by Natasha Lowe
“What’s going on?” Jarmal asked, racing over with his best friend Thomas Blackburn.
“Lucy’s mom is going to have a baby,” Ella shrieked.
Thomas shook his head. “Sorry about that,” he said, noticing Lucy’s glum expression. “Not easy being replaced, is it? And wait till it’s born,” he warned. “It gets worse. Then your parents won’t have any time for you. At all. All they do is take pictures of the baby. My dad took two photos with me in them last year and about two thousand of smelly Shelly.”
“Don’t listen to him,” Summer insisted, putting her hands on her hips and giving her ponytail a flip. “He’s just trying to scare you, Lucy. Being a big sister is wonderful. That’s what I wished for every year on my birthday.”
“I’m not trying to scare you, Lucy,” Thomas said. “I’m just being honest.”
“Thanks, Thomas,” Lucy replied in a small voice, wondering why anyone would wish for a baby sister when there were so many other things to ask for, like a Labrador puppy or having proper magical powers.
Coming home from school that afternoon Lucy was walking with her head down, searching for unusual-looking coins that might grant wishes hidden in the cracks of the sidewalk, when she bumped straight into the velvet cloaked figure of Chloe.
“Ouch!” Lucy looked up, stumbling backward. Chloe was all bones and hard angles. She smelled faintly of mothballs and had dyed her hair crimson. Standing beside her was the boy with the hedgehog hair. He wore a leather jacket covered in chains, and a safety pin dangled from his ear. Lucy’s heart quickened, and she looked away, not wanting to make eye contact with him.
“Careful.” Chloe shot out a hand to steady Lucy. “Look where you’re going, yes?”
“Sorry,” Lucy apologized, feeling her old discomfort return, the way it used to whenever she saw Chloe. But then Chloe smiled, and Lucy remembered how nice she was.
“See you then, Chloe, I’m off,” the boy said, giving Lucy a friendly grin. He had warm, kind eyes, the color of chestnuts, which Lucy hadn’t noticed before, and he suddenly didn’t look so scary. “Don’t want to be late for work.”
“Bye, Jack,” Chloe said as she gave him a small wave.
“Stop by for a burger later if you want.”
“I might,” Chloe replied, and Lucy wondered if Jack were her boyfriend. “He works at the diner,” Chloe explained as Jack darted across the street. “We went to school together. We’re just friends,” Chloe added, as if she could tell what Lucy was thinking. “Anyway, what’s up? How are things?”
Lucy shrugged. “Okay, I guess.” She glanced away for a moment. “But I’ve been dying to tell you, Chloe. I’m collecting signs of magic!” Lucy described the scrap of newspaper she had found in her nest, and Chloe looked suitably impressed.
“And your book idea was really great,” Lucy continued. “That girl Rachel I told you about, the one who reads at recess, is actually kind of nice. She’s very different from Ella.” Lucy paused a moment. “I really miss Ella. Well, I miss the old Ella. But guess what? Rachel is reading me Lord of the Rings. It’s her favorite book in the whole world, just like you. Do you think that might be a sign?”
“I think that’s someone you should pay attention to,” Chloe said. “I’m certainly impressed. I didn’t read Lord of the Rings until two years ago. I was sixteen!”
“Well, Rachel’s really smart. I’m not sure if she believes in magic though. I haven’t asked her, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she does. She certainly likes reading about it.”
“So what else is going on?” Chloe said bluntly. “Because I can tell you’ve got something on your mind.”
“Those O’Brien boys are so annoying.” Lucy sighed. “I can hear them from my bedroom. And the Toad is always crying.”
Chloe grinned. “They are loud, but at least they’re not on our side of the street. You can’t let that upset you, Lucy.”
Lucy stared at her shoes, feeling the tips of her ears start to throb. “My mom is going to have a baby,” she said. Then before she could stop herself, Lucy added, “I’d much rather we were getting a dog.” Thankfully, Chloe didn’t say anything remotely perky. In fact she didn’t say anything at all. She just gave Lucy a sympathetic look, which showed that she understood. “So did you hear about college yet?” Lucy asked, wanting to change the subject.
