“We won’t,” Ariel said. “Thanks, Mrs. Kantor. You’re the best.”
Ariel hugged her like she would her grandmother.
Beanie sulked down the steps of the porch.
“Let’s go,” she said to Ariel.
Ariel followed her, waving goodbye to Mrs. Kantor. Mrs. Kantor waved back.
Chapter 2
The next day, the weather had been dreadful. It rained sporadically with dark clouds looming in the sky. Once the bell dismissed the students from school, Beanie and Ariel raced to their bus through the trickling rain. The rain started coming down heavier with each bus stop—two more to go until Beanie and Ariel’s stop.
“I don’t want to go to Mrs. Kantor’s house,” Beanie said. “She’s strange, and she’s only been here a few months. You know we haven’t had any visitors in Kitewell since. Isn’t it strange she came here out of the blue?”
Ariel rolled her eyes. “She took the bus to Kitewell, Beanie.”
“But when was the last time you saw a bus come around here?”
Ariel was silent. She knew Beanie had a point.
“Don’t you remember our parents telling us we can’t leave Kitewell?” Beanie said.
“That’s because they don’t want us to get lost in the woods.”
“That’s not what I mean. I mean it’s like we’re stuck in Kitewell.”
“Stuck?”
“Like we’re trapped here. Gosh. Listen to what I’m saying. I don’t think anybody has been able to leave for a long time.”
“Mrs. Kantor told me the world outside isn’t safe. It sounds to me like you don’t trust her,” Ariel said.
“Let’s just go back to my house, all right? It’s Friday. We should be staying in and watching a movie.”
“But your promised,” Ariel said. “Mrs. Kantor is baking cookies again. You said you liked them.”
Beanie could taste them in her mouth right now—thanks to Ariel mentioning it.
“How many times have you been to her house?” Beanie asked.
“Ten,” Ariel said proudly, as if it was a badge of honor. “She’s been tutoring me in reading.”
“But I thought you were already a good reader?” Beanie said.
Ariel shook her head. “Not before she tutored me. I got really bad grades on my reading tests and didn’t even show them to my mom because of how mad she’d get if she saw them.
“But one day, Mrs. Somerset called my mom to schedule a meeting. I was so scared when my mom told me. On the very next day, my mom came to school and we both went to see Mrs. Somerset for the meeting. She told my mom I wasn’t a good reader—that I was failing every test. My mom’s face turned red like she was about to explode.”
The bus driver pulled over and dropped off a couple of kids. They hurried to their home in the rain. After that, the bus driver continued on the route.
“When I got in the car,” Ariel said, “my mom yelled at me for not showing her the bad test grades. She happened to be on her way to the pawn and jewelry shop to get her watch fixed that afternoon. It was a watch that belonged to my great grandmother. Anyway, we went inside the shop and Mrs. Kantor was working behind the counter. My mom talked with her and Mrs. Kantor offered to fix it for cheap.”
“For cheap?” Beanie said in surprise.
“You know … like not a lot of money.”
“I know what cheap means. Gosh. But I didn’t know Mrs. Kantor works there.”
Ariel nodded. “I didn’t know either. But she does. And then she saw how red my mom’s face was, and then asked her if everything was okay. My mom told her how upset she was that I was doing badly in school. Then Mrs. Kantor offered to tutor me, said she used to be an English teacher many years ago. My mom was so happy you would’ve thought she’d won a million bucks.”
The bus driver pulled over on Lavender Road, and a kid hopped off the bus into the rain. The bus driver continued.
“So then what happened?” Beanie asked curiously.
“Mrs. Kantor started tutoring me at her house twice a week. My mom would drop me off after dinner and Mrs. Kantor would help me read one of the books Mrs. Somerset assigned for homework. It was great. Mrs. Kantor was really patient, went line by line and taught me how to pronounce words, and then she’d asked me to explain what I read. With lots of practice, reading got easier, and I was able to raise my reading grade from an F to a B. It made my mom so happy that she wanted Mrs. Kantor to tutor me for the rest of the school year!
