Witcha'be (10 page)

“Can’t wait!” I yelled to Lenni.

“Canned paint?” she asked, dancing on her knees around the back of the jeep.

“Good thing those jeans already have holes in the knees.” Mom laughed, glancing into the rearview mirror.

“But I was just getting warmed up,” Lenni whined as Mom pulled in front of the school and turned down the radio.

“You’ve lost your bun,” I said through a chuckle.

She shook the clip from her hair and collected her strewn books.

I jumped down and held out my hand to her, wondering how messy hair could look so good.

“Thanks, Molly. And thanks to you, too, Madeline, for the sweet ride in your party machine.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Don’t forget, I’m staying after school.”

“Okay. Love you.” Mom blew me a kiss and drove away.

“Why are you staying after?” Lenni asked.

“I need to talk to Mrs. Piper about something.”

“Hope I don’t miss the bus. I hate walking home alone.”

“Just call my mom if you do. You know she’s begging for opportunities to drive.”

Lenni put on her best smile and began her morning meet-and-greet with the student population.

* * *

“Hello, Molly.” Mrs. Piper touched my elbow, her wooden bracelets clacking.

“Good morning.” I placed my journal on top of my desk and put the other books beneath.

“Check out metal mouth!” Jesse swaggered to his desk, throwing the words over his shoulder.

“Alright, alright, ha-ha. I get it.” Kit slinked to his chair.

“For once Kit doesn’t have something funny to say.”

Kit swung around and glared at Jesse. “Did you dream you won last night’s game?”

“At least I made the team, you asthmatic freak.” Jesse pretended to wheeze and puff on an imaginary inhaler.

Kit balled his fists. “You dumb jock, go to h—”

“Enough,” Mrs. Piper interrupted. Kit turned in his chair and laid his head on his desk.

“Where’d you tell me to go, metal mouth?” Jesse cupped his ear.

“Jesse. Go visit your father in the office.” Mrs. Piper opened the door.

“This class stinks, anyway. I’m withdrawing and going to yearbook where the non-dorks are.” He grabbed his books and stormed from the room.

“Okay, class, let’s get started.” Mrs. Piper passed out our warm-up sheets—an Aesop’s Fables crossword puzzle.
Easy
. I’d be finished in five minutes flat. As I worked, I debated giving an account of the dream I’d had about the little girl.

Mrs. Piper collected our papers. “Now for the fun part. Please open to your newest journal entry.”

The sound of rustling papers filled the room.

“How many of you dreamed last night?” A few hands shot up, while others, including mine, lingered at chest level.

“Good. How many of you are willing to share?” Several hands fell to desktops.

“Hmm, how about…Amy. Please, share your dream with the class.”

I turned around to look at Amy. She glanced at her half-raised hand as if it’d betrayed her. “Okay.” She cleared her throat. “I don’t have to stand up, do I?” A line formed on her brow.

“No, just relax and read what you’ve written in your journal.”

“It’s only a bunch of sloppy notes.”

“That’s fine. Fill in the blanks as you go.”

Amy took a deep breath, shoulders nearly touching her ears. “Here goes.” She lowered her eyes to the page. “I dreamed I was with my grandmother. I was small again, and she was taking care of me while my mom was at work, like she used to. I must’ve been sick. I was on the couch, wrapped in my favorite pink blanket. I watched cartoons with a soft pillow under my head. Grandma came into the room, placed a bowl of homemade chicken soup on the TV tray beside the couch, and kissed my forehead. That’s how she checked to see if I had fever.” Amy blinked at the ceiling, her eyes misting. “Her lips were cool against my hot face. I stood and gave her a hug. She hugged me back. Then I woke up.” Amy sniffed. “I was really disappointed, because I hadn’t even tasted Grandma’s soup.”

The class applauded. Amy blushed and looked down at her journal. Mrs. Piper handed her a tissue. “Very touching, Amy. Thank you for sharing.” She patted her back. “Class, please write a brief character sketch of each person in Amy’s dream, and then write a detailed description of the setting.” She gestured toward the clock above the door. “Begin. You have ten minutes.”

I scratched hurried details about Amy and her grandmother onto the page.

* * *

Lenni and I sat down with our trays and exchanged exasperated glances. Tostados and cinnamon rolls. The lunch line had been enormous.

