The Trouble with Secrets

by Lexi Connor

  “I … uh …” Enchantress Le Fay was trying to regain control and keep the show going.

  “She doesn’t look okay,” George whispered.

  B giggled. “I think she’s having an attack of conscience about her bunnies.”

  “I’m serious,” Rufus said, kicking his legs in midair once more. “How would you like it, strung up here like a side of bacon while someone holds you by the hair?”

  Slowly, Le Fay held Rufus as far from her face as she could, as if she was afraid he might bite her. “Behold!” she said shakily. “My powers have conjured up a talking rabbit!”

  Someone in the audience snickered.

  “Do not doubt me! I have just heard him speak with my own ears!” she screeched. Then she poked the rabbit with her wand. “Say something!”

  “S-P-E-E-C-H-L-E-S-S,” B murmured, her lips barely moving.

  Le Fay waited and the crowd grew restless.

  B thought she saw beads of sweat dripping down her makeup-plastered face. Desperate, Le Fay tried to say something out of the corner of her own mouth. “Enchantress Le Fay is amazing!”

  “Boo!” shouted a pair of teenagers in the back. “That’s not the rabbit talking!”

  Enchantress Le Fay picked up her hat, stuffed Rufus back inside, and wedged it firmly on her head. “Moving on,” she said briskly, “let me summon my floating crystal ball to tell your fortunes. Is there someone in the audience who needs to know what their future holds?”

  Float. Now there was an interesting idea.

  B stared at the hat and spelled the word.

  Enchantress Le Fay’s sequined hat rose off her head. And so did her wig! Together, they floated across the stage.

  Enchantress Le Fay shrieked. Wisps of blond hair escaped from their pins and stuck out in every direction. “Grab it, Jimmy!” she cried.

  Rufus poked his head out from under the brim of the hat. B gasped. The rabbit had escaped his secret pouch, and gotten his paws tangled up in Le Fay’s wig! B giggled. Brilliant! Now, why hadn’t she thought of that?

  Enchantress Le Fay tried to grab at her floating wig while the audience thundered with laughter.

  “That’s not part of the show!” she shouted. “I’m not doing that.”

  Jason looked up at the floating wig in horror. “Then it must be real magic,” he said.

  “Get the phony witch off the stage!” someone else cried out.

  Enchantress Le Fay clenched her fists and shook them in the air. A whining squeal boiled up inside her, seemingly from the tips of her toes. “Oooooh, this cannot be happening!” she cried, stamping her foot, and forgetting completely to use her Enchantress voice. “There is no such thing as magic!”

  For a moment, everyone was still.

  Enchantress Le Fay clapped a hand over her mouth, turned, and ran off the stage.

  B caught sight of George’s face, his mouth dropped open. She hoped this would be enough to convince him.

  Jason Jameson found himself alone on the stage. He pulled his wizard bathrobe a little tighter around himself.

  B smiled inwardly, but her job wasn’t over yet. She kept her eyes fixed on the floating hat. “L-A-N-D,” she breathed, watching carefully as the hat gently floated to the floor.

  The audience laughed. Sometimes finding out how the trick is done is as much fun as being tricked in the first place. B smiled. If only they really knew.

  People began drifting away. Gradually, B relaxed. And Jason hurriedly began to close the curtain.

  The bewildered-looking announcer appeared, urging everyone to visit the other attractions at the fair that night. In the moment when all other eyes were on his bobbing handlebar mustache, B saw a little white rabbit hop across the stage and slip out of the tent.

  Chapter 16

  The crowd dwindled quickly. Without a word, B and George walked away from Enchantress Le Fay’s stage. Neither one of them looked back.

  George kicked at a broken soda cup on the ground.

  “So,” B said eventually, “want to hit the roller coaster?”

  An organ grinder and his monkey passed by. The monkey jumped up onto George’s shoulder and tried to steal his glasses.

  “Hey! Get off!”

  The monkey leaped down, chattering his displeasure. B laughed, and finally, George did, too.

  “I think I’ve had enough of the fair for one week,” George said. “Let’s go.”

  Soon the noise and lights were behind them. Crickets drowned out the carousel in no time.

