The lecture hall was completely empty, save for Fletcher and Beck. It was usually occupied by study groups and instructors who felt the need to have a flashy projector rather than the standard classroom’s set up. Between the carpeted floors and wood paneled walls, the design of the room was an echo of a courtroom. Fletcher was sprawled out over a few seats that reminded him distinctly of the seats in the movie theaters with the exception of tiny writing desks rather than cup holders. Beck paced at the front, reading her notes aloud with the occasional pause to add something to one of her many cue cards.

Fletcher was thankful he had her. She had phenomenal notes, without her he probably would have been failing most of his classes. It wasn’t intelligence he lacked more so that he was forgetful, and a bit lost in life. Beck helped him stay on track. She brought normalcy to his life, something he so desperately needed considering the past few weeks.

Completely lost in Beck’s iridescent blue eyes, he almost forgot what they were doing. Her rose petal lips parting as she spoke softly to him. The two would go back and forth between asking questions about the upcoming midterms.

“What is the function of rubisco during the Calvin cycle?” Fletcher flipped the card around completely unaware of what the answer was.

“It catalyzes the carboxylation of RuBP.” There wasn’t even a fraction of doubt in her mind.

Pulling the next cue card out, Beck turned dramatically towards Fletcher. The lecture hall's yellow fluorescent light got caught in her blonde curls. Her beauty was traditional, a girl next door look. Her temper however was nothing but traditional but there were moments of such softness, Fletcher was certain she wasn’t capable of cruelty.

“Babe, I got a good one for you.” Fletcher adored the way she would say babe. “What RNA molecules are responsible for carrying the code that will be read at the ribosome in order to create a protein?”

“Oh that’s…. uh…mRNA!” He clapped his hands together.

Beck nodded before sitting down in the seat beside Fletcher. She propped on arms on the small desk and ran her hands through Fletcher’s hair with the other. Playing with his hair seemed to be her favorite pastime much to his dismay. After every date, he would usually end up with hair similar to a bird nest.

“Hey…” Her voice was soft and even meaning she was about to ask a softball question that would inevitably lead to a question he’d much rather leave unasked. “How is the bio term project going?”

“I’d have to ask Ellis.” It wasn’t a lie, not even by omission. He just didn’t mention that he wasn’t working on it.

“I was curious because you always seem to be chasing the other boys around. Not that I mind.” Sucking in a breath, carefully weighing her options before she continued. “You are welcome to be friends with whoever you like. It’s just Sam’s reputation precedes him and Roman-”

“I know. It’s a lot sometimes but it should settle down soon.”

“I hope so.”

Most of the time, his emotions were unyielding, like lighting just looking for somewhere to escape to. Beck was like a grounding rod for him. She could bring him back to earth and give him something to focus his energy on. If she was happy, he was happy. It wasn’t until Beck started her sweet giggle that Fletcher realized he’d been staring at her. That laugh was intoxicating for him. He’d do anything to hear again and again.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, I just missed you.” I’m also being haunted, my friends may be witches and you are the only thing keeping me sane, Fletcher finished silently.

His phone buzzed as Beck returned to the deck of cue cards. Checking his phone, he noticed a text from Sam with only the word Incoming. Shaking his head, he started to listen to Beck as she read him another question when he noticed the sound of shoes hitting linoleum tiles rapidly as if someone was running down the hall.

“What?” Beck asked as Fletcher turned his head to the door.

Without missing a beat Sam and Roman appeared in the door frame. Sam looked normal in his jeans and oversized graphic t-shirt. Fletcher wasn’t sure who decided Roman could dress himself, but they were wrong. Sam curled his arm into his chest and launched a book at Fletcher as if it were a frisbee. He barely caught it before he gave them a quick scowl.

Roman walked over and planted himself down on one of the little desks, unfamiliar with the concept of a chair. The nerve of Roman was unrelenting. It was blatantly obvious he did check his voicemail and decided to ignore it despite the fact no one called him unless it was an emergency. One simple request, that was all Fletcher made and Roman couldn’t even follow through on that.

