter. Getting hopelessly lost on a campus with barely two dozen buildings wouldn't be a strong recommendation for her intelligence. "I don't even remember walking there. It was like… like suddenly I was just there. Poof. Like magic."
Willow's brow furrowed.
"Like magic," she echoed. Tara kept a subtle eye on her reaction, but the redhead moved on quickly. "It happens. I mean, you get lost in thought and then you end up walking somewhere you weren't planning to. Like across campus." Willow blushed slightly. "Or in front of a car."
The last part was muttered, and Tara wasn't sure if she was supposed to have heard it, but she raised an eyebrow anyway in silent question. Willow gave a self-deprecating laugh and started to explain.
"Yesterday. I was walking in town and thinking about… things. Things that have happened lately. And I forgot to look before crossing the street. It was dumb." She shook her head, apparently embarrassed to admit it. "So at least you didn't do that."
Tara frowned. She had only just met Willow, but the thought of her walking in front of a car made her shiver involuntarily, something inside of her squeezing like a vise.
"Well I'm glad you're okay," she said, with a voice much softer than she had intended, almost to the point of being overly familiar. Regardless, Willow gave her a grateful smile.
"Thanks. Me too, I think."
Tara almost questioned her about the 'I think,' but they definitely didn't know each other well enough for that yet. Even though she had only met Willow today, she could see the lingering sadness around her green eyes, bleeding through into her aura, weighing her down. She imagined it had something to do with the "things that have happened lately" and the split-second crushed look that had appeared on Willow's face when she answered the door and saw Tara there.
"There's the library," she said instead, as the building came into view.
"Yep," Willow agreed. "It's probably my favorite building on campus. I mean, all those books… That knowledge and history…" She blushed again. "I mean, that probably sounds really nerdy."
Tara shrugged.
"If it is, then I m-must be really nerdy, too. Because I love it, too. Their r-rare book collection is… um… really impressive."
Willow's featured lifted into a smile, her eyes brightening.
"See, that's what I like about college. More people actually care about learning and stuff. Not like high school." Her hands swung into motion, adding emphasis as she perked up.
"Makes sense to me," Tara agreed. "I mean, if you're p-paying all this money to s-study something for four years, you'd b-better care about it."
Willow nodded vigorously.
"Exactly! See, you get it. I don't think my friends see it that way." She sounded almost hurt by that fact.
"I guess… um… different p-people are here for different reasons."
(Like running away from their family. Or spiraling into grief from their mother's death. Or needing to experience a real life while they still have the chance, even if it turns out to just be for a few short years. Or running away from a bleak, terrible future. Or wanting a chance to be liked or even loved by someone for the first time in their life.)
"Yeah, I guess." Willow seemed to give this some thought as they took the last few steps to the huge library doors.
"Well… we're here," Tara said, trying to hide her disappointment. She had enjoyed meeting Willow, and wished that they had more time to talk. Maybe she could ask her if she wanted to grab coffee (although Tara hated coffee) or lunch (although she had just eaten lunch). "Um… thanks for w-walking with me. Really. I… uh… I owe you."
"Don't worry about it. It's fine. I like coming here. Like I said, favorite building." Willow shrugged awkwardly, but still gave a reassuring smile.
"Yeah." Tara hesitated, mind still racing for some reason to stay in Willow's presence. But after several seconds of pregnant silence, she was forced to give up, blushing. "Um… I guess I'll s-see you around, then? Maybe?"
"Probably. It's a small campus. And we're in the same year." Willow smiled sheepishly. "Well, I'm sure you were coming here for a reason, so I guess I'll let you get to it."
"Okay. Bye, Willow. It was nice m-meeting you."
"You too. See you around."
As Willow departed, taking a few steps backwards before turning away, Tara felt a pang of disappointment that Willow hadn't said her name— 'You too, Tara.' or 'See you around, Tara.' Maybe she had already forgotten it. That was a shame. She seemed sweet. Not everyone would walk a bemused stranger halfway across campus so they didn't get lost.
Turning her attention back to the task at hand, Tara gave a small sigh and checked her watch. She was at least ten minutes late to her study group. She pulled open the heavy wooden doors and slipped inside.
Her group had taken over a table in the corner, with books and notebooks and writing implements covering almost every inch of its scarred wooden surface. All the chairs were taken. Tara lowered her head and tried to convince herself not to just leave. She reminded herself that they had a test coming up, and she could really use the study time. College was a lot harder than she had expected, and she was quickly realizing how poorly her underfunded rural high school had prepared her for it. Besides, she would never make any friends if she didn't put in the effort of meeting people.
