Witches Under Way (21 page)
Authors: Debora Geary
Okay, way too many people had been smoking baby weed. “I picked a lucky house listing, and then I didn’t even show up when you took Thea to see it.” It was a surprise to Lizard to discover she was actually a little embarrassed about that now. “You’re the realtor, not me.”
Lauren’s smile seemed oddly sad. “Is that really what you think?”
She had a smart-ass reply. Really she did. But somehow, she just couldn’t make it come out. Lizard sighed—and then told the truth. “Mostly, yeah. But I want what you think about me to be true someday.” Because giving a kid a decent place to grow up—scratch that, a total fairytale of a place to grow up—was pretty cool.
And maybe it was something she wasn’t totally awful at.
~ ~ ~
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From: Jennie Adams <
[email protected]
>
Subject: Bean has arrived!
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Dear Vero,
It has been a red-letter day for both my students. Lizard got dragged (quite literally) into Thea’s birthing room, which both awed and terrified her, although I think she admits only to the latter.
Bean (and I do believe that name just might stick) is adorable and feisty and worthy of the tidal wave of love surrounding him. I had the joy of taking his first portrait, cuddled up on his mama’s shoulder. There is such wise mystery in the eyes of a newborn child—and I’ve never quite managed to capture all that lies within. Perhaps I’m not meant to, but there is much pleasure in trying.
And Bean is not the only being who discovered he is loved today. Elsie opened her heart, although I don’t think she intended for half of Witch Central to come rushing in. She’s had little experience yet with the instant attraction of witches to anything silly or vulnerable, and she offered up both today.
We came for the food. We stayed for her heart. She doesn’t begin to understand that yet, but perhaps she felt it, and that’s a start. It’s easiest to find your path to self-expression when there will be love waiting for whatever you do.
And oh, to be a fly on the wall when she reads the suggestions in her Silly Jar. She gave us permission to meddle, and I’d guess very few turned down the opportunity. I wonder if she knows how much celebrating there will be if she actually acts on any of them.
Stumbling off to sleep, with perhaps a quick stop in my darkroom to develop just a picture or two of that lovely baby.
Love and light,
Jennie
Chapter 15
Elsie’s eyes slid open, faint traces of cowboy dancers and silk-soft baby cheeks drifting away as the morning light pulled her into wakefulness. She stretched lazily and realized she was still wearing yesterday’s clothes, complete with tomato stains. And something vaguely green.
Memories, pushed out of the way by the awe of a baby’s arrival, came flooding back. Somehow, in the day-long wait at the hospital and Knit a Spell, and her first lesson in cable stitch for Bean’s blanket, Elsie had forgotten about her spaghetti breakfast.
Dozens of people, come to eat food made by her own hands. Laughing in her kitchen. And writing ideas for her small project of self-development. Sitting up straighter now, she reached across to the antique dresser and picked up the aptly labeled
Elsie’s Silly Jar
. It was stuffed to the brim.
She held a hand over the top of the jar for a moment, feeling like she’d stepped into an oddly momentous occasion. And then felt her WitchLight pendant vibrating gently.
It had never done that before. Maybe it liked silliness.
She reached into the jar and pulled out the first slip of paper her fingers settled on. The writing was pink and glittery and covered in smiley faces.
Buy a frilly pink princess gown and wear it roller skating.
Elsie smiled, even as she winced. That sounded like a recipe for a trip to the emergency room—but a pretty dress was oddly tempting. Her wardrobe was entirely bereft of anything pink or frilly.
She reached for the next offering in the jar, hoping for something a little less precarious than roller skating.
Have a sword fight with homemade swords.
Elsie giggled—that one could likely be accomplished without medical incident, and she knew a witchling who probably had sword-making talents.
The next one was a bit mystifying.
Borrow Caro’s bike and go for a ride.
Why was that silly? She tried to imagine what the practical Caro could possibly have done to her bike and shrugged, coming up empty. Perhaps it was painted orange. She could handle a ride on an orange bike. Perhaps that was a good project for the morning.
Wear socks that don’t match.
Elsie told her inner fashion critic to be quiet. Feeling silly was the whole point of this exercise. The bigger problem was that all her socks were the same practical gray.
Create some graffiti art.
She snorted—that one would get her arrested.
The next slip of paper was signed.
Take video of all the other silly ideas in this jar. Invite us all over to watch—with popcorn. Jamie.
Nat’s husband had a warped sense of humor.
Looking at the strewn pieces of paper on her bed, Elsie decided she needed some kind of organizational system. A pile for ideas she could implement reasonably quickly and with minimal danger to herself or others. A pile for things that might require some assistance or instruction. And a pile for ideas too outlandish to be considered. A quick glance at a few more of the slips in her jar suggested the third pile was going to be rather large.
Learn to belly dance.
She was learning to sing. That was surely enough embarrassment for one lifetime. Into the “outlandish” pile.
Toast marshmallows inside a fort of couch cushions.
Fire hazard, but it might work with some modifications. Into the “needs assistance” stack.
Feeling like she had a good system now, Elsie went to work.
~ ~ ~
It wasn’t often you woke up with Count Dracula’s laugh ringing in your ears. Lizard blinked, wondering what the stupid jerkwads were up to now—and then remembered she didn’t live with jerkwads anymore.
She lived with a stick-butt psychologist. Well, that probably wasn’t entirely fair—the stick had loosened up quite a bit in the last couple of weeks.
Then the laugh came again, and this time Lizard sent out a mindtrace to verify. She considered putting a pillow over her head and going back to sleep—whatever had Elsie laughing like a Sesame Street character at 7 a.m. couldn’t possibly be good. It was, however, impossible to ignore.
