by Ruth Chew
“Take it easy, frog,” Jane yelled. “You’re getting me wet too.”
All at once there was a crash. The witch had fallen off the ceiling.
Laura ran over to the witch. “Are you hurt?” she asked.
Sally’s hat had fallen off her head. She was lying quite still. Her eyes were closed. Laura bathed the old woman’s forehead with lake water. Jane pulled the blankets off the windows and opened the blinds.
The frog hopped over to the witch and sat on her forehead. The old woman opened her eyes. Tom jumped down.
Sally sat up and looked around. She smiled. “It worked. I must have done the spell right.” She picked up her pointed hat and jammed it over her wispy gray hair.
The frog was perched like a bird on the rim of the wastebasket. He let out a croak.
“Oh, all right, Tom,” the witch said. “You did the spell. Now I’ll have to take you home. Laura, dear,” she said, “I want to ask one last favor of you.”
“What is it?” Laura asked.
“Give me the bath mat,” the witch said.
Laura didn’t answer. She was thinking. At last she said, “If I keep Pinky, sooner or later my mother will throw him in the washing machine. He’ll be better off with you.”
Sally smiled. “I just remembered something,” she said.
“What is it?” Jane asked.
“How I turned upside down.”
“How?” Laura wanted to know.
“I swung over the top bar of the swing set. Don’t ever do it.” The witch spread the bath mat on Laura’s bed. Laura got a big pickle jar. She poured the seawater and the jellyfish into it. Sally set the jar on the bath mat and sat down beside it. Tom hopped onto the witch’s shoulder. He croaked into her ear.
“What did he say?” Jane asked.
“He’s changed his mind about going back into the pond,” Sally said. “He enjoyed doing magic so much he wants to stay with me.”
“You could use him,” Jane said. “You’re lucky we didn’t get tadpoles.”
The witch rubbed her chin. “You’re right,” she said. “In some brews you can use them instead of frogs, but I guess not in this one.” She smiled.
Laura opened the window wide. “Good-bye,” the witch said. “I have to take the jellyfish back to Sheepshead Bay. Thanks for everything. Come on, Pinky. Let’s go.”
The bath mat sailed out of the window and high over the apple tree. Jane and Laura watched until it was out of sight.
Laura folded the ground glass up in the newspaper. She threw away the buttercup plant. Jane sniffed the lake water. “Pew,” she said. “Even if it still had magic in it, I wouldn’t use it.”
Laura took the lake water into the bathroom and flushed it down the toilet.
“It’s funny,” Jane said. “I don’t itch anymore.”
Laura looked at her. “Your poison ivy seems to be cured.”
“Sally said she used to be good at granting wishes,” Jane said. “And I was sure wishing I’d stop itching.”
“Meow.” Charlie marched into the room. He scratched at the closet door. Laura opened it.
“I’d better put that old quilt away,” she said. “Sally’s used it so much it’s stuck to the ceiling.” She went to get a chair to stand on. “I can’t reach it.”
Laura went down to the basement and brought back the stepladder. The cat ran up the ladder and sat down on the top step.
Jane held the ladder while Laura climbed up. She pulled at one corner of the folded quilt. Slowly the quilt unfolded and came down from the ceiling. It floated out of the closet and into Laura’s bedroom. Halfway between the floor and the ceiling, the quilt stopped and hung in mid-air. It seemed to be waiting for them.
Let the magic continue….
Here’s a sneak peek at another tale by Ruth Chew!
Secondhand
Magic
Excerpt copyright © 1981 by Ruth Chew. Published by Random House Children’s Books, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.
“What’s that funny thing up there, Caroline?” Paul Henderson pointed to the top of a tall tree.
Paul and his sister were walking around Lookout Mountain in Prospect Park.
Caroline stared at the tree. Something deep blue and bright orange was fluttering on one of the branches. “I think it’s a kite.”
“It sure must be a big one.” Paul left the path and started down the hill.
Caroline went after him. “Watch out for that poison ivy!”
They made a wide circle around a patch of shiny green leaves. Caroline stopped to sniff the yellow blossoms of a honeysuckle vine. She looked up to see Paul standing under the tall tree.
The branches were close together. It looked like an easy tree to climb. By the time Caroline got to it, Paul was on the fourth branch.
“Paul, come down here!” she yelled. “That’s a pine tree! Remember Dad said they’re not safe to climb.”
“You just aren’t good at climbing.” Paul went higher in the tree.
Caroline was two years older than Paul. And her legs were longer. She could climb up trees even better than he could. But she lost her nerve when she had to come down. Now she sat on the ground under the tree to watch Paul.
He climbed up four more branches. “It’s hot up here. I’m sweating.” Paul rubbed his hands on the seat of his pants. “This tree is oozing sap. I’m getting sticky.”
“Then why don’t you come down?” Caroline asked.
Paul looked up at the blue and orange thing. It flapped in the wind. “It’s a kite, all right. And it’s shaped like a bird.” He started up again.
Crack! A branch snapped under his foot. Paul threw his arms around the trunk of the tree.
Caroline jumped to her feet. “Paul, come down!”
Paul looked down at her. Then he looked up at the kite. “I’m more than halfway there.” He pulled himself onto the next branch.
Caroline stood quite still under the pine tree. She was afraid if she moved Paul might look down and get dizzy. Secretly she wanted him to get the kite. And that made her feel it would be her fault if anything happened to her brother.
