Disclaimer: I don't own TVD.
Thanks again for all the faves, follows, and reviews. I'm glad you're all enjoying my work. But seriously, I don't understand why chapter 4 has more views than 1, 2, and 3. Do people just skip some of the chapters?
Once again, these first few chapters will be set up to meet all the characters. I also want to show the relationships between Phoebe and other characters who will be close to her like her siblings and Jenna and the others in the Mystic Falls gang.
Leave a review.
Please Enjoy.
"You can never be overdressed and overeducated." - Oscar Wilde
Ch. 5 - Whitmore
September 1995
Ria clung to me in tears as I prepared to leave the house for Whitmore. I think she thought that I was never coming back. I pulled her off of me and wiped her eyes with my handkerchief. "Ria, don't cry. I'll come back soon. On Thursday. I promise. Remember we're witches so we have to be strong." Yes, Kelly and granny were standing right beside me at the front door. They barely registered it as I had been talking about being a witch since I could talk. They most likely thought it was just my obsession so they left me be. "Did you remember what I told you?"
"I have to practice the spells and memorize them," Ria replied. Over the past month, I had been channeling magic with Ria every other day. We mostly did it as a bonding game, but she didn't understand the power she has inside. While I was going to be living at Whitmore, I didn't want her channeling magic so I gave her a simple water spell to memorize.
No fire spells. When she gains some control over her magic, I didn't want her to accidentally burn the house down.
When she finally awakens her power, she will already have several spells memorized to practice.
"And?"
"My name is Victoria," she raised her chin slightly and straightened her back as she looked up at me. "It is the name of the Roman Goddess of Victory. Only mommy, and granny, and Matty can call me Ria. Everyone else must show respect and call me Victoria unless I say otherwise." I held my laugh when she tried to be haughty while her eyes were still red from crying just a few seconds before. If my hand could reach, I would have patted myself on the back. I taught her so well. I really didn't want to ever hear that nickname "Vicki" in this life. Or the next.
"Good."
I hugged granny and kissed Matty goodbye before turning back to the car. Kelly and I talked in the car on our way to Whitmore. She had gotten the job at the hair salon and finally quit working at the Grill as she was paid more and received better tips styling hair.
"Did you bring your hair products?"
"Yes," I replied. Being biracial in a majority white small southern town, Kelly and I got a lot of side-eyes whenever we went out together. I take most after my father, being on the darker side of the spectrum. Strangely enough, their eyes don't bother me much. It just gives me one more reason to dislike the town, trying to seem all-inclusive and progressive when they're really prejudiced and conservative.
Kelly and granny never made me feel any different about my skin color. Kelly bought separate hair products for my hair type. I found books on raising biracial children in her room. She was the best mother I could ever ask for.
We arrived at Whitmore, passing through the main campus to find a separate compound. Many young children and teens and their parents were already disembarking when we arrived. Staff working for the college or the program acted as guides for the parents and children. Kelly took me to my room, where we set up my bed and my closet. Before leaving she gifted me with a blue teddy that matched the one I had at home.
I hugged her before watching her leave from my window.
The program was to study the different types of intelligence all the participants exhibited. The program was actually free so the Donovans didn't have to stretch their finances any further. As a participant, I would also receive a stipend at the end of the year, every year I participated in the program. The only thing they wanted to do was study my brain. I wasn't gonna say no.
All eyes were on me the next morning when I, a 5-year-old, showed up for a college-level calculus course. I was the youngest in the program. Of course, I had already gone through high school in my previous life, so I tested out of school grade math and science. The same thing happened again in the chemistry class. Call me vain, but I really reveled in the gawking faces the looks of my fellow participants and the professors whenever they saw me.
I had no shame in my intelligence because all of it was due to my hard work. I was gifted by the gods with a memory of my past life, but I was the one who worked hard in school to learn math and science and languages I learned while I was Medea Lowen. I worked hard for 25 years in my previous life, and I have no shame in reaping the rewards in this new life as Phoebe Donovan.
