The Watkins’ home in Scotland was nestled in a broad rolling meadow, adjacent to some little stands of woods, and connected by little lanes to small farms and country homes all around.  Joel, at home there, spent the vast majority of his time outdoors among the growing and wild things – his mother called him and Tucker growing and wild things, as well, saying they fit right in.  He and his brother had, for a time, gone through a phase where they experimented with trapping small creatures that lived among the grasses and the trees.  They’d looked up old Muggle style traps and used what they could find to build their own and see what they could manage to catch.  Most of the traps, they’d rigged with little jingle bells that they nicked out of the box of Christmas decorations in the attic.  The bell would be silent and still until the creature was caught, and then it would jingle merrily until one of the boys heard it and came running to see what they’d trapped.  He’d stopped to wonder, at the time, if that merry tinkling of bells seemed frightening or ominous to the squirrels and mice who were caught, like the ringing of their own doom.  They’d never actually hurt them, of course, but squirrels wouldn’t know that.  For some reason Joel thought about those tinkling trap bells as he listened to the tinkling giggles of the girls, and as he held his breath slightly at the squeaking sounds of their whispers.  He had no idea what was going on, but it felt ominous, like a trap.  

He couldn’t not notice that Hadley was refusing to look at him, and he couldn’t not notice that T.J. thought something about his seat change was hilarious.  As Hadley went to ruining the point of her quill, Joel looked back at T.J., wondering, and then turned his face to his own matters, sorting out his book and ink and parchments.  Professor Flitwick had gone back to his lecturing, and Joel pretended to start taking notes again, but he was entirely distracted.  It bothered him to think that all the girls felt sorry for Hadley having to sit by him – he’d rather begun to have a lot more appreciation for girls in general lately, and liked to imagine that, in general, girls might not be that opposed to him.  He couldn’t have picked out one in particular that he liked better than the rest of them, but Hadley would have made the short list if he’d tried.  He watched her, sideways, and glanced over his shoulder at T.J. again.  Perhaps he was considering this all wrong.  Perhaps there wasn’t anything at all wrong with him.  Maybe what all the girls were twittering about was that Hadley had a terrific crush on him and they all knew it – this might explain the blush pinking up her skin.  His own ears began to get hot as well.  He sensed a trap everywhere his mind turned.  

Joel suddenly realized that he was tearing his quill to shreds.  Brushing the pieces to the floor, he dipped his quill again and began to write on the bottom of his parchment. ”Flitwick missed a blob of ink on his forehead,” he scrawled.  And then he looked up attentively at Flitwick as he shoved the parchment over where Hadley could read it.  His eyes were crinkling into a shadow of a smile and, after a moment, he tipped his face down to give her the smallest of winks.  


JOEL WATKINS