The weekend disappeared in a blur of late-night research and whispered curiosity. By Monday night, my browser history was a tapestry of herbs, moon phases, deity names, and digital store fronts. I dove headfirst into the world of Wicca, letting it pull me deeper with each click. There were more websites than I expected—blogs, forums, entire communities dedicated to the practice, many of them lit up with earnest curiosity and gentle yet guarded information, with varied and often conflicting guidance.
Wicca. A word that felt familiar the moment I saw it, like a door I'd somehow forgotten had always been there, just not currently open.
It wasn't just the aesthetic, though the images of forest altars and silver pentacles certainly scratched some deep itch inside me. No, it was the philosophy. The reverence for nature, the embrace of balance, the quiet acknowledgment of both shadow and light. Wicca was both fierce and nurturing. It worshipped not only a God, but a Goddess—honoring the masculine and feminine in tandem. Not above and below. Not superior and subordinate.
Equal. Rooted. Divine.
It felt… right. Like maybe this was the path I hadn't known I was searching for all this time.
Outside my window, nestled among the thinning leaves of the scant front yard tree, the hawk was back again. He hadn't left all weekend much really. He was there Saturday morning when I first cracked open a digital grimoire. There again Sunday afternoon as I scribbled pentacle sketches into the margins of my notebook. And now—perched in the same gnarled spot, amber like eyes with the lineage grey line encircling the large pupil fixed toward my window—he watched me still.
I took little breaks now and then, peeling my eyeballs from the damaging pixels of my PC screen before it permanently fried my eyeballs and rendered me blind. I would pee, occasionally eat, stretch my aching body but mostly— I stared back at him and with a playful smirk I whispered out to him, "You planning on staying forever?"
He tilted his head slightly, feathers catching the porch light in a soft shimmer. I didn't know what it meant, but I felt a little less alone with him there. Like maybe he got it—the weirdness, the wonder, the quiet ache in my chest I didn't have a name for yet.
I went back to reading, back to absorbing every sacred scrap the internet had to offer. I couldn't wait to talk to Hayden about it tomorrow—not just because I was dying to learn more, but because I was equally desperate for any excuse to speak to him again.
I knew it was pathetic.
I didn't care.
---
Tuesday morning, I strategically positioned myself outside a specific room prior to phys. Ed. During the passing period. Attempting to appear casual and aloof outside Hayden's class, leaning against the cool metal lockers with (hopefully) all the subtlety of a girl who just happened to be waiting in no particular area, for no particular reason. We both had gym next. It wasn't a long walk or anything It just gave me a window—a small one, but enough— to talk to him without looking completely desperate.
My heart thudded hard enough to be its own drumline.
The bell rang. The door opened. And Hayden emerged—his face a perfect sculpture of bored amusement—trailing his usual cloud of giggling girls. They orbited him like satellites, their voices a cacophony of flirtatious nonsense. One of them actually touched his arm, and I watched his jaw twitch ever so slightly.
Then he saw me.
"Oh, Carlie," he called, voice deliberately loud and chipper, "great—we can talk about that math paper now. Thanks for agreeing to meet me!"
The girls fell silent. The ones in front glanced at me like I'd stepped in fresh dog poop and walked too close to them. One by one, they peeled off in different directions towards different classes, their mood soured. I couldn't help the laugh that slipped out. Hayden glanced sidelong at me, lips quirking into a smirk.
"Sorry about that, and thanks. I had to get rid of them somehow," he said once we were walking. "You were just in the right place at the right time."
"Happy to be of service." I smiled, heart doing that stupid flutter thing it always did around him.
I risked a longer glance at his face. His jaw was sharp, like it had been carved rather than grown. His hair fell just slightly into his eyes, and his expression—though amused—had that same underlying softness I'd come to associate with him. Thoughtful. Kind, even when he was being a smartass.
"So…" I began. "I wanted to talk to you about Wicca."
There. I Said it.
Hayden's easy smile froze just a little, tension drawing the corners of his mouth inward.
"What exactly did you want to know?" he asked, voice carefully neutral. "I figured you'd already looked up everything you could last night."