After my morning classes came lunch before I went to the research laboratory. There were a lot of other participants with me lined up for the CT and MRI. They put something called a brain-machine interface on my head, which looked more like a stupid hat with a bunch of colorful wires coming out of it. The cap would monitor my brain activities while I took various tests on the computer.
As it turns out, my amygdala and hippocampus -the part of the brain responsible for conscious memory- were bigger than the average person. This made it easier for me to remember things I've seen or learned. On the other hand, my brain still had the chemistry of a 5-year-old. I was short-tempered and had a short attention span.
Sometimes the tests became too boring and tedious and I just wanted to return to my room. It was like a switch flipped in my head and I couldn't help myself. I was bored. I had been going to classes all morning, getting poked and prodded like a guinea pig. I needed my midday nap.
As life went on at Whitmore, I decided I needed something new to do. As I previously made a list of things I needed to accomplish, I decided to go into one of the clubs at the college. I wanted to join a sport since my heart could never handle extreme physical activities in my past life.
One afternoon after the experiments, I went to the gymnasium with a complete application and a chaperone. The girls on the mat were rowdy as I entered, stretching while they were in the midst of various conversations. I made my way to the far end of the room, where a man with a whistle stood with a clipboard.
I reached up and tapped him on the elbow. "Excuse me?" He turned to his left to look, but his eyes passed right over my head. He raised a brow when he saw me holding out an application to him. "I would like to join the gymnastics team, please."
By now, the entire gym was silent and I felt the eyes of the girls on me. A woman in a tracksuit came to join the man, but I mostly ignored her, never letting my eyes leave the man. He was still shocked silent but took the application nonetheless. Maybe he didn't want to judge me by my height, but he and the woman scrutinized my application.
"Aren't you a little young to be in college?" said the woman.
"Yes, yes I am." I always wanted to say that. "But, this team is not just for Whitmore college students. I know you just have a contract to use their gymnasium. And your team has no minimum age. The only thing it said is that anyone under the age of 18 had to have a parent or guardian's signature." I pointed to the chaperone behind me. "Miss Baldwin is my guardian at Whitmore and my mother has already signed the application."
There was a long, deafening silence in the gym as the athletes observed the interactions between me, the 5-year-old midget with a smart mouth, and their flabbergasted coaches. "W- well, ok. But we'll need your mom to come down to verify everything first."
"My mom will come to pick me up this Thursday. Is that acceptable?"
"Y- yea you're good."
And with that, the next Monday, I was a member of the gymnastics team. Of course, once again, I was the youngest person there. I was already flexible due to my young age and my yoga.
The other members of the team quickly got over their shock and took me under their wings. They helped me learn the routines, demonstrating and explaining the exercises to me. They sometimes became overprotective, hovering over me like mother hens to make sure I didn't hurt myself.
Frankly, joining the gymnastics team was probably the best decision I made. I instantly clicked with the older teenage girls who were in the club than the younger ones. My mental age was closer to the older teens and young adults, so I related to them better than I did with the girls who were closer to my physical age.
Damn, it's hard being a witch when you have to do everything by yourself. I didn't have a witch family so no teacher and no grimoires. I had to come up with my own spells, using trial and error to find the ones that worked best for me. While I was at a roadblock, I decided to change course. Potions.
I had bought a chemistry set from the school store and set up a makeshift lab in the corner of my room. I experimented with different herbal mixtures and concoctions based on the herbs' natural properties. Then, I infused the mixture with magic to enhance their natural properties.
With all the stretching and the straining my muscles went through in gymnastics, I often came home tired and sore. My muscles would ache and I wouldn't be able to walk in the mornings. I used a mixture of yarrow and cinquefoil for a quick physical recovery potion. With magic added to the natural remedy, the potion worked almost instantaneously. I drank it after every gym session just before bed so as to not become overly reliant on the potion.