“And whenever I went to Mrs. Kantor’s house, she’d bake cookies and give me a cold glass of milk. I was getting so good at reading that I finished my reading homework early. That was when Mrs. Kantor told me some really cool ghost stories. And then a couple of weeks ago, she told me a secret.”
“What?” Beanie said in anticipation.
“She said she knew magic! Then she showed me some of her spells and it was awesome!”
“What did she show you?” Beanie asked.
“Well, let’s see.” Ariel put her finger to her chin. “She turned sticks into flowers, turned frogs into doves, and made a really big cookie out of a crumb.” Ariel laughed. “It was the size of a frying pan. It took us two days to eat only half of it.”
“That’s crazy,” Beanie said.
“She’s really special, Beanie. I know you’ll come to like her.”
Beanie shrugged. “I’ve been thinking about how she did those magic tricks yesterday. I couldn’t figure out how she did them. I even went to the library and checked out a couple of books on magic. None of them could explain how she pulled off what she did. It still boggles my mind.”
Ariel shook her head. “You have to believe, Beanie. Believe that it’s real.”
“But magic’s not possible. At least not according to science.”
“You saw what she did with your own eyes. What other proof do you need?”
Beanie sighed. “I just have a bad feeling about her, Ariel. If magic is real, then she could do anything to us. I bet Mrs. Kantor has mischievous plans in store for us when we visit her.”
“What kind of plans are you talking about?” Ariel said critically.
“I don’t know. Maybe she’ll transform us or … ”
Beanie couldn’t quite finish her sentence.
“She’s nice, Beanie. You have to trust her.”
“In one of the books I read during recess, it said that magic is a form of witchcraft. Witches used to cast spells and hexes on people. They made them do crazy and terrible things. Witches got hanged or burned at the stake if they were caught. Mrs. Kantor could be a witch for all we know.”
Ariel rolled her eyes. “She’s not a witch, Beanie. She’s super nice. Besides, she’s going to tell us a ghost story today. Remember she said she’ll give you a wand if she couldn’t scare you?”
“Yes. But I think she’s up to something fishy.”
“But it’d be so cool to have a magic wand, right?”
Beanie shrugged. “I guess so.”
The rain started coming down. They could hear the roof of the bus pattering with rainwater. Outside, they saw needles of rain slanting down on the houses and lawns. The bus driver pulled over and opened the accordion door.
“Let’s go see Mrs. Kantor!” Ariel said excitedly.
Beanie gnashed her teeth. She hated the rain.
Chapter 3
The girls hopped off the school bus and raced to Mrs. Kantor’s house on Lilac Drive. They ran for ten minutes using their umbrellas. Ariel knocked on the door, shivering.
A moment later, Mrs. Kantor opened it.
“Leave the umbrellas on the porch,” she said.
The girls left the umbrellas right beside the porch swing. Once they entered the house, Mrs. Kantor took their raincoats and hung it on the coat hanger.
“There, all b
etter. Come with me.”
She showed them to the living room and they sat on the Victorian-style couch as they did the day before. The velvety cushion gave their tired bodies the rest they needed. The flames of the fireplace warmed the girls up. They were grateful for it, considering they were still shivering from the trek through the rain. Mrs. Kantor went over to the fireplace and used a poker on the crackling brands.
“It smells good,” Ariel commented.
“The cookies are baking,” Mrs. Kantor said. “Would you girls like milk or hot chocolate on this rainy day?”
“Milk, please,” Ariel said.
“And you?” Mrs. Kantor said to Beanie.
“Do you have marshmallows?”
“No.”
“Um … I’ll have hot chocolate, please.”
“Coming right up,” Mrs. Kantor said with a dimple. “The cookies are almost ready. They should be done in four.”
“At four?” Ariel said anxiously. “But it’s already past four o’clock.”
