by Ruth Chew
Marjorie laughed. “I guess these outdoor cages are just like porches for the ones inside.”
A lady standing nearby looked hard at Nick. Then she picked up her little boy and hurried away.
“I’m sorry I spoke so loud,” Marjorie whispered. “I keep forgetting people can’t see me.”
“Let me have the key for a while,” Nick whispered back. “I’m sick of everybody thinking I’m crazy.”
Marjorie hung the key around Nick’s neck. Now he was invisible. He grabbed her hand and pulled her over to the door of the red brick building. Marjorie opened it and went inside.
Nick kept hold of her hand until the door closed behind them.
The air here was hot and damp. No other visitors were in the building.
There was a row of bird cages on one side and a row of monkey cages on the other. The monkeys were all in their outdoor cages today, but some of the birds were indoors.
Marjorie went to look at them. She leaned on a railing to watch three little green parrots and a red-headed macaw. There was a trench between the railing and the cages.
The zoo man was standing in the trench, using a pulley to open a low door in one of the cages. He had to step up from the trench to go through the door. Then he closed the door behind him and went to give the birds fresh water.
Marjorie turned to look at the other cages. They all had doors like this one.
The third cage had a big red parrot with a blue tail in it. The bird was perched on a dead branch. Marjorie remembered the soft green leaves on the trees outdoors. It must be awful to be shut in a cage, she thought.
The parrot flew down to the floor and started to peck at a pan of sunflower seeds. Then, all of a sudden, Marjorie saw the door of the parrot’s cage sliding open, as if by itself.
Nick was sneaking into the cage!
Marjorie saw the door close. Nick must be inside the cage now.
“Squawk!” The beautiful parrot stopped pecking at the sunflower seed. It whirled around, beating its wings and snapping at the air with its big beak.
Something seemed to be holding the bird down, but it yanked itself free and fluttered back to the bare tree branch. The parrot looked all around. Then it set to work to straighten a bent blue feather in its tail.
Marjorie ran over to the railing in front of the parrot’s cage. “Nick!” she whispered as loud as she could. “Come out of there!”
The door of the cage slid open. A moment later it closed again.
Marjorie heard a thump as Nick jumped down into the trench in front of the cage. She waited for him to climb out.
The railing shook as Nick hoisted himself over it. “What’s the matter, Marge?”
Marjorie was so angry that tears came into her eyes. “Nick, you know better than to do anything like that!”
“I was only going to take one tail feather,” Nick said. “That bird would never miss it.”
Marjorie felt like shaking her brother, but she didn’t know where he was. “It’s bad enough for the poor bird to be shut up in a cage without you pulling out its feathers!”
“Well, how did you think we could get the feathers to work the spell?” Nick asked.
Marjorie started to answer, but Nick put his hand over her mouth. “Sh-sh!” he whispered.
The zoo man was walking toward Marjorie. She tried to brush the tears from her eyes.
“Are you all alone, dear?” he asked. “It’s much too hot in here. Only the jungle birds can stand it. The heat makes me dizzy. I thought I heard you talking to somebody.” The zoo man rubbed his chin. “I guess I’m tired. It’s closing time.” He started toward the door. “Come on outside. I have to lock the building.”
Marjorie followed the keeper. She walked slowly. Suppose Nick let himself get locked in? Then he could go around yanking feathers without her to stop him. “I’m looking for my little brother,” she said. “I know he came into this building. He must be hiding somewhere.”
“All right.” The keeper went to the door of the building and opened it. “See if you can find him.”
“Nick!” Marjorie called.
There was no answer.
Marjorie yelled as loud as she could. “I’m going home, Nick. And you’d better come with me!”
She heard Nick’s voice. It was coming from outdoors. “Marge, come on out here. They’re getting ready to shut the gates!”
Marjorie ran to the open door and went out. The zoo man came out after her and locked the door.
“Thank you for letting me call my brother,” she said.
