Wart
Page 5
"Yes." Ms. Gibbs had her hand on Ozgood's shoulder, and she bent her head to look right into his face. "Have a good time, but follow the rules."
"She expects me to tell you that I made up the witch story," Ozgood said as soon as they heard the front door close. He began to pace the floor, his hands clasped behind his back. "I won't do it. There is my integrity to consider!" He dropped into a big chair. Sitting there with his face in his hands, he looked small and pitiful, but before Stewart could think of anything to say, Ozgood was up and walking again. "In all likelihood I shall be severely punished. Woe is me!" He paced out of the room.
He's not a bad actor, Stewart thought, and he walked over to make sure Georgia was asleep. He sure didn't want her to hear this crazy stuff. She already had bad dreams sometimes.
"I'm going up to await my fate," Ozgood called from the other room. Stewart got in there just in time to see him sort of dragging himself toward the stairs. His expression was so dejected that Stewart forgot he was acting and felt sorry for him, but the sympathy didn't last long because he put on that eardrum-splitting music right away. It sounded like a funeral with the volume turned way, way up.
It didn't take Stewart long to get up the stairs and to his room. He pounded on the door. Of course, Ozgood couldn't hear him, so Stewart pushed the door open. "Ozgood," he yelled, trying to be louder than the music. "Turn it down!" He was already crossing the room to shut the thing off himself when he realized the room was empty. He's hiding in the closet or under the bed, Stewart thought. Ha-ha! Big funny joke. Stewart was ready to find him and let him know he wasn't laughing.
He stopped the music and went for the closet door, ready to jump on the kid and drag him out. What he saw was not Ozgood. Still, Stewart jumped all right, practically out of his pants. He yelled too, two short squeals like a scared rabbit. There, hanging between the shirts and pants was a skeleton, and it sort of swayed toward him. "Serious science student," he reminded himself, when he could think again, and he dropped to the floor for a look under the bed. "Planned the whole thing, knew I'd look in the closet. Probably giggling over the scream," he muttered aloud.
But Ozgood wasn't under the bed. Stewart was getting really aggravated "Ozgood," he yelled. "Front and center! Move it! Now!" There was no response. Stewart looked around. It was a little room with no other hiding places.
By the time he got out to the hall his temper was really rising. "Ozgood has disappeared," he could imagine himself saying to Ms. Gibbs and his father when they came back. For all he knew Weird Wanda might be glad to be rid of the little dork, but Dad would definitely see the whole thing as an indication that he was just not a responsible individual. At this rate he wouldn't be allowed to drive or go to a concert until he was at least thirty. The baby isn't supposed to turn up missing when you babysit, even if the baby is an eight-year-old nutcase.
It was clear Stewart would have to search the upstairs. He looked at the doors that were not Ozgood's, drew in his breath, and headed toward one. It led to a small bathroom, no place to hide except the shower. Reaching for the curtain, his hand shook, but he jerked it back. His breath came out in heavy relief. After the skeleton, he expected something bloody, but all he saw were panty hose hanging there to dry.
Next, he went into Ms. Gibbs's room. The closet didn't have bones, and it didn't have Ozgood. He switched on a light to be sure. There were two big shelves on each closet wall, and they were full of bottles. The closet was full of mixed smells. Stewart shook his head. The woman must make perfume, but none of the smells appealed to him. The kid wasn't under the bed either. Frantically, he ran back to the hall.
It was then that he almost stepped on the frog. Probably he would have squashed it if it hadn't let out a really big croak and jumped out of his way. Stewart stopped short and stared at the thing. "Ha-ha," he said loudly and sarcastically. "Very good, Ozgood, you can come out now."
The frog made a little hop toward Ozgood's room. Stewart jumped over him, ran down the stairs, and searched frantically. He looked in the kitchen cabinets. In the little laundry room off the kitchen, he opened the dryer and the clothes hamper. Ozgood was not inside the house, but the front and back doors still had the inside lock turned.
Absolute panic threatened to overtake Stewart, and he began to shake. He had to have help. It seemed ridiculous to call Ham, who was the only person Stewart knew who was a bigger goof-up than himself. Still, he didn't know what else to do. He did not know the number for Frog Busters.
"Listen," he said when Ham answered. "You've got to get over here." Ham said that he could get a ride with his sister, who was about to leave the house anyway. Stewart told him where Ms. Gibbs lived. Then he had another idea. "Stop by Rachel's and get her. Don't tell her anything except that I need help with my algebra." Rachel was always trying to help him, but he didn't want to tell her right off why he wanted her to come. She would think it was some kind of joke and refuse to play along.
"Why do you want Rach? I thought you didn't much want her around anymore."
