chyp: Thanx, as usual.
Matthew sat diligently in his room, critiquing his third rough draft. As an English major, he tended to try and perfect any type of writing assignment given to him. On the weekends, when his brothers were away doing whatever, he spent time studying and keeping up with his school work. Such days kept him calm and relaxed; they made him feel in his element. Without the distractions of James and Wesley, he was able to do just about anything.
He worked so hard on his assignments mainly because he enjoyed writing critical analyses on various topics. Furthermore, not only the weekends, but any quiet time allowed him to just keep up with the rest of his classmates, given his particular line of work. As one third of a trio of the world's most powerful witches, much of his time was devoted to fighting various forces of evil that threatened not only him and his brothers, but the rest of humanity as well.
The weather outside was brisk; Februarys tended to be that way in Atlanta. The sun stayed just behind the clouds, breaking through every now and then to shine a little light on an otherwise mundane weekend. A slight breeze permeated the air; leaves rustled and trees swayed every so gently. It was overall a nice winter day in Atlanta.
Matthew opened his second red pen; he had worn out the first one. As time passed his paper grew redder and redder as if he was using the paper to bandage a wound. His work was abruptly cut off by the telephone. He gave the receiver an annoyed look and answered it hesitantly.
"Hello?" Matthew said, recomposing himself.
"Hello yourself," the other end responded.
"Ariana," Matthew said, smiling. "You're a welcome break."
"From what?" she asked.
"I'm just here working on school stuff…finally," Matthew said, accentuating that last word.
"Finally?" Ariana asked, curious. "Isn't that what you're always doing?"
"Well, yeah," Matthew quickly lied, catching himself. "I meant, never mind. What's up with you?"
"I just got two tickets to the symphony for tonight," she announced. "Don't make me take a friend."
"The Atlanta Symphony Orchestra?" Matthew asked. "You mean the one that's sold out because Andrea Bocelli's gonna be there? How'd you get tickets to that?"
"I got connections," Ariana said slyly. "I take it you'd like to go, being the art connoisseur that I know you are?"
"I'd love to," Matthew said, "and why don't we have dinner around the area before, say around seven. It'll be the perfect evening out with the perfect girl."
"I wouldn't say perfect…" Ariana began before an awkward sounding click interrupted her.
"Sorry," Matthew said, "call waiting. Hold on for a minute. Hello?"
"Hey, you," a voice answered on the other side.
"Stephanie," Matthew said calmly, but feeling slightly apprehensive.
"Did I catch you at a bad time?" she asked.
"No," Matthew lied. "Now's perfect. How's my girl?"
"How's your book coming along?" James asked as he slammed the racquetball into the wall with a crushing blow. "Got any good ideas yet?"
"I keep trying," Wesley panted as he desperately dove for the coveted blue rubber ball. "Every time I come up with an idea, it turns out to be stupid."
"That's my brother," James said, cleverly aiming the ball into a corner where it would be most difficult to retrieve.
Wesley and James decided to spend this weekend – their weekends tended to be anything but free – enjoying a game of racquetball. Neither one of them was an expert by any means, but the two shared an athletic bond that they called 'sports stuff.' Wesley once explained it as being a time when they were both able to manage their competitive streaks as well as their brotherly bonds. He claimed that the two of them had had some of their best conversations over a game of something or other. While Wesley almost always lost, though, it never really mattered to him because he knew that there were more important things.
Aside from being college students, James and Wesley happened to be Matthew's brothers, and the remaining two-thirds of the Complete, known as the most powerful witches in history. Each brother possessed a certain unique power used to help them fight evil and keep the world safe from countless demons, warlocks, and other beings that threatened humanity on a regular basis. Since becoming witches merely 18 months ago, their lives had changed drastically from regular to anything but. Most of their time became dedicated to vanquishing demons or protecting innocent people or keeping their secret well hidden. They hardly had time for school anymore.
But now, the two played racquetball in the Emory University athletic building, known to all the students and faculty as Woodruff Hall. Inside were many eclectic facilities, ranging from racquetball courts to dance rooms to basketball gyms to even aerobics rooms. The best thing about Woodruff Hall was that it was free to all the students of any division of Emory University, even the forty mile away Oxford College students. James and Wesley's other brother, Matthew, also shared their love of sports, but of the three, Matthew proved to be the most balanced and level-headed, somehow always knowing when to work and when to play. Unfortunately, from his brothers' point of view, he spent too much time working and not enough playing.
"Funny," Wesley continued as he missed the ball completely. "My serve."
"Why don't you try writing about something you really know about," James suggested. "I'm sure you have a lot of ideas in that head of yours."
"That's the problem," Wesley claimed, gently serving the ball into the wall, "I have too many ideas. I can't seem to put them in order."
"Well it's not like you're on a deadline," James said. "If you take your time, your ideas will come to you better. That's your problem; you always try to speed through things just to get them done."
"How do you know that?" Wesley asked, hitting the ball high up into the wall so that it bounced off the ceiling.
"I'm the oldest," James said, beaming. "I know everything."
"Funny," Wesley said, "usually you have this look like your brain's about to collapse in on itself. You must obviously be in a state of eternal enlightenment then."
"Funny," James quipped as he reached for the ball, but missed miserably, eliciting a laugh from Wesley. "My serve."
Wesley noticed something different in James eyes the moment he announced that it was his turn to serve the ball. It was something he knew was coming, but never expected. Then again, this was James, possibly the world's most competitively proud person. In their court, which was blocked from public viewing by opaque walls, anything was possible, and Wesley knew that quite well.
James raised the ball above his head and whacked it perfectly with his racquet, sending it careening toward the wall. Wesley watched it carefully, almost anticipating its next move. He suddenly took his racquet to the right, but changed to the left at the last possible minute. His anticipation paid off; the little blue ball had suddenly jolted from Wesley's right side to his left, as if some invisible force abruptly changed its direction. Wesley had played enough games with his oldest brother to know that sooner or later, magic would intertwine itself in with the game. With James' power of telekinesis, the ability to move things with his mind, Wesley knew that he was in for a rough game; James never let anyone stop until the game was over.
By changing sides at the last minute, Wesley managed to return the ball to the wall, but just barely. The result was a weak blow that lobbed the ball nicely toward the center of the wall, setting James up for a potential point. James dashed at the blue ball, throwing his weight behind the racquet as he prepared to win the point. Just before, though, the ball suddenly stopped in midair, throwing James off his balance and tumbling to the ground. The ball resumed moving and successfully landed on James' head.
"A miraculous comeback," Wesley joked, patting his brother on the head. "Let's get something to eat."
"No fair," James said, brushing himself off.
"It never is," Wesley said, holding the door for James, "especially when you're so predictable. Anyway, I'm hungry. Let's go."