The keeper smiled. “It must have been too hot for him in there.” He reached into his pocket. “I thought I heard you talking about feathers. I found some beauties in the cages today.”
He held out a bunch of the most beautiful feathers Marjorie had ever seen. “Take as many as you like, dear.”
Marjorie and Nick left the zoo and walked home through the park.
“I’m sorry I fooled with the parrot, Marge,” Nick said.
“If you had beautiful tail feathers, you wouldn’t want to lose them,” Marjorie told him. “You don’t even like to have your hair cut.”
Nick still had the key. Marjorie was carrying the feathers the zoo man had given her. “I thought there might be some on the ground near the cages,” she said. “I never thought of asking for any.”
“It sure was nice of the keeper to give them to you,” Nick said.
When they came to their front door, Nick unlocked it and gave the key to Marjorie. The children went into the house.
Marjorie ran upstairs to put the key in the glass tray on her dresser. She slipped the feathers into the drawer where she had hidden the witch’s spoon. Then she went back downstairs.
Her mother was in the kitchen. “Oh, here you are, Marjorie! I thought I heard both of you children at the door, but I saw only Nick come in. It must be the heat. This has got to be the hottest day of the year.”
Marjorie used the kitchen scissors to cut up celery for the tuna-fish salad. Nick set the table in the dining room and turned on the big air conditioner there. Supper was ready by the time Mr. Gordon came home.
Nobody was in a hurry to finish the meal. It was nice and cool in the dining room now. They had ice cream for dessert. Marjorie took tiny bites to make it last as long as possible.
It was dark when supper was over. Mr. Gordon turned on the lights. They all carried their dishes into the kitchen. Mrs. Gordon started the dishwasher. Then everybody went to watch television in the living room.
As soon as Mr. Gordon switched on the set, the lights went out.
“Something’s wrong with the fuses,” Mr. Gordon said. “I’ll have to check the fuse box downstairs.” He turned off the air conditioner and the television.
Marjorie pulled the little flashlight out of her jeans pocket. “Use this, Daddy.”
Mr. Gordon took the flashlight. He clicked it several times. It didn’t go on. “This is worn out, Margie.” He gave it back to her.
Mrs. Gordon was busy lighting the candles on the mantel. She picked up one of them. “I’ll go down with you, John.”
When their parents had gone to the basement, Marjorie and Nick took turns trying the flashlight. Neither of them could get it to work.
“I guess we’ll have to magic it again,” Nick said. “But how will we light our way down inside the tree?”
“I’ve got a candle left over from last year’s Halloween pumpkin,” Marjorie told him.
When Mr. and Mrs. Gordon came back from the basement, Mrs. Gordon said, “We’d better not use any of the air conditioners until the dishwasher has finished. And we’ll skip television this evening.”
“I have a book I want to read,” Marjorie said.
“Don’t turn on the ceiling light in your room,” her mother warned her. “Use the lamp on your desk. And see if you have a book to keep Nick out of mischief.”
Marjorie started up the stairs. Nick came charging behind. “How about that book of riddles?”<
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Marjorie went to her room. She switched on the little desk light. Nick came in after her. “Marge, is this your house key?” He hung a string with a key on it around his neck.
Marjorie stared at him. “Where did you find it?”
“In this tray on your dresser,” Nick said.
Marjorie felt in the tray. It was empty.
She took the key from Nick and hung it around her own neck. “I can see myself in the mirror. The magic must have worn off the key.”
“I’m kind of glad,” Nick said.
“So am I. It wasn’t nearly as much fun as we thought it would be.” Marjorie hung the key on her doorknob and went to her bookcase for the book of riddles.
“Wake up, Marjorie. It’s a beautiful day.” Marjorie’s mother was shaking her.
Marjorie yawned and stretched. She opened her eyes and looked around the room. Her mother must have gone to wake Nick, she thought. Marjorie couldn’t see her anywhere.
The slats on the venetian blind turned to let in the morning sunshine.
