by Lynne Jonell
Derek found the strength to stand up and totter into the house. He gulped down two glasses of tart lemonade. When he stopped at last, he told Abner and Celia what he had been thinking.
At the sink, Abner wrung out a sponge. “I wonder why the magic settled in the mower? The mower wasn’t underground, in a burrow.”
The others nodded, remembering. The last time magic had happened to them, they had found out that it seeped up from deep in the earth. It came from somewhere under the hill on which their house stood. But they had thought the magic only affected small animals living in burrows.
Mowey had not been in the ground, soaking up magic. It had lived aboveground, for years, in a shed.
“Maybe the shed is like a burrow,” said Celia. “It’s dark and sort of closed-in.”
“I suppose the magic could come up through the floor of the shed,” said Abner, remembering the holes in the floorboards. “And maybe it got into the mower? I don’t know. Magic is hard to figure out.” He shrugged.
Suddenly Abner’s eye was caught by some sort of motion. He dropped the sponge and went to the window. All he saw was the flutter of Tate’s long brown hair, and then it was gone.
They hurried outside. Tate, hanging on grimly, was running after the mower with great long strides, like a gazelle.
“I’d better take a turn,” muttered Abner, worried. He was the biggest, and if he couldn’t control it, what could they do? “Maybe we should put it in the shed for a while.”
But the mower did not seem to like this idea. It gave a sudden twist and hopped to the side just as Abner reached for it. Mowey took off again, faster than ever.
“We’ll block for you,” said Derek. “Celia, get on the other side. Get ready.… Get set.… Hut one! Hut two!”
The mower tried to scoot around Abner, but Derek chased it back. It tried to jump to the other side, but Celia was there, waving Mr. Bunny. And then it was too late for the mower to escape, because Abner grasped the handle.
It nearly slipped from his fingers, but he hung on somehow, leaping over Tate as she collapsed. At once he was off and mowing, his long legs taking the lawn mower’s speed in stride.
The others carried the pitcher of lemonade down to the shed and sat on the cement slab. They watched as Abner went round and round. Each time his legs seemed to be moving faster than before.
“It’s a good thing we never let you try it, Celia,” Tate said. She took a swallow from her glass.
“I barely made it.” Derek wiggled his toes in the grass. “My legs were starting to cramp.”
“He’s coming back to the shed,” said Celia suddenly. She jumped up to open the door.
But the mower was in no mood to go in the shed. It curved away just as soon as it was in sight of the cement slab, and gave a rusty little chortle.
“Grab on!” cried Abner. “Help me slow it down!”
Tate waited for her chance. And when Abner came around again, she ran with him, matching his steps—or nearly—until she could reach out and take hold of his belt. She hung on with two hands and tried to use her weight to slow Abner down. The mower just threw itself more seriously into its work.
“We need one more!” cried Tate as they came around again.
Derek leaped up, knocking over his glass of lemonade. He took a running jump and hooked his fingers into the top of Tate’s jeans.
Celia watched. The mower was not slowing down. They would need her, too.
She took Mr. Bunny’s blue satin ribbon and knotted one end tightly around his arm. Then she tied the other end around her belt loop. When her sister and brothers called, she would have both hands free.
“Ceeeeeeliaaaaa!” came the cry.
Celia crouched. She was ready.
“Get out of the waaaaaay!”
The mower was going so fast, the children’s feet were a blur. It hit a bump, leaped into the air, and shook off the children like a tree tossing off apples in a high wind.
Abner, Tate, and Derek tumbled to the grass, thump thump thump. And the mower, with a scraping snort, bounced once on its rubber tires and disappeared over the hilltop.
But when the children ran to the top of the hill and looked over its steep side, the mower was behaving perfectly. It had found a patch of long grass and was busily clipping it short.
Abner glared down at the mower. “Sure, it looks all innocent now. Just wait until we try to stop it again.”
“Why do we need to stop it?” Celia asked.
Abner rubbed his sore shoulder. “Think, Seal. What if it’s still mowing when Mom and Dad get home? How are we going to explain that?”
