“Is that—” Sadie began.
“Yes,” said the witch. “An evening grosbeak.”
“I knew it!” said Sadie. “Don’t you love the stripes on his wings?”
“He’s a gorgeous specimen,” the witch agreed. “Like a piece of the sun.”
The grosbeak emitted a series of high-pitched chirps.
“Really?” said Ms. M. “Oh, that’s wonderful. I can’t thank you enough. Wait!” She reached into her black bag and came up with a handful of seeds. “Sunflower. Your favorite.”
They all watched as the bird delicately dipped his head and ate one, then two, then three seeds before darting away.
Ms. M turned toward the girls and beamed. “It’s very likely that Ethel has returned.”
“The bird told you that?” said Maya.
“Not in those words, exactly. But the message was crystal clear.”
“That’s great.” Jess clasped the witch’s always-warm hand. “Really great. But can we focus on the cake now?”
Ms. M returned Jess’s squeeze. “Certainly. I won’t leave until everything’s in place.”
“You’re leaving?” Jess wailed at the same time Sadie said, “No!” Maya threw a protective arm around them.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t more specific. My sources say Ethel is home. Possibly in need. Of course it may not be true, but I have to find out.” She pressed the button to raise the window. “We’ll talk about this later. Right now let’s get our magnificent creation inside.”
With Ms. M leading the way, Jess, Sadie, and Maya pushed the clattering four-wheeled cart holding the cake toward the hotel.
“Slow down,” Maya warned. “The mountain gorilla is looking a little nervous.”
Sadie smoothed over a crack at the top of the leopard’s cave, then another one near the impala, and licked her finger. “I don’t blame him.”
As they crossed the parking lot, Jess said, “There’s Mom’s Honda. I hope she hasn’t been waiting long.”
“We’re right on time,” said Ms. M, holding open the big metal door.
They pushed the cart down a dimly lit hallway and into a large, high-ceilinged room with a red-carpeted floor. Peculiar paintings decorated the walls. Paintings of, well, paint, maybe? Red swirls and green dabs and yellow drips and blue gobs.
Dozens of people milled about in front of the artwork. They passed a bearded man who pushed his glasses up onto his forehead and leaned in to peer at a painting of a giant praying mantis. Or was it a skinny dancer with too many elbows?
Jess spied her mother across the room talking to a woman in a pink beret and a blue-and-green-patterned dress. “Dessert!” sang the woman as they approached with the cart. But when they came to a stop, her expression changed from delight to confusion. She tugged at her chunky yellow necklace. “What in the world do we have here?”
Jess’s mother’s face was as white as her chef’s coat.
“It’s—oh, no!” Jess let out a squeak of alarm. Because the cake was beginning to slide!
The gorilla was the first to go.
Then the avalanche began in earnest. The frigid zone crumbled into the temperate zone, which melded into a swirling mass that swept through the tropical zone. All of it toppled over the edges of the cart, rolling and roiling toward the carpet, coming to a stop at the toes of the woman’s purple snakeskin boots.
Nobody moved. Nobody, it seemed, even breathed. The room was utterly silent. Jess’s mother squeezed her shoulders. Hard.
Strike three. She was out.
Jess didn’t turn around to face her mother. Couldn’t turn around. Didn’t want to. Ever. If only she could stay frozen in that moment, staring at the leopard’s butt, his head buried in a fragment of cake. Forever.
The silence was broken by a tremendous cheer and wild applause.
“Well done,” someone shouted.
“Performance art at its best!” crowed the woman, shaking Jess’s mother’s hand. “Bravo!”
Chapter 18
Ready. Set. Go.
Back at home after dropping off Sadie and Maya, Jess and her mother collapsed onto kitchen chairs.
“Abstract artists. Not animal advocates.” Her mother shook her head for the billionth time that afternoon. “I don’t know how I got that mixed up.”
“It was useless Vicki’s fault.” Jess couldn’t help grinning. “She took the message.”
