Witcha'be (18 page)

Slowly, he stroked the keys, filling the sanctuary with a sound that scattered all the noise from my mind. My chin dropped as smoke rolled from the keys, ascending, catching in the light of the stained glass windows. The music swelled, growing steadily stronger until I realized it was not smoke, but
dust
that drifted up. I grinned, delighted by the illusion. I glanced at Mrs. Piper, smiling as she sang.

The song ended. The congregation applauded enthusiastically, praising God as Seth Ravenwood smiled, his face lifted heavenward, eyes closed. Even Patty Francis stood to her feet on the platform and thanked the Lord.

Seth took his seat next to Bianca. She leaned over and kissed his cheek.

Pastor Jacobs returned to the pulpit. “Thank you so much, Seth, for blessing us with your wonderful gift.”

I rifled through my bag and removed both Bibles. “Lenni,” I whispered over the rows.

“Allow me.” Mrs. Piper slid the speckled Bible from my hand and tapped the person in front of her. “Could you pass this to the pretty blonde with the hairclip, please?” she whispered.

“Sure.” The woman took the Bible and passed it forward.

Lenni smiled at me over her shoulder when the Bible reached her hands. “Thank you,” she mouthed, her face glowing.

“Open your Bibles and turn to Second Timothy, chapter one, verse seven,” Pastor Jacobs instructed. “
For God hath not given us a spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.
”

My breath caught.

* * *

“Molly, wait!” Lenni jogged to where I stood visiting with Greg and Sandy after the service. She grabbed me in a bear hug. “Isn’t it wonderful? I still can’t believe it. Yesterday I thought I’d lost my best friend—” She threw a hand over her mouth, eyes wide.

“Lenni, it’s fine.” I couldn’t help but giggle at her expression. “I know Bianca is your best friend,” I said, squelching a minuscule jealous twinge.

“But so are you, Molly.”

“Yes. But you and Bianca have a history. She’s practically your sister.” I smiled. “So it’s okay. Finish your sentence.”

Lenni frowned. “I forgot what I was going to say.” She bounced her palm off her forehead. “Oh, yeah, I remember. I thought I’d lost Bianca forever, and now I feel we can be even better friends than before. Molly, I get to meet her mother. We’re going to Sugar Creek Manor. Mr. Cecil is driving us to Bianca’s, and then her dad is borrowing his brother’s car.”

“That’s great, Len. I’m glad everything is working out.” I fished in my bag and retrieved her lip gloss, holding it out to her.

“Thanks. I’ll get the rest of my stuff from your house later.” She hugged me again, lighter this time, and then jogged to where Bianca and her father stood waiting for Mr. Cecil. Bianca looked at me. I smiled. She shifted her eyes away, which wasn’t the same as rolling them. I was encouraged.

“Bye, Mr. and Mrs. Piper.” I waved as I crossed the parking lot.

“So glad you could come, Molly,” Mrs. Piper said. “Do you need a ride home?”

“No, thanks. It’s a pretty day, I’d like to walk.”

“It certainly is. See you tomorrow.”

Panic flooded my soul. What if I didn’t see her tomorrow? What if Bianca followed through with the threats?

God has not given us a spirit of fear…

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

I hesitated outside the door of the creative writing classroom. For the first time, Mrs. Piper wasn’t there to celebrate my arrival. I peeked through the doorway. Mrs. Benson, Kit’s mother, sat behind Mrs. Piper’s desk, her purple dress blending into the wall.

“Hi, Mrs. Benson,” I greeted her weakly as I took my seat.

“Hello, Maggie,” she said, adjusting her bifocals.

“It’s Molly—but that’s okay.” Unease washed over me. “Where is Mrs. Piper?” I asked, my pulse quickening.

“She’s taking care of some business with Principal Parker.” She craned her neck, watching the door. “Don’t you be late, little Kitty,” she mumbled, and then examined her watch.

Kitty must have been her pet name for Kit. I was too worried to snicker.

Kids filed into the classroom, each throwing the sub a curious glance. She didn’t seem to notice, staring through them into the hallway, eyes searching.

“Hi, Molly,” Amy said as she entered. She slid into the desk behind mine. I swiveled around.

“Mrs. Benson said Mrs. Piper is in Mr. Parker’s office.”

“Yeah, I saw her headed that way earlier. Hey, wasn’t that amazing, at church yesterday morning?”