I looked more like a scientist than a witch, weighing specific amounts of herbs and liquids and mixing them in beakers and flasks. In a vintage journal, I meticulously recorded the measurements and requirements for each potion I created. I wrote the recipes of the portions, wrote and drew down all the herbs I knew of, and all the spells to enhance the potions. Even the failures were in my journal.
"Not exactly Charmed potions that make demons go poof, but acceptable," I whispered to myself as I flipped through my journal. Wait, why did I say that? What's Charmed?
I focused on the words. Charmed. I know that word from somewhere. I know it's something that has to do with magic. Three witches who can also make potions. But, the only witches I knew of were the Bennett witches. The more I focused, the more my mind seemed to push back.
Panic set in as my breathing grew labored. My memory. Keywords formed into my head. Something was happening to my memories. Memories of my past life. Only vague snippets came to me. They came to me unconsciously, randomly, but they never lingered for more than a moment.
I paced around my room, rummaging through my bookshelf. I needed to check my journals, but I never brought them with me to Whitmore. I remember I wrote something in my diary. My first diary entry was about the fading memories. I got a new diary every year and my old diary was back at home in my hiding place in the floor of my bedroom.
I inhaled deeply and exhaled. I breathed in and out, calming myself before taking a seat on the floor to meditate. The candles around me flared, growing and receding with every breath I took. "Okay. Stay calm. I have nothing to fear. I can check the journals when I get home."
I remained in that position, simply feeling my magic around me, reciting the spells. Whenever I began to panic, it became a habit to practice magic. Magic empowered me. It made me strong. The sense of danger and foreboding and anxiety left me as I watched the effects my magic had on the world.
"Roi tou nerou, fysalida nerou. Roi tou nerou, fysalida nerou." I repeated the spell, watching as the water gathered in a ball in my hand. I visualized my favorite flower, a camellia as I focused on changing the shape of the water. Slowly, one by one, the ball of water began to peel away like the petals of a flower blooming in my hand. The pointed petals opened around the center bud.
A laugh escaped my lips as I observed the water in my hand turn into the shape of my favorite flower. This is why I love magic. My mood instantly lifted as my magic created the most beautiful things that I loved. Magic brought me power, but it also brought me joy. I inhaled deeply once more, feeling relieved as I finished the spell.
"Nero stamata, anemoi boreas anapnefste kai fysixte."
The water camellia became a glass camellia as it froze.
I went to bed happier than I had been in a long time with two new spells added to my growing grimoire.
A new year came and went and I returned to Whitmore. Back to the classes, back to the experiments, back to the gymnastics. When I entered the gym, I was faced with a familiar scene where the gymnasts were stretching and talking while watching the coaches talk to a young girl with an application in her hand. I wasn't the main character this time.
"What's going on?" I asked Laura.
"You started a trend of toddlers handing gymnastics applications to the coach," she replied.
"Well, it's not my fault the coach never changed the requirements," I said. I placed my duffle down before approaching the office, to see a tall man sitting with a young blonde girl talking to the coaches. As I approached, I recognized the man and the girl. "Mr. Forbes?"
Bill Forbes and Caroline were the ones sitting with my coach talking about Caroline joining the junior gymnast program. "Phoebe." Caroline got off the chair and ran up to hug me.
"Hey, Care, you want to be a gymnast?"
"She saw the Olympics last year and has been complaining about it since," said Bill.
"Hello, Mr. Forbes."
"Hello, Phoebe."
Caroline looked at me, her big blue eyes brilliant as she looked at me batting her eyelashes. Caroline had a way of getting what she wanted, especially whenever she batted her eyelashes. Her chubby cheeks only made my heart melt more as I looked at her. "If the coach agrees to allow Caroline to join the team, I can look after her. I'm the lead in the junior gymnastics team. My mom can drop her off at home on Thursday afternoons too, if that's alright with you."
Bill looked warmly at Caroline while I still had my arms wrapped around her. "I don't see why not."
"Yay!" Caroline cheered.
