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Authors: Anna Myers

Wart

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WART

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WART

Anna Myers

Copyright © 2007 by Anna Myers

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

First published in the United States of America in 2007 by

Walker Publishing Company, Inc.

Distributed to the trade by Holtzbrinck Publishers

For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, write to Permissions, Walker & Company,

104 Fifth Avenue, New York, New York 10011

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Myers, Anna.

Wart / Anna Myers.

p. cm.

Summary: A witch and her weird son may soon be joining Stewart's family, but he would prefer his father marry the librarian he had been dating to this new woman, even if the latter can make Stewart popular and improve his basketball game through spells and charms.

eISBN: 978-0-802-72132-7

[1. Single-parent families—Fiction. 2. Remarriage—Fiction. 3. Witchcraft—Fiction. 4. Popularity—Fiction. 5. Schools—Fiction. 6. Family life—Oklahoma—Fiction. 7. Oklahoma—Fiction.]

I. Title.

PZ7.M9814War2007 [Fic]—dc22 2007006218

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www.walkeryoungreaders.com

Book design by Nicole Gastonguay

Typeset by Westchester Book Composition

Printed in the U.S.A. by Quebecor World Fairheld

2 4 6 8 10 9 7 5 3 1

All papers used by Walker & Company are natural, recyclable products made from wood grown in well-managed forests. The manufacturing processes conform to the environmental regulations of the country of origin.

To William Charles Lane Jr.

This book is for you, Baby Will. I was writing it when you were born. We were wonderfully happy that day, but happiness turned to fear when we learned your tiny heart had four serious defects. Doctors told us, too, that your chromosomes were probably not normal. During your first nights at home, I sometimes sat up with you because your mommy and daddy were so worried about you that they woke each time you made a tiny sound. You and I would stay in the rocking chair together, and I would take you to your mother when you needed to eat. Those night hours were hard because I worried for you and for my own baby, your mother. However, they were sweet hours too. As we rocked together, I could feel the prayers being said for you by people in many places, some of them on the other side of the world. Those prayers were answered. The test telling us about your genetics took two weeks, but when it came back, it said your chromosomes were perfectly normal. When you were two months old, we made a long journey so that you could have a special doctor as your surgeon. We will always be grateful for Dr. Knott-Craig because he was able to repair your precious heart. You are four months old as I write this. You have the most expressive eyes I have ever seen on a baby, and you are always ready to smile and laugh. From your Grandmother Barbara you inherit the blood of Bluejacket, war chief of the Shawnees, from your mother's great-grandfather the blood of a pioneer teacher, and from your grandfather, who is in heaven, you receive the gentle spirit of a poet. I know you will grow into a man who would have made all of those before you proud. Welcome to the world, darling Will. You are a gift from God to us all.

Nana

WART

What Happened First

S
tewart Wright wanted to be popular. It was a gradual, growing desire. It started the summer before eighth grade. It started with a visit from his cousin Sammi, who was sixteen and very pretty. It started at breakfast over strawberry pancakes. It started with a question, "Are you popular, Stew?" The rest of the family—Stewart's dad, his little sister, Georgia, Aunt Susan, Uncle David, and his little cousin Isabella—were all eating in the kitchen. Stewart and Sammi had carried their breakfast out to the sunroom, where Sammi asked the question.

Stewart wished they had stayed in the kitchen. In the kitchen, Sammi would not have asked the question. What could he say? His mouth was full. Good, he could chew for a long time. He did not look at Sammi. He looked out at the backyard, but he could feel Sammi looking at him.

She did not wait for him to stop chewing. "You aren't, are you?"

Stewart felt miserable. He had never cared about being popular before, oh maybe for a minute during class elections or when he heard some other guy talking about a party that Stewart had not been invited to attend, but the desire had been fleeting. Now, though, he suddenly understood. If Sammi thought being popular was important, it must be important. Stewart liked to impress Sammi, but he was not popular, not at all.

He shook his head, but he did not have to say anything. Sammi had plenty to say. "You know what? It's okay." She pushed her plate back on the wicker coffee table. "I can help you!" She got up and walked to the other side of the table where Stewart sat. Sammi put a hand on his shoulder, and with her other hand she turned his chin up, so that she could see his face. "I've been thinking about your problem ever since I got here."

Stewart frowned. He hadn't realized he had a problem, hadn't known that all last week, as he watched movies with Sammi or as they swam at Holden Lake, she had been troubled over his condition. Sammi gave his cheek a little pat before she went back to her place on the wicker couch. "Here's the thing, Stew. You've got a lot of stuff going for you." She held up one finger. "First, you're good looking." She gave her head a decided nod. "You really are." She put up another finger. "And you're smart, not too smart, not nerdy smart or anything, just right, really." She added a third finger. "And you're funny. I mean, you make me laugh all the time." She stopped talking and looked at him.

Stewart knew she was waiting for him to say something. He squirmed for a second, then realized what she expected from him. "So?" he asked. "What's wrong with me?"

Sammi leaned back against the flowered cushions. She folded her arms and nodded her head slowly several times. "It's your friends," she said. "Yes, I'm sure of it. You need new friends."

A feeling of panic started in Stewart's stomach and spread quickly. Stewart loved Sammi. Stewart wanted to please Sammi, had always wanted to please Sammi. But his friends? Sammi would fly back to California, and he would be left in Oklahoma. He would not see Sammi again until Christmas. She wanted him to have new friends? He shifted his weight. "Why?"