Lenni started with dessert, slowly unraveling layers of pastry and folding them into her mouth. She licked her fingers between bites. “Yummo.”

Refried beans dripped from my soggy tortilla. I dropped the tostado and picked up the cinnamon roll.

“So, why do you need to talk to Mrs. Piper?” Lenni asked, running her tongue over her sugary lips.

“She wants to talk to me about the dream journal assignment,” I said, picking at my icing. “Maybe some other stuff, too.”

“What other stuff?”

“Just some personal stuff going on with me.” I opened my milk carton and took a sip.

“Are you going to tell her what you think is happening between you and Bianca?”

Heat formed behind my eyes. “Something
is
happening between me and Bianca.”

“I’m sorry. Don’t get angry, please. I just wish you wouldn’t talk to Mrs. Piper about Bianca.” She pushed her tray away.

“Why not?”

“Because she’s my friend.” She looked as though she might cry.

“And?”

“And…I feel I’ve betrayed her trust by telling you she’s a witcha’be. I wouldn’t have, if I’d known you were going to tell people.” She placed a hand on her stomach and grimaced.

I set my jaw. “So, I’m just supposed to take whatever Bianca doles out to me?”

“I don’t know what
doles
means.” Lenni shut her eyes and sucked air through her nose.

“It means
gives.
Am I supposed to keep my mouth closed and take whatever misery Bianca
gives
me?”

She didn’t answer.

“Lenni, I’ve tried to talk to you about the situation, but it’s like you’re oblivious.” Big word. “Clueless.”

“I’m going to be sick.” Lenni jumped up from her seat and darted through the cafeteria. I dumped our trays and hurried into the hallway. Lenni turned into the girls’ bathroom, Bianca immediately behind her
.
I wondered how she would hold Lenni’s hair with those flowing cape sleeves in the way.

I walked to my locker and gathered my afternoon books. I slammed it shut just as the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. I searched the influx of people for Lenni with no luck. I decided to check the nurse’s office just as she rounded the corner.

“Are you okay?” I walked her back to the locker to get her things.

“I think it was the cinnamon roll. Do you have a mint?”

“I have gum.” I dug into the locker and handed her a stick of spearmint from between the pages of my algebra book. “I’m sorry you don’t feel good.”

“I’ll be okay. I’m leaving with Bianca. We’re going over our lines at her house tonight, anyway, and she said her dad will be cool with us chilling there all afternoon. We can get a little more practice in while I laze around and drink ginger ale.”

“Is her dad coming to check you both out?”

“No. We’re walking. My mom will send a note to school tomorrow explaining why I left. It’ll be fine.” She grabbed her notebook and a crumpled sheet of paper titled,
Toil and Trouble
. “My script.”

“You’re too sick to be at school, but well enough to walk three miles to Old Town?”

“It doesn’t seem like that far, and it’s mostly downhill. I’ve walked with Bianca dozens of times.”

I balled my hands on my hips. “You’re not supposed to leave school like this,” I warned, not liking the tone of my voice, but unable to stop myself.

Lenni looked over my shoulder. “I’ve gotta go. Bianca’s waiting,” she said with spearmint-scented breath. She gave me a brief hug then gamboled down the hall to where Bianca waited, dressed in black, her crimson frock draped over one arm. I wondered if Lenni puked on it.

* * *

Mrs. Piper reclined on the durable, gray carpeting, her back against the periwinkle wall and her sandals on the floor beside her. She wiggled her bronze-polished toenails. “I know autumn has officially arrived, and I’ll have to cover up these toes sooner or later, but I’m hanging on as long as I can.” She adjusted her gold toe ring.

I wiggled my toes too, and then kicked off my flip-flops.

She smiled. “We might be kindred spirits, Miss Molly.”

I dropped, cross-legged, to the floor, journal at my side.

“Have a snack. Can you believe the stores are already stocking Halloween candy?” She held out a colorful, misshapen bowl.

“Does seem kind of early for goblins.”

“Like my candy dish? Mr. Lopez invited me to his classroom one afternoon, and I used the pottery wheel. Think I did pretty well for a beginner.”

“It’s unusual. And pretty,” I said.

“Sure you don’t mean
pretty unusual
?” She raised an eyebrow.

We chuckled as I pulled out a peanut butter cup, tossed it back, and then chose a miniature chocolate bar.

“Got something against peanut butter?”