Stewart felt uncomfortable. So Ham had noticed. Stewart twisted his face, wondering if Ham had also picked up that sometimes Stewart wasn't really eager to be around him either. There was no time to dwell on the "popular" issue now, though. He thought for just a minute before he answered. "We might need a girl to kiss a frog and turn him back into a boy."
Ham drew in his breath. "She did it, huh? Ms. Gibbs turned her own son into a frog. That's big-time stuff!"
"It was a joke, Ham." Stewart wasn't certain he had sounded very sure. He added, "There are no such things as witches, not in real life."
Ham ignored what Stewart said. "Don't worry," he said. "I'll be right over there to help you."
Stewart wasn't about to stop worrying, but he did want company. "Hurry," he said and was ready to hang up, but Ham had a question.
"Is there anything over there to eat?"
"Sure, if you don't mind food cooked in a witch's cauldron."
"I'll bring my own snacks," said Ham before he put down the phone.
Sitting at the bottom of the stairs seemed like the best thing to do. First, though, he would go up to check on the frog. It was in Ozgood's room, jumping and croaking like it was upset. "You think you've got troubles?" Stewart said to it. "Wait till you see what my dad does to me."
Then a thought came to him. The windows! There must be a tree or maybe even a balcony. He raced around the bed and over to the only window in the room. Nothing was visible when he moved back the curtain, but he wanted to raise it to be sure. There were no locks. Leaning against the frame, he pushed up with all his might. Nothing budged, probably painted shut.
Leaving the frog, he dashed into Ms. Gibbs's room and then checked the bathroom. No windows would open. Slowly, he went back down the stairs and dropped, exhausted, onto the bottom one. He tried to daydream about Taylor. He couldn't get his mind on that, so he sat there sweating until the doorbell rang.
"Where's the poor little thing?" Ham asked when Stewart opened the door.
"What poor little thing?" Rachel stepped around Ham. "You were acting awful funny on the way over here." She turned to Stewart, her face all screwed up, making her freckles run together. It was the expression she got when she was about to get worked up. "What's the deal?" she demanded. Stewart sank back on the stairs. It just wasn't a story he could tell standing up.
Stewart was amazed at the way Rachel believed the witch thing right off. Oh, sure, Ham believed it, but that didn't shock Stewart much. Ham was no rocket scientist, but Rachel! Stewart expected her to be full of questions and skepticism.
"Is the frog male or female?" she asked when they had started to climb the stairs.
Stewart threw his arms up in exasperation. "How would I know if it's a boy or a girl? It wasn't wearing pink or blue booties."
"Well," she complained, waving her algebra book, "if you had told me the truth, I'd have brought a good biology book. The frog's sex is important because if it is a girl, it isn't Ozg
ood."
Stewart stopped climbing and stared at her. Ham stopped too, and he started to dig into the bag of chips he carried. "Look," Stewart said, trying to sound calm, "this frog stuff is just a joke. I got you two over here to help me search for the kid."
"Witches scare me," said Ham.
When they were outside Ozgood's door, Ham latched onto Stewart's shirt. "Let's just get out of this place," he said.
"Quiet," Stewart whispered. "The little fart can probably hear us. He's hiding somewhere, laughing his head off." He looked over his shoulder and to both sides.
Inside the room, they got down on their hands and knees around the frog. "Poor Ozzy," Ham said.
Stewart jabbed him in the ribs. "Don't call him that. He hates it." Stewart gave himself a little shake. "I mean Ozgood doesn't like the name. This is just a frog." Sweat was dripping from his forehead, as if he were in the middle of a fast-moving basketball game.
"Should I kiss him now, you think?" Rachel was puckering up her mouth.
"Yikes! You two actually believe this is Ozgood!" Stewart wiped at his forehead with his shirtsleeve.
They both looked at him. "You believe it too," said Rachel. "Only you're afraid to admit it."
Stewart put his head in his hands. "Well, would you want a frog for a stepbrother?" A little weak feeling was starting down in the pit of his stomach. Maybe he did believe it. There absolutely was no place for Ozgood to be hiding that he hadn't searched. Just then the frog gave a huge hop and landed on the bed.
"Oh," said Rachel, "the poor little thing wants to go to beddy-bye." She looked around the room. "Let's get his pajamas."
Digging in the top bureau drawer, Stewart found a pair, black with pictures of all the famous monsters in red. He let out a big groan, and he handed them to Rachel. It was so crazy. Rachel was a really smart girl, a genius maybe. How could such a sharp mind believe the frog was a kid named Ozgood who was going through a witch family's version of being grounded?
Rachel was making a sort of little nest of the pajamas, and she put the frog in the center. "Are you going to kiss him good night?" Ham was down on his knees beside the bed, like he was trying to establish eye contact the way they had been told to do during the public speaking class at school.
