The Unwilling Witch (4 page)

“I know.” I grinned, too. But then my grin faded. I felt great about Darling, but I was worried about the strange stuff that was going on. I'd turned Sebastian into a doll. Normally, that would be a useful talent, but I really wished I knew how to turn him back. He could be a huge pain, but he was my brother. And I guess we'd gotten closer after that vampire thing that had happened to him a few months ago.

Maybe that was it!

Maybe I hadn't caused the change. It could be some side effect from what he'd been through.

The doorbell rang. “Rory,” Mom called a moment later, “Becky is here.”

“Got to go,” Rory said. “We're building a rocket ship so we can fly to Mars. Thanks for letting me play with your kitten.” He ran down the steps to join his friend.

“Life's so easy when you're little,” I told Darling as I scooped her into my arms. “That kid doesn't have a problem in the world. Just eat, sleep, and play. Kind of like you.” I held her next to my cheek and felt the gentle rumble of her purring. “Now, I, on the other hand, have problems.”

I went back in my room and closed the door. “Okay,” I said, looking at the doll, “change back.” I touched it on the shoulder with my right hand. Nothing happened. I touched the other shoulder. I tried using my left hand.

“Abracadabra,” I said, feeling more than a little foolish. “Hocus-pocus. Ala kazam.” No luck. The doll was still a doll.

“I command you to change.”

Nope.

“I command
thee
to change.”

No luck.

The phone rang.

“Could you get that?” Mom called from downstairs.

I picked it up in my parents' room.

“Is Splat there?” Norman asked.

“He can't come tonight,” I said.

“Why?”

What could I say?
I turned him into a doll and I'm having a little trouble turning him back. I can bring him over, but he won't be great company. All he's good for is a tea party.
Nope. I don't think so.

“Never mind,” Norman said before I could think of a reasonable excuse. “I guess something better came along. I understand.” He hung up the phone.

Now I felt even worse. Norman probably figured Sebastian had ditched him for the evening. Before I'd met Jan, I had some friends who weren't always very nice to me. I knew what it felt like to get dumped. My hand hovered over the phone, but I couldn't do it. I especially couldn't tell Norman that there was a problem I couldn't solve. Not until I'd tried my hardest to figure it out by myself.

I went back to my room, sat on my bed, and lifted Darling up to my face. “What is going on?” I asked her. “Do you have any idea what's happening to me?”

“Mewrowp.”

That was all the answer I got from her.

I tried everything I could think of to change Sebastian back. Nothing worked. That evening, after dinner, I tried some more. Eventually, I started getting suspicious. Maybe Sebastian was playing some kind of a joke on me. It wouldn't surprise me if he and Norman had rigged the whole thing up somehow. There was no way the doll could really be my brother.

It didn't matter. By then, I was so tired, I knew I had to stop trying and get ready for bed.

That's when the bad part started.

 

Eight

OUT OF CONTROL

As I reached for my hairbrush, it shot from my hand and smashed into the wall. The brush shattered into tiny pieces. It was so sudden and unexpected, I just froze for a moment.

Instead of falling, the pieces rose up, buzzing like insects, and flew around the room in a swarm. They kept circling my head. As I tried to get away from them, I noticed movement on my bed. The pillow was jerking and shaking, like there was something alive inside the case. With each jerk, it moved closer to the edge of the bed.

“Stop.” I wanted to shout, but the word came out in a whisper.

The pillow reached the edge of the bed and started to topple to the floor.

I backed away until I felt the dresser pressing against me. The pillow fell from the bed. It hit the floor and splashed open, spilling a thick green liquid on the rug. The pieces of the brush flew away from me and swooped onto the puddle.

The drawer behind me shot open, pushing me across the room. I barely managed to stop before stepping into the spreading green puddle.

I spun toward the dresser just as Darling leaped up there.

I took a step toward her. One of my shirts moved inside the open drawer. The sleeve lifted up and flapped over the edge. Something swelled inside it and started to come out. Fingers. A hand. It slithered through the sleeve. The index finger pointed at me.

“No. Stop. Please … stop.”

Around the room, orange light flickered, throwing fireplace shadows on the walls. I felt heat and smelled smoke.

My curtains lifted as a breeze entered the room, even though the window was closed. The breeze gained force. I closed my eyes. The wind blew hard particles against my face. It felt like sand. An instant later, I flinched as a crash of thunder shook the house. The air grew damp as the wind drove rain into the room.

Inside my head, I heard a voice.
Earth, air, fire, and water. Choose your power, chosen daughter.

I looked at the doll, expecting it to leap up or start talking. It didn't move.

All the clothing in the open dresser drawer flew into the air as lightning struck again.

A third bolt hit so close to the house that I could feel my hair standing out from my head as the air filled with static electricity.

The light grew brighter. Lightning hit twice more, coming so quickly that the second thunderclap overlapped the first. Then the whole world—the light and sound and the wind against my face—faded, growing dimmer and weaker, moving farther away. The world turned gray, then darker. The sounds became whispers. The whispers became silence. I crumpled to the floor and slipped into the blackness.

 

Nine

IN A REAL MESS

Someone was rubbing my face with a rough washcloth.