"Well," said Sammi. "Let's start with Ham." She closed her eyes for a second and drew in a deep breath. "There's his name. Nobody is named Ham."

"His name is Andrew Hamilton," said Stewart softly "Ham is just a nickname. His family doesn't call him Ham or the teachers, either, very often.".

"Well, sure, but the kids at school do, don't they?"

"Mostly. I guess."

"Well, then . . . , " Sammi was nodding her head again, "he's skinny, too, way skinny. Maybe the skinniest kid I've ever seen."

"He eats all the time."

Sammi put up her hand in a sort of stop gesture. "I know. Believe me, I've noticed, but that's not the point. Being that skinny isn't " She paused and twisted her face, thinking. "Skinny is just not in, Stew, not for a boy anyway." She made a face. "He has no butt. Surely you've noticed! None at all! He's like that man on the TV show, the cartoon that's not for little kids where the guy tried to get a prosthesis, you know, a fake butt?"

"Huh?" Stewart shook his head. "There's such a thing?"

"It's a cartoon show, a joke, Stew. That's the thing, a person that skinny is funny, not popular, and . . . , " her voice got louder, "he's slow thinking isn't he? I mean the boy just isn't very sharp."

Stewart leaned toward her. Here was a point he could defend. "Ham does okay in school. He even got an A in math last year."

Sammi made a little disgusted sound with her breath. "I never said he was dumb. I said he isn't sharp. There's a difference, Stew. Don't you know that?"

Stewart did not know the difference, but he didn't say so. "Ham's been my best friend always."

"I know. I know, and I'm not saying be unkind to him." She spoke slowly as if trying to explain a difficult math problem. "Just put a little distance between yourself and the boy. I guarantee he can't be helping your position, popularity-wise, I mean. Face it, Stew, the boy is more of a pet than a friend."

It was true! Suddenly Stewart saw Ham through Sammi's eyes. Didn't he, Stewart, have all the ideas? Wasn't he the leader, always? Why had he never noticed? He might as well have carried peanuts to feed Ham or thrown balls for Ham to fetch.

Sammi turned her head briefly to the left toward Rachel's house, and the sick feeling in Stewart's stomach got even worse. Sammi was about to start on his next-door neighbor. "And that girl," she said, tilting her head in Rachel's direction.

"What's wrong with Rachel?" Stewart had trouble getting the words out. He knew some of what Sammi was about to say. Even he wasn't that out of things. Rachel
was
one of those nerdy smart kids. Everyone thought so. She could, Stewart was certain, rattle off the circumference of the earth, and he had watched her solve mammoth math problems in her head. Rachel knew all the presidents in order, too, but that was okay because Stewart himself was interested in the presidents and history. There was something wrong with the way Rachel dressed too. Stewart couldn't have explained exactly what, but he was vaguely aware that she didn't look like the other girls.

"What's wrong with Rachel?" Sammi repeated his question. She rolled her eyes. "Please, Stewart, do I really have to tell you?"

"Mom loved Rachel," Stewart said. It was true and the best defense he could have come up with. Stewart felt proud to have thought of it. His mother had been killed in a car accident almost five years ago, and he did not think about her so often, at least not every minute anymore. Sammi was the daughter of his mother's twin sister, and she, like her own mother, had loved Stewart's mother fiercely.

For a long minute Sammi said nothing. Then she sighed. "I'm not saying she isn't nice, and she was a really cute little girl. I remember how the two of you used to play Winnie the Pooh and Tigger." Sammi reached over to muss the hair on Stewart's head. "You were always Pooh, and she was always Tigger." She put out her hands toward Stewart and moved her fingers in a sort of calling motion. "Come on, Stew, you aren't in kindergarten anymore. Rachel has no figure, she has no style, she doesn't even have enough good common sense to care. You cannot, I repeat, cannot afford to be seen with her at school."

The popularity conversation had taken place on July 4. Sammi went home with her parents the next day. "Don't worry, Stew," she said when she hugged him good-bye, "I'm not deserting you. I'll e-mail you."

Stewart nodded, but he didn't smile. He was not fond of e-mails, sent none except to Sammi, and that only occasionally. He did not talk often on the phone either. Stewart Wright was not a communicator. He liked to play video games. He liked to watch movies. He liked to read, especially about history. Maybe he would just ignore Sammi's e-mails, but as he watched her walk away from him to get on the airplane with her parents, Stewart felt uneasy. Sammi had started something. She had made Stewart think about changing his life, and he was afraid he couldn't go backward.

When school was about to begin, Sammi bombarded him with e-mails. "What are you planning to wear?" she wanted to know. "Don't make any decisions until you run them by me." She insisted Stewart sign up for Instant Messaging even after he explained that he hardly ever went online. "You will be, Cuz," she said. "You're going to have lots of new friends this year. You just need to make a few changes in your life."

Stewart finally got up the nerve to tell Sammi he wanted to drop the whole thing, but Sammi wouldn't let him. "Okay, Stew," she wrote. "I'm not going to keep pushing, but I think you
do
want to be popular. I could feel it when we talked about it. Am I right? Hey, just let me know when you decide to take the right steps."

Stewart sat in front of his computer, his elbows on the desk. He lowered his head and rested his face in his hands. What would it feel like to be popular? Why not give Sammi's ideas a try? He sighed, but he didn't write back that he was ready. He did nothing to change his life either. At least he did nothing until the last week of October.

BOOK: Wart
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