After my last class, I stash my books and race down the hall. There’s so much to do, and only four afternoons to do it in!
Just as I turn the corner, I see Scott, who’s about to go through the double doors that lead to the parking lot. “Hey!” I call.
He stops and waits until I catch up. “So that’s what you and Martin were doing this weekend. Working on the carnival idea.”
Well, if you leave out all the time we spent riding magic jetpacks, that is what we were doing, so I just nod. Then I remember that Martin’s supposed to get all the credit, so I add, “It was Martin’s idea, really. I knew he was smart, but he’s so talented, and organized, and…he’s just great!”
There’s a funny look in Scott’s eyes. I guess I am overdoing it a little bit. “You like him, don’t you?” he asks.
Is Scott jealous? He couldn’t be. After all, he told his little brothers I’m not his girlfriend as fast as the words would come out of his mouth.
Then Scott says, “Martin sounds pretty great. I can see why you’d rather hang out with him.”
O.
M.
G.
Scott is jealous! It doesn’t mean he’s my boyfriend—but maybe it means that he would mind if Martin was my boyfriend. (Does that make sense? You know what I mean, right?)
Am I shallow if I think that’s awesome?
So now I need to figure out a way to let Scott know that Martin and I absolutely don’t like each other that way. Not at all.
But before I get a chance, Martin races down the hall, waving at me wildly. “Lacey! I’ve been looking for you! Let’s go!”
Scott stares as Martin takes me by the hand and drags me through the door…
…and we instantly get pounced on by Makayla and Taylor, whose camera is already raised.
“Here is the carnival couple now,” Makayla says in her fake-sounding newswoman voice. “Will they convince the school to go along with their plan? My sources say the kids aren’t liking it so far.”
Eek.
Luckily, Makayla’s “sources” are wrong. (I think Makayla had exactly two: herself and Taylor.)
Makayla probably thought the kids would be so busy being mad at Martin that they wouldn’t want to help, but over a hundred volunteers show up in the parking lot ready to work. I guess they want the carnival more than they want to hate Martin.
To my complete surprise, everyone treats me and Martin like we know what we’re doing. They listen to us when we talk, and Blaine Anders even laughs at one of Martin’s jokes. Now all we have to do is put on a complete carnival without using any magic.
Gulp.
But I don’t have time to worry. I’ve got too much to do! We break the kids into teams:
Team One: Booths.
Team Two: Decorations and lights.
Team Three: Games and prizes.
Team Four: Food.
Team Five: Signs, flyers, and advertising.
It’s a lot of teams, but we’ve got a lot of kids, and we have no problem filling the teams up. So far so good.
Okay, I do have a little time to worry. And what I worry about is Makayla. She and Taylor tell everyone they’re filming a long news report about the carnival, but I’m the only person they’re filming. And every once in a while I look up and see Makayla staring right at me. I’m totally sure her “news report” isn’t about the carnival, it’s about catching me doing magic. Since I’m not tossing a single spell, Makayla can’t prove a thing. But that doesn’t stop me from feeling scared every time I see the camera pointed in my direction.
Monday night, I get a text from Martin: My mom was mad I got home late.
I text back: Everything okay?
Martin: I’m grounded till I turn 30.
Me: What about the carnival?
Martin: If you can come over and do the magic violin spell every day, I’ll work on the ride in the basement while I’m “practicing” in my room.
Me: No prob. Give me a hint about the ride you’re working on.
Martin: It’s a surprise! Just wait.
The zip line was also a surprise. I sure hope this is a better one.
Over the next few days, the carnival really starts to come together. It’s the most planning I’ve ever had to do. It’s bigger than a school play. It’s bigger than a wedding. It’s just—big.
Katarina stays home to supervise the little snowplows; she really needs to, because every day the portal in the room gets bigger. When she’s not chanting spells to make pink snowplows, she’s swearing under her breath in something that sounds like Elvish. I’ll have to remember some of the words if I ever get mad at Martin.