Taking several deep breaths and begging her voice to be steady, she crossed the remaining distance to the table and cleared her throat awkwardly.
"S-sorry I'm late. I, um… I g-guess I got… l-lost. On my way here." So much for her voice being steady. She closed her teeth over her tongue to punish it.
"It's fine. We only started a few minutes ago," one of the boys said without looking up from his notes. Tara relaxed minutely and looked around for a spare chair. After a moment of searching, she dragged one over from another table, setting it between two of the least-intimidating members of the table, who both scooted reluctantly in either direction. The space they left for her was small, but she was grateful that they were letting her in at all.
That gratitude faded almost immediately as the girl on her left smirked at her.
"How'd you get lost on this campus? The library is literally in the center of everything." It was a hard call whether the girl was attempting a poorly executed friendly joke or a sideways insult. Regardless, Tara ducked her head until her hair partially shielded her face.
"I-I-I guess I j-just…" Her voice stuck in her throat, her mouth moving uselessly, and before she could form words to defend herself, someone else joined in.
"Yeah, there's almost nowhere on campus where you can't see the library. It would take some serious effort and true talent to get lost looking for it," he laughed. Tara flinched. He could have meant it as good-natured ribbing, but she didn't know any of them that well, and experience had taught her that if it sounds like an insult and stings like an insult, it's probably an insult. Anxiety rising hot and cold in her chest, she stole a glance up at the group. Most of them were looking at her now, waiting to see if she would stand up for herself.
"I-I-I g-guess I w-w-wasn't paying much attention. Or s-something. S-s-sorry."
The guy at the head of the table waved his hand dismissively, flipping through one of the books on the table.
"Come on, guys. Focus. We've got to get started." He began to talk about the homework, gesturing towards the papers on the table. Tara pulled out her notes and settled them on her lap. There wasn't much room on the table for them, and this way she could hunch protectively over them, blocking her teasing classmates from her view— and vice-versa.
As the group talked around her, mostly ignoring her (thank the gods), she started to get the feeling that their understanding of the material might be even worse than her own. As they went over the bare basics of their professor's last lecture, she amused herself by doodling in the margins with her favorite pen. It was a fountain pen that her mother had given her on her first day of her freshman year of high school, and she considered it one of her greatest treasures. It was a deep green that made her think of old-growth forests, and it was decorated with gold inlay that reminded Tara equal parts of leafy vines and Celtic symbols.
Once all the margins of her notes were filled with looping patterns and illuminated letters, she surreptitiously pulled a dollar bill out of her pocket. She had gotten it as change with her lunch but was reluctant to spend it. One of the dollar's previous owners had crudely but viciously scribbled the word BITCH across it with a ballpoint pen. She had toyed with the idea of "fixing" it, and she seemed to have the time now. She set her pen down on the table, deeming it not the right tool for the task, and instead reached into her messenger bag for a marker pen with a wider calligraphic tip.
By the time the study group was wrapping up, Tara had turned the ugly profanity into a lovely, flowing cursive script of the word WITCH, and below, she had amended it with a tiny, ultra-fine-tipped "Those who don't believe in magic will never find it." She felt better about that, at least. As people around her packed up, she blew on it lightly to dry the ink and tucked it back into her pocket. No one spoke to her as they left, but she hadn't expected them to. She began packing her notes back into her messenger bag when she realized her prized fountain pen had disappeared. A surge of adrenaline sent her jumping to her feet, but the boy and girl who had been sitting next to her were long gone. She wasn't even sure if she knew their names.
She pulled her messenger back out and set it on her chair, methodically emptying it of its contents— two textbooks, three notebooks, a paperback novel, and her family's Book of Shadows, entitled A Compendium of Witchcraft (which she carefully set underneath the chair to prevent strange questions from her remaining classmates). She checked all the pockets and the corners of the bag's interior where small items sometimes got trapped, but it did her no good. The pen was gone. Her mother's pen was gone.
She felt her eyes watering, but forced herself to stop. It wasn't really lost yet. Probably one of the people next to her had picked it up by accident. She could ask them in next week's class and they could return it to her, unharmed. It couldn't have gone far. And no matter how indifferent her peers were to her, surely they wouldn't steal an obviously important pen in front of a dozen other people. She could tell them it was one of the last reminders she had of her late mother, and that she really, really wanted it back. It was probably just an accident. It wasn't worth crying about. Yet.
Shaking her head at the day she was having, she packed the two textbooks, three notebooks, novel, and various writing implements back into her messenger bag and made a beeline for the door. All she wanted now was to go home, forget about the study group, and mentally replay her encounter with Willow on a loop for the rest of the day.