“Just not in the mood, I guess.”

She set the bowl between us. “How are you today?”

I peeled the foil from my candy. “At least I can breathe.”

“No grasshopper dreams last night?” Mrs. Piper winked.

I looked at my scuffed toenail polish.

“Molly?”

“I had a different dream last night.”

“Care to talk about it?”

I handed her my journal. “I hope you can tell me what it means.”

She leafed through the notebook.

“It’s a few pages in.”

“
The Key
?” she asked, finger under the title.

“That’s it.”

I helped myself to another candy bar as she read.

She took her time, dragging her copper-colored fingernail over some lines more than once. Her eyes narrowed then grew wide. At the end, she smiled and nodded.

“What do you think?”

“What do
you
think, Molly?”

“That it means something. Especially the part about my necklace becoming a key. But I’m not sure what.”

“Were you frightened when you woke?”

“No. A little shaken, but relieved, glad the girl was safe. Even though she didn’t want to be saved.” I closed my eyes and saw the angry little girl kicking and punching, fighting to stay inside the blazing house.

“Who do you think the little girl is?” she asked.

“Bianca.” I opened my tear-blurred eyes. “I only wish I knew what it meant. How can my own brain create a story I can’t understand?” I rolled the candy wrappers between my palms then dropped them into Mrs. Piper’s outstretched hand.

“The brain is complex. And so is the spirit.” She rose, tossed our wrappers in the trash, and picked up a tissue box.

“I don’t know much about the brain. I don’t have biology until next semester. And I know even less about the spirit.” I straightened my legs and rested my head against the wall.

She handed me a tissue.

“Thanks.” I blotted my eyes. “Mrs. Piper?” I paused, scared to continue.

“Yes?” She returned to the floor.

“Is that invitation still good?”

“Invitation?” She studied my face. “You mean to church?” Her eyes brightened.

“I think I’d like to come tonight. Is your church open on Wednesdays?” I picked at my nail.

“We will be there tonight and you are always welcome.”

* * *

“Your car is beautiful.” The deep plum-colored SUV glistened in the sun as we walked through the teachers’ parking lot.

Mrs. Piper pressed a button on her keychain to unlock the doors. “Thank you. I’m blessed,” she said, opening the door and sliding behind the wheel. I climbed into the passenger seat, enjoying the aroma of leather.

“My father drives the church bus on Wednesday evenings. Would you like him to pick you up?” she asked.

“Nah. I only live a few blocks from your church. I can walk.” I tapped the glass cross dangling from the rearview mirror, dousing us in a spectrum of color. “Cool.”

“Thanks. It was a gift from a former student. Molly, it’s fine if you walk to church, but, please, let Daddy—Mr. Cecil—give you a ride home afterwards. It will be dark when church is over and I’m not sure I’ll have my car. A few blocks is a long way at night.”

“Okay. I’ll ride home on the bus.”

“Good. I guess I should warn you about Mr. Cecil. He likes to talk,
a lot
. Years ago, he used to substitute for me. The kids loved it. If they could get him off topic, he would tell stories the entire period. I’d come back to find the pile of worksheets I’d assigned still blank.”

“My house is up here.” I pointed through the windshield. “The gray one, with the—” My cheeks grew hot as I spied porch witch.

“With the flower box,” Mrs. Piper said. “Your daisies are lovely.”

“Thank you. My mom planted them,” I said, relieved.

“Appreciate them while you can. They won’t bloom much longer. I’ll see you in a couple of hours. I enjoyed our visit.”

“Me, too.” I unbuckled and slid from the seat. “Thanks for the ride.”

CHAPTER NINE

I stood a half block from Cornerstone church, watching the congregation arrive. An older man, who I assumed was Mr. Cecil, pulled the church bus close to the front door. Amy, too-tall Saul, and a dozen or so other passengers stepped out.

I coaxed my legs toward the parking lot as I scanned slanted spaces for Mrs. Piper’s SUV. People I’d never met smiled and waved at me. Hesitantly, I waved back. Finally, Mrs. Piper’s vehicle pulled in and coasted to a stop. Relieved, I approached the SUV with long strides.

“I’m so glad you came.” Mrs. Piper stepped from the passenger side to the pavement, looking lovely in a camel-colored outfit. She opened her arms.

“Hi, Mrs. Piper.” I returned her hug.