I barely heard her.

“Molly?” Amy touched my elbow. “Are you okay?”

“What?”

“Are you alright?”

“I don’t feel well.” I mopped my forehead with the back of my hand, turned around, and laid my head on my desk.

The tardy bell sounded.

“You’re late, young man!” Mrs. Benson shrieked, silencing the room. I lifted my head. Kit slipped to his desk, head down, cheeks and ears glowing. Mrs. Benson stared, her fiery gaze enlarged behind bifocals. I hoped Kit wouldn’t catch on fire like an ant through a magnifying glass in the sun.

“Sorry,” he huffed, slumping, tracing the scratches on his desktop with his fingernail.

I clunked my head back down, ears ringing. Mrs. Benson passed out our warm-ups. Mind on autopilot, I answered the questions.

We passed our papers to the front. Amy complimented Mrs. Benson’s dress and she said she’d bought it at a garage sale. Kit ducked his head even lower, his ears turning a deeper shade of red.

My eyes flicked to the clock every few seconds as Kit’s mother told stories about his childhood. I bounced my knees and chewed the inside of my cheek, agonizing over what might be happening in Mr. Parker’s office.

The doorknob jiggled, causing my insides to do the same. “Sorry I’m late, class.” Mrs. Piper sailed into the classroom like a butterfly on a breeze.

Relief poured through me like ointment, melting my muscles. I could breathe again.

“Mr. Parker needed to talk to me about covering after-school detention for Mrs. George this week.” She raised her eyebrows. “So be good, all of you. I don’t want to see any of you in my detention room.”

“Hear that, Kitty? You’d better be on time for the rest of the day.” Mrs. Benson glared at Kit from Mrs. Piper’s desk.

“Thank you so much for covering my class, Mrs. Benson.” Mrs. Piper smiled and circled the desk, standing beside her.

“I’ll be in the office making copies if anyone needs me.” She looked hard at Kit then shuffled out the door.

* * *

“Guess who?”

“Hi, Lenni,” I said, spinning the dial with her hands over my eyes.

“How do you
do
that?”

“Amazingly, your voice sounds exactly the same with my eyes closed.”

“Not
that
. How do you know the combination with your eyes covered?”

“You think I forget the combination just because I can’t see?”

“I mean, how do you know where the numbers are?”

“I do it so often, I just know. Kind of like you putting on mascara without a mirror.”

“Oh, I get it. That makes sense.”

“So, how’d it go in Hopeford yesterday?” I asked as we walked to the cafeteria.

“Sad. I wanted to tell you this morning, on the way to school, but it was too hard to talk and run at the same time.”

“Yeah, sorry. Mom felt really bad about that. She kept apologizing between hurls. She was fine, and then all of a sudden she was throwing up on her shoes.”

The lunch line was understandably short as we waited for doses of macaroni casserole and canned peaches.

“So, Hopeford was sad?”

“Yes. Bianca’s mother, Jocelyn, doesn’t know her at all. She doesn’t recognize Seth either, but he pretends like it doesn’t bother him. It’s sweet. He tells her stories of things Bianca and Sam did when they were babies, and asks if she remembers.”

“What does she look like?” Such a superficial question. I felt a twinge of guilt for asking.

“Gorgeous. And with no makeup. Imagine Bianca with charcoal eyes and straight hair, black as night except for one white strip on the side.” Lenni picked up a section of hair from her right temple, helping me visualize. “Bianca’s dad said it turned white after Sam died. The nurses keep her hair in a bun, but Seth takes it down and brushes it every time he visits.”

“How often is that?”

“Whenever he can find a ride. He’s laid off, but does odd jobs to make money for cab fare. He borrows his brother’s car when he’s short on cash. Bianca said he’s going to try and find another full-time job, now that he’s quit drinking.”

“He stopped drinking?”

“Bianca texted late last night and said he was pouring all of his bottles down the drain. He was crying and praying. After, he talked to her about his plans to find a job. She really wants to support him and help him stay sober.”

“Is he going to continue coming to church?” I asked.

“He says he will. He hopes to keep playing the piano, maybe share the platform with the keyboardist.”

“Will Bianca come with him?” I asked, torn, hoping she would come for her own sake, but still not sure I wanted her there.

“She said she’d do whatever it takes for her dad to get better. If she thinks church will help him, she’ll come.”