“You look lovely today.” Roman smiled as he spoke to Beck.

Of course, she looked lovely, she always did even in her school uniform, but the compliment still made her face flash a soft pink before she said thank you. Compliments were a nice thing people used to show sincerity, Roman however didn’t use them to show that. For Roman compliments were a way he could get people to like him and he was so good at it, it was infuriating.

“Anyways…” Sam said, rolling his eyes. He caught on to the ruse as well. “Can you translate this for us? It’s French but it was by one of the founding family's journals and we need it…. for my history project.” Lying wasn’t Sam’s strong suit.

“You want the whole thing?” Fletcher asked, dreading the answer.

“Of course.” Roman said.

“Gonna take a while.”

“I have time.”

“And a concussion, shouldn’t you be resting?” Roman only shrugged in reply. “I’m trying to study with my girlfriend. Like I said on the voicemail.”

“No, it’s fine. I can help.” She smiled, her cheeks still a rosy pink.

It didn’t take long for Roman to transform the translation process into a game. If there was a word that Fletcher didn’t immediately know they would shout out guesses based on the context. Sam usually was pretty far off but never as out there as Roman’s options. It took a fair bit of time but they made it through half of the journal.

It detailed the daily life of a man during the witch trials of Emmerson. It was interesting as the author wrote it to indicate he himself may have been a witch as well. Nothing in the book hinted at ghosts or hauntings but it was a start.

“So, what’s this all about?” Beck questioned openly.

“History project. I’m super into town history.” Sam lied.

Flipping back to the front of the journal, Fletcher noticed words manifest on the page. Unsure if he had imagined it, he kept it to himself and instead inspected the words. It was cross written, so it was harder to read than he expected. The words weren’t even French, not even a language that resembled it.

Over his shoulder Beck peaked at it before shouting a butchered pronunciation. The boys replied with their usually jokey answers before Fletcher groaned.

“It isn’t French. I don’t even know what it is. It’s old…” Fletcher trailed off as he ran his fingers over the words. Was it magic or was it imagination? He didn’t know.

“Why don’t we ask the staff? I’m sure someone could recognize it.” Beck offered, already heading to the door. Her determination was admirable.

“Great idea.” Roman followed suit.

“Ross has a degree in ancient languages, he might be able to help.”

“Never mind, I take it back.” Roman walked backwards earning a small laugh from Beck and Sam.

“I’ll ask for you.”

The four gathered up their stuff before leaving. Quickly, they marched across the linoleum tiles and through the window lined halls. Looking outside, Fletcher noticed the sun was starting to set. He questioned if Ross would even still be in his office. Who was he kidding? Ross had no life besides the school and making students miserable. Reaching the large wooden door with the label Professor Richard Ross. Fletcher couldn’t help but feel like his name suited him.

Beck quickly tapped on his door like she had done it a hundred times. In truth, she probably had. Meekly, Ross opened the door just enough to show his face but not enough to let them see the inside. He quickly eyes them. His stares shot daggers at Roman and Sam although his expression softened towards Beck. She tended to have that effect on teachers.

“Sir, I know you’ve studied ancient languages. We were curious if you’d be able to help us decipher this passage.” She cracked open the journal to the cross writing as she spoke in an unnaturally high voice, like a cartoon character.

Slowly, Ross opened the door to reveal his miniature library that he deemed an office. Papers were scattered across the room among an odd number of jackets and hats. Returning to his seat, he flicked his office lamp on before pawing over the journal for what felt like an eternity. He was much gentler on the book in comparison to Sam. Chewing his lip, he looked up at them with a glint of suspension in his eye.

“Where did you get this from?” The question was directly to everyone but Beck.

“My dad lent it to me, Sir.” Roman replied with an odd level of professionalism but he tried to keep himself hidden behind everyone else.

Ross made an O shape with his mouth before slowly nodding.

“So, Mr. Social Media himself has an interest in the local history.” The jab fell a bit flat. Probably would have worked if Roman actually cared about his parents.

