Sadie's Story (4 page)

Chapter 6

The Park

“R
eally?” Sadie stared at the binoculars in her grip. “No spells or potions? No eye of newt or tongue of toad?”

The witch waved her hand dismissively. “Been there, done that. And between you and me, eye of gecko is cheaper and just as effective.”

She lifted a second pair of binoculars, pointed them out the window, and adjusted the focus. “I've been a bird-watcher all my life, and I can tell you, the most powerful magic is something anyone can do. It's called paying attention.”

“But why look for Ethel here?”

“Well, since she's a ditz about directions, she could have ended up anywhere. Here seems like as good a place as any. Shall we go for a walk and see what we can see?”

“Both of us?” Sadie asked, eyebrows
raised. “Out in the neighborhood? Um, together?”

“Of course. There's a lovely park nearby. I'm sure you know it. We could start there.”

“I'll be right back,” Sadie said finally.

She found her father in the study, yelling at his laptop. “Helvetica Bold! Who told you to change the font to Helvetica Bold?”

She tiptoed through the maze of books and papers scattered across the floor and stood directly behind him. “Dad, I'm going to the playground for a while.”

“Fine, fine. Have fun. And take Helvetica Bold with you!” he said, still scowling at the screen.

“Actually, I'm going with a witch. From Milwaukee.”

“Is she? That's nice, sweet pea. Grab a sweatshirt before you go.”

Sadie would grab a sweatshirt, but not for warmth and not for herself, either.

A few minutes later she presented the witch with a purple hoodie and a pair of old jeans that she'd rescued from the giveaway bag.

“A disguise,” Sadie explained. “Because if you're all in black with a pointy hat, everyone will look at us looking for Ethel.”

The witch examined the hoodie critically. “I wish this said ‘I Love Bowling' instead of ‘I Love Gymnastics.' Ethel and I used to bowl in a league every Thursday night against the Mid-City Shamans.”

“I'm trying to picture that,” said Sadie.
She turned her head away politely while the witch changed.

Then off they went.

Past the Goldbarths', where Binky, a dachshund with the personality of a tiger
shark, lunged at their ankles through the chain-link fence.

Past the Simonsons', whose sprinkler watered the grass, the sidewalk, and half the street.

“I'm melting!” shrieked the witch as they dashed under the spray.

“What . . .”

“Just a joke.”

Past Jess's house, where the drawn curtains, garage doors shut tight, and general no-one-is-home-ness started Sadie feeling sorry for herself all over again. The witch grabbed her hand and pulled her along.

“Now, this is nice,” said the witch when they reached the entrance to the park.

And it was. Picnic tables, giant oak trees,
a tire swing, a twisty slide that was the closest Sadie ever came to flying, except on hot days when her thighs stuck to the molded metal.

“Let's sit over there.” The witch headed for a table in the shade.

“I don't see any birds,” said Sadie once they were settled.

“You will.”

The witch lay back on the top of the picnic table, and beside her, Sadie did the same. Yet no matter which way Sadie swiveled her binoculars, they showed her nothing but leaves and branches and empty blue sky.

Well, she couldn't blame the birds for staying away with all the noise in the playground. Toddlers squealing. Mothers chattering and laughing. A little girl wailing from the top of the jungle gym while her dad, arms raised, hollered “Jump!” A swing creaking as it arced back and forth.

Wait, was that really a swing? She sat up.

Screek!

Sadie practically fell off the picnic table.

The witch jutted out her chin, flattened her lips, and made the sound again, louder.

And from somewhere close by came an answer:
Screek! Screek!

Chapter 7

Call Me Ms. M

“B
lue jay,” the witch confirmed. “That's his squeaky gate call. They also have calls that sound like bells.”

She pursed her lips and made a high-pitched
pip
. “I had a pair nesting outside my kitchen window. Kept thinking my cauldron timer was going off.”

Pip. Pip
. All of a sudden the blue jay was there, winging its way through the trees to perch near the drinking fountain.

“Oh, look, dear, isn't he gorgeous?” said the witch in a hushed voice.

At that moment Sadie
did
have a magical power, though she didn't know what to call it. All she knew was that the park had transformed. Or she had. Or now the park trusted her enough to share its secrets.

A bush she'd thought was simply rustling in the breeze became alive with small brown sparrows.

“Song sparrows, I believe,” said the witch. “See the dark splotch on that one's chest? Like he has a leaky pen in his shirt pocket.”

What at first had looked like pinecones
scattered across the dirt turned into black-capped chickadees pecking for seed. “I do so admire a creature who shares my affinity for hats,” said the witch.

A dancing yellow leaf grew wings before Sadie's eyes and sailed up to land on the basketball hoop. She tapped the witch's shoulder excitedly and pointed.

“Hmmm. The coloration isn't quite vibrant enough for a warbler. I think that's an oriole. If only I could find my field guide. Drat that wolfsbane. It spilled in my bag and got all over everything.”

They watched and listened for at least an hour. A robin tugged a fat worm from the grass and scurried away with it to dine in private. Three crows bickered by the
sandbox. A male and female cardinal played tag from branch to branch. It was all so interesting that Sadie almost forgot about Ethel.

“Tomorrow,” said the witch. “I have a good feeling about tomorrow.”

On the way home, Sadie worked up the courage to ask the witch something she'd been thinking about, but before she could open her mouth, the witch said, “You learned the names of all of these different birds, and now you want to know my name.”

“It does seem a little strange for me to just call you ‘witch.'”

“No stranger than my real name.” The witch stopped to shake a pebble out of her pointy shoe. “My mother meant well, but . . .”

Mr. Tucker from up the street drove by and waved. Did he turn around to gawk once he reached the intersection, or was Sadie just being a worrywart?

“My first name is—are you ready for this?—Morgan.”

“That's not bad at all!”

“Morgan Le Fay was a famous sorceress. But Morgan rhymes with Gorgon.” She looked at Sadie and waited. “The monsters from Greek mythology with snakes for hair?”

“Oh,” said Sadie.

“Exactly. Morgan the Gorgon. Grade school was a total nightmare.”

“My middle name is Lotus,” Sadie confessed. “After a yoga position. And a flower. Eric Myers found out and said it
sounded like ‘blowfish.' That's what the boys called me all first grade.”

They strolled in silence, shoulders almost touching, until the witch said, “Sadie is a lovely name. It suits you. And you can call me what Ethel calls me. What she used to call me when she could talk.” The witch smiled her crooked smile. “Ethel called me Ms. M. I rather like it.”

Sadie smiled back wider than she'd smiled in days, maybe wider than she'd smiled all year. “Yes,” she said. “I like it too, Ms. M.”