The week is so much work. Every single day, I’m tempted to use just a little, teeny, itsy-bitsy bit of magic. But every single day, I also see Makayla and Taylor skulking around watching me. You know those TV shows where the creepy reporters try to talk to famous people outside restaurants? Makayla and Taylor are just like that.
So no magic, just lots of help from the kids at school. And I’m learning things about my classmates I never knew:
Marcie Dunphy, the smallest girl in the sixth grade, can make any kind of balloon animals you can think of. Not just poodles and giraffes, but meerkats and iguanas.
Gaby Thompson, who talks more than any kid I’ve ever met, is a stuffed-animal maniac, and she donates ninety-seven stuffed animals from her personal collection. (I get the feeling there are still a lot of animals at home.) I wonder if she talks to the animals at night when there’s no one else around.
Dylan Hernandez knows an insane amount about junk food. His family owns an industrial kettle-corn maker and a cotton-candy machine that they’re lending to the carnival. And since Mom and Dad say they’ll donate a huge batch of caramel apples, there’s going to be plenty to eat.
And Scott is so good at untangling Christmas lights, it’s almost spooky. (Dad should hire him next Christmas.) But no matter how friendly I am, Scott never has much to say to me. Here’s how it always goes when I walk by him and one of his piles of lights:
Me: “Hi, Scott!”
Scott: “Hi, Lacey.”
(Seemingly endless silence.)
Me: “Bye, Scott.”
Scott: “Bye, Lacey.”
The first time we have this “conversation,” I tell myself he’s busy. By the fifth time, I’m pretty sure it’s because he’s mad at me about Martin. Or…maybe he’s not mad at me about Martin. Maybe he just doesn’t care about me at all.
Sigh. Being a fairy godmother and having an almost-boyfriend don’t mix.
Except for my seemingly endless silences with Scott, the week is so busy, it’s kind of a blur. Principal Conehurst says we can’t miss a minute of classes, so we all work like crazy before school, during lunch, and after school. Kids even work during passing periods. Sometimes all they do is paint one flower on a cardboard booth, but it sure adds up.
Every afternoon, I bike over to Martin’s house, being super extra careful to make sure that Makayla isn’t following me. Then I cast the magic violin spell so it sounds like Martin is practicing instead of working on the top-secret ride he’s designing for the carnival. He still won’t tell me what it is! I try looking in the basement window to see what’s going on down there, but he’s taped newspaper over the glass.
Late Thursday afternoon, I walk around the parking lot—excuse me, carnival—making notes about what we have to finish tomorrow. There’s a lot on the list, but things are looking okay so far. The booths are in place, the lights are strung, and the tables for food have been set up.
Just as I’m leaving, the sun breaks through the white, puffy clouds overhead. I hope it’s a good sign.
Mom is clattering around in the kitchen when I get home, so I stick my head in the door. “I’m back!”
There’s a huge bowl of apples on the table, and Mom stirs a giant pot of caramel sauce on the stove. Julius sits on her feet hoping something tasty will come his way.
“Hi, Lacey!” Mom says. “It’s almost dipping
time. I need an assistant.”
“Let me put my stuff in my room and I’ll be right back.”
As I’m leaving, Madison skips into the kitchen. “Mom! Can we have fish sticks for dinner?”
“You don’t even like fish sticks,” Mom says.
“But Prince Cornelius Sebastian loves them.”
“Who’s Prince Cornelius Sebastian?”
“My new penguin friend.”
Mom is used to Madison’s imaginary friends. “Tell your penguin friend I’ll consider it.”
Madison smiles and skips away.
When I open the door to my room, I’m hit by an icy blast of cold air. It’s lucky that Mom, Dad, and Madison can’t feel this, but I sure can. By the time I make it to my bed, head down in the wind, my fingers and toes are numb.
The little snowplows are busily clearing the snow from the portal, which is now almost two feet wide. The portal has grown a lot since this morning, but so far the plows are doing a great job.
There’s no sign of Katarina, so I peer into one of the frosty windows of her ig-mansion and see her sitting by a tiny, roaring fireplace. She’s wrapped in a heavy blanket, drinking hot chocolate, and looking very comfortable.