“I’ve got an interview!” Chloe gave a little jump, which was most un-Chloe-like. “And I’m so excited because some people don’t even get that far. They get rejected right away. It’s not for a few weeks though, which is good, because I’m making something really amazing to wear and I’m nowhere near finished.” She held out her arms so the cloak fabric draped down like bat wings. “I thought I’d take this along to show them too. It’s a sort of elf princess cloak. I love the chocolaty brown color. You could blend into the forest wearing it, couldn’t you? I found the fabric at the Put and Take. That place is magic!” Chloe said. “I always come across exactly what I need.”
“Oh, I know. My dad and I love the Put and Take,” Lucy cried. “I’ve found some of my best treasures there. And it is magic, Chloe. You’re right.”
“This used to be an old pair of curtains,” Chloe said, swirling around in her bat cloak. “They must have been stored in someone’s attic for a while though, because they stunk of mothballs.”
“I’d wear that all the time if I had one,” Lucy said. “You’re going to be famous, Chloe.”
“I have to find a job first.” Chloe sighed. “To help pay for college. That is, if I get in, of course. And if I don’t get in, I’m going to need a job anyway.” She paused and sighed again. “It’s tough out there right now. I’ve applied to all the stores in town but no one is hiring. Jack even tried to get me a job at the diner, but they don’t need anyone.”
“You could come and work for us,” Lucy offered, knowing as soon as the words were out of her mouth that she should probably have asked her parents first. Still, Chloe needed a job and her mom needed help, so it seemed like a sensible idea. “The baby is making my mom feel really sick, and she’s looking for someone to help with the chores.”
“I’d love to,” Chloe said, running her purple nails through her tomato-colored hair. “Gosh, that would be so fantastic.”
“Can you make spaghetti?”
“I guess.” Chloe shrugged.
“Perhaps Jack could teach you, since he’s a cook. Why don’t you come around later?” Lucy told her. “I’m sure my parents will be thrilled.”
“You asked who?” Mrs. Castor said when Lucy told her what she’d done. She was sprawled in an armchair, Mildred wedged at her feet. Even with all the lights on, the kitchen was dark and gloomy as the inside of a shoe box.
“I thought you’d be pleased,” Lucy said. “You were the one who told me Chloe was nice under all her makeup. And you were right, Mom. She is really nice and she’s trying to save money for college. She hasn’t got in yet, but I’m sure she will. Chloe is so clever. She makes all her own clothes.” There was a rather long silence. “I know what you’re thinking,” Lucy continued when her mother didn’t speak. “You’re remembering the time she came home in a police car, aren’t you?”
“And the fact that she’s covered in piercings and never smiles,” Mrs. Castor murmured.
“That’s what I used to think,” Lucy said. “But then I realized I never smiled at her, so why should she be the one to smile first? And you always told me you shouldn’t judge people by their appearances.”
“Let’s see what your father says, shall we?” Mrs. Castor replied, not looking at all sure about Lucy’s idea.
Mr. Castor didn’t seem very sure either. “I taught Chloe history,” he said, giving Lucy’s mom one of those private grown-up looks. “She’s been through a hard time with her parents divorcing and everything. But I don’t know …”
“Well, I like her,” Lucy said. “And she can make spaghetti.”
“Then I think we should give her a chance,” Mrs. Castor
said, suddenly making up her mind. “Because the way I’m feeling, I’m not going to be cooking spaghetti again for a very long while.”
LUCY WAS GLAD CHLOE WORE her leaf dress when she came over that evening, because it was bound to make a good impression on Lucy’s parents and show them how talented Chloe was. To begin with Chloe had on her serious face and didn’t say much, but Lucy could tell this was because she was nervous, since she kept crumpling one of the leaves on her dress into a tight ball, ruining its smooth flutteriness.
Lucy kept grinning at her, hoping Chloe would mirror her expression and smile back, and when she finally did, Chloe’s whole face lit up and she looked all friendly and nice and not the least bit intimidating. Lucy laughed in relief, sure that everything would be okay now, and she munched on a ginger cookie while Chloe talked about how much she wanted to go to college and design her own clothes. She even stood up and swirled (which was Lucy’s suggestion), so the Castors could see how beautiful her dress was.