"Well, sure I am." She bent and gave the frog a big, loud smack on the back. "Poor kid is probably scared to death."
Stewart sort of stumbled out of the room, leaving them to turn off the light. "Don't look for a teddy bear or anything," he said over his shoulder. "Ozgood wouldn't have one, but he might sleep with a favorite skull."
Pretty soon they came to join Stewart on the bottom stair. Rachel had a proud smile. "He seems to have fallen asleep," she said.
Ham put his hand on Stewart's shoulder. "Old buddy," he said, "your life sure isn't going to be dull with a witch for a stepmother."
Stewart jumped up. "Number one," he yelled with one finger in the air. "My dad isn't marrying Ms. Gibbs. Until a few days ago, he was happy dating Martha. And number two." He added another finger. "This is all some joke. Ozgood is a pretty smart little kid, but he is not," his voice got even louder, "I repeat, NOT a frog."
"Don't get excited," said Ham. "Let's find something to eat and just do some thinking.
They passed Ham's chip bag around several times while they brainstormed, but no one had any real ideas. When they heard the car in the driveway, Stewart realized he had to come up with an explanation that covered why Rachel and Ham were with him.
"We decided to work on some algebra problems," he said when they came in, and he held up Rachel's book. "I hope you don't mind, me having company, I mean." He glanced at Ms. Gibbs, who was watching him with her eyes narrowed almost shut, looking, he thought, deep into his soul.
Then she smiled. "Certainly, Stewart. I want you to feel at home here. Were there any problems with Ozgood?"
Stewart stared down at his shoes. What should he say? He wondered what would happen if he came right out and said something about the little frog being settled down for the night, but before he could decide, there was a sound from the top of the stairs.
"Oh, you're home." It was Ozgood's voice. Stewart whirled around. Ozgood was standing there in the pajamas Stewart had taken from the drawer. "I think I'll just go back to bed now. Your friends are quite charming, Stewart, especially Rachel." He gave them a little wave, turned, and walked away. Then he stopped. "Mother, dear," he said without looking back. "I shall be on my best behavior henceforth."
"Sweet kid," said Rachel, looking like she was about to cry. Stewart shot her a dirty look and then gave the same frown to Ham. He didn't want either of them talking. He sank back down on the stairs, too weak legged to stand up. He could feel his father studying him.
"Stewart looks a little pale, must be exhausted. Maybe I'd better gather up Georgia and head for home," he said.
"Good." Stewart held onto the bannister and pulled himself up. "I really don't feel so good."
The good-byes were short because Dad was holding Georgia in his arms. In the car nobody said much. Stewart leaned back against the seat and tried to rest. They dropped Ham off at his house. Rachel unloaded at the Wrights to go next door. "Don't worry," she whispered to Stewart before the car stopped. "I'll help you."
He did worry, though. Stewart worried a lot. For a couple of hours he sat in the window seat and stared out into the night, wondering what was going to happen next. Finally he stumbled over to his bed and fell asleep, but when he woke the next morning, his first thought was Witch! She's a witch!
• FOUR •
Sunday was a quiet day. Stewart stayed in his room a lot because he just couldn't handle looking at his father. He even did some extra algebra problems. He thought some about the first basketball game that was coming up on Tuesday after school. He wondered if he'd get to play or just warm the bench. Basketball had been so important to him once, but now he couldn't feel too concerned. Nothing mattered when he compared it to his father's involvement with the witch and her little warlock.
By Monday morning, Stewart's strength had begun to return. Even just a day removed from the outrageous events of Saturday night made them seem less true. Witches weren't real, were they? There had to be an explanation for the frog stunt, but whether Ms. Gibbs was a real witch or a very strange lady with a kid who wanted to drive him crazy wasn't the actual point. She had to be stopped from getting more involved with his father.
Stewart lay in bed awake before his alarm went off, and he tried to plan. Maybe he'd go to Mr. Dooley. "Look," he could say. "You've got to get rid of Ms. Gibbs. The woman is a witch who turns people into frogs." Oh sure, great idea. He'd probably end up in a straitjacket, maybe sharing a room with Mr. Harrison at the funny farm.
Maybe he should just go straight to Ms. Gibbs. He could slick his hair back, borrow a black leather jacket, and try to be a tough guy. "Me and my Dad," he could sort of snarl the words, "we ain't lookin' to get involved with no witches." He was enjoying the scene in his head, but suddenly he couldn't see himself standing there in the tough pose. Instead, he got a picture of a frog hopping out of the art room, trying to catch up with Ham.
Well, why should he be thinking of going to Mr