“I know, but I should have checked. I did check. At least I thought I did. I meant to.”
“You must have heard wrong.”
“Apparently.” Then she laughed. Again. Which started Jess laughing. Again. Which started her mother snorting and laughing even harder.
Once Jess could breathe, she said, “When the cake went kablooey, I was scared you were going to faint. Or murder me. Or both.”
“I thought it was a disaster,” her mother admitted. “But they thought it was art.” She shook her head for the billionth-and-first time.
“Ms. M said you’d be happy with the way things turned out.”
“She’s such an odd little person. Where is she, anyway? I thought she was right behind us.”
“Sorry!” The witch barged into the kitchen through the back door. “I was so distracted by all the Ethel news coming in from the celestial spaces that I left this in the van.” She plunked her dusty black bag on the table where it . . . twitched?
“Please don’t tell me”—Jess glanced nervously at her mother—“that you have Onyx in there.”
“Would you believe me if I said I was taking a baby dragon to a friend?”
“No.”
Ms. M looked almost smug. “Good. You shouldn’t. It’s a preposterous thing to say.”
“It will certainly be less exciting around here without you, Ms. M,” Jess’s mother said, and then she added, with yet another laugh, “I hope.” She swiveled to pull her wallet out of her purse, which hung from the back of her chair. “Let me pay you for the last few days.”
The witch waved away the offer. “Next time.”
Jess perked up. So she’d be back! Maybe even with Ethel!
“Are you sure?” said Jess’s mother.
The witch gave an emphatic nod as she beamed at Jess. “Friends are the real prosperity. Besides, I hate to carry cash when there’s a chance it might catch fire.”
“Well, all right then.” As Jess’s mother turned away to replace her wallet, the witch’s bag expanded and opened a crack. A wisp of smoke spiraled up and out.
“Behave,” hissed Ms. M. “Or no cricket snacks for you!”
“Cricket snacks?” Jess whispered.
“It’s all they eat at this age.” She hefted her bag onto her shoulder. “Time for us to be going.”
“Us?” Jess’s mother looked puzzled as she shook the witch’s small hand. “Jess, you can walk Ms. M out, but come right back, okay?”
“Sure, Mom.”
On the front stoop, Jess grabbed the witch’s arm. “Hold on! I almost forgot. I want to give you something.”
She sprinted around the side of the house to the herb garden, plucked what she needed, and sprinted back. “Here.” She handed the witch the feathery strands of dill. “Ethel’s favorite. For good luck. So you’ll find her for sure.”
Ms. M pressed the dill to her nose and took a noisy sniff. “Ahhhh.” She gave Jess a warm, snaggle-toothed smile. “I feel more hopeful already. Thank you, dear.”
“Race you to the end of the driveway?”
“One moment.” The witch stuffed the dill into her pocket. Clamped her hat down tightly on her head. Performed a few creaky knee bends. “Okay.” She crouched in a starting position. “You’re on.”
“Ready. Set. Go!”
Jess flew. She skidded to a stop just past the mailbox, whipped around, and shouted, “Left you in my dust!”
The driveway was empty.
In the yard to her right, Mr. Percy pruned his lilac bush. To her left, a delivery truck idled by the curb.
No sign a
nywhere of a small woman in black with a bag that squirmed on its own.
“Wow! Wait till I tell Sadie and Maya,” Jess murmured.
When she returned to the kitchen, her mother said, “At the risk of repeating myself, there goes an odd little person.” She sipped her tea and continued, “But I’m glad you two had a good time together. And speaking of good times, Vicki will be here tomorrow,”—she held up her hand when Jess started to protest—“but you can invite Maya and Sadie over. If you promise to stay fifty feet away from the oven at all times. Make that a hundred and fifty feet.”
“Hey, we hit it out of the park today! Out of the park, over the fence, and gone.”
“True, but today was . . .” Her mother searched for a word.
“Different?” Jess suggested.
“That’s one way of putting it.” She leaned back, rested her head against the wall, and closed her eyes. “I should start dinner, but I don’t think I can move from this chair.”