“Stop rubbernecking!” Katarina snaps. “Do you know how disconcerting it is to have a giant eyeball staring in through your window?”
I consider sticking my tongue out at her, but I’m afraid it will freeze to the glass. “The carnival is looking really good,” I tell her. “And Mom and I are making caramel apples.”
Katarina perks up. “If you’re making poison ones, I have a great recipe. The secret’s in the wolfsbane. Always fresh, never frozen.”
Katarina is seriously disturbing sometimes.
As I fight my way back out of the room through the icy wind, I notice that the door to the bathroom I share with Madison is open. I pull it closed and keep going.
When I step back into the hallway, I nearly knock over Madison, who’s dragging her plastic kiddie pool in from the backyard.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Nothing.”
“You’re doing something. What’s the pool for?”
“For my penguin.”
“Your imaginary penguin doesn’t need a pool. Take it back outside.”
“He’s not imaginary. He’s real! I’m going to give him fish sticks for dinner. They’re his favorite.”
I’m about to take the pool away when I hear a strange sound inside her room. It sounds like…
Eaeyeeeap.
OMG!
I squeeze past the pool, open Madison’s door, and stare inside. Staring back at me is a two-foot-tall, black-and-white penguin with an orange bill.
Eaeyeeeap, he squawks.
He’s definitely real.
I pull Madison inside and close the door. The penguin gives me a curious look and then waddles over and tries to eat my shoelaces.
Madison puts her hands on her hips. “You’ve got Julius, and now I’ve got Prince Cornelius Sebastian. Isn’t he the cutest?”
“But where did he come from?”
“He was in the bathroom. Finders keepers—he’s mine!”
I sit on Madison’s bed, trying to figure out what’s going on. Could Prince Cornelius Sebastian have wandered in from my room? How could that happen? All I know for sure is that, no matter what, Madison cannot have a pet penguin.
The penguin gives up trying to eat my shoelaces and looks at me with one eye. Eaeyeeeap! Eaeyeeeap! I’ve got to get him back in my room where, I hope, Katarina can help me get rid of him.
Madison rummages through her costume box. “I can speak Penguin! He’s saying, ‘I want a pink tutu!’”
Geez. She’s planning tutus, which for Madison means they’re already best friends forever. Getting him away is not going to be easy.
“Ooh, and a hat, too!” Madison says as she pulls one out. What am I going to tell her?
My mind is blank, and then I see a black-and-white dog figurine on Madison’s windowsill, one of the puppies from 101 Dalmatians. I kneel down by Madison, very serious. “I’m going to tell you a secret. You can’t keep Prince Cornelius Sebastian.”
“He’s mine! I finders-keepers-ed him!”
“But he’s in terrible danger. Life-and-death danger!”
Madison looks at me, interested despite herself.
“There’s a girl at my school named Makayla. She’s beautiful but evil. And you know what she wants more than anything else in the whole world?”
“What?”
“She wants a coat made from penguins.”
Madison crosses her arms. “A coat? That’s in a movie.”
This is my make-or-break moment, and I choose my words carefully. “That’s where the evil Makayla got the idea. I need to take Prince Cornelius Sebastian to the zoo, so he’ll be safe.”
“I don’t believe you. You’re making this up,” Madison says.
Suddenly, from the bathroom, there’s an evil cackle. Madison and I both jump.
“Did you do that?” Madison asks, with terror on her face.
I shake my head—and then the cackle comes again.
Madison throws her arms in the air and runs out of the room shrieking louder than any little girl has ever shrieked.
Katarina flies into the room from the bathroom, covering her ears. “That girl should be a car alarm.” She flies behind the penguin and cackles again. The penguin runs, terrified, into the bathroom. I follow him through the bathroom and into my freezing bedroom, where he hops through the portal and disappears into the snowy wilderness that’s on the other side.
Katarina flies up to me as I stand in my room, shivering. “Where’d you learn to laugh like that?” I ask.