Paul was high in the tree now. Caroline saw him reach up and touch the kite. It gave a little twist and a shake.
“Hold still!” Paul said.
At once the kite stopped moving.
Paul pulled the prickly pine branches away from it. Soon the kite was free.
“This kite’s bigger than I am,” Paul said. “I don’t know how I’m going to carry it down.”
“Why don’t you just drop it?” Caroline said.
Paul let go of the kite. Caroline wondered why the kite didn’t bump into the branches as it drifted toward the ground. When Caroline caught it, she was nearly knocked off her feet.
Paul climbed carefully down the tree.
“It’s a beautiful bird! And it’s made of cloth instead of paper.” Caroline stroked the big kite. Suddenly she stopped and stared at it.
Paul was on the ground now. “What’s the matter?” he asked.
“I know it’s silly,” Caroline said, “but for a moment I thought it was rubbing its head against my hand.”
Paul looked hard at the kite. “It’s floppy on one side.”
Caroline turned it over. “One of the sticks is broken. No wonder it was flapping so much.”
“Let’s take it home. Maybe we can glue it,” Paul said.
Caroline picked up the head of the cloth bird. Paul held on to the tail. Together they carried the big kite up the hill to the path.
“It’s no fun to go back the same way we came,” Paul said. “Let’s walk across the top of Lookout Mountain.”
They followed the path around the hill. At the top of some steps they came to a wide stone walk.
Paul pointed to a bench. “Let’s sit down for a while. I’m tired.”
As Paul and Caroline walked toward the bench, they saw that there was already someone there. A little man with a scraggly gray beard an
d shaggy eyebrows was lying on the bench. His eyes were closed, and he was smiling as if he were having a happy dream. The children saw that he had folded up a heavy overcoat and was using it as a pillow.
“Why does he have an overcoat with him in this weather?” Paul asked.
Caroline put her finger to her lips. “Sh-sh!”
The little man woke up. He sat up and rubbed his eyes.
The kite tugged at Caroline’s hands. A gust of wind must have caught it, she thought. Caroline held tight to the orange head to keep it from being yanked away. The kite skimmed along the stone walk. Caroline had to run to keep up with it.
“Slow down, Caroline!” Paul raced after her, holding on to the tail of the kite.
Caroline’s feet were barely touching the walk now. “Hang on, Paul!” she yelled.
The broken kite flapped in the wind. But it kept flying just above the stone walk. It crossed the top of Lookout Mountain and started down the other side.
The kite pulled Caroline and Paul down some steps. Then it began to go slower and slower. At last it gave a little shake and went limp.
“The wind must have died down,” Caroline said.
“My arms ache.” Paul put the kite down. “Why were you running, Caroline? Were you afraid of that man?”
“I was trying to keep the kite from blowing away,” Caroline told him.
“Wow!” Paul said. “If the kite flies like this when it’s broken, I wonder what it will do after we mend it.”
“Where’s the glue, Mom?” Paul finished his milk and got up from the lunch table.
“We’re out of it,” Mrs. Henderson said. “What do you want it for?”
“One of the sticks on the kite we found is broken, Mother,” Caroline told her. “Paul and I were going to glue it.”
“I was wondering why anybody would leave a kite like that in the park,” Mrs. Henderson said. “It’s made of silk. I was worried that someone might be looking for it. You can buy some glue at Kenny’s.”
“They’re sure to have it,” Caroline said.
Mrs. Henderson laughed. “They seem to have everything in that little store. I’ve seen things there nobody else sells anymore.” She went to get her handbag and fished out two quarters. “This ought to be enough for a tube of glue. Try not to lose it, Caroline.”
Paul and Caroline left the house and walked two blocks down Church Avenue to a little variety store on the corner. Inside, Mrs. Kenny was busy sorting a pile of notebooks.
The children walked to the back of the store where the toys were. Paul looked at a model airplane. Caroline found a tiny armchair that would be just right for her dollhouse.
Mrs. Kenny came over to Paul and Caroline. “What are you two looking for today?”
“Glue,” Caroline told her.
“We just got in an order this morning,” Mrs. Kenny said. “I haven’t unpacked it yet. I’ll go and get you a tube.” She went down a stairway to the basement.
Caroline put down the little chair and walked toward the front of the store. The young woman behind the cash register was Madeline, Mrs. Kenny’s daughter. “Hello, Caroline,” she said. “I didn’t expect to see you and Paul till you needed school supplies in the fall.”
Just as Paul was walking past the counter where books of needles and spools of thread were stacked, a small dog rushed past him. A lady came chasing after it. She bumped into Paul. He slipped and knocked over a pile of cards of embroidery thread.
The little dog grabbed a card with his teeth. He dashed out of the store. The lady ran after him.
When Mrs. Kenny came up from the basement, she saw Paul and Caroline picking up the cards of thread. “Oh, dear! Haven’t I told you children not to mess up the stock?”
“It wasn’t their fault,” Madeline told her mother. “Mrs. Baker’s dog was running wild.”
Just then Mrs. Baker came back into the store. She was holding her dog in her arms. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Kenny.” Mrs. Baker put the card of orange thread on the counter.
Mrs. Kenny looked at it. “I can’t sell this now. Your dog has chewed the card.”
Mrs. Baker took the card of thread to the cash register and paid for it. “I don’t need embroidery thread,” she said. “Have fun with it, dear.” She handed the card to Caroline and walked out of the store.