As soon as Chloe heard she had got the job, she hugged all the Castors with great passion, and after she left, Mr. Castor said it was like being hugged by a tree. “But you were right, Lucy,” he added quickly, to show that he was joking. “Chloe is nice. She was such a quiet child when they moved here, I don’t remember much about her. And she’s much chattier than the Chloe I had in my history class.”
Chloe came every day for a couple of hours, and although she wasn’t the best cleaner in the world, she had plenty of enthusiasm, tidying all Mr. Castor’s carefully arranged clock bits off the kitchen table and polishing one of the side tables so hard that a leg broke right off. Her cooking wasn’t the best either, and Lucy secretly began to think that pizza on Mondays might actually be better than spaghetti made by Chloe.
“Hey, where did this come from?” Chloe said one afternoon, picking Nature’s Magic up from the coffee table. It had been buried for the past few days under a pile of kangaroo library books.
“I found it at the Put and Take,” Lucy said, looking up from her math homework. She was wondering whether to tell Chloe that it might very possibly be a real spell book, when Chloe said, “This is so cool, Lucy. All these old herbal remedies. It probably belonged to a witch!”
“Chloe, that’s just what I think,” Lucy cried.
“I mean, seriously,” Chloe went on. “I bet these were the sort of things the Salem witches used to brew.” Lucy knew all about the Salem witches from her father. They were a group of women who lived a long time ago in Salem, Massachusetts, accused of practicing magic.
“Lucy made me some ginger tea from in there,” Mrs. Castor remarked, looking over from the Nest. “It really helped with my nausea.”
“But you need to say a spell to go along with them,” Lucy said. “Ella and I tried a hiccup potion without the magic, and it didn’t work.”
“Interesting,” Chloe murmured, slowly turning the pages. “Where do you get the spells from?”
“I don’t know.” Lucy shrugged. “They just pop into my head.” And then lowering her voice she whispered, “I think I might actually have magic powers, Chloe.”
“Wouldn’t surprise me one bit,” Chloe said, smiling at Lucy.
It was wonderful that Chloe also believed in magic, but the best thing about her was that she didn’t keep mentioning the baby or trying to convince Lucy how great it was going to be. Nor did Rachel, thank goodness. At recess the girls would sit under the maple tree, which was starting to turn a deep crimson, while Rachel read The Lord of the Rings out loud, and if it rained they perched on one of the class windowsills. Although Lucy still didn’t know Rachel that well, she found her extremely easy to be with. One rainy Tuesday they had just reached the part in the book where Arwen, princess of the elves, decides to marry Aragorn and give up her immortality, when Lucy turned to Rachel and whispered, “Do you believe in elves and magic?” She spoke softly so the sparkle girls wouldn’t hear.
“I don’t know.” Rachel tilted her head. “Maybe. I like the idea of magic.”
“Chloe, my next-door neighbor, says that half the population in Iceland believe in elves and dwarfs,” Lucy whispered. “For real, I mean.”
“Really?” Rachel looked intrigued. “Well, then I guess it’s possible.”
“Look at this,” Lucy said, feeling brave enough to get out her notebook. She showed Rachel her gnome drawing. “That’s what I saw in my closet. And I found some sparkles from his shoes on the floor.”
“Ahh, he’s so sweet, Lucy,” Rachel said, and Lucy wasn’t sure if that meant Rachel believed her or not.
“I did see him,” she said firmly. “But I don’t want anyone else to know.”
“I won’t say a word,” Rachel whispered, handing her back the notebook. “Your gnome is safe with me. And when I get home, I’m going to look up Icelandic dwarfs on my dad’s computer. That is so interesting.”
Some days Ella would come charging over to Lucy and Rachel, full of sparkle energy, and want an update on Lucy’s baby news. Had they thought of names yet? Was it a boy or a girl? If it was a girl, what about calling her Peaches because that was a beautiful name? It was always a relief when Ella rushed off again, back to Summer and Molly and May, because Lucy could relax and be herself.
One afternoon, walking home from school, Lucy had turned onto Beech Street and was wandering along thinking about how many other houses might have resident gnomes living in them, when Mrs. O’Brien came driving past in her great big minivan. A few moments later the lovely peace was broken as she parked in her usual place, right opposite the Castors’, and boys started exploding out of the back like popcorn.
