Chapter 2: Dmitry

I was new to Salem High. My parents sent me from Moscow to enter as a junior, so of course I was apprehensive. I was far from home (though my home wasn’t the best place in the world, it was still home), but it was the only way I could foster my talents. Not only was it the only Wizardry and Witchcraft school in the world, it also had a renowned band program.

I was always introverted. I made friends with the characters of War and Peace in their native tongue better than real people. I could read huge novels such as those in a matter of days. I eventually got around to some English literature, which in my heart I knew was not as good in its translations, so I started learning English. It was difficult, but I knew I had succeeded when, after six years of studying English, since I could read “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow” by: Washington Irving. I had already been interested in English when I first started listening to a band called Chicago, and then I decided to try translating the lyrics and trying to comprehend them.

I played the saxophone and loved every second I could play. I got a very similar feeling when I could lift all the objects in my room using only my mind. It made me able to skip from where most newcomers, regardless of their actual place in school go, from Wizardry I to Wizardry II. Technically I should be in my third year, but I didn’t know how to use force fields yet. If I knew I had that power, I would’ve used it.

Thinking about force fields and the ability to levitate made me wonder why we are taught physics. I am a master of it, like all of my other subjects; I just never understood the point when clearly a wizard could make a table resist gravity. I could control force to shield myself. A vector for something like that would be impossible.

I suddenly recognized my head was in another world, so I focused, until it found yet another world to reside. The girl I saw looking at me had a beautiful mix of green and gold in her eyes, making a brilliant hazel. A pair of silver glasses shielded them. Her hair was brown, long and well kept.  I felt a mysterious connection.

The connection was explained when I got to Magical Attraction, another class in which I was one of the few juniors and my second period. It was the equivalent of a health class. It talked mainly about relationships and sex. Most of the class was just foul and disgusting (especially the middle aged man who wore sweaty, short gym shorts and called himself coach) but he described a feeling in which the class learned the person with whom your path is intertwined forever. It was supposed to be something of a spark, a sudden realization that the person is interesting and will make a great partner. I found that spark with that girl and I didn’t even know her first name.

I was fairly fluent in my English, but saying I wasn’t totally fluent yet (which was somewhat true, since I wasn’t immersed in the culture) allowed me to not talk very often. Teachers rarely put me on the spot, since I was pretty fluent but with an extremely heavy accent. I had read lots of literature, so my reading and writing was up to par with everyone else’s, but my spoken English, not so much. So, I would have talked to the girl, had I known she would understand me.

Band was next, which meant a period of unadulterated tenor saxophone. I had auditioned already for the music teacher, Mr. B, who loved my “insane talent”. I just practiced a couple of songs in my book, some classic jazz pieces. It had so much Sinatra. I am not totally opposed to playing “New York, New York”, but there are other (better) songs. I convinced my band back home, that Chicago is a classic. I must admit that I did a lot of convincing back home. Jazz isn’t their first choice. Good classical music is their first, I convinced my music teacher to use some jazz, and that way the brass section could be heard. I still droned on with the notes, in sync with everyone else. I still felt more liberated than back home.

The bell eventually rang, cueing for the class to be over, so I walked to Broom Flying I.   She stood there, we were lined up by first name, and I was apparently close to hers.

She introduced herself. “My name is Charlotte Holmes.”

“My name is Dmitry Petrov.” I introduced myself in the heaviest accent possible with still being English. The “v” has an “f” sound.

“I love your accent. Russian right?” She asked.

“I’m from Moscow.” I responded.

“That is awesome. I am from Vancouver.”

“Were you raised with English?”

“Of course. French also. I love hearing people with accents.”

“That is great! I have a very heavy one. I am not used to speaking.”

“I can’t see any differently. You just have a pretty voice is all I am saying.” She responded. “And already you are more interesting than half the people here.”

I smiled. She was even more charming than I could have ever imagined. I knew she would be a great person to meet and like, even if she wasn’t going to be my love. I already knew I liked her regardless.

The teacher showed everyone how to levitate the broom. No spell required it, even for witches. My broom easily flew itself into my hand.

Charlotte noted, “You are good at levitating.”

“Thank you. You haven’t seen me lift up a room in a thought.” I responded, showing off without being narcissistic.

We all flew around for the period. I really enjoy flying. The wind whipping through my hair feels relieving. (I have my hair cut short and it still feels that way.) The feeling you may die just makes the blood pump quicker. I felt like a bird. I worked on my turns mainly, since the feeling of eminent death only increases when one is headed straight for a tree.

Charlotte and I did not talk much during the rest of the school day, until I happened to see her on her way to her dorm after school. There are two huge buildings one after the campus. On the other side there is a fifties diner type thing. I tapped her shoulder. She stopped and smiled at me. She took out her iPod ear bud.

She was a little surprised. “Hi Dmitry! I was just listening to my favorite song.” She exclaimed.

“Which one?” I asked.

“’Saturday in the Park.’” She responded.

“I love Chicago!” I exclaimed.

She smiled. “So few people appreciate it.”

“Try living in Moscow.” I countered. I was just being witty

She laughed. “What is your favorite?”

“’Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is?’ is my favorite.” I responded. “The saxophone part is great, I should know, I play it.”

“Oh my god! You play saxophone? You are now the most awesome person I know!” She exclaimed loudly.

“I play very good too.” In that comment I made the fatal grammatical error that set me apart.

“Well.” She corrected, in a very nice way. “Many people make that mistake.”

“My English has been going very well so far.” I responded.

“Good. I would like to have lunch with someone other than my gay brother, so would you want to eat with me?” She offered. “You know, and practice your English.” She added.

I nodded. “I just sat alone.” I responded.

“You are too awesome to sit alone.” She responded. She started walking, so I walked after her.

“So does that mean we are friends?” I asked.

 “We both need friends, and I enjoy hanging out with you. So yeah, I guess we are.” She responded.

“I have never really had a friend.” I admitted.

“You’ve got a friend in me.” She responded. I smiled. She asked “So friend, what do you watch on TV?”

“I am a book person.” I responded.

“Good, I only watch three shows. What books do you like?”

“Classics. I love ‘The Legend of Sleepy Hollow’.”

“Me too. I love classics.” She admitted.

“What is your favorite book?” I asked.

“I must admit I am a sucker for George Orwell and Dr. Seuss. I memorize lines from those books like some people memorize Shakespeare.” Charlotte responded.

I laughed a bit. “I do the same thing. ‘A person is a person no matter how small.’”

“‘Horton Hears a Who’ isn’t nearly as good as ‘The Lorax’.” She told me. She cleared her throat, and in her best Lorax voice she quoted, “ ‘I speak for the trees!”

I nodded. “You have a nice Lorax voice.”

“Thanks. I always loved the Lorax.”

“I always felt like Horton, just a lonely elephant talking to a speck of dust, with the world against me.”

“I guess I always felt like a Lorax, only my brother was always the tree.” She admitted.

“I am not a homophobe.” I told her. I meant it; people are people no matter what, which I learned from my favorite Dr. Seuss book.

“Good.” She responded, as she arrived at her door.

She hugged me. I didn’t quite know why, but I enjoyed it anyways. It was even a little awkward, until I just hugged her back.  It only lasted a couple seconds, because it was a friendly hug.

She told me “Bye.”

“Bye.” I echoed, as I left for home.

This was the start of a great friendship.