“Only the best and brightest for my Declan, a young witch-in-training,” the woman next to him says.
“Mother, please,” he says with a whine. After raising his chin, he continues, “I assume you’re all incredibly powerful witches in your own right?”
“I’m okay,” an Asian dude replies with a shrug.
“Well, that competency test looked supremely easy,” Declan says. “In one week’s time, I’ll be the newest witch recruit. The rest of you will make it if you’re…more than okay.” He fixes his gaze on the two Asian dudes, brothers presumably, and they shrug.
I know I’m not the friendliest turtle in the pond, but I’ll never be as arrogant as this guy.
“And if not, there’s always next quarter,” Declan says, biting into his pizza.
“Oh, but I do so hope to get in this one,” the blonde girl remarks, pushing up her glasses. “I’ve been studying all the types of spells.” She turns to Loxley, who’s sitting next to her. “What kind of witch are you?”
Loxley opens his mouth, but no words come out. He seems shocked to be put on the spot, and a pang of sympathy echoes through my heart. If I don’t like him, why do I feel so bad that he’s embarrassing himself?
“He’s a great one!” Lisbeth says. “You young mages should just focus on yourselves. Practice with your coven because next week will creep up on you just like that!”
“Oh, I don’t have a coven!” the girl says.
“Neither do I, but I get by.” One of the two brothers waves and says, “I’m a half-decent protection witch. I’m Shugo, by the way.”
“Kenta,” the other brother adds. “I’m here for moral support for my brother, but with someone like you joining, maybe I will too.”
The girl blushes and pushes up her glasses. “I’m Sally.” She looks at me and smiles. “And you?”
“I’m Gordy. And I wish you all the best of luck. We could all use it.”
“Don’t need it,” Declan says with his chin held high.
“You tell them, son!”
“Mom,” he whines again. The table returns to a calm discussion while dining. I quietly take in the scene: Declan is arrogant and all but berates his mom, not realizing how lucky he is to have a living parent. Lisbeth is engrossed in conversation with Kai and Seb to my right. Kenta unashamedly flirts with Sally, who seems to love it.
And Loxley looks like he hates it here. I understand why I avoid social situations?my giant shell and tail could land me kidnapped as a science experiment?but why does Loxley? He’s about my age, and he’s an able-bodied, good-looking White man; the world is his oyster.
But he seems not to want to make friends either. He wasn’t the best at talking during the ill-fated coven barbecue. Maybe he has social anxiety. That must suck. If someone as traditionally handsome as him can’t make friends, there’s really no hope for a literal shifter like me.
Wait, why are my thoughts consumed with empathy for him? The guy believes I’m his pet. Shaking my head, I return my attention to my food.
Five minutes later, I’m washing my hands in the cafeteria’s public restroom. I take in my facial features in the mirror. As I gaze at the stubble on my chin, I recall wanting so badly to be human all the time as a youth. Kai’s glamour is working flawlessly, but I learned a long time ago to accept that I’m a turtle beast man, through and through. The Gordy Lee with goldenrod skin and human appendages is only me a fraction of the time.
I’m the mystical Ruby Turtle, but I can’t channel enough magic to blend in with society; spellcasting so far has been nothing but trouble.
The slam of the restroom door opening breaks me out of my thoughts. Like a hurricane, Loxley barges in and stridesstraight for the far window. He doesn’t go into a stall or to the sink, but instead, leans his head on the tiled wall. In an already overwhelming day, this is the most bizarre turn of events.
Try as I might, I can’t stop staring at him. He’s taking deep breaths, each slower than the last. Okay, maybe he has severe anxiety? I should walk away, give him space. We’re the only ones in this massive men’s room, and he probably wants his solitude.
Instead, I’m pulled to him, the guy I certifiably don’t like. I’m a moth to his flame, or I guess, a turtle to his flame, or something.
“Loxley?”
He startles and spins around, his face an expression of pure shock. “Hey, whoa, I didn’t mean to…” I lift up my hands, unsure of how to end that sentence. “You okay?”
He nods quickly, and I remember that he’s not much of a talker. When I turn back to the mirror, I take in his reflection. I don’t miss the way he wipes his forehead and smooths out his sweater. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was self-conscious about his looks. But he’s trim and has a pretty face, and the only other person in here is me. He definitely isn’t trying to impress the grumpy turtle who yelled at him in front of everyone.
“Right. Well, I’m gonna…” I point behind me, and he catches my gaze. Logically, I know I should leave. He’s not my friend, I don’t want him to be. Still, every cell in my body is begging me to stay, to hear him out.
What is wrong with me? My inner turtle has never betrayed me like this, forcing me in place when I want to leave.