We took our trays, mine yellow and splotched, like a rotting banana. Finding a table was easy in the near-empty cafeteria. I skipped the macaroni and went straight for the peaches.

“So, is it weird for you? I mean, now that Bianca isn’t a witch?”

“Witcha’
be
,” she said, smiling.

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

Lenni fished a crumpled scrap of paper from her front pocket. “
Pseudologia
fantastica
,” she read in a hushed voice. “That’s what Bianca suffers from. I searched it on the Internet first period. It’s what happens when people make up myths and stories to mask the pain of what is really going on in their lives.” She stuffed the note back into her pocket. “It will take some getting used to, me thinking of her as normal. She was very convincing. I’ve believed her story for a long time. Maybe I should’ve been more ob—

what’s the word?”

“Observant?”

“Yeah.”

“You couldn’t have known. You were only a child yourself.”

“I guess. But I still feel guilty.” She frowned at her food. “Bianca and her dad started counseling, but they can’t afford it. That’s why she’s not here today. Her dad is checking to see if they can get some kind of assistance. I’m going to talk to Mom, to see if we can help.”

Peaches gone, I pushed my tray away. Lenni hadn’t taken one bite, but shoved hers back too.

“Is she still mad at Mrs. Piper?” I gazed through the window to where the tetherball pole used to be.

“She hasn’t mentioned it. I think she’s glad it came out. She’s already different somehow, not just because she’s lost her powers—I guess she never really had any—but in other ways, too. She’s more at peace, it seems.”

“She still doesn’t like me. I could tell by the way she looked, I mean, refused to look, at me before she got on the bus after church yesterday.”

“It’s not dislike. It’s something else.”

“Something else, like what?”

“She said you make her feel strange—bad and good at the same time. Mrs. Piper gives her the same feeling.” Lenni’s brow creased, she closed her eyes for a second. “I’m trying to think of how Bianca described it.”

Something nudged me, like a tap on the shoulder, but on the inside. My pulse quickened. Lenni’s words were important.

“Her heart squeezes—that’s how she put it. For some reason, when Bianca’s around you, her heart squeezes and she wants to cry. She feels ashamed of what she’s done and filled with hope, all at once.”

Excitement flooded me, making it hard to breathe. “She doesn’t have to feel ashamed. I can go with her to talk to Mrs. Piper or Greg.” Suddenly, I felt like crying, too, overwhelmed by the feeling that God was using me to help Bianca.

“It’s not the shame, Molly.” Lenni locked her gaze on mine. “She’s used to feeling ashamed. It’s the
hope
that Bianca can’t deal with.”

* * *

I hunched forward in the passenger seat as Lenni squeezed out from behind me.

“Thanks for the ride, Madeline,” she called on her way around the jeep.

“You’re welcome.”

Mom was unusually quiet on the short drive home.

I cleared my throat. “So, Mom, how are you feeling?”

“Much better now.” She nodded and pressed her lips together. “I, uh, need to talk to you about something when we get home.”

“Mom, I think I know what about.” I glanced at the small swell at her waistline.

She pulled the jeep into the driveway and looked at me, her face serious. “Molly, I know this is a trying time in your life. Starting high school in a strange town, making new friends, not being able to have the latest clothes and gadgets—”

“Whoa. When have I ever complained about that? I don’t care about those things. Yes, moving to a new town was kind of tough, but I’m handling it. In fact, things are better now. So much better.” I clasped her hand.

Mom took a deep breath, her shoulders shuddering. “I went to the doctor today, and…”

“You’re pregnant.”

She laughed and cried at the same time. “You knew?”

“Mom, give me some credit. Cravings, morning sickness, high-waist dresses? Actually, Lenni sort of helped me figure it out.”

“You’re not upset?”

“No. I’m actually a little excited,” I said, realizing I was starting to look forward to the baby. “What did the doctor say, besides the obvious?”

“I’m around four months. I just feel so guilty, because I didn’t go sooner. I truly had no idea. Molly, I thought I was going through menopause.” Tears fell from the corners of her eyes.

“I’m sure everything’s fine or the doctor would have told you.”

“You’re right. I just feel so irresponsible. The first months are very important.”

“But you take amazing care of yourself. You take vitamins, watch what you eat, don’t smoke or consume alcohol. Good grief, Mom, you barely even drink soda.”

“True.” She nodded and sniffled.