“The same place I learned the recipe for the poison apples.” She yells after the penguin, “Run, you little monster, run!”
She really does hate penguins.
“Katarina, you said that only you and I can see the portal or Antarctica. But Madison saw Prince Cornelius Sebastian.”
She points at the wide-open wall of my bedroom. “This may be a magic portal to the South Pole, but that penguin was real. Portals work both ways, just like a door does, which explains how that foul fowl got in here. When the full moon comes—two nights from now—the magic portal will close. And if you don’t complete your assignment with Martin, we’ll be on the other side.”
“We can’t have penguins wandering around the house!”
“I’ve got a solution for that.”
I expect her to raise her wand and toss a spell. Instead, she gives me a smug look and says, “Keep the door closed, you ninny.”
And right then, my bedroom door opens. Katarina darts out of sight as Mom comes into the room, holding a caramel-covered wooden spoon. Even though there’s a vast Antarctic wilderness visible through a two-foot portal on the other side of the room, Mom doesn’t see it.
“Lacey Unger-Ware!” Mom says. “What did you say to your sister? She’s scared to death!”
“I’m sorry. I was just telling her a fairy tale about an evil girl and a penguin.”
“Don’t do it again. And you’re supposed to be helping me with the apples.”
I find Madison in the family room and whisper, “Prince Cornelius Sebastian is safe. He’s already at the zoo.”
“And the evil Makayla is gone?”
“Yes.”
Madison breathes a sigh of relief and heads into the kitchen. “Mom? I don’t want fish sticks for dinner anymore.”
Not much classwork gets done at Lincoln Middle School on Friday. Who can concentrate on math or French or World Cultures when there’s a carnival in just a few hours? We open to the paying public at five o’clock sharp!
Somehow, we all make it through the day. The teachers aren’t too hard on us—I think they’re looking forward to the carnival, too.
When the last bell rings, a hundred kids swarm the parking lot to put on the finishing touches. I find Martin and ask, “Is your top
-secret ride ready?”
“Yes! I’m on my way home to get it right now. Wait’ll you see it!”
“Do you need me to come do the magic violin spell?”
“No—my mom’s working late today.”
“Okay! Come back as fast as you can!”
And by four forty-five, except for Martin’s secret ride, the carnival is ready to go. Sunny, Paige, and I stand back and take just a moment to admire everything.
“It’s good!” Sunny says.
Paige nods. “Who needs magic, anyway?”
We sure don’t—because just then Scott plugs in the Christmas lights. (He may be giving me the silent treatment, but that doesn’t stop him from being a hard worker.) There are thousands of colored, twinkling bulbs. And, suddenly, we’ve got a carnival.
The booths look great. Sure, they’re just made out of boxes, but with paint and bright lights, they don’t look like cardboard at all. The stuffed-animal prizes are piled in pyramids by the game booths, and you’d never know that they were slightly used.
Tables are heaped high with food for sale. It’s not just the caramel apples, the kettle corn, and the cotton candy I was expecting—there are also cookies, cupcakes, chocolate-covered pretzels, and fudge that parents sent in. (A lot of people were busy cooking last night.) There’s even a platter of beef jerky; it’s Marcie Dunphy’s dad’s specialty.
And Makayla and Taylor are still stalking me with the camera. I should be used to it by now, but this is getting really old. Makayla is so sure I’m using magic, she’s not going to stop till she proves it.
Makayla watches as Principal Conehurst walks up to Sunny, Paige, and me with a big smile on his face. “I didn’t think it was possible to do this in five days, but you guys pulled it off!” He glances up at the dark clouds overhead. “And the weatherman says it’s not supposed to rain until Sunday, so that shouldn’t be a problem. I guess all that’s left is to see how much money you kids raise.”
“It’s going to be a lot,” I tell him, and Sunny and Paige nod.
“It’s going to have to be, if you’re going to pay for both the water tower and the field trips. Still…this looks terrific. I don’t want to jinx things, but I think this just might work.”
The Spell Bind Page 11
