The Witch Hunter Chronicles: Hunted

Merlin picked at his meatloaf, grumbled, and frowned deeply before shoveling another dry forkful into a mouth that was so puckered that it looked like he was sucking on a lemon. He looked up and glared in Jordan’s general direction.

I attempted, completely unsuccessfully, to stifle a grin.

We sat at the wooden table in the small rectangle of space that served as both the living and dining area in the Lin’s downstairs apartment. A tablecloth with blue and grey swirly patterns and little roosters covered the battered wooden surface that I had been eating snacks and meals on since I had befriended Jordan way back in kindergarten.

“Let me just say that it’s refreshing to see a teacher that takes such an interest in his students,” Mrs. Lin said. “I’ve never heard of teachers making house calls.”

“I suppose you could say that I’ve taken a personal interest in these two young people, and I want to help them meet their true potential,” Merlin answered.

“That’s just so nice to hear,” Mrs. Lin replied. “I can’t say that I remember Jordan ever mentioning your class.”

“Well, you know teenagers,” Merlin said with a knowing look. He looked down at his last bit of meatloaf, frowned, sighed, and jabbed it with his fork.

“So true,” Mrs. Lin replied. “I ask the boys how their day went, and they say ‘fine’. I ask them what they did today, and they answer ‘nothing.’ But then on the phone with their friends it’s just talk, talk, talk.”

“Sometimes I say I’m swell instead of fine,” Jordan added.

Jordan’s younger brother Steff asked, “What class do you teach, sir. I’ve never seen you on campus.”

“British History,” Merlin said, without missing a beat. “You’re a freshman?”

Steff nodded and took another bite of meatloaf without even a grimace.

Does Steff even know his mom’s food isn’t fit for human consumption? He’s got to. He’s just too nice to say anything.

“Well then,” Merlin continued. “Perhaps I’ll see you next year.”

“How interesting,” Mrs. Lin replied. “They never had classes like that when I was young.”

Here it comes, here it comes…

The clock struck six and the rooster came out of the little door in the coo-coo clock to do his cock-a-doodle-do business.

“There’s my boy!” I said.

Jordan shot me a glare while Mrs. Lin beamed.

“You always did love that clock,” Mrs. Lin said. Her grammar was perfect, but she grew up speaking Mandarin, and her accent made the words sound slightly clipped at the ends of certain words.

I nodded and smiled.

What I actually love is the look of pure hatred Jordan puts on his face every time that little bird sings. Ah, and there it is right now.

“There seems to be a theme to this house,” Merlin said, holding up the rooster saltshaker.

“It’s not just this room,” Jordan grumbled.

“I made the mistake of telling my late husband early in our marriage that I liked roosters,” Mrs. Lin explained. “As you can see, he enjoyed buying me gifts.”

Mr. Lin passed away from Leukemia when Jordan was four and Steph was three. Growing up in a one parent household was something Jordan and I had in common.

“That explains the rooster statue on the front lawn,” Merlin said.

“And the cookie jar, the kitchen curtains, the decorative soaps in the bathroom, the painting over the mantle,” Jordan checked off.

“Didn’t you buy the salt and pepper shakers last week?” Steff asked.

When exactly did his shoulders and arms start filling out?

She shrugged. “I’ve tried to keep the tradition going,” she said.

Jordan caught me staring and grinned, and my cheeks went hot.

“Mom, have you noticed…” Jordan started, looking directly at me.

Don’t you dare.

I glared daggers.

He smiled and turned his attention to Merlin’s empty plate. “…that Mr. Ambrosius has an empty plate?”

“Oh my, I hadn’t. May I offer you seconds Mr. Ambrosius?” Mrs. Lin asked.

A sigh of relief escaped my lips, followed by a devious smile as I saw Merlin’s impending doom.

“Please Betty, call me Merl,” Merlin replied. After wiping his lips with his napkin, he put on a brave smile and answered dishonestly, “The food is quite excellent, but I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Please Merl, it’s no imposition,” Mrs. Lin answered.

It’s like watching a fly stuck in a Venus flytrap.

“There’s plenty of leftovers,” Mrs. Lin continued. “Those two waifs barely ate anything,” she added, inclining her head towards Jordan and me. Betty began to refill Merlin’s plate and added in a faux whisper, “They’re both too skinny if you ask me.”

Mrs. Lin put a massive second helping on Merlin’s plate, and the wizard hid the disappointment on his face poorly. Mrs. Lin noticed the look and must have thought it was because he wanted an even bigger portion, because she then stuck an additional chuck of blackened meat and another scoop of soggy rice onto his heaping plate. Jordan went into a coughing fit trying to stifle a laugh.

“We may both be skinny, but only one of us has an eating disorder,” I said, “and it isn’t me.”