Celia saw the problem. It was hard enough to explain ordinary things, like spilling the sugar and getting the kitchen floor all sticky. They would never be able to explain a magic mower, not in a million years.
“It will be simpler if we don’t have to explain at all.” Tate touched the back of her head where a lump was rising, and winced. “But we need a better way to stop that lawn mower. My head hurts.”
Derek blew on his scraped knee. “I’m bleeding.”
“We all are,” Abner said. “Mowey plays rough.”
“Come on, I’ll get some bandages.” Tate turned toward the house. “Celia, you watch the mower. Tell us if it does anything it shouldn’t.”
“Like what?” Celia asked.
“Anything besides mowing the lawn,” Tate said.
“Our lawn,” Abner added hastily. “Not anybody else’s.”
Celia climbed onto a large, flat rock on the crest of the hill. She lay on her stomach and peered over the edge. Down below was the steeper, wilder side of the hill. The Willow children did not play there, because it was full of stickers. The bushes had thorns, too, and there was a pile of old, rusted metal that Mrs. Willow said was dangerous.
But the mower went happily back and forth, cutting anything green it could find. It hopped over small rocks and circled around big ones. It did not try to mow the sand by the river, and it did not bump into the junk pile. It was acting exactly the way a lawn mower should. Celia did not see why she had to watch it.
“Anyway,” she told Mr. Bunny, “the magic will get used up after a while, I bet. Like that time with Hammy. Don’t you remember?”
Celia made Mr. Bunny shake his head from side to side.
“Oh, that’s right,” Celia said. “You were still packed in a moving box the last time the magic happened.” She told Mr. Bunny the story of how Hammy, their pet hamster, had used up all his magic with one very big wish. It was a long story. Celia made Mr. Bunny put his paws over his mouth at the exciting parts.
The wind moved in the trees that circled the hilltop, and Celia shifted on the rock. This was getting boring. And it was hot.
She wished the mower would hurry up and finish. Why was it playing around on the wild side of the hill? No one cared if it mowed the weeds.
Celia stood up on the rock and turned around. The grass was short at the top of the hill, around the buildings, and along the winding driveway. But down beyond the vegetable garden, near the tall hedge, there was more grass that Mowey had not touched.
“Hey!” Celia waved at the mower. “There’s more to mow on the other side!”
Mowey was attacking a thick patch of weeds. But when Celia called, it stopped. Its handle twitched.
“Follow me!” cried Celia. She jumped off the rock. Mr. Bunny, still tied to her belt loop, jumped with her.
Celia marched across the hilltop. She could hear the whirring, scraping sound of the lawn mower behind her. She passed the house and her mother’s art studio and waited in the shade of the open garage. “There!” Celia pointed. “Go mow that, why don’t you?”
The mower moved slowly over the short grass. Celia threw some extra grass clippings into the blades as it passed, and it sped up a little.
She felt proud. The mower obeyed her! It wouldn’t do what Derek said, or Tate, or even Abner. But it listened to her!
She did a little victory dance
with Mr. Bunny in the garage. She danced around the red wagon and over Derek’s hockey stick. She picked up a badminton racket and waved it over her head. And then she heard Abner shout.
“Mowey! Stop!”
Celia peeked out of the garage, still holding the racket. Abner, Tate, and Derek were running from the house.
“Chase it off!” cried Tate. “It’s in the vegetable garden!”
Celia sucked in her breath. The garden was one of the ways their family was trying to save money this year. They could not grow their own vegetables if the garden was mown to bits.
“I’ll block it!” Derek rushed the mower, waving his arms. The lawn mower reared back with a startled clank, ran over a cabbage, and spun into a patch of beets.
Abner leaped over a row of string beans and dove for the handle. But the mower had a new trick. It bobbed its handle just out of reach. Then it whirled around and bumped Abner’s legs behind the knees. Abner fell over.
