Werifesteria

•|| nine ||•

Logan found himself especially nervous for school the next day. He had wanted to wear nice clothes, but Penny told him to just be himself. So, he wore his bright red sweatshirt again, and a pair of jeans.

He hated his glasses, but Penny made him bring those, too, though he just shoved them in his sweatshirt pocket. Did Jordyn have glasses? For some reason, he couldn't remember. She probably did. For some reason, everyone at his school was getting class. About three quarters of his school wore them, and half of the students who had them didn't even need them to see.

"Trends" were something that Logan still didn't understand.

But he arrived at school, dropped off by Penny in her old blue Jeep, and he walked through the halls with his head held high. He got the usual stares, but, like every day, he ignored them.

A few people called out to him their usual jeers. "There goes the lord of the nerds!" "Off to Wonderland again, Taylor?" "Where's your broom, freak?"

That last one just made him snicker. For some reason, within the last year, people had started to use insults related to magic—people called girls they didn't like "witches" and boys they didn't like "warlocks." Despite the popularity of the fantasy series Harry Potter, kids were suddenly obsessed with rooting out people who might've been working with the devil.

It was the Salem Witch Trials all over again. This time, "witches" and "warlocks" were "executed" in the lunchroom, usually by the popular kids. "Execution" typically consisted of having all sorts of gross food poured on your head.

Luckily, Logan was scary enough that nobody dared try to "execute" him. And the term "warlock" made him feel powerful—like he was something to be feared, to cower under.

So as the taunts continued, he simply lifted his chin and continued walking, even letting a small smile slip past. Yeah, I'm a warlock, and if you don't get out of my way I'll blast you into next week, he thought.

"Why are you smiling?"

Logan turned around at the voice. His entire body slumped when he saw Donald standing there, leaning against his locker, his eyebrows creased in confusion.

"Why can't I smile?" Logan asked, trying not to let his disappointment and impatience show. He hated talking to Donald and wished the kid would just leave him alone. "You got a problem, Donald?" Today he would not be dealing with that obnoxious idiot. He had more important issues, like Ryder Hemingway, and Jordyn Wilder. Donald Eckerman could wait.

Donald sniffed, not looking as amused as he usually did. Logan saw a weird glint in his eyes, and he suddenly felt very uncomfortable and almost... almost frightened by the look in the boy's eyes. It was unlike the dumb, fat, way-too-happy Donald to look so cold and angry.

He reminded himself not to call people dumb. Penny had told him whenever he mentioned Donald that he shouldn't insult people, even if it was in his head.

"Fine," Logan had replied. "But he is fat. I'm not taking that back."

"Fat isn't an insult, Teacup, it's an adjective," Penny had said after a moment of silence. "You can call him fat. He is fat. But don't use it in a way where you're insulting him for it."

Logan had ignored her then, but now he wished he could take back any rude things he had ever called Donald, as the boy stood in front of him with terrifyingly cold eyes that didn't move being fixed on Logan.

"What do you want, Donald?" Logan asked. He didn't wait for him to answer—he felt too small and uncomfortable in Donald's gaze—but as Logan stepped aside to walk away, the boy slammed his locker shut and blocked his path.