by David Lubar
“Sure.”
We headed to the card shop. While Jan looked through the choices, I sneaked a peek at my book. The first part explained how power itself wasn’t good or bad. What mattered was the way people used power. I guess that made sense. I mean, you could use gasoline to drive someone to the library or to start a fire. You could do good things with electricity, like light a room, or bad things, like give someone a shock.
The one sentence in the book that really got me thinking was: Power seeks its rightful owner. The woman in the park must have gone there to pass on her power, but I doubt it was meant for me. Maybe the rightful owner would try to find me.
“Move!”
I’d been standing in an aisle, reading. Someone pushed me aside and walked past. “Hey, don’t be so pushy,” I said before I realized who I was talking to.
“What did you say?” May asked, turning slowly back toward me like an oil tanker moving out of a harbor.
“Nothing.” I thought how nice it would be to blast her with some of my power. I imagined changing her into a pig. I could just see her running around on four legs, still wearing that tacky outfit. The thought made me smile.
“You laughing at me?” she asked, balling the fingers of her right hand into a fist the size of a canned ham.
I shook my head.
“Take it back,” May ordered. “I’m not pushy.” As she said this, she reached out and pushed my shoulder.
“I take it back,” I said as my amusement was replaced by fear. “You’re not pushy.”
“That’s better.” She glared at me, and I think she still wanted to hit me just for the fun of it.
But then the breeze drifted in. And on the breeze was the most marvelous aroma. Pies. Fresh-baked pies. May looked. I looked. Outside, just past the entrance to the card shop, a man pushed a cart displaying a sign that said: MRS. NYE’S HOUSE OF PIES. FREE SAMPLES.
May didn’t even glance back at me. She dashed off. The moment she left, the breeze stopped.
I noticed Jan standing off to the side. “That was close,” she said.
I nodded.
“I never understood how you can take something back,” Jan said. “I mean, once it’s said, it’s said. Right? It’s not like you can suck back the words or something. Or maybe you can.” She grinned and said, “Pushy.” Then she said it backwards. “Eeshup.”
“Jan, you’re getting weird.”
She giggled and kept on saying it. “Pushy, eeshup. Pushy, eeshup. I said it. I took it back. I said it. I took it back.”
I was about to tell her how annoying it was when the idea hit me. “That’s it,” I said, grabbing her arm. “I have to go.” I’d realized how to turn the doll back into my brother. Holding tightly to the book, I ran home.
Twelve
DUH
“Mewwp.” Darling greeted me in the hallway.
“Hi,” I said, scooping her up. “I missed you.”
“Merroop.”
I guess she missed me, too. I cuddled her as I carried her upstairs. “This has to work,” I said, walking over to the dresser where the doll waited patiently for me. I tried to sit it up, but it fell back and hit the wood with a loud clunk. I winced and picked up the doll. I didn’t see any damage. The head was nice and hard, just like Sebastian’s.
I thought back to what had happened right before he changed. I’d grabbed him and shouted, “Stop!” If I’d really caused the change, maybe I just had to reverse things. “Here goes,” I said to Darling. “Wish me luck.”
I was afraid it wouldn’t work. I think I was even more afraid it would work. Up until this moment, I hadn’t caused anything to happen, except by accident. I took a deep breath. Then I held the doll by the shoulder and shouted, “Pots!”
“—a kitten!” Sebastian yelled. He’d changed back in midshout. Whatever had happened to him—whatever I’d done to him—had been reversed.
“Angie has a kitten!” he shouted again.
Then his eyes shot wide open and he gasped. I guess it took him a second to realize he wasn’t outside. I knew I had to come up with an explanation fast, while he was still confused.
“Whoa!” He looked wildly around.
“Will you stop following me,” I said. It was a struggle, but I managed to act as if nothing strange had happened. “You’ve been shouting that for the last ten minutes. It’s really annoying. And get out of my room. Okay?”