“No, stupid. She means in four minutes,” Beanie said.
Mrs. Kantor brandished her finger at Beanie. “That’s not very nice, dear. If you can’t behave, I’ll send home.”
“And you’d lose your bet, wouldn’t you?” Beanie retorted. “Because if I went home, you couldn’t scare me with your silly ghost story.”
“And you would have to walk all the way back home in the rain,” Mrs. Kantor returned. “Without your cup of hot chocolate.”
Beanie looked cross. She had no retort to that.
“Now don’t say another insult in my house again. I’ll be back with your drinks.”
Mrs. Kantor strode off to the kitchen.
“What’s the matter with you?” Ariel said. “Why do you have to be so mean?”
“I’m sorry,” Beanie said. “I told you earlier that I had a bad feeling about this. I know Mrs. Kantor has something up her sleeve.”
“No she doesn’t. She’s being nice—giving us food and drink. I told you I’ve been here at least ten times already. Besides, you just met her yesterday. Give her a chance.”
“You saw what she could do.” Beanie leaned in and whispered in Ariel’s ear, afraid that Mrs. Kantor might eavesdrop. “What if she changes us into frogs or goblins? What if she’s an evil witch?”
“Frogs or goblins?” Ariel chuckled.
“Ssshhh. Don’t say it out loud.”
“So, you believe in magic now? You’re convinced?”
“Well, I was too embarrassed to tell you earlier, but yes, I believe now. After what I saw yesterday … but I’m not kidding, Ariel. I have a bad feeling about this. Maybe we should leave.”
“No. I’m staying. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Here are your drinks,” Mrs. Kantor said as she carried a tray with their drinks to the coffee table. She set it down carefully.
“Thank you, Mrs. Kantor,” Ariel said.
“And where are your manners,” Mrs. Kantor said to Beanie.
“Thanks,” Beanie said.
“That’s better. And let me get the cookies. They should be ready.”
Mrs. Kantor disappeared to the kitchen again.
Ariel drank her glass of milk and wiped the milk mustache off with the back of her hand. Beanie sipped her cup of hot chocolate. Its warmth coursed through her body.
“So good,” Ariel remarked.
“It’s just milk,” Beanie said dryly. “You should’ve gotten the hot chocolate. It’s great on a rainy day.”
“But milk is my favorite,” Ariel said.
“Here are the cookies,” Mrs. Kantor said, walking over to them with a bowl of cookies. She set it down on the coffee table carefully. “They’re hot. I would’ve had them done earlier, but I had to deal with a snake in my backyard.”
“A snake?” Ariel gasped.
“Yes. But don’t worry, dear. I took care of it. Please, have some cookies.”
The girls started on the cookies voraciously.
“A thank you would’ve been nice,” Mrs. Kantor said.
The girls didn’t seem to hear her. Mrs. Kantor went over to the rocking chair and sat down, clasping her hands together.
Chapter 4
“Will you tell us a ghost story?” Ariel asked.
Mrs. Kantor nodded. “This story takes place about a hundred years ago in Kitewell. It took place when the town was booming with industry, when people were migrating by the hundreds. When this was all happening, there lived a boy named Malik Schmidt. He was a very gifted boy.”
The girls listened closely, letting their hands and mouths do the work on the cookies and drinks.
“Malik was the son of a prominent businessman who owned a company that manufactured and laid railroad tracks. The company was property titled Crandall’s Railroad Company, and many people that lived in Kitewell worked for Crandall Schmidt. Malik went to school in Kitewell, and in his free time, he’d read a book on magic that he had found in his mother’s chest. He even taught himself how to perform magic after finding a magic wand in a bric-a-brac shop.”
“What’s that?” Ariel said.
“It’s like an antique store,” Mrs. Kantor answered. “One day, Malik told his father that he had seen a ghost in his dream, and the ghost told him that very bad things would happen. His father, who was not a believer, told him that ghosts did not exist, and to not speak of this dream again. Malik listened to his father, but one day, Malik had a very bad nightmare. Malik dreamt that a giant spider that lived in a forest terrorized the town and ate their animals.