Marjorie heard the tap of heels on the floor. She sat up in bed. “Mother!”
“What’s the matter?” Mrs. Gordon’s voice came from over by the window.
“I lost my house key. Did you find it?” Marjorie jumped out of bed. At once she knew that was the wrong thing to do. Now she might bump into her mother. Marjorie sat down on the bed again.
“I found it, dear.” Mrs. Gordon seemed to be coming nearer. “You’re lucky. It was quite invisible where you left it on the doorknob. I just happened to touch it. You must be more careful what you do with this key!”
Marjorie felt her mother’s hands slip the string over her head. A second later she saw her mother’s face. Mrs. Gordon looked as if she were going to faint.
There was no time to lose. Marjorie yanked off the key and dropped it into the bedcovers. She stood up and hugged her mother. “Are you all right?”
Mrs. Gordon blinked. “I am now, but I must have blacked out for a minute.”
Marjorie led her mother away from the bed. “Sit in the rocking chair. I’ll get you some water.”
“Never mind,” Mrs. Gordon said. “If you want to do something for me, wake Nick. I have to get your father up. We’re late this morning.”
Marjorie went down the hall to Nick’s room.
He was curled into a ball in the middle of his bed. The air conditioner was on, and Nick had a blanket pulled up to his ears.
“Nick, get up!” Marjorie turned off the air conditioner and pulled down the blanket. “The key is magic again! It’s going to get us into trouble if we don’t break the spell.”
Nick’s eyes were still shut. “Say that again, Marge. What’s going on?”
Marjorie told him what had happened. “I promised Mother I’d wake you. Please get up.” She ran back to her room to get dressed.
This morning everybody had overslept. Mr. and Mrs. Gordon rushed through breakfast and went off to work before Nick and Marjorie had finished eating.
Marjorie finished her cornflakes and went upstairs to find the key. She thought she’d have a hard time, but as soon as she touched the sheet, she felt the string. A moment later she hung the key around her neck and looked into the mirror.
Marjorie couldn’t see herself at all.
Marjorie put the key on the glass tray. She took the wooden spoon and the feathers out of the dresser drawer and carried them downstairs.
Nick was still crunching his way through a bowl of Grape-Nuts. “Hey, Marge, I can see you! Couldn’t you find the key?”
“I left it upstairs.” Marjorie laid the feathers on the table.
Nick counted the colors on his fingers. “Blue, yellow, brown, green, purple, orange, red. That’s seven. We ought to be able to work the flying spell.”
“I’m not sure I want to,” Marjorie told him. “This magic is tricky. Sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn’t.”
“Did you try the flashlight today?” Nick asked.
“I left it in the living room.” Marjorie went to get the flashlight. She pushed the switch. “Now it’s working.”
“Maybe we ought to take the Halloween candle along, just in case,” Nick said.
Marjorie nodded. “We have to go back to the cave and look in Stella’s book. There must be a way to get the spell off the key.” She started loading the dishwasher.
Nick ran upstairs. Marjorie went down to the laundry room. She found the clothesline and wound it around the wooden spoon.
As she came back up the stairs to the kitchen, Marjorie heard Nick laughing. She couldn’t see her brother, but there was an open book on the kitchen table. One of the pages turned over. Nick started to giggle.
“That must be the one about the ostrich,” Marjorie said. “Come on, Nick. Let’s go to the park. You can read riddles some other time.”
The sun flickered through the leaves as the two children climbed the old beech tree. Marjorie went first. When she came to the hole in the tree, she tied one end of the clothesline to a branch and unwound the rest of it from the spoon. “Nick, where are you?”
“Here,” Nick said. “Take the key, Marge.” He hung it around her neck. At once Marjorie could see him. “Now I can go down the rope without you kicking me in the head,” he told her.
Nick grabbed the clothesline and let himself down into the hole. Marjorie clicked on her flashlight and came after him.