“But…” Sebastian looked around. Then he grabbed the back of his head with both hands. “Owww. Oh, man, my head really hurts. Whoa—there’s a bump on it!”
“If you hadn’t been so busy trying to annoy me, you might not have slipped when you were chasing me up the steps,” I told him. “You really took a hard hit. I’m surprised you even know where you are.”
He gave me a puzzled look. Then he glanced at my clock and said, “Oh, man, I’m late. Norman’s waiting for me. I was supposed to be at his house an hour ago. He probably thinks I ditched him.” He staggered out of the room, still holding his head.
“Put some ice on it,” I called after him. As I heard the front door slam, I realized no time had passed for him. He still thought it was Saturday. I wasn’t looking forward to his reaction when he learned he’d lost a day. If he got mad at me, he’d dedicate his entire life to getting revenge.
There was a chance I could still get out of this. I ran to the phone and dialed Norman’s number. Maybe I could make an excuse for Sebastian, so Norman wouldn’t tell him what day it was.
“Hello,” Norman said.
“Hi. It’s Angelina.” I paused. This wasn’t going to work. Even if I kept Norman from talking about what day it was, Sebastian would still find out soon enough. Especially when Mom woke him up for school tomorrow.
“Well, what do you want?” Norman asked.
I said the first thing that popped into my mind. “What do you know about running water?” I guess the walk to the mall was still bothering me.
“What don’t I know about running water,” he replied. “There’s hydroelectric power, of course, and—”
“No, I mean what about crossing running water?”
“Well, the most obvious means is a bridge,” Norman said. “But it’s funny you should mention running water. There’s that old superstition about it, of course.”
“What superstition?” I asked.
“You know. Witches can’t cross running water.”
I almost dropped the phone. “Witches?” I asked.
“Sure. I thought everyone knew that. Hey, I have to go. Bye.” He hung up. I hung up. I walked back to my room, trying to swallow the idea that Norman had handed me.
I looked at Darling. “I’m a witch.”
“Mewrrrrlll,” she said. I think that’s the cat version of “Duh.” She hopped onto the floor, as if the topic bored her, and curled up in a patch of sunlight.
A witch … I was a witch.…
The idea was so ridiculous that I cackled. I mean, I laughed, but it sounded way too much like a witch’s cackle. “Stop it,” I said aloud.
What next? Should I get a big, black, pointy hat? No way I was going to make that kind of fashion blunder. Was I supposed to start boiling disgusting stuff in a huge iron kettle? Yuck. I thought about that Shakespeare thing, the one with the three witches chanting, “Double double, toil and trouble. Fire burn and cauldron bubble.” What was it they put in the pot? Eye of newt? I’m not even sure what a newt is. Some kind of crawly thing. Double yuck.
I looked at myself in the mirror. I didn’t seem any different. A witch? I shook my head. “I don’t want this. I didn’t ask for this.”
But as I gazed into the mirror, I noticed the smallest hint of a smile on my lips. Power. I had power. Kids never get any real power. At least, this kid had never had any real power. Until now …
Thirteen
BOOK LEARNING
I started reading the book. Darling hopped right up on the bed and draped herself across my legs. In a moment, she was napping.
> The book said that there were certain ancient powers that were passed from person to person. There was no way to tell what form the power would take, or how it could be controlled or used. Most of the people who had the power couldn’t do much with it. A person might have some small talent for finding lost items or growing large vegetables.
Once in a while, someone with power used it to do great good or great evil. I shuddered as I read about that part. The book warned that evil could even be done by someone trying to do good. Power wasn’t a simple gift. I’d certainly learned that already.
The last chapter told about the actual passage of power. I wasn’t happy to learn that power could be stolen. The book said:
He who seeks to steal power must dispatch the holder.
I sort of remembered that a dispatch was a letter or a message. I was about to reach for my dictionary when my eyes wandered to the next page. According to the book:
There exist two opportunities for the passage of power.
