Mr. Santiago Rodriguez.

“Occult research?” Isabelle asked. “Like black magic and stuff?”

“Yes,” Grace answered easily.

“Occult research…” Alice echoed. She eyed me with a faint smile. “Apt, I suppose. And a perfect excuse, too.”

“Wait, wait! Are we going to behead chickens here or something!?” Mila asked, perturbed.

“I hope not,” I said. “Do you want us to pretend to be witches and warlocks?”

Noelle chuckled. “I doubt that’s what she has in mind.” She turned to Grace. “You mean research of examples of occult beliefs throughout history, don’t you?”

“Ding ding ding! Someone’s keeping up,” Grace praised. “That’s exactly what I mean. A sensitive topic that gives us a reason to keep our club activities away from students who might feel uncomfortable at the idea of people playing with a ouija board so close to them.”

“ARE we going to play with a ouija board?” Sarah asked, raising an eyebrow.

Grace shrugged. “We don’t need to, but maybe we should have one around just for show.”

“Remember that you still need to show proof twice a semester that you’re doing activities related to the club,” Alice told her. “Though for something like this, writing a short paper should suffice.” She then let out a heavy sigh. “So far we have everything considered. Everything but one last requirement.”

“Which is…” Isabelle asked.

“A teacher as a club advisor. You can’t start one without one of the teachers acting as a sort of supervisor.”

“Oh.” Mila’s shoulders dropped in disappointment. “Then we can’t…”

“Don’t most teachers just show up once in a blue moon, though?” Sarah asked. “Of course, the coaches for the sports clubs are always there, but most the teachers let the students do their thing. We just need to find a teacher that’s willing to just be an advisor on paper.”

“Pretty much, yes,” Grace agreed.

“But who do we ask?” Mila said.

I winced as the image of one of our teachers came to me. If I had to choose someone, there was no one else I would’ve felt comfortable asking, but even then I didn’t want to bother him.

“You have an idea, don’t you?” Mila asked me.

“Y-Yes, but… I don’t know.”

Grace crossed her arms and frowned with a wry smile. “You’re thinking of the music teacher, aren’t you?” I flinched. How did she know? “Want me to ask him? I’m sure I can convince him.”

I pursed my lips. I could almost picture it. “I don’t want to guilt-trip him into agreeing. I’ll ask him myself.”

“But Oliver!” Isabelle complained. “Isn’t he the advisor for the music club? He…!”

“He tried to convince me not to leave, promised to help me fix things. I was the one who refused to cooperate,” I told her. “What happened wasn’t his fault. I’ve never blamed him. I still respect him, actually, and he’s the only one that comes to mind. Mr. Ortiz, for example, usually means well, but he tends to meddle more than he should.” I got plenty of nods and murmurs of agreement at that. “Is everyone else okay with this?” They were. “Then… I’ll ask him later.”

I didn’t want to waste time, so I went to look for the music teacher at the start of the second recess. I waited for him outside the teacher’s room.

One thing I learned to do more since I began to work on my own growth was looking people in the eyes. It’s surprising how much you can tell about someone when you’re not looking at their feet. That why I was surprised when I saw Mr. Santiago Rodriguez approaching. He saw me from down the hallway and almost immediately looked down. It didn’t last long, but I was able to notice. I went up to him.

Mr. Rodriguez was hispanic. Chilean, I think. His skin was slightly dark and his short black hair was curly. He was one of the shortest teachers in school, but still taller than me by about half a head.

“Good morning, Mr. Rodriguez. Do you have a minute?”

I think I caught him by surprise, but I didn’t blame him. I approached him and spoke… well, like any other normal human being would. Even back then, I didn’t speak much with him.

“Mr. Brooks.” Mr. Rodriguez smiled. “Of course. What do you need?”

“Um… My friends and I would like to start a new club.”

“Ah, I see. Come with me to the office.”

He meant one of the small rooms teachers used to have private talks with students and parents. I didn’t think this was something that would need to be talked about in private, but still, I followed.

I sat across from Mr. Rodriguez at the desk. The music teacher let out a soft sigh before he started.

“So you want to start a new club,” he repeated with a small smile. “What is it about?”

“O-Occult research. We want to study how magic has been seen historically.”

Mr. Rodriguez blinked in surprise. “Oh, really? That sounds interesting. And who would you be starting this club with? You are aware that you need at least four members, right?”

I nodded. “Milana Aliev, Grace Valentine and Sarah West.”

He nodded, but this time I saw no surprise in his face. “I hope I’m not intruding too much, but tell me, are you… getting along with them?”

“Yes,” I answered swiftly, confidently.

The teacher let out a soft, tired chuckle. “I see. So you feel ready to be in a club again?”

“Yes. I… still don’t know if I’m over what happened in the music club in freshman year, but I do know this isn’t the same.”

Mr. Rodriguez smiled. “Clearly. You’re not the same you were back then. I’ve noticed. I’ve been tempted to ask you to come back to the club. You haven’t stopped playing guitar, have you?”

I shook my head. “No. I even think I’m getting a little better, like I’m understanding what music is beyond just a pattern of notes.”

“So you’re sure you don’t want to come back?”

“I’m sure. This last year of high school… I want to spend it with my friends.”

“I see.” He chuckled. “One last question. How much of this is just an excuse to have a place to hang out in the school?”

Of course he knew. We weren’t the firsts to come up with this idea and we wouldn’t be the last. “...About half of it?” I admitted with a sheepish smile.

Mr. Rodriguez grinned.“Good. I was hoping to hear that.”

“Ah?”

“You’ve always been too concerned about other people. Sometimes you need a little selfishness, Oliver.” He nodded. “Submit the paperwork. I’ll be your club’s advisor. I’ll need to drop in every once in a while to make sure you’re not beheading chickens or performing human sacrifices, but I’ll mostly leave your group alone. If you need anything, however, be sure to come to me, alright? I’m serious.”

He got a nice chuckle out of me. “Thank you, sir.”

I… hadn’t expected it to go so smoothly. Even now, or especially now that I’m an adult, I wonder if Mr. Rodriguez felt responsible for what happened in freshman year and wanted to make it up to me. He never said it explicitly, and I understand why, but still, I wonder.

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