I blinked, pausing long enough to lose step with him. "Wait. How did you know that I was researching Wicca last night?"
He stopped walking. Frozen for a heartbeat too long.
Then, with a practiced motion, he raked a hand through his hair. "Just a lucky guess," he said, shrugging. "You're always researching stuff. Figured you'd dive right in after our prior conversation." his hand waved it off like there was nothing to even waste a moment longer thinking about, but I swear I detected a mild grimace.
I squinted at him, unsure if I believed him.
Still, I nodded slowly. "Well, I did. There's so much out there. I learned about the Threefold Law, magick, the God and Goddess, the Sabbats… I just—" I exhaled, overwhelmed all over again. "I want to know more. I want to understand what it's like to actually practice it. The websites were great, but they only go so far."
Hayden's expression shifted, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his features.
"You're serious about this?"
I nodded. "It feels like something I've always known about, somehow, but maybe, just never had a name for."
He looked away for a moment, then back at me. "It's not really my place to teach you."
"Why not?"
"Because… I'm still learning too."
I frowned. "But you're already involved, right? You said last time that you practice."
"It's not that simple," he said quickly. "There are rules. Protocols."
"Okay, so what are they?"
"You'd need to contact the High Wiccan Council or join an established coven."
"The Council?"
"Yeah." He sighed, as if I were asking too many questions. "Think of them as spiritual leadership. They oversee initiations and rituals for specific regions."
I raised a brow. "Okay, but how would I find them? There's no 'Contact Us' button on any of the more serious or official looking sites I looked at. And I don't exactly know where to find a coven."
Hayden hesitated. "You're not supposed to. Your family should teach you from a young age, that's what happened to me. Or, if not, then you aren't meant to. Not at first. If it's the right path for you… it usually just kind of finds you."
I stared at him, incredulous. "So what? I'm supposed to just hope someone shows up with a wand and an invitation? Like I am freaking Harry Potter?"
He laughed softly. "That would be nice."
I narrowed my eyes. "You're not being helpful at all. "
"I'm trying not to be," he muttered, almost to himself.
"Excuse me?"
He exhaled, visibly struggling. "Carlie, it's not personal. It's just… delicate. We're not really supposed to talk about this stuff openly."
"Why not? What did I do?"
He looked in pain. "You didn't do anything wrong. It's just—complicated."
I crossed my arms. Seeing red from how badly I was fuming by that point. "Well, forgive me for trying to learn something meaningful. Here I was foolishly misreading the signs, and thinking that this whole thing—" gesturing between he and I with a finger, "WAS it kind of just 'finding me', or whatever cheesy crap you were laying on so thick before." I even added the air quotes around his line.
"Carlie—"
"No," I snapped. "You're not going to scare me off with cryptic warnings. I'm not a child. I want to know more. If that means I have to track down this damn Council for myself or whatever, then so be it. You don't get to decide what's meant for me."
His eyes widened slightly, and something behind them shifted. Surprise. Respect. Something else.
"You're so stubborn," he murmured, with a slight smirk tugging at the corner of one side of his mouth.
"Yeah," I deadpanned.
"I'm not used to this," he added, sounding almost amused. "People usually… listen."
"Well, I'm not people," I replied frustrated. "I'm me."
He shook his head, half smiling. "Clearly."
I turned to go, heat rising in my chest, cheeks burning with frustration. "Whatever. I'll figure it out myself."
"Carlie—wait."
I didn't. I stormed off across the quad, dodging classmates I barely registered. My mind was spinning, heart pounding. I didn't understand why he was acting so guarded, why he suddenly clammed up like I'd stepped too close to a line I couldn't even see.
What was he hiding? And who the hell does he think he is trying to like tell me what to do with my own damn life.
And why did I feel like I'd just brushed against something massive, something sleeping just beneath the surface of my world?
I shoved through the locker room door, still fuming, my head a riot of questions and adrenaline. I didn't have any answers, unlike what I had been hoping for after talking to Haden.
But I wasn't done searching. Not by a long shot. Especially after that whole ordeal.
Something was calling me. And whether Hayden liked it or not…
I intended to respond.