“Following a paleo diet isn’t an eating disorder Kenz,” Jordan said. “And I’ll have you know – the world at large appreciates my dedication to physical fitness.”

“And your humility,” Steph added.

Jordan smiled. “Well, we all have our weak points.”

“So that’s why you take your shirt off at every opportunity?” I asked. “For the world at large?”

He shrugged. “You’ve got to give the people what they want,” Jordan replied.

I can’t argue with that. I’ve seen girls, boys, little old ladies and, I swear, certain breeds of dog checking him when he’s peacocking around.

Mrs. Lin looked at my plate before fixing her kind eyes on me and saying, “You should at least try and finish your meat little one. You won’t grow without the protein.”

I’d coated the dried meat product in thick layer of ketchup and choked down as much as I could but had just been pushing the burnt bits around the plate for the last few minutes.

“That ship has sailed,” Jordan said.

Before I could even glare, Steph said, “I think Kenzie looks great.”

“Oh?” Jordan asked. “Do tell.”

Steph blushed.

Is he doing something different with his hair? And those shoulders. Stop staring.

“I had a huge lunch. Lots of meats and cheeses and such,” I lied deftly.

“Iced mocha and spicy chips are what I remember,” Jordan added.

She shook her head knowingly and stood. “You saved room for dessert though, didn’t you?”

“There’s always room for dessert,” I said, pushing the offending plate away from me. “Sugar is the base of the food pyramid after all.”

Betty winked at me and disappeared into the kitchen.

“It’s the tip of the pyramid, actually,” Jordan interjected. “You know, the part you’re supposed to avoid.”

“That’s not how I remember it,” I said.

“Which is probably why you got a D in that class,” he said.

“It was a C-, which is passing,” I replied. “Ms. Brown and I agreed to disagree on certain principals.”

“Such as the food pyramid?” Jordan asked.

“Prime example,” I replied. “Also, I did not share her hypothesis that humans need to eat weeds.”

“I think she called them vegetables,” Jordan said.

“Which is just a fancy word for weed,” I replied.

Jordan said, “You’ve been quiet Mr. Ambrosius. Is that because you’re enjoying your home cooked meal?”

“You know damn well that I’m not, son,” Merlin said ruefully. “This is the thanks I get after all I’ve done for you. I’m tempted to fake a heart attack rather than try to choke down another bite.”

I’d pay good money for that. Well, Jordan would pay, and I’d promise to pay him back at some vague, future date.

Here’s what Jordan and Kenzie always do,” Steph said. He looked towards the living room and gave a soft whistle.

“You’re ruining my fun little brother,” Jordan said.

Mr. Pugglesworth, the Lin family’s comically spherical pug, came wobbling over and sat down next to Steph’s chair. Merlin must have seen where this was going, because he said in a serious tone, “Animal cruelty isn’t the answer, son.”

“Don’t worry, sir, he likes it,” Steph said, as he brought Merlin’s plate under the table.

He actually sounds sincere when he calls old white guys “sir.” I didn’t think my generation was capable of that.

There was a blur of action as the pudgy pug tore into Mrs. Lin’s inedible leftovers. In less than a minute, Mr. Pugglesworth was licking the last remaining bits of ketchup from the plate.

“That’s an impressive little animal,” Merlin said with a nod in the pug’s direction. Mr. Pugglesworth – his stomach sated – was busy licking his unmentionables. Merlin turned up his crinkled nose at the display. “But it can’t be healthy for the poor creature.”

Mrs. Lin returned carrying a chocolate frosted cake, and dessert plates. She looked at Merlin’s empty plate and beamed. “Wow, you really were hungry Merl. Would you care for some desserts well?”

“No thank you Betty. I filled up completely on that fine meal of yours,” Merlin said.

The man can make eye contact while simultaneously lying through his teeth. Impressive.

“Did you get the cake at Nugget or Raley’s?” I asked. Betty doesn’t attempt any baking. My guess is that it would probably void their renter’s insurance. I made eye contact with Merlin so that he knew I was throwing him a bone.

“It’s from Nugget dear,” she replied. “Yellow cake with chocolate frosting. Just the way you like it.”

“On second thought, I think I will take a slice after all.” Merlin amended. He smacked his lips and added, “I seem to have found a smidgen more room.”

Just as Mrs. Lin got to slicing, the doorbell rang. Merlin’s head raised and his eyebrows shot up. Jordan’s eyes bulged and there didn’t seem to be any blood left in his face.

“A neighbor wanting to borrow sugar perhaps?” Merlin asked.

“Is that a thing?” I asked.

“Isn’t it?” Merlin asked.

“In old sitcoms maybe,” I replied, “but in this case I’m pretty sure it’s just my dad.”