Power may be passed on the fifth day of possession, in a place of power, at a time of power, before five minutes have flown.
Power must be passed after five times five times five years.
It took me a moment to do the math. Five times five times five … 125 years! I thought about the woman in the park. She’d had her power for a century and a quarter.
I needed to learn more about witches. I looked across the room at my bookcase. Other than The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe and an old copy of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, there was nothing that might help, and I suspected my answers wouldn’t be found in Narnia or Oz. Mom and Dad had lots of books, but they were mostly novels. Rory had Dr. Seuss. Sebastian had comic books. The library was closed on Sunday. The last time I’d typed anything into a search engine, I’d gotten mostly information I knew was wrong.
But Norman had a whole house filled with books. I lifted Darling off my legs and put her back on the bed. She shifted, but she didn’t wake up. I rushed over to Norman’s place.
“It’s open,” his mom called when I rang the bell.
I walked in and followed the wonderful smells to the kitchen. Mrs. Weed is a caterer. She had a batch of something fabulous bubbling in a pot on the stove.
“Hello, Angelina,” she said. A timer went off. She glanced across the room at a second oven. “Could you stir this for me for a moment? I have to get the rolls out.”
“Uh, sure,” I said, taking the spoon from her.
“It’s coq au vin—a French chicken stew. I’m making it for a party at the Uppersnoot Country Club tomorrow.” She dashed to the oven and opened the door. The wonderful smell of baked rolls filled the air.
As I stirred the stew, something floated to the surface. It was small and round and black. Another one appeared next to it. I gagged as I realized I’d just learned what eye of newt looked like. In a moment, the whole surface was filled with them. They bobbed around, staring in a hundred directions. A couple of them popped with wet splashes and sank out of sight. A couple more popped. Then they all started bursting.
“Thanks,” Mrs. Weed said, reaching for the spoon as the last eye winked out of sight.
I handed the spoon to her, then looked back in the pot. Everything seemed normal. But I wouldn’t want to be dining on coq au vin at the country club tomorrow. No thanks.
“Your brother’s upstairs with Norman,” Mrs. Weed told me.
“I know. But that’s not why I came. I have a report due on witches, and I couldn’t get to the library.”
“Try the middle bookcase in the living room,” Mrs. Weed said. “Second or third shelf, I think. Feel free to borrow whatever you want.” She dipped a spoon in the pot, then tasted the broth and made a face. “Hmmm, I guess I went a bit heavy on the salt.”
“Thanks.” I went to the living room. As I looked through the shelves, I heard Norman and Sebastian arguing upstairs.
“I wish you’d quit moping around just because I was an hour late,” Sebastian said. “You’ve been sulking since I got here.”
“An hour?” Norman said to him. “You’re a day late. A whole day. You missed everything.”
“You’re crazy. It’s Saturday!” Sebastian shouted.
“Sunday!” Norman shouted back. “Irrefutably, positively Sunday. Look. Right here on the computer. See the date?”
“I don’t care about the stupid computer. I know what day it is,” Sebastian said.
“Wait right here,” Norman told him.
I heard footsteps stomping down the stairs. Norman rushed past me and grabbed something from the table. As he ran past again, I noticed he was carrying the comics. The Sunday comics.
I pulled out four books on witches and hurried back into the kitchen.
“Find what you need?” Mrs. Weed asked.
“Yes, thanks again.”
“Any time.” She glanced at her spoon, tasted the stew once more, and frowned. “That’s the last time I buy chicken from Krestner’s Market.”
I rushed home with the books. I’d just reached the porch when I heard the shout.
“Hold it right there!”
Fourteen
DON’T EVER LEAVE ME
“What’s wrong?” I asked, turning to face Sebastian.
“It’s Sunday,” he said. “Last thing I knew, it was Saturday. Next thing I know—blam!—it’s Sunday.” He looked at the books in my arms. “You did something. I know it.”
I took a step back. Sebastian took a step forward.