No. It was Darling, licking my face.

I sat up slowly, expecting more terror, but the room was quiet. I found my brush on the floor. It wasn't shattered, but there was a crack in the handle. My pillow was undamaged, but it smelled of mildew. My clothes were scattered around the room.

I piled the clothes in the corner. I wasn't sure I wanted to put anything in that drawer. What a terrible night! I headed down to the kitchen. As I passed the stove, the left front burner burst into flames. I turned the knob, shutting off the gas.

Earth, air, fire, and water.
The voice rose in my mind.

“No,” I said aloud. “Not again. Stop this.”

There was a rush of water from the faucet behind me. I turned it off. The gas flared up again. Then the faucet. The fan above the oven started spinning. I heard a rattle. The windows shook. Glass came from sand. Sand was from the earth.

Earth, air, fire, and water. Choose your power, chosen daughter.
It was a chorus of voices now.

If I had to choose, what would I pick? Fire can burn you. Earth can bury you. Water can drown you. “Air,” I said, though I had no idea what it meant. The moment I spoke, the flame died, the water stopped, and the rattling ended. The fan kept running. I reached out and switched it off.

Darling stretched her front paws up my leg. “I have to go out,” I told her. “I need to find some answers.”

“Meewworlll.”

I guess that meant it was okay.

I headed for Jan's house. For all her silliness and joking around, Jan comes up with some great ideas. She's got a lot more common sense than most people realize.

In a way, we make a strange pair. It's like we're riding bikes to the same spot on a mountain, but Jan is coasting downhill while I'm pedaling up the slope. I'll work for days on a report. Jan will write something at the last minute. We'll both get a B. I'll spend a half hour choosing an outfit to wear. Jan will grab some clothes from her floor, and she'll look great. But that doesn't bother me. She's my friend.

I reached her house and rang the bell.

Jan came to the door, gasped, and said, “You look absolutely awful.”

I could also count on her to be disgustingly honest. “I had a rough night.”

“What's going on?” Jan asked when we got to her room.

“Something real spooky is happening to me,” I said.

“Great. I love spooky stuff.”

“This isn't fun spooky.” I told her about the park.

Jan frowned. “After you saw the lady become a bird, did you see anything else? Dancing fairies? Juggling trolls? Elvis Presley in a flying saucer?”

“I'm serious,” I told her. “I think I can do things.”

“That's great,” Jan said. “Do something.”

“I don't know how.” I looked around, wishing that something would happen. Across the room, behind Jan, half the clothes in her closet slithered off their hangers and dropped to the floor. “Look!” I said.

Jan glanced over and shrugged. “So I'm a bit messy. That's not exactly news.”

“I'm not making this up.”

“I believe you,” Jan said. “You don't have to show me any proof.”

“Really?” It felt great to hear those words.

Jan nodded. “Sure. I mean, you'd believe anything I told you. Right?”

“Right.” I guess that's part of why we were friends.

Jan smiled and said, “You know, it would be so cool to have some kind of special power. Think about it, Angie.”

I shook my head. “It's not cool. I don't have any control. I don't know what's going to happen next.”

“But imagine what you could do if you learned to control the power. You could save the rain forests. You could feed all the hungry people in the world.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head again. “Don't you think if someone could do that sort of stuff, it would be done already?”

“Maybe the wrong person had the power?…”

Wow. I didn't know what to say to that. I certainly felt like the wrong person.

“Hey,” Jan said, “if you can't save the planet, what about creating a couple of triple-scoop hot-fudge sundaes. Extra fudge. Nuts. Two cherries. No calories. That can't be too hard.”

“This isn't like some old TV show. I can't just blink stuff up like a genie. Right now, all I want is to figure out what's going on, and get my life back in control.”

Jan nodded. “Okay. We'll save the sundaes for later. First some control. Then the rain forest. And then the sundaes. Where should we start?”

“I was hoping you'd have an idea.”

She snapped her fingers. “We could call the power company.”

“That's not very helpful,” I said.

“What about a fortune-teller?” Jan asked. “You know, like in that house over on Randi Street with the sign in the window.”

“I don't think those people are for real.” I knew the place she meant. The sign showed a picture of a hand and a crystal ball. I had a feeling the owner was the only one who ended up with any kind of fortune. But that gave me an idea. “Isn't there a shop that sells magic stuff over on Castor Avenue?”

Jan nodded. “Yeah, right down the block from the yarn store. It's got a funny name. I know—it's the Good Speller.”

“Let's go.” I hopped off Jan's bed. As we left her room, I glanced back. The sheet rose from her mattress as if being puffed up from beneath by air. “Jan! Your bed!” I pointed toward it, but by the time she looked, it had fallen back down.

“Hey,” she said, “you're starting to act like my mom. If you want my help, stop bugging me about the mess in my room. Deal?”

“Deal.”

We hurried down to Castor Street. The Good Speller was at the end of the block. Beneath the name, the sign said:
SPELLS, POTIONS, AMULETS, AND BOOKS.
According to another sign, they also sold lottery tickets and repaired window shades. At the very bottom was the owner's name—
MISS ZENOBIA CHUTNEY
.