“NO! BAD MOWER!” Tate grabbed the racket from Celia’s hand and ran to the garden. She swung the racket like a bat, and the mower flinched. “Back off!” she shouted. “Go over there!” She pointed to the long grass by the hedge.
Celia watched as the mower went grumbling off. She had told the mower to find the long grass, too, but it had found the vegetable garden first. She did not feel quite so proud of herself anymore.
The mower, looking sulky, was mowing the patch of grass. But every so often it turned a little. Celia thought it might be looking at the lettuces.
What would it do after it finished with the grass?
Celia put her thumb in her mouth. That was how she did her best thinking. After a minute she went into the garage again. She picked up the badminton net.
When she came out, her sister and brothers were there. They did not seem happy.
“You were supposed to be watching Mowey,” said Abner.
“Why didn’t you call us?” Tate put her hands on her hips.
Derek pointed to the net in Celia’s hands. “And now you want to play sports? When the mower is going nuts?”
“It’s not for sports.” Celia dried her thumb off on her shirt. “It’s for catching Mowey. See?” She spread it out on the grass.
Tate nodded slowly. “Good thinking, Seal.” She picked up one end of the net.
“Cool!” Derek said. “It will be like catching a wild animal or something!” He grabbed hold of the net in the middle.
“I hope it works,” said Abner. He hooked his fingers through the other end. “Let’s go!”
Celia skipped to catch up with them. “I want to help, too.”
“No you don’t,” said Abner over his shoulder. “We promised Mom and Dad that you wouldn’t mow.”
“It was my idea to use the net,” Celia said stoutly. She wove her hand through the mesh as they trotted single file, carrying the net between them like a long banner. “Besides, I’m not going to mow. I’m going to help you stop mowing.”
“That’s true,” Tate said from behind.
“And we need all the help we can get,” Derek added. “Look!”
They looked. And then they ran. The lawn mower had finished the patch of grass and was heading right back to the vegetable garden. The carrot tops looked like long, frilly grass. They waved in the light breeze.
Mr. Bunny was still tied to Celia’s belt loop. He flopped at her side as she ran. Celia wanted to tell him to hang on, but she was out of breath.
“Get ready,” Abner said. “Spread out!”
The mower’s handle jerked up. Mowey seemed to hesitate, turning this way and that, as if wondering which way to go. It backed up until it was almost to the hedge. The children held the net up between them and moved closer … closer.
“Now!” cried Abner.
They flung the net over the mower. The handle whipped back but it caught in the webbing. Mowey tried to surge ahead, but the net snagged in the blades and over one wheel. The lawn mower spun in circles, dragging all four children behind it.
“Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow!” cried Celia as she bumped over the lawn. She was getting dizzy.
All at once the blades bit through the thin strands of the net, and the wheel was free. The mower shook itself and roared straight ahead.
CRASH! It hit the hedge, hard.
Tate thought fast. “Turn it on its side so it can’t mow!” she ordered.
“Good idea,” grunted Abner. He flipped the mower on its side and pushed until it was trapped against the tall box hedge. “Now it can’t go anywhere!”
The children sat in the shade of the box hedge, breathing hard. The mower was still, as if it had been stunned. One rubber tire was against the ground. The other tire was up in the air, spinning slowly.
Abner wound the net more tightly around the lawn mower’s handle. “Now everybody grab the net and keep holding on,” he said. “Just in case.”
Tate patted the handle lightly. “It’s not a bad mower,” she said. “It just gets a little excited now and then.”
“Only when it has something to mow,” Abner said. “It gets slower when it’s on grass that’s already cut. And it stops when there’s no grass at all.”
“It just wants to do its job.” Derek couldn’t keep a grin off his face. Mowey had mown the whole yard, almost. He was going to get that train ticket for sure. He could hardly wait to play sports with the guys.
Celia smoothed Mr. Bunny’s fur. He had gotten a little rumpled in all the excitement. She started to untie him, but Abner began to speak.
“The parents are going to come home soon,” he said. “So here’s what I think we should do. Celia, you get the red wagon from the garage. We will hold the mower here. We can use the wagon to take it to the shed. Then it won’t touch any grass on the way back.”