“Micky, Billy, do not go near the road,” Mrs. O’Brien hollered, hauling a wiggling Toady out of his car seat. “Sammy, watch them, please.” Sammy appeared to be paying no attention, zooming around the yard in a Batman cape with his arms spread out like wings. He was making “pow, pow” noises and doing karate kicks, while Micky and Billy chased after him, making even louder “pow, pow” noises. Lucy watched in horror as Billy stopped for a moment to wipe his little cardboard book across his nose.
“Hi, Lucy. Want to take that lot home with you?” Mrs. O’Brien called out. Lucy’s mouth dropped open and Mrs. O’Brien laughed. “I’m only joking, Lucy. But honestly, I can’t wait until you’re old enough to babysit.”
Lucy smiled weakly. This was not the first time Mrs. O’Brien had mentioned babysitting, and at some point (even though Lucy hated hurting people’s feelings) she would have to tell her that this was never, ever, under any circumstances, going to happen. Toady was staring at Lucy, and she tried making a happy face, which triggered a loud howl.
“He’s got a bit of a tummy ache,” Mrs. O’Brien said kindly. Although Lucy knew it had nothing to do with tummy aches. Toady didn’t like her any more than she liked him.
“I have to go, Mrs. O’Brien,” Lucy said. Micky started crying because Sammy had accidentally karate kicked him in the face, and escaping while she had the chance, Lucy dashed across the street to her house.
She found her mother slumped in the big armchair, studying a book of baby names.
“If our baby is like Toady, we’re sending it back,” Lucy announced, dropping her bag on the floor. “I cannot live with one of those.” Mrs. Castor glanced up from the name book and smiled. “So no cake for tea?” Lucy continued. “Not that I mind or anything. I completely understand with you being so ill and everything. It’s just that Chloe isn’t a cake maker, and I do miss them.” Chloe, the Castors had come to find out, was barely a kettle boiler, let alone a cake maker. But she was trying, Lucy noticed, eyeing the plate of burnt cookies on the table.
“This won’t go on forever, Lucy, I promise,” Mrs. Castor said.
Lucy picked up a cookie and tried to bite into it. It was a bit like eating a rock. Jack clearly wasn’t being much help in the cooking lesson department. “Have you chosen a name yet?” she asked her mother, glancing at the book.
“No, but it’s exciting to
think about them. It helps me remember that this is all going to be worth it.” Lucy forced herself to smile, which was hard to do when she didn’t feel like smiling and had a hard, burnt cookie in her mouth. “I have to say I rather like traditional names,” Mrs. Castor went on. “Elizabeth for a girl, maybe, and William for a boy?”
“Really?” Lucy said, trying to squelch the flame of jealousy flickering in her belly. William and Elizabeth were royal names. Names you gave to kings and queens. Not like common old, garden-variety Lucy. Who ever heard of Queen Lucy Mouse? “I sort of like Rover or Fido myself,” Lucy proposed rather hopefully. “Those are comforting, friendly names, don’t you think?” She could cope with a Rover or a Fido in the house but not a William or Elizabeth demanding all the attention.
“I’m having a baby, not a dog,” Mrs. Castor said.
Lucy gave up on the cookie and took out her homework, wishing it were a cute yellow Labrador curled up inside her mother’s tummy.
When Mr. Castor got home he suggested supper in the garden, since the weather was September warm and the kitchen table had a new clock project all over it.
“That’s a wonderful idea,” Lucy said, giving her father a hug. “Picnics always make things better, especially if it’s fried chicken and cherry pie.”
“I’m afraid that’s a bit of a stretch, Lucy,” Mr. Castor admitted. “I was thinking more of sandwiches.”
“Well, sandwiches are good too,” Lucy said, trying to make the best of things. But once they were outside, she couldn’t help worrying, because the petunias on the shady side of the yard looked all wilty and sad, and the roses were shedding petals on the ground. “The flowers hate that fence,” Lucy said rather fiercely, sitting on the tartan picnic rug in between her parents. “They are dying from sadness.”
“It’s also the end of summer, Lucy,” Mrs. Castor said.
“No.” Lucy shook her head. “They are not getting enough sun.”
