Witcha'be (5 page)

Mom emptied her arms onto the sofa then sat. “Did you have fun at Lenni’s?”

“Mom, can we talk about
her
please?” I pointed through the screen at the black-shrouded, green-skinned witch. “It’s not even Halloween.”

“Beautiful, isn’t she? You know how I love the Wizard of Oz. I saw her and had to have her. She’s carved from oak and hand painted.”

“What will the neighbors think?” I scowled. The real question was, what would
Bianca
think? All I needed was for her to get the idea that I was making fun of her.

“Mrs. Johnson came over and helped us carry her up the steps, and she had a fabulous idea. She said I should find carvings of the other characters and surround the house with them. She’s going to help me search the net. Although, I’m not sure displaying munchkins is politically correct…” Mom trailed off, lost in a yard fantasy that made pointy-hatted garden gnomes seem adorable.

Boo bolted into the room. I scooped him up and he shook with delight. “So Dad is okay with this…witch arrangement?”

“He’s the one who pointed her out. She was peeking from behind a tasteless array of lawn statuary. I would have never seen her if he hadn’t guided me over. Of course, it was love at first sight. The man we bought her from said he’d gotten her back in the sixties and kept her in a storage building. This is the first time she’s seen the light of day.”

“Where is Dad, anyway?” I asked, hoping I could return him to his senses.

“Upstairs checking email.”

“Next time you decide to decorate the house, please remind yourself that your daughter doesn’t enjoy being humiliated in front of the whole town. You should have passed on the green, larger-than-life Wicked Witch of the West porch ornament.”

Mom chuckled. “I think you’ll grow to like her. You have to admit, she’s charming.” Her eyes actually sparkled over the hunk of wood.

“Not in a million years. Goodnight, Mom.” I pecked her cheek then hoisted my bag over my shoulder.

“Goodnight? But it’s still early. Don’t forget your lamps.”

“Thanks,” I said through clenched teeth. Tucking Boo into the crook of my arm, I took a watermelon wedge in each hand and climbed the stairs, green cords whipping my shins.

I tapped on Dad’s office.

“Come in.”

I poked my head inside.

He stood and stretched. “Those lamps are really something.”

“Yeah. Something.”

“And how do you like Ms. Wicked?”

“I hope she gets termites.”

He chuckled.

“Why did you let her buy that monstrosity?”

“Your mother doesn’t need permission to shop. I showed her the witch because I knew she’d love it.”

“Well, I’ll never invite anyone over again, except Lenni. And I pray nobody I know drives by.”

Dad walked to the doorway and dropped a kiss on top of my head. “Love you, kiddo.”

I walked to my room and slammed the lamps onto my dresser. I fell on the bed and stared at my posters. Dizzy, the lead singer of my favorite band, glared at me from her world of stage lights, leather dresses, and spiked hair. What I wouldn’t give to trade places with her right now. I dreaded school. Just when I thought the situation between me and Bianca had reached the height of misery, things changed for the worse. Guilt sloshed through my insides. What terrible person makes light of the circumstances surrounding a child’s death? Even if I found the nerve to ask Bianca’s forgiveness, she would never accept my apology.

No way around it, tomorrow I was toast. Right now, I had an even more pressing concern—how to shower with a haunted, redheaded mermaid in the room.

I yanked the thumbtacks from the first two posters in my collection. The rock star shot me a dejected expression as I rolled her up. “Sorry, Dizzy,” I whispered, securing the posters with rubber bands and storing them in the closet.

Pulling the sheet from my bed and dragging it behind me, I headed for the bathroom. I held the tacks in my mouth and smoothed the fabric over the bathroom wall, covering the mermaid mural. I tacked it in place. The navy-blue cloth concealed the mermaids, leaving only a few bubbles visible around the edge. No longer able to see the redhead, I relaxed.

CHAPTER FOUR

I walked as slowly as possible to Lenni’s house and still arrived in plenty of time. She met me at the door and stepped outside for a hug before letting me in, chattering all the while. Mrs. Flemming’s stilettos looked dangerous sitting on the floor beside the coffee table. I sank into the sofa, nodding as Lenni prattled on about today, tomorrow, and the entire week. Nerves on edge, I waited for her to bring up Bianca. Somehow, she rattled off the plans she had for each day without mentioning her.