“What’s going on?” He reached for the books.
“No!” I yelled, grabbing his arm.
Shock.
I closed my eyes when I felt the jolt. I stayed that way, hoping to hear Sebastian’s voice. All I heard at first was a gentle rustling of leaves in the breeze, followed a moment later by the sound of the front door.
“Hey,” Rory asked, “where’d that tree come from?”
Tree? I opened my eyes. Oh, gosh. I’d done it again.
Right at the edge of the lawn where Sebastian had been standing, I saw a small tree.
“Where’d it come from?” Rory asked again.
“I got it at the mall,” I told him. “But I don’t like it here—it’s the wrong size. I think I’ll return it.”
He nodded, as if this made sense. Then he reached past me and pulled off a small leaf.
“Rory, you’ll hurt him!”
He shook his head. “It’s just a tree.”
“It’s a living thing.”
He stared at the leaf in his hand. “I can get some glue.”
“That’s okay. One leaf won’t make any difference.” I hoped I was right.
Rory shrugged and dropped the leaf on the ground. Then he wandered off.
“Would you like a snack?”
I looked up at the front door. Mom was there. She hadn’t noticed there was a new tree growing in the yard. I think people see a lot less when they get older—especially when they become parents. “Maybe later,” I told her. “I’m not hungry right now.”
“Okay.” She went back inside.
“Hey, is Splat around? He just went running out of my house. He kept shouting, ‘I’ll get her for this’”
I spun toward the sidewalk, and found myself facing Norman again. “I think he was headed back toward your house,” I told him.
He nodded and started to go away. After two steps, he turned back and said, “Nice tree. It’s a thornless honey locust, Gleditsia triacanthos, if I recall correctly. You might want to prune some of the lower branches.”
“I might.” I watched him walk off. Norman saw everything, but he noticed very little.
As soon as Norman was gone, I grabbed a branch of the tree. Since I’d shouted no to make it happen, this time I shouted, “On!”
Sure enough, the tree changed back into my brother.
“Ouch!” Sebastian shouted, reaching up to the side of his head. “Why’d you pull my hair?”
I glanced down at the leaf Rory had dropped. It wasn’t
a leaf anymore, but a clump of hair. “It was an accident,” I said, stepping on top of the hair so Sebastian wouldn’t see it.
“You did it again, didn’t you?” Sebastian said. He was starting to turn red. “You did something before, and you just did it again. What did you do?”
I didn’t have the energy to keep hiding this from him. “I don’t know,” I told him. “But whatever happened, it only seems to happen when you tease me.”
“I don’t tease you,” he said.
“Yes, you do.”
“Do not. You’re the one who’s always bugging me. You can be such a pain. Do you know that?” He poked me with his finger.
“And you—” I almost poked him back. Instead, I moved away and held my hands up. “Trust me—you don’t want to continue this.”
“You’ve got that right.” He stormed off, leaving me to wonder how things had gotten out of control so quickly.
I went up to my room and read until it was time for dinner. At first, I tried making notes about anything that seemed important. After a while, I realized that there was no single answer to anything. Power seemed to take many forms. Some witches cast spells with words; others used objects. Some had amazing abilities; others could do little more than make fresh milk turn sour or get rid of warts.
There was some scary stuff, too. People used to think there were witches all around. They believed a witch would float, so when they thought someone was a witch, they’d throw her into a lake. If she floated, that proved she was a witch, so they’d kill her. If she sank and drowned, they knew she wasn’t a witch. I felt terrible when I thought about how many innocent people had gone through a trial they couldn’t win.
I had no idea what sort of limits there were to my own power. I pointed at a bottle of perfume on my dresser. “Rise,” I said.
I didn’t expect anything to happen. Wrong again, I thought, as something unexpected happened.
Fifteen
FAMILY TIME
The bottle turned into a fish.
Yuck.
It flopped around on my dresser like—well, like a fish. I saw a black flash as Darling leaped up and grabbed it.