At the bottom of the rope they stepped down into the hollow in the roots of the tree. Marjorie took the key off her neck and tied it to the wooden spoon. As soon as she let go, the key vanished, but Marjorie knew just where it was. She touched it with one finger and the key appeared.
Nick stared at her. “What’s going on, Marge? Now I see you. Now I don’t.”
Marjorie told him what she had done. “This way we can both see each other. That will make it easier to do magic.”
She looked for the door in the roots of the tree. It was wide open. “Nick,” Marjorie whispered, “I’m sure I closed it!”
Nick turned to grab the rope. “Stella must have come back. We’d better get out of here.”
At that moment a raspy voice came from the other side of the door. “I was wondering when you two would get here. Come on in.”
Marjorie’s heart seemed to stop beating. “We’d better do as she says, Nick. She might do something awful to us if we don’t.”
Marjorie stepped through the doorway. Nick let go of the rope and followed her into the witch’s cave.
“Look who’s here!” Nick said.
The starling was perched on the table beside the book of spells. “Who did you think it was?”
Marjorie was ashamed of how frightened she had been. “Hello,” she said to the bird and walked over to put the little square flashlight on the table.
Nick opened the big book and started turning the pages. “Here’s the spell for flying, Marge.”
Marjorie looked over his shoulder. “You have to hold three feathers in each hand and one in your mouth.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out the feathers.
Nick grabbed them.
Marjorie went on reading. “Next you have to step into the brew and go all the way under.” She looked across the cave at the steaming pot. “You’d better forget the whole thing, Nick.”
“Well, I sure don’t want to be boiled,” Nick said. He walked over to the pot and touched the brew with the tip of one finger. “Marge, it isn’t hot at all!”
“Then why is it steaming?” Marjorie asked.
“Maybe because it’s magic.” Nick walked back to the table.
Marjorie looked at the book again. “While you’re in the brew, you have to tap your head three times with the magic spoon.”
Nick laughed. “You’d better do that for me, Marge.”
“Don’t mess around with that spell,” the starling said. “What’s so great about flying?”
“You say that because you fly all the time,” Nick told the bird. “Come on, Marge
.” He stuck a feather in his mouth and held three in each hand. Then he ran to the pot and jumped in.
Marjorie rushed over with the wooden spoon. She tapped Nick three times on the head after he went under the brew. “Now, get out of there!”
The brew started to hiss and bubble. The pale gray steam turned blue and then green. For a moment it was bright yellow. A second later it was orange. The orange deepened to red, which became purple and then brown. Finally the pot was covered with steam so black it looked like smoke.
Marjorie couldn’t see her brother at all.
After what seemed an age, she heard him splashing. Then a speckled starling climbed onto the rim of the pot and shook the brew from its wings.
It fluttered up into the air. “Hey, Marge, this is great! I’m flying!”
The shiny black starling on the table fluffed its feathers. “I warned you!” it said.
Marjorie stopped staring at the bird flying around the room. She went over to the table. For a minute she couldn’t speak. Then she said in a very small voice, “You must be Stella.”
The starling cocked its head. “Of course!”
“Marge, what happened? You’re enormous!” The little speckled starling fluttered down onto the table. It caught sight of the other bird. “Wow! You got bigger too.”
“Nobody got bigger,” the bird told him.
“Nick,” Marjorie whispered. “This is Stella!”
“Oh.” Nick was quiet for a little while. Then he looked down and saw his bird feet. Slowly he turned his head to look first at one wing and then at the other. “I didn’t expect to be turned into a bird.”
“Neither did I,” the witch told him.
“But you’re bigger than I am,” Nick said. “And you’re a much nicer color.”
Stella smoothed her shiny feathers with her yellow beak. “You’re only a half-grown bird. When you’re older, your feathers will turn black with beautiful green and purple lights like mine.”
Nick thought about this. He flew up off the table and circled twice around the cave. Then he flew down to perch beside the witch. “It’ll be fun to fly home instead of having to walk.”