  “That was … strange,” George said at length. “The bit with the rabbit was really convincing. I don’t get why she fell apart and ran off, though, just because of her wig.”

  B scratched her chin thoughtfully. “She seemed pretty unstable, don’t you think?”

  George gave her a sharp look. “Did you have something to do with that?”

  “What, I made her unstable?” B said, waving indignantly, grateful that the honesty potion had worn off. “How could I have had anything to do with it?”

  “Hm.” George nudged her with his elbow. “You made me come tonight, though. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you had some kind of magic powers.”

  B laughed out loud — possibly, she thought, a little too loud. “So are you really cured?” she asked. “No more curse?”

  George nodded. “No more curse. She was not a real witch.”

  B laughed. It felt so good to have George back — the real George, not the cursed zombie he’d been these last few days. Soon the fair would leave town, and all this trouble would be gone for good.

  “I’m sorry I was such a pain,” George said.

  Good old George! B’s spirits soared. She’d done it! She’d squashed George’s curse and gotten her best friend back, and given Enchantress Le Fay a well-deserved lesson about real witchcraft while she was at it.

  “Dad and I decided to take our tap dancing lessons right here in town,” George said. “I figured, why try to hide it? There’s nothing wrong with tap dancing.”

  “Exactly!” B said. “That’s great. I’m glad to hear it.”

  “I don’t know what was the matter with me,” George said. “I know there are no witches. Knew it all along. I mean, how could there be?”

  This time B’s laugh was harder to manage. “Yeah, really,” she said. “How could there be?”

  They were nearly home. B’s front porch lights twinkled invitingly, and Nightshade’s silhouette waited on the top step.

  They were just passing the Peabodys’ driveway when a truck whizzed by, plowing straight through a huge mud puddle by the edge of the road.

  An arc of spray rose in the air. B saw George about to get soaked… . More bad luck! No!

  “S-T-O-P!” she cried.

  The drops of water froze, suspended in midair, like they’d been captured in a photograph, while the truck taillights dwindled into pinpoints in the distance.

  George looked at B, his mouth hanging open.

  “What,” he gulped, “was that?”

  Oh, no.

  Oh, no, no, no.

  So much for secrets!

  Preview

  B’s charmed adventures continue in

  Read on for a sneak peek!

  “Let me get this straight, B,” George said, bouncing his soccer ball on his forehead. “All you have to do is spell a word, just some old random word, and you can make anything happen?”

  Beatrix, “B” to her friends, flopped into the beanbag chair on her best friend’s basement rec room floor. “It’s not that simple, George,” she said. “Watch out! You nearly hit the lamp.”

  George caught the ball. His thick, curly blond hair dangled over the rim of his glasses, but B could see the curiosity sparkling in his eyes. “W-I-N-D,” she spelled, and a little breeze swept through the room, riffling her friend’s hair.

  George touched his forehead in amazement. “You really did that, didn’t you? I still can’t believe it.” He began pacing back and forth. “So,” he sai
d, waving his hands wildly, “so, you could just spell ‘win’ and bam, our team could win the championship soccer game on Thursday? Just like that?” He wiggled his fingers.

  B laughed. “No, I couldn’t. And I wouldn’t do a thing like that, even if I could.”

  Clearly, George didn’t understand magic yet. And why should he? It was all so new to him. She hadn’t meant to tell him she was a witch — he found out by accident. All the same, it was a relief not to have to keep the secret from him anymore, and to have someone to talk to about her magic. She tried to explain herself better.

  “Just because it’s magic, George, doesn’t mean it’s like the movies. Real magic takes training, and lots of practice. There are rules! Even still, things have a way of going wrong.” She held up her hands, and George tossed her the ball. “Believe me, I know.”

  She tried bouncing the ball on her forehead, but it got away from her and rolled across the broad room. George’s huge yellow dog, Butterbrains, bounded after it.

  “Show me another trick,” George begged. “C’mon. One teensy little trick.”

  “They’re not tricks,” B said indignantly. “I’m not some circus performer. This is real.”

  “I know. Just one little … demonstration?”

  “Allllll right,” she said. “What do you want to see?”

  George pointed at a lava lamp. “Make it, I dunno, float in the air or something.” He fidgeted with excitement.