Fletcher often had a hard time imagining Robert Davenport, the tech industry powerhouse, was the same Robert who’d take them to the lake on the weekends. Although he never cared to keep up with Robert’s successes, it was hard not to. The man was dominating the internet like it was a game of chess.

“He always has been, Sir.” Roman smiled in an artificial way.

“Leave the book. I’ll see what I can do.” Ross returned the smile with a cheesy grin. “I’m glad to see you’re finally getting interested in academic Mr. Davenport.”

They thanked Ross quickly except for Roman who’d opened his mouth likely to say something nobody needed to hear but Fletcher had pushed him out before he’d gotten the chance. It was funny how one boy could be so exhausting.

“What now?” Beck asked as they walked towards the courtyard.

“We can go outside and play for a bit.” Roman offered

“What are we? Twelve?” Sam cut into the conversation with a more sensible opinion than Fletcher had expected of him.

“Shopping cart joyriding. Come on, you know you want to.” And with those simple words, Sam was convinced.

“And where exactly are we going to get the cart?” Fletcher inquired as they were at a private school not a Walmart parking lot.

“We can use the carts they luge the sports equipment in.” Fletcher didn’t know who said it but he could feel himself losing the argument.

Beck kept questioning them as Roman and Sam worked out the details. There was an impending sense of doom that followed all of Roman’s ideas and yet Fletcher couldn’t say no. Well, he could but he didn’t want Sam to get wrapped up in the madness and dangerous stunts. Joyriding shopping carts wasn’t the most dangerous hobby he had, provided they didn’t use a main road but that wasn’t the point.

“Wanna use the hill off the west side of campus?” Sam asked as they reached the storage closet for the gym. Fletcher was so caught up in his thoughts he didn’t notice they changed directions

“Sure.” Roman replied

“Kay, can someone explain to me this game you guys want to play?” Beck placed her hands on her hips, standing defiantly in front of Roman.

Wrapping his arm around her, he began to describe the semantics of the joyriding and its exact origins. It was an overly complicated story just to explain they used to race shopping carts down hills when they were younger.

The hill was a paved stretch of road rarely used, making it perfect for Roman’s plan. Looking over the horizon, Fletcher noticed the sun started to sink deeper leaving the sky a cream color pink and a burnt orange. The clouds swirled up into an odd mixture of colors. Great, we can only do a couple rounds before it’s too dark, Fletcher breathed a sigh of relief. His relief died as he looked down the hill, it was taller than he thought not to mention there wasn’t any grass or dirt to cushion a fall.

“Due to the brain damage, I will be sitting out but I can push.” Roman rattled the cart a bit.

“Dibs on steering.” Sam yelled climbing into the cart.

Without any logical reason, Fletcher got in the cart behind Sam. He wasn’t sure if it was Roman or Beck that he was trying to impress but he had something to prove; He just didn’t know what. Sam gripped the edges of the cart and Fletcher grabbed his shoulders. The pose, although uncomfortable, usually prevented most injuries.

Roman held one end of the cart before booking it down the hill. He was a lot faster than Fletcher remembered. Maybe it was all the football practice? Roman only ran with them for a few yards before launching the cart down the hill.

The chill air whizzed through Fletcher’s hair. He could hear the metal wheels rattle as the adrenaline hit him. For a moment everything was just about speed and making it down the hill. With each second, they got faster, and Fletcher didn’t care. Slowly he stood up, letting himself feel the wind against his body. He knew theoretically Sam had very little control, but Fletcher trusted him. Their exit from the cart was less than graceful but neither had a scrap on them.

Trudging back up the hill, Fletcher could hear Beck and Roman talking both with cheeky grins. Sam toted the cart behind him before he let out a joyful shout. He wasn’t an adrenaline junkie, but it was hard to pretend it wasn’t fun.

“So, what’s the point?” Beck asked like it was some sort of theory or something that should be done to prove something.

“Just fun. We actually used to race. I’d steer for Ellis and Sam for Fletcher…We’d usually win.” Roman said playfully.