“Oh, duh, how could I forget?
Doodle-doodle-doot
.” Lenni waved her hands rapidly in front of her, signifying a leap back in time. “Okay, on Wednesday evening, Bianca is coming over so we can work on our lines for drama class.”

There it was. The hairs on my arms and the nape of my neck stood up. A chill skittered down my spine. I braced myself for the hiccups.

“Okay, girlies,” Mrs. Flemming called, entering the room. “Let me slide on these ankle twisters and we’ll be ready to roll.” She slipped the red heels onto her pedicured feet like Cinderella gliding into glass slippers. “And away we go,” she sang, picking up her matching red purse and ushering us out the door. “Neal already left for work, so we won’t be blocked in this morning.”

She turned off the car alarm. Lenni and I slid into the roomy backseat.

“Where to?” Mrs. Flemming lowered her voice an octave and pretended to tip a chauffer’s hat.

“To school, driver. On the double.” Lenni leaned in close to me. “I can’t wait to see Ian first period. He’s so cute. Sits right behind Bianca.” She sighed. “He stares at her the entire hour. Once, he had the nerve to ask me if she was interested in him. As if!” Lenni tugged her seatbelt over her chest.

Hic!

“Wow, that one sounded painful.”

“Yeah, didn’t feel too great either.”

Lenni’s phone vibrated. She read the text, smiled, and texted back. I wondered if it was Bianca.

“Turn up the radio, Mom, I love this song!” She pumped her palms to the rhythm. Rolling her shoulders, she glanced at me from the corner of her eye and tossed her hair.

“I’m glad the windows are tinted. Other drivers might think you’re having a seizure.” Mrs. Flemming snickered.

I tried tossing my hair, but instead strained my neck. I laughed, rubbing it.

“Aw, song’s over.”

“Not a moment too soon,” I said as Mrs. Flemming pulled up in front of the school.

“Bye, girlies. Have a great day.” She turned in her seat and pecked Lenni’s cheek.

“Bye, Mrs. Flemming.”

“Pam,” she said, pretending to glare.

“Bye, Pam. Thanks for the ride.” We slid from the backseat.

Lenni chattered about how cute
this girl’s
hair looked, or how hot
that boy’s
smile was as we walked to the schoolyard. Now and then, she stopped to stand on her tiptoes and squeal, waving wildly at people across the yard.

“No way! Sarah actually went through with it. Let’s check out her tattoo. She’s by the basketball goal showing everybody.”

“I don’t really know Sarah. You go ahead. I’ll hang here and check my messages.” I pulled the phone from my pocket and scrolled through old texts.

“Okay, if you’re sure.” Lenni searched my face with her wide, blue eyes.

“I’m fine. Go. Take a good look so you can describe it to me later.”

“If I miss you when the bell rings, I’ll see you after first hour. And hey, your hiccups are gone.” She sprinted toward the crowd.

I leaned against the tetherball pole and reread messages. A skull-and-crossbones appeared onscreen, turning my ribs to icicles. The phone buzzed. I flinched and dropped it in the dirt. It vibrated harder and harder, jackhammering off the ground, warbling out a disturbing melody, like an ice cream truck underwater.

A gigantic hand scooped up the phone. “Hey, you dropped this.” Jake blew on the screen and rubbed it with his massive thumb before handing it to me. “It’s ringing,” he said, as if I couldn’t see the phone performing a demented song-and-dance routine.

“Thanks, Jake.”

“Cool skull-and-crossbones feature. Where can I get that app?” He took out his phone as mine jarred violently against my fingertips. I resisted the urge to throw it down and stomp it like a bug.

“I don’t know. The skull just suddenly popped up. Sorry, I’ve got to go.” I shoved my thumb hard against the phone. The screen faded to black.

Hic!

The bell rang and I squeezed through the congested entrance.

My locker was a total wreck. Lenni had already been there. I grabbed my books and walked to Mrs. Piper’s classroom.

She greeted me at the door, as she did all her students. Her warm, brown hand rested on my shoulder. “Good to see you, Molly. We’re starting a new project this morning I think you’ll enjoy.”

My hiccups disappeared.

Mrs. Piper’s room reigned as my favorite place on earth. Tranquil. Like calm water. Encouraging words lined the walls, written in Mrs. Piper’s flawless calligraphy. I read the saying closest to my desk.
Perfect love drives out fear
. My shoulders relaxed as I imagined what perfect love would feel like—strong, warm, unconditional. One day I’d ask Mrs. Piper where she found these wonderful verses. I needed a whole book of them.