Jess went over and opened the refrigerator. “We have tofu. And peanut butter. We could . . .”
Her mother grimaced. “Too much cutting and grating.”
“How about this?” Jess held up a colorful refrigerator magnet. It said BAMBINI’S PIZZA. WE DELIVER.
“Mushroom and spinach?”
“Onion and green pepper.”
Her mother pulled out her phone and dialed. “Yes, hello. I’d like to order a large pizza. Half mushroom and spinach, half onion and green pepper. Fifteen minutes? Perfect.”
After she hung up, she wrapped her arm around Jess’s waist. “I should have told them to make absolutely sure my spinach does not touch your onion.”
Jess leaned toward her mother. Breathed in the faint scents of vanilla and cocoa powder and shampoo. “That’s okay. They’re all vegetables. They’ll get along.”
Ms. M’s Tips for Young Chefs
Cooking, like petting a baby dragon, can be dangerous. Never do either without first getting permission from a parent or other adult guardian.
Start with clean hands and a clean cauldron.
Tie back your hair or wear a tall, pointy black hat.
If you have a toad in your pocket, return him to the terrarium.
Read the recipe all the way through before you begin, to avoid frustrating surprises, such as realizing you should have soaked the magic garbanzos for Jack’s Beanstalk Casserole overnight.
Regarding flavorings and spices, be bold. Say the recipe calls for cobweb jam, but you prefer grape. Why not make the switch? Unlike spells, recipes usually give you room to experiment. Ethel could explain, but she’s . . . well, you know.
Becoming a good chef takes practice. What you make may not look or taste like the perfect photo in the cookbook. Wait, did you taste the photo? Don’t do that.
If Onyx wanders by, call me! If your own cat or dog wants to play a bit, take a break.
Tidy up the kitchen when you’re finished. Your lazy broom may refuse to help. Tell him he can’t have dessert.
Ms. M’s Spellbinding Grilled Tofu with Thai Peanut Sauce
A local witch is the best helper, but if she’s away, then a parent or another adult will do. Here’s what you’ll need:
¼ teaspoon finely chopped or grated ginger root
2 large cloves of garlic, finely chopped
¼ cup cilantro (plus a few extra sprigs for garnish—that’s cooking talk for decoration)
3 tablespoons peanut butter
1 tablespoon lime juice
½ teaspoon red or green curry paste (or more, depending on how much spice you like)
½ tablespoon soy sauce (probably more—but not too much!—if you’re using unsalted peanut butter)
1 cup coconut milk
16 ounces extra-firm vacuum-packed tofu, drained and patted dry, cut into ½-inch slices
1. Start by combining the ginger root, garlic, and cilantro with a mortar and pestle, if you have them. If not, you can just toss these three ingredients right into a saucepan over low heat, and stir once or twice. Don’t they smell bewitching together?
2. Next add the peanut butter, lime juice, curry paste, and soy sauce, and stir to combine. At this point, the mixture will be spoon-stands-up-in-it thick. Trickle in some coconut milk. Stir. Trickle in some more. Stir again. Is it starting to look like a sauce? Keep going!
3. Now place the tofu slices side by side in a nonstick skillet. Have your helper grill them on the stove for about 3–4 minutes on each side, until they are just starting to turn golden brown. Crispy edges are really good. While that’s happening, the sauce can be heating slowly in the pan.
4. The tofu goes on a colorful plate. The sauce goes on the tofu. The extra sprigs of cilantro go on the sauce. Once cooled a little, it all goes in your mouth. (Well, not the plate.) The sauce also tastes marvelous on raw or cooked veggies—bell pepper slices, broccoli, mushrooms—and noodles. Onyx likes it best on salmon and, who knows, you might, too.
Get to Know Your Herbs
Cilantro: Looks a little like parsley, but a sniff will sort that out! Cilantro is very zesty. It’s the only herb with a nickname: coriander. Used frequently in Mexican food, especially Estofada de Bruja (Witch’s Stew).