“I want to try.” Her voice was proud and strong. Fletcher could tell her mind was already made but he didn’t agree.

It was dangerous for him; he couldn’t imagine how dangerous it would be for her. She was small and the closest thing she had probably done was ride a bike. He couldn’t let her just put herself in harm's way even if he had done the same.

“No way. It’s dangerous.” He sounded too much like his parents.

“Sorry, I didn't get the memo that you were my dad and not my boyfriend anymore.” Fletcher hated how Roman laughed at her like she was the funniest person he’d ever met. “Roman, will you do it with me?”

“Sorry, I got a shaken brain.”

“Oh…I didn’t take you for a coward.”

“Oh, you’re on.” Roman smacked his hand against the cart.

“Roman.” Fletcher warned. “This is a bad idea.”

Roman cracked a spitfire smile as Beck climbed into the cart, careful not to catch her skirt on the edge. Once again, Roman ran down holding the cart before jumping in himself, almost knocking the cart on his side as he did it. Fletcher couldn’t bear to watch and instead looked at the ground. He tried to push the imagery of Roman with a cracked open skull and Beck covered in blood out of his mind. The sounds of metal crashing against asphalt drew his attention.

They bailed from the cart, but neither were hurt. They were excited, even went so far as to high five each other. Fletcher wanted to be relieved but there was a lurking feeling of anger sitting in the pit of his stomach. He watched as the two scurried up the hill, ready to give them a piece of his mind but before he even had a chance, Roman started to speak,

“Wanna get dinner?”

“Sure, the dining hall should still be open.” Beck replied.

And with that conversation, Fletcher swallowed his anger. He was not about to make a scene out of nothing. Dinner sounded nice; he could go for dinner.

***

Fletcher hadn’t been in the dining hall since the memorial dinner. Relatively, it looked the same. The long mahogany tables were bare now as were the chairs and the school spirit posters had returned to their rightful place. The feeling was different though. Filled with talkative students and staff, the place came to life.

“You and Sam should grab us a spot. Roman and I can grab the food” Beck made a completely reasonable suggestion, but Fletcher still wanted to say no.

“Sure.” Fletcher bit his tongue as he and Sam walked away.

Grabbing a seat near the exit, Fletcher crossed his arms to make a makeshift pillow and dropped his head down. Sam didn’t say anything but that didn’t mean he didn’t notice Fletcher’s exhaustion. It just meant he didn’t care.

Beck and Roman waltz over with trays in both hands. The meal was some questionable casserole with a salad and a small slice cake as dessert. Roman slid Sam his tray quickly so that he could use the free hand to pull out Beck’s chair for her. Another classic technique he used to get people to like him but why did he care if she liked him?

Somewhere between Sam’s conversation and picking at his food, Fletcher lost track of what was happening. All he could focus on was how close Beck was sitting to Roman. Shifting his eyes back to Sam, he tried to listen to his story instead.

“So Roman has this glue bottle and-” Sam was beaming as he spoke.

“Pleaseeeeee, do not tell that story. I refuse to be known only by the glue incident” Roman jokingly pleaded with him.

He should have been having a good time. His girlfriend and his friends were getting along. They were joking and laughing but he couldn’t let the strange aura around Roman go. It was the way he looked at her, laughing and playfully elbowing her when she joked with him. She stared up at him as if he was extraordinary.

Often, Fletcher forgot how Roman looked to normal people. His precise and angular features painted a pretty picture. His icy eyes and jet black hair created a striking contrast that only added to his attractiveness. Not to mention his oddly perfect teeth and his untamed smile. Everything about him from his face to his stupidly fit body created perfect imagery of some sort of prince charming type. Roman was hot, and he damn well knew it.

“You know Roe,” Beck started off and Fletcher cringed at the use of the nickname. “You are an alright dude. I mean except for your choice of friends. I think you could do a little better than Warren.”

“Ah Warren is lovely. People just don’t know what to expect from him.” Roman said, wiping something off of the corner of his mouth.

“Kind of like you.” Sam added but Roman shrugged like he didn’t know what he meant.