Kids stomped in and filled the empty seats. I leaned back in my chair, stretching tense muscles, amazed I could relax with a cursed phone in my pocket.

Mrs. Piper pulled the door closed. “Good morning, class. I trust your weekend went well?” She stepped to the front of the room.

“Wasn’t long enough,” Jesse Parker, the principal’s son, mumbled from the back. A few voices joined in, sparking a conversation about sleeping all day.

“Everyone would rather be sleeping? Well, it so happens, we are starting a new project this morning that requires sleep.”

“Wooooo-hoooo!” Jesse stretched his thick neck then laid his head down.

“Not so fast.” Mrs. Piper strolled to the supply closet and removed a stack of notebooks. “We are going to be journaling our dreams,” she said, passing them out.

“Awww, man. You said we could sleep.” Jesse rubbed his eyes.

“I said this assignment requires sleep. You won’t sleep during class. But you will sleep with one of these at your bedside.”

“We’re going to write down the stuff we dream about?” asked Amy, the shy girl who sat behind me.

“Correct. And students, I believe you are acquainted with me enough to know I have a strong moral code.”

“What’s that mean?” Jesse asked.

“I won’t tolerate foul language, brutality, or any form of vulgarity. Be discreet. Don’t offend me.”

“Censorship. I’m supposed to lie about what I dream?” Jesse set his jaw.

I cut my gaze from him and admired my navy-blue notebook.

“I’m not asking you to lie. I’m telling you not to be explicit in areas I find offensive,” Mrs. Piper said, her voice serious. I glanced up. She fixed Jesse with a stern gaze.

He crossed his arms and reclined in his chair.

“Class, are we clear?”

Heads bobbed in agreement.

“Good. Let’s get on with the instructions. You will keep your journal along with a pen or pencil beside your bed, couch, futon, or wherever you sleep.”

“What about the bathtub?” Kit asked through a goofy grin.

“If you sleep in the tub, then yes. But Kit, make sure the tub is dry. Otherwise, you will drown or get hypothermia. Maybe both.”

“Yes, Mrs. Piper.” Kit ducked his head as the class laughed.

“I ask for discretion, but I also ask for complete honesty regarding what you write. Don’t make up things to help your dream sound more interesting. Cheating will ruin the fun for everyone. This is not a competition of exciting dreams. This is a group project, an opportunity to assist one another. In a couple of weeks we will organize our material. Ideally, by that time, we should have enough information to develop characters and settings. Once this process is complete, we’ll create an outline, followed by a storyline.”

“You mean we’re going to write a book?” Kit leaned forward and crossed his lanky arms on his desk.

“That’s the goal.” Mrs. Piper smiled.

Excited conversation burst out in the room. Amy tapped me on the shoulder and asked if we were allowed to record prior dreams.

I raised my hand. “Mrs. Piper, can we write down past dreams?”

“No, Molly, let’s fill our journals with fresh ones.”

I shrugged at Amy.

What if our book was published? I couldn’t wait to tell Lenni.

“Class, don’t become frustrated if you can’t dream every night. You won’t be graded on how often you dream or how much you remember. And I won’t count off for grammar or punctuation. Who can punctuate at three in the morning? We’ll polish things up during the editing process.

“What I am grading on is participation. That simply means write something down. If you don’t dream or can’t remember your dream, explain that in your journal. And keep your descriptions detailed. Situations and settings in dreams can be strange and confusing. Sometimes people change into other people. Please be vivid. Dreams are odd by nature. Don’t worry about your description sounding foolish. Enjoy one another’s creativity. That will make the project interesting and fun.”

Mrs. Piper ended her instruction and asked us to gather our things. The bell rang and we flooded the hallway. I squeezed through the crowd in search of Lenni, spotting her in the main hall near the drinking fountain, next to Saul Turner. I rushed over, anxious to tell her about my creative writing project. Too-tall Saul bent to drink from the fountain, revealing Bianca.

I stepped back and flattened myself against the lockers. If Lenni saw me, she’d call me over. I glanced at the clock. If they didn’t wrap up soon, I’d be late for second period. Mr. Williams’ science class was three halls over.

I shifted my books to my hip and shoved a hand into my pocket. With a deep breath, I pulled out my phone. Four little skulls with crossbones blinked at me. I tapped the first one and received the message—
withheld
.