  B focused on the lamp. “F-L-O-A-T,” she said.

  The lamp rose in the air and swung in a wide circle, as far as the power cord would let it travel. Butterbrains backed into a corner, his head cocked to one side. Now and then he gave a curious whimper, his tail thumping.

  George crawled over to Butterbrains and tussled with him. “It’s okay, boy! It’s only B, the magic witch.” He giggled. “This is just so stinking cool! I can’t believe it. I can’t believe it!”

  B smiled. When George was excited about something, he had a one-track mind. How long, B wondered, would it take him to get used to her magic? She’d had a lifetime, growing up with parents and an older sister who were witches. True, their spells, like most other witches', were conjured by imaginative rhyming couplets, and not by spelling. Even so, minor magic such as floating objects had been commonplace in B’s home for as long as she could remember.

  Why not give him a little crash course?

  “F-L-O-A-T,” she whispered, concentrating on a plastic tote full of Wiffle balls and squooshy footballs. They slipped into the air silently and orbited over George’s head.

  “Whoa!” George paused in his game with Butterbrains. “Lookit that!”

  Butterbrains barked and jumped in the air, his body twisting as he tried in vain to snag the flying balls.

  “D-A-N-C-E,” B told a tub full of old, forgotten action figures George had long since outgrown. Soon military figures were waltzing with monsters, and Greek heroes were tangoing with robots.

  If George hung his mouth open any wider, he’d start drooling.

  This was too much fun.

  “B-U-I-L-D,” she told a huge crate of interlocking blocks, and, clickety-clack, they flew out by the dozens to form themselves into a rainbow-colored replica of George’s house, right down to the shrubs.

  And still the lava lamp swung its wide arc, illuminating the bizarre party like a strobe light, while Butterbrains barked like a maniac.

  “Oh, man,” George said. “Think what you could do with this — the stuff you could pull off at school!” He doubled over laughing. “Just imagine, a school assembly, and you make the vice principal’s toupee float all over the auditorium. Attack of the bad hair monster!”

  B giggled. “No way! That’s so mean. Besides, my magic is an absolute secret, remember? No one can find out about it.”

  “I know, I know,” George said, still laughing. “You’ve gotta admit, though, that would be an assembly to remember.” He pantomimed clutching at his head, as if his own hair had just flown away.

  “Yeah, but you make me nervous, the way you keep bringing up ideas like that,” B said, watching as the clackety building blocks turned George’s house into a castle. “I would get in such huge trouble if the Magical Rhyming Society found out that you know about this.”

  George sat up, blinking at B. “There’s a Magical Rhyming Society? You mean, there’s lots of witches, all organized and stuff?”

  “Yup. Lots of them.” B aimed a G-L-O-W spell at a pair of glow-in-the-dark plastic swords. They began dueling each other in midair. “What, did you think I’m the only one?”

  Butterbrains ran in frenetic circles, barking at the bobbling balls, the dancing figures, clashing swords, and building Legos, each in turn.

  George shrugged. “How would I know? You’re the only witch I’ve ever …”

  KNOCK.

  They stared at each other, terrified.

  KNOCK.

  Then they stared at the whirlwind of toys.

  George’s dad’s voice came through the thin door. “What are you two doing to that dog?”

  Other Books in the B Magical Series

  B Magical #1: The Missing Magic

  B Magical #2: The Trouble with Secrets

  B Magical #3: The Runaway Spell

  B Magical #4: The Cat-Astrophe

  About the Author

  LEXI CONNOR loves word searches, crosswords, and word puzzles. When she was younger, she won her county bee and traveled to the regional competition, where, in a moment of extreme stage fright, she misspelled “C-E-M-E-T-E-R-Y.” She lives with her black cat named Abbey in Massachusetts.

  Special thanks to Julie Berry

  Copyright

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Working Partners Limited, Stanley House, St. Chad’s Place, London WC1X 9HH, United Kingdom.

  Copyright © 2009 by Lexi Connor

  Cover art by Tuesday Mourning

  Cover design by Yaffa Jaskoll

  All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Inc., 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012. SCHOLASTIC, APPLE PAPERBACKS, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.

  This edition first printing, January 2011

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

  e-ISBN 978-0-545-29895-7