LAMIAE

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: ALIBI

"Okay, then," the teacher waved her hand at the student to start reading her presentation.

Dagmara couldn't concentrate, despite the fact that she tried hard. Only single words and scraps of sentences reached her (a bull, a treatise, Malleus Maleficarum). Sometimes she even caught the names, but the next moment she forgot them. Only after some time, Dagmara realized that Malleus Maleficarum in translation meant "Hammer of Witches".

When the girl finished her presentation, the class asked her questions. It was mainly this part of the presentation that decided about the grade - not only was it enough to read your notes, but also to fluently answer the students' questions (although these were asked as if the girl had asked other students to ask).

"How is Hammer of Witches divided?" asked one of the girl's friends.

"Into three parts," she replied. "Thanks to the first one, we learn about the authors' views that magic is not a human invention. It consists of sixteen chapters, the titles of which, though irrational for us, were then a form of accepted canon. In the second part, I got to eight chapters. They describe medicines used against magic. And third, how to deal with witches."

The girl raised her head proudly at the teacher when she was about to give her the best grade. The woman's wrinkled hand, however, froze as one more question echoed from the back of the class.

"What made you so skeptical about magic?"

The girl looked furiously at the students, as if she wanted to find out who dared to interrupt the teacher from getting her A.

"WHAT?" she growled.

Alan leaned back comfortably in his chair.

"You've made it clear to us that magic doesn't exist for you. I'd just like to know if, since you've had enough time, all summer, if you've searched well. Maybe you reached some archives, maybe you conducted a survey how many people consider the Malleus Maleficarum to be nonsense and how many don't?

"Very funny," the girl muttered, already seriously confused by the fact that the most popular boy in the class was clearly mocking her.

"Actually, not really," he replied, then turned to the teacher, who looked even more confused than her student. "If you want to know my opinion, for me a person who gets an A is one who has analyzed all aspects related to his or her presentation. However, as you can see, Miss Scott has received only some information, because many people in the old days considered the Malleus Maleficarum to be a book almost as important as the Bible. To this day, there are people who believe in witchcraft, and witch hunts are considered family tragedies. The inquisitors killed people, often very innocent, including those who, mentally ill, saw various demons and invented them fueled by herbs. The cult of witches had its beginning somewhere and I'm surprised that my classmate didn't bother to reach a bit deeper into it. It's an interesting topic."

When he finished, the class fell silent. Everyone stared at the girl, who was trying hard to hold back her tears.

The teacher looked at the class diary, hesitating a moment more. Apparently, she didn't like the fact that someone questioned the grade, but it was hard to give the girl an A grade after such an argument.

"Maybe," the woman began, wrinkling her nose as if she had smelled something particularly stale. She sighed resignedly, asking her student: "Can you tell us anything else you've read?"

The girl looked at the teacher with fear. Dagmara thought it was obvious that the girl didn't search deeper during the holidays. Perhaps someone even wrote a presentation for her.

"No," the girl squeaked, then clutched her notes tightly and fell into her seat. Of course, she didn't fail to throw a hateful glare at Alan.

Dagmara bit her lip, admitting that even though the girl had not behaved honestly, Alan had no right to humiliate her in front of the whole class.

The rest of the lesson went smoothly and when the bell rang everything was back to normal - everyone seemed to have forgotten about the incident. Everyone except Miss Scott, who perhaps Dagmara would have gone to console, if not for the fact that she was already besieged with friends.

"You're pleased with yourself, aren't you?" Dagmara growled, turning towards the boy. Alan looked at her for a few seconds, as if wondering what was going through her mind, then shrugged.

"She deserved it."

Dagmara looked at Nikolai, but he only smiled.

"If you're so good at justifying your friends absence, why don't you find me a good excuse for missing French, eh?" said Alan.

Only now did she notice that he didn't have a backpack.

"Sure," said Dagmara, which surprised not only Alan, but also Nikolai. Both must have expected her to say that he wasn't one of her friends and that he shouldn't give her orders again.

"What are you planning?" asked Nikolai, when Alan had already left them, and they also left the classroom.

"None of your business, I was supposed to find him a good excuse," she replied innocently.

Even though the break lasted ten minutes, the ten minutes flew by relatively quickly. The class president named Caroline gave them the schedule for tomorrow, so Dagmara meticulously wrote down everything, checking the room numbers three times so as not to confuse anything. Nikolai also noted them down, only in his cell phone, promising Caroline that he would send text messages to the absent ones (Arleta and Alan) and give them the room numbers. Dagmara had only managed to eat a sandwich and buy a juice to drink when she heard the bell. She immediately entered the class. Without waiting for Nikolai to stop her, she headed towards the desk where a woman in her thirties sat with lots of curly hair on her head. She looked like a lamb.

"Excuse me, ma'am," she said to the teacher, who barely saw her from under her curls.

"Yes?"

"I'm a new student here," Dagmara explained.

"Ah yes?" The teacher scratched her head as if wondering if anyone had warned her about how to behave in such a situation.

"I had French at my previous school as well," said the girl. "I brought you my notebook, ma'am, to show you what I had been studying," she added, seeing relief on the woman's face. It was obvious that the French teacher didn't like to impose something on the student, so she was glad that it was Dagmara who took the initiative.

Dagmara handed a thick notebook to the teacher, who quickly grabbed it, as if scared of what she might find inside.

"Oh, and one more thing," Dagmara said in a voice as if she had just remembered something. Of course, she was bluffing - it was this case that brought her to the teacher, not the other way around, but no one seemed to notice her lie. All students were already sitting in their desks and were certainly looking at her. Dagmara lowered her voice slightly so that it wouldn't resound throughout the class. "Alan asked me to tell you that as much as he wanted to, he couldn't come to class."

"Really?" the woman must have had lessons with him before, because she knew exactly who she was referring to.

How is it possible that when it comes to Alan, all women are interested? she complained to herself as the teacher stared at her with an interested look.

"You mean he was at school?"

"Yes, and I believe he still is," Dagmara replied convincingly. "I guess he's struggling with some kind of stomach disease, so if you want to confirm what I'm saying, you'll find him in the men's bathroom."

Students who listened to their conversation laughed at the woman's expression, which showed disgust and curiosity. Of course, no normal teacher will leave the entire class just to look for a student with stomach problems.

Out of the corner of her eye, Dagmara caught the gaze of Nikolai, who was casting mischievous fires around him. He had to wonder what his friend would say when he will found out what alibi he had just been given.