Swedenborg 14

14.

Frank spent the next few hours in the library, pouring over one of his textbooks. As he read, he tried to think of the kinds of questions Staples might ask the next day, or the topics he might raise. It was a trick he had learned early in his school life.

He was not as smart as some other students, but somehow he was able to guess what the teacher was looking for. Sometimes it was obvious; some teachers taught for the test. But sometimes, thoughts came to him from nowhere, and the next day, that’s what the teacher would ask.

Staples, he thought. What would he want?

Witches.

The word just popped into his head.

He grunted.

Maybe it was because of Liza. Maybe it was because of Staples comments about her.

Maybe it was because there was something about her that lingered in his mind.

It wasn’t because she was beautiful. She wasn’t., at least by normal standards. But she radiated an energy that was sexual, and something more.

Magic. He smiled.

How could someone so intelligent believe in magic? But then, how did he know things? Maybe there’s more things than are dreamt of in your philosophy, McMann.

He stretched his legs. They were getting stiff. Too much sitting. He needed to walk.

The campus included wide expanses of lawn. Students were sitting under trees, reading, talking, napping, staring into space.

He looked up.

The overcast skies threatened rain. He wondered how fast the lawns would clear if the rain did come.

Almost on cue, he felt a drop on his arm. He hurried across to the student life center's book store entrance.

The downpour began as he entered.

He looked back. Students were fleeing the rain. The thought of a great beast chasing them entered his mind. He felt a chill. Too many late nights watching bad horror movies.

The rain did not look like it would let up for a while, so he began cruising the aisles, looking at the books.

He stopped at a display of Professor Staples’ books. None of them were academic.

The Coming Culture Wars. Anatomy of Love. Faith at the Crossroads. The Face of Evil.

He picked up one, then another, then another, skimming through them.

Basic conservative Christianity.

Outside, loud thunder rumbled across the campus.

He looked back at the book in his hand. It was opened to a chapter entitled, “Witchcraft and the delusion of power.”

He chuckled. The old antenna is tingling, he thought.

Suddenly there was a loud crash. He turned to see two students grappling on the floor. Two other students rushed over and began kicking one of the students on the floor.

“Hey,” Frank yelled, suddenly going into teacher mode. He rushed over and pushed the kicking students away.

One of the students he’d pushed aside jumped at him, but he blocked him into a table of books.

“Knock it off,” he bellowed.

The grappling students paused. Several other students interceded, and security rushed in. A guard grabbed Frank.

“No, he was stopping it,” one of the store workers yelled. The guard relaxed his grip.

“Move along,” the guard said, releasing him.

Frank hurried out of the store. It was still raining, but not as hard.

He strode across the campus to the parking lot and into his car.

He shuddered.

I’ve only been here two days and I’ve broken up two fights. How much worse can it get?

Pax et bonum