The whole watching-babies-be-born deal was exhausting—she needed about three more days of sleep to feel normal. Which was going to happen exactly never, especially with Count Dracula in residence in the bedroom next door. Lizard rolled out of bed and stumbled down the hall, pushing hair out of her eyes—and found Elsie sitting on her bed, surrounded by little slips of paper. Her cackles had moved on from the Count to something that sounded more like it belonged in Macbeth.
“Morning,” said Lizard, walking into the room. “Practicing your witch laugh?”
Elsie startled, sending bits of paper flying everywhere. “Oh, you scared me!” She squinted at Lizard more carefully. “I’m so sorry—did I wake you up?”
Lizard saw the jar and flashed back to the events of the previous morning. “Are those all the silly ideas? Any good ones?”
Elsie was busily collecting and re-piling papers. “Some excellent ones, I think. And some impossible ones, but that’s to be expected.”
It was the latter that interested Lizard. “Which pile is the crazy ones?” She tried not to laugh when Elsie pointed. It was twice as big as any of the other piles. Lizard picked up a few notes and started reading.
Belch the ABC’s—or Shakespeare. Challenge the witchlings to a tricycle race. Create some graffiti art. Speak in rhyme for a day
. “These aren’t impossible.” The belching sounded like a blast.
“Sure they are.” Elsie frowned, looking over Lizard’s shoulder. “I can’t belch or rhyme, I couldn’t possibly fit on a tricycle, and graffiti is illegal.”
“Everyone can belch, graffiti’s only illegal if you get caught, and the whole reason the tricycle race would be funny is because you don’t fit.”
Elsie just looked totally blank. Lizard tried a different approach. “What’s the doable pile? Never mind.” She looked for the smallest one.
Lick the batter bowl with your fingers. Have a scary laugh contest.
Ah, that explained Count Dracula.
Blow bubbles in your milk. Play hopscotch.
Okay, they could start with baby steps. “Come on, let’s go have breakfast. We’ll blow bubbles in our orange juice.”
“Just let me finish organizing these last ones,” said Elsie, upending the jar.
Lizard grabbed her hand. “You don’t
organize
silliness—you just
do
it.” She used a foot to shove her frozen roommate off the bed. “Move. You can have the bathroom first.”
As Elsie headed down the hall, Lizard picked up the middle pile.
Dance around to the next three songs on the radio. Build a pillow fort and tell ghost stories.
Pillow forts scared Elsie? They had some work to do.
Eat brownies for breakfast, and breakfast for dinner. Walk down the street singing at the top of your lungs.
Okay, that one was surprisingly brave—maybe there was hope.
Tell a pirate joke. Let a puppy lick your nose. Decorate yourself in glitter.
Well, she could make brownies for breakfast, but no way Elsie made it through these lists on her own. And today was twenty-five-hours-of-class day.
Lauren said good realtors knew how to delegate. Picking up her phone, Lizard texted Jamie.
Elsie needs belching lessons. And glitter help.
He was a guy—they all knew how to belch. And he was in tight with the queens of glitter.
Her good deed for the day was done.
~ ~ ~
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From: Vero Liantro <
[email protected]
>
Subject: Re: Bean has arrived!
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Lovely Jennie,
All our blessings to the new mother. Thea is a wonder—I’ve much enjoyed her company the times I’ve met her. She’s a gift to that little boy of hers, and a gift to the friends she makes with such ease.
You’ll be sending us one of the pictures hanging in your darkroom, if you please. Melvin insists. There is indeed such magic in the eyes of a babe newly arrived. Then we spend decades trying to once again attain that level of grace and wisdom, I think.
Some of us need a few more decades than others.
Melvin tells me that I underestimate what it required for Lizard to hold her friend’s hand yesterday. To watch a birth, real or metaphorical, requires no small bravery. I won’t question his judgment—my path in life has always been to be the one whose hand is being held.
I much look forward to my next lesson with Elsie. I didn’t expect her to embrace the quest for silliness quite so completely. I know not everyone is convinced it is a necessary part of her journey—and I wasn’t sure myself, until I heard her sing. She still lacks that inner light that comes from knowing your own silliness and forging ahead anyway. And only with that light can a singer truly venture into the dark or tumultuous corners, trusting that she can find her way out again.
They both have interesting days ahead, as do you.
All our love,
Vero
~ ~ ~
Elsie walked out the front door—and saw a bike leaning against the front fence. An eye-popping bike.
It was bright orange, with painted flames dancing all over the bars. Which might have looked fast and sleek if the bike wasn’t one of those granny models with the upright handle bars, big padded seat, and grocery basket hanging off the front. The basket was covered in woven yellow ribbon, the handlebar ends were festooned with red pom-poms, and a gigantic purple frog sat right up front.
Elsie was pretty sure the frog was giving her the evil eye.
“His name is Alfred,” said Caro, chuckling, as she stepped up to the fence line. “He started life as a respectable bike horn, but now he mostly belches, which seems somewhat appropriate.”
Elsie just gaped. She was afraid to ask if the bike had a name, too.
“Nope.” Caro smiled. “I’m not eavesdropping, girl. Your mind is yelling pretty loudly this morning. I named the frog. The bike’s just a bike.”
It was the most un-bike-like bike Elsie had ever seen. And the loud noise in her brain was the raging fight between her sense of decorum—and fingers that itched to touch the handlebars. Just touch.
“Anyhow.” Caro pushed back from the fence. “I heard via the grapevine that someone thought you might like to go for a ride. I’ll leave Alfred in your care. Just put the bike in the back yard when you’re finished.”