“Roman, can I have a word?” Fletcher asked before realizing he was about to confront Roman.

Roman muttered a sure before standing up from the table and walking to exit. Fletcher followed him, closing the dining room door behind him. They could still hear muffled laughter from inside. Fletcher took a moment, trying to decide if he really wanted to bring this up but for a rare second, the heat from Fletcher’s anger wouldn’t dissipate. Looking at Roman’s stupidly symmetrical face, the heat only built up in his chest almost reaching his throat. The blank look he wore didn’t help any.

“What the hell is your deal, Roman?” he snapped, pushing Roman back against the wall.

“What?” He laughed in reply.

Thoughtless, Fletcher slammed his hands up by Roman’s head, leaving him pinned against the wall. There was no fear, no hatred or anything in Roman’s eyes. He pushed Fletcher back and put his hands on his hips as if he was a stern teacher.

“You’ve hated Beck since you met her and now you want to play nice? That’s weird even for you.”

“Still not seeing your point here.”

“Are you stupid-”

“No, Fletcher, I was giving you a chance to change your mind.” Roman said, his voice dropping into a cold tone. “You think I want to steal your girlfriend? Jesus dude, I’m being nice to her because she is your girlfriend and you are my friend. I actually find her to be insufferable, but I like you enough to deal with it.”

“Oh yeah? Then how do you explain all the flirting you’ve been doing?” Fletcher pushed him back against the wall but Roman didn’t make an effort to move this time.

“I am a lot of things, but I’m not that. Your insecurity is talking right now and I’m not playing into that.”

The two stood wordless, anger being the only thing in the air. Fletcher half considered throwing a punch but Roman would probably win and his lack of energy for the fight was demoralizing Fletcher in a way. A small ringing sound broke the silence.

“Gonna get that?” Fletcher asked, already knowing the answer. He was too close to Roman’s face for either of them to be comfortable.

“No.” Roman replied

Fletcher whisked the phone out of Roman’s pocket and promptly answered it. He put it on speaker phone as if in some way he was trying to show Roman who’s in charge. He only gritted his teeth in reply.

“Where are you?” Ellis's voice crackled through the phone

“Dining hall.” Roman answered

“Perfect, I’m in the east wing. We need to talk.” Ellis ended the call.

Fletcher handed the phone back to Roman before turning to walk away. A level of certainty washed over him. He put Roman in his place. Honestly, he wished he had said more; Roman more than deserved to be knocked down a few pegs. He was a few feet from the door when he heard Roman call out to him,

“Hey Fletch, don’t be a jackass. It’s not a good look on you”

“You’d be the expert.” Fletcher smiled in reply.

Fletcher re-entered the dining hall without Roman. He didn’t particularly care where he went, and he’d wager Sam and Beck didn’t either as they didn’t ask. The anger slowly washed off leaving him with an immense sense of guilt. Of course, Roman was being nice to her, he’s nice to everyone he can stand to gain from. He hadn’t even stopped to consider the fact that he’d never seen Roman have any romantic interest in anyone let alone someone who’s taken.

Ellis appeared at the table without much warning but Roman was following in tow. A wide grin was plastered across Ellis’s face. Fletcher couldn’t help but notice he was still in his uniform as if he had worn it all day. The smile on his face faded as he looked in Beck’s general direction though that could be due to their natural competitiveness as they were some of the class's top ranked students.

“Give me the debrief.” Ellis said to Sam yet kept his eyes on Beck.

Sam sped through the town history, giving only the important details. The story Sam told seemed to line up with what Helga had been saying but doubt still lurked around. Ellis pursed his lips together carefully considering what to say. He shot a look at Roman and the two communicated through a few eyebrow wiggles. Fletcher hated when they did that.

“So, we should go visit the cartomancy shop. Speak with that woman again.” Ellis worded succinctly to avoid tipping Beck off.

“Helga Merrick, you mean?” Beck asked curiously.

“I suppose so,”

“Don’t bother. She’s been in and out of the psych ward for the past five years. That’s why she had to change her name.”

Shit.