“And not long after he had this nightmare, the animals in the forest and on the farms started to disappear. This made the farmers very upset. Their farm animals were their livelihood. They found traces of cobwebs on their field and in their barns, but they were determined that it couldn’t be a giant spider, that someone in town was the culprit. Besides, no one had ever seen a giant spider before. They assumed that it must be a prank.
“So the farmers held a meeting and they decided to hunt down the culprit themselves. As they went from house to house, interrogating each person, one of the farmers discovered a giant spider hiding in one of the barns. It was as big as a buffalo with thick black legs and black eyes. It was a latrodectus: a black widow!”
The girls gasped in horror.
“They chased it into a house and burned it down with the spider inside it,” Mrs. Kantor said. “But that wasn’t all. Malik started to have more nightmares. One was about a horde of crows that gathered in the town square and attacked people en masse. The second was about snakes that slithered into people’s homes and bit them while they slept. Malik wrote these down in his diary, even told his friends about it, but still, no one believed him.
“Soon, the very things he dreamed of happened in Kitewell. Crows gathered in the town square and attacked everyone, pecking at their faces, clawing at them, ripping their clothes to shreds. A day later, a sea of snakes emerged from Crescent Lake and slithered into the homes of the townspeople at night. Dozens of them woke up screaming having been bitten by the snakes. Luckily, they weren’t poisonous, but believe me when I say it was very painful.
“Everyone started to panic. Rumors spread that the devil had cursed the town. Some believed a witch lived in their midst. No one wanted to wait until the next attack came, and while some people left Kitewell, others stayed in the hopes that the curse would pass. But people couldn’t help but wonder what might happen next … ”
Ariel’s hand trembled as she slurped her glass of milk. Beanie bit on her nails anxiously.
“On the last day of school,” Mrs. Kantor continued, “a girl from Malik’s class came across his diary after he had forgotten to take it home. The girl read it and was shocked to discover that Malik had dreamt of these omens long before they occurred. On top of that, he detailed his conversat
ions with the ghost who had warned him.
“The girl showed the diary to her father, and he showed it to the authorities. A meeting was held, and the townspeople unanimously agreed to bring charges against Malik for causing mischief and mayhem. Everyone was scared, you see. They even convinced the local judge to sign a warrant for his arrest.”
“That’s madness,” Beanie cried. “They really believed he caused all of that?”
Mrs. Kantor nodded. “When people are afraid, they will find a reason to blame someone. So early the next morning, the sheriff and his deputies, along with the townspeople, came knocking on Crandall’s door. When he opened it, they demanded that he turn his son over to them.
“On what charges? Crandall asked.
“They showed him his son’s diary, and the sheriff explained to him that Malik had known about the omens long before they occurred. He told Crandall that Malik had been practicing witchcraft, and therefore, he was the cause of these horrible deeds. But Crandall argued that the diary didn’t prove a thing.
“Dreams can’t be used as evidence, and these events are merely coincidences, he said.
“But the sheriff said that the kids had seen Malik practicing witchcraft, that he also had the gift of premonition.
“That’s absurd, Crandall replied.
“Your son had failed to warn the authorities about these horrific events, and many people have suffered for it, Mr. Schmidt, the sheriff said. And on that basis, he must be held accountable!
“Crandall scoffed at him, and told everyone to leave his premise at once. So the sheriff gave him a deadline, said that if he did not turn over his son by noon, they would return to his house and arrest Malik by force.”
“After they left, Crandall told his son to hide in the well on the property. It was a well Malik used to climb down whenever he and his friends dared who could go down the farthest. Of course none of his friends ever reached the bottom. Malik, however, did, and he wrote in his diary that there was a lair with lots and lots of bones inside!”
Kitewell Page 2