“Okay,” Celia said. She could untie Mr. Bunny later. Right now, her brothers and sister needed her.
“Hang on to the net,” Abner warned Tate and Derek as Celia started toward the garage. “We have to keep the lawn mower trapped.”
Derek tangled his hands more deeply into the mesh. “Look,” he said. “I couldn’t let go if I tried!”
A little breeze sprang up. The tiny leaves of the box hedge fluttered this way and that. They tickled at the edge of the mower blades, but the children did not notice.
“There’s a last strip of grass across the driveway,” said Derek. “It goes down to the river. Maybe we could let Mowey do that last bit?”
“NO!” said Tate.
Abner pushed the mower more firmly against the hedge. “I’m not letting Mowey get away from us again.”
The breeze gusted, and the hedge leaves rustled against the blades once more. The mower made a small scraping sound, and then another. But the children did not hear. They were talking loudly.
“I was just kidding,” said Derek.
“It wasn’t funny,” Abner said.
Tate shaded her eyes. “Here comes Celia with the wagon!”
But it was too late to use the wagon. The lawn mower had found something new to mow. With a quick rasp of metal, its blades started to whirl. Faster and faster they turned, chewing up the side of the leafy box hedge.
The children screamed.
“Don’t let go!” Abner shouted.
“But it’s going to mow right through the hedge!” cried Derek.
The handle bucked wildly. Tate tried to stay calm. “It can’t go through the hedge. Once it’s past the leaves, there are only branches. It can’t mow branches!”
“Hang on!” called Abner. “It’s trying to shake us off!”
The mower whipped its handle from side to side. It shook it up and down. But Abner, Tate, and Derek did not let go of the tangled net.
Celia stopped pulling the wagon. Should she try to help? But no, she could see that they didn’t need her. There was nowhere for the mower to go. Abner was on one side, and Tate was on the other. Derek was behind, and the hedge was in front. The only place the mower could go was—
Up.
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br /> Celia’s mouth fell open. She gripped Mr. Bunny and watched as the mower roared straight up the hedge. Its handle was still caught in the net, but it didn’t seem to care. It had something green to mow, and it was going to mow it, no matter what.
Of course the three children were dragged behind.
“Hang on!” Abner shouted as he went up the side.
“Let go!” screamed Tate.
“I can’t!” Derek cried. “I’m all tangled up!”
The mower reached the top of the tall hedge and plunged down the other side. One by one, the children went over the top, too. Celia saw their legs kicking, and then there was nothing left to see but a hedge with a wide bare strip from bottom to top.
For a moment, Celia could not move. She almost forgot to breathe. Then she dropped the wagon’s handle and ran toward the end of the long hedge. Her short legs pounded on the turf, and her heart was pounding, too.
If only her parents would come home! But there was no dark blue car coming up the driveway. There was no dust rising on the long dirt road that led from the highway to their mailbox. There was only a tractor in a field, moving slowly.
Celia got to the end of the hedge and peeked around the leafy corner. She did not want to get run down by a mower on the loose.
But the mower was not heading in her direction. It had mown straight down the other side of the hedge, dragging the children behind it. Now it was aiming for the last strip of long grass left on the hill. It hopped across the gravel driveway with hardly a stutter, and picked up speed on the other side, bouncing and clanking down the slope. The tag end of the badminton net flapped like a flag in a stiff breeze.
“STOP!” Abner’s voice was getting hoarse, but he kept yelling anyway. Derek had stumbled, and Tate was trying to pull him to his feet again. Celia couldn’t tell if they were caught in the net or just refusing to let go. But either way, her sister and brothers were being dragged like pull toys.
Celia was not big enough to stop the mower. But once before, she had called to the mower and it had followed her to a new patch of grass. Would it do the same thing again? Maybe she could fool it. If she could get it onto the stone bridge, there would be no grass for it to mow. It would slow down and maybe even stop. It was worth a try.