Dill: Has fine leaves with flowers shaped like umbrellas. And dill is more than just pickles. Try it on potatoes! Yum. The name means “to calm or soothe.” Upset? Have a pickle and chill.
Mint: It’s everywhere! Toothpaste, gum, breath mints. Ethel liked to freeze sprigs of mint in ice cubes, making lemonade twice as tasty. Mint is bossy, though, and the plants can take over a garden.
Rosemary: Smells very forest-y and looks like a sprig from an evergreen tree. Good for memory. Study for a spelling test with rosemary nearby. Take a bit to school. During the test the scent will remind you how to spell abracadabra.
Sage: Its fuzzy, long, narrow leaves have a peppery smell that might remind you of turkey and dressing, but try a little in an omelet. Just a little. Sage is potent! Do you have a secret wish? Write it on a sage leaf and put it under your pillow. Especially powerful if you are wishing for Thanksgiving.
Thyme: Makes friends easily and is often seen bundled up with bay leaves and parsley. Thyme is a bravery herb. Put some in your socks if you have to walk past a bully. Plus, its lemony-woodsy scent will give you sweet-smelling feet.
Magic Books
Cook, Deanna F., illustrated by Michael P. Kline. The Kids’ Multicultural Cookbook. Charlotte, VT.: Williamson Books, 2008.
Dahl, Roald, Felicity Dahl, and Josie Fison, illustrated by Quentin Blake. Roald Dahl’s Revolting Recipes. New York: Puffin Books, 1997.
Gold, Rozanne, illustrated by Sara Pinto. Kids Cook 1-2-3: Recipes for Young Chefs Using Only 3 Ingredients. New York: Bloomsbury, 2006.
Katzen, Mollie. Honest Pretzels: And 64 Other Amazing Recipes for Cooks Ages 8 & Up. Berkeley, CA: Tricycle Press, 2009.
Tierra, Lesley, illustrated by Susie Wilson. A Kid’s Herb Book. San Francisco: Robert D. Reed Publishers, 2000.
Waters, Alice, with Bob Carrau and Patricia Curtan, illustrated by Ann Arnold. Fanny at Chez Panisse: A Child’s Restaurant Adventures with 46 Recipes. New York: HarperCollins, 1992.
Yolen, Jane, and Heidi E. Y. Stemple, illustrated by Philippe Beha. Fairy Tale Feasts: A Literary Cookbook for Young Readers and Eaters. Northhampton, MA: Interlink Books, 2009.
Magic Links
Hey, Kids, Let’s Cook! (A Children’s Television Production):
www.heykidsletscook.com
Spatulatta: www.spatulatta.com
About the Authors and Illustrator
CHRISTINE HEPPERMANN and RON KOERTGE previously collaborated on Backyard Witch: Sadie’s Story. Christine lives in New York, and Ron lives in California, so they work most of their magic long-distance.
www.christineheppermann.com
www.ronkoertge.com
DEBORAH MARCERO has illustrated picture books and novels for young readers.
www.deborahmarcero.com
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Books by Christine Hepperman and Ron Koertge
Sadie’s Story
Jess’s Story
Maya’s Story
Credits
Cover art © 2016 by Deborah Marcero
Cover design by Sylvie Le Floc’h
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locales are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity, and are used to advance the fictional narrative. All other characters, and all incidents and dialogue, are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.
BACKYARD WITCH: JESS’S STORY. Text copyright © 2016 by Christine Heppermann and Ron Koertge; illustrations copyright © 2016 by Deborah Marcero. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
www.harpercollinschildrens.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.
Heppermann, Christine, author.
Jess’s story / by Christine Heppermann and Ron Koertge; pictures by Deborah Marcero.
pages cm.—(Backyard witch; #2)
“Greenwillow Books.”
EPub Edition © May 2016 ISBN 9780062338433
ISBN 978-0-06-233841-9 (trade ed.)
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