"You know, this means you're not the youngest to ever join the team anymore," said the coach.
I raised my head as I said, "I'm still the first." I looked down at Caroline. "I don't mind giving Care my crown." I grabbed Caroline's hand, pulling her toward the other gymnasts. "Come on, Care. Meet my friends."
September 12, 1997
Dear Diary,
Meeting Caroline today, I had a memory resurface of Caroline on the show. Even at such a young age, I can see the woman she'll grow up to be. A kind, hard-working, and confident woman who goes after what she wants. She almost never takes no for an answer and the girls already love her. She leaves a lasting impression whenever she steps into a room. Maybe she was just born that way.
I wanted to have a closer relationship with her, as she was one of my favorite characters on TVD, but I don't go to Mystic Falls grade school so I was never able to get close to them. Maybe I also didn't try enough. Being with children can be so boring that sometimes it makes me want to rip my hair out.
Now that Caroline has joined the junior gymnastics team, I have more opportunities to become friends with her and influence her. Although, I don't think I can keep her away from Elena. They're already friends, along with Bonnie and Tyler. My siblings have also gotten close to the doppelganger since they all go to school together. This is why I hate small towns.
I'm thinking of teaching her magic now. She's more mature than Ria was at her age. I think she can keep the secret.
Whitmore wasn't all sunshine and rainbows. Twice a week, I pass the front of Whitmore House, sitting on the bench just looking at it, thinking about all the tortures Enzo must be going through at that moment. I promised myself I was going to save him.
But that was easier said than done. I needed to find a way to get in and out of Whitmore House without drawing attention. It would have to be at night and I would need a spell to create a daylight ring for Enzo. Even if I do make the ring, it's my first time and the spell is untested. I won't know if it works until he's wearing it. I can only use my gut feeling. I've used hundreds of dollars on lapis lazuli, making multiple rings until I finally made one I was satisfied with.
I saw Enzo last night. With Matt and Ria's help, I used a water mirror spell that allowed me to see places far away. For hours, I couldn't take my eyes off him. I watched him as he slept in his cell. My heart clenched as I looked around the room with minimum accommodations. I couldn't hold my tears back as I wanted to touch him. I wanted to comfort him. I wanted to tell him and show him that he wasn't alone.
The only times I can stand to see him is during the night because I can't. I just can't see him during the day. I can't see what they're doing to him. I wouldn't be able to handle it. The only thing I can do is make sure he gets out soon, rather than in a decade from now.
Okay. I know it may be stereotypical to make Phoebe biracial and a witch since most people of color in TVD are witches, but I am black and this is sort of a self-insert OC so I can do whatever I want with my character. And I found many black actresses I love and I would like to see more on the small screen that I would really love to see them play this character on the screen.
Spells: Roi tou nerou, fysalida nerou. Roi tou nerou, fysalida nerou (water flow, water bubble). nero stamata, anemoi boreas anapnefste kai fysixte (water still, north wind Boreas breathe and blow).
Note: Phoebe will add a god's name to a spell, as though saying a prayer. Anemoi Boreas is the North Wind Boreas. He's known to be temperamental and brings the cold winds of winter. There are three more wind gods in response to the cardinal directions. We'll see what they do.
Once again, I don't speak Greek. If you have a problem with my spells, make your own suggestions in the review box.
I didn't want Phoebe to be going to grade school since she's mentally 33 years old. Out of the Donovan house, outside of Mystic Falls, as a young "genius" she has more autonomy and freedom. I also wanted her to have a way to passively make money and be closer to Enzo. So, the program at Whitmore was the way to do that. It's not too far from Mystic Falls, but it's not Mystic Falls. Seriously, the more I think about it, the more I hate that town.
Anyway thanks for reading. Please leave a review. I really want to know what you think about the story so far and what suggestions you have that could make it better. So far, we're still in setup. We're learning more about Phoebe, her life, her relationships, and her magic so she can look badass later when she's kicking ass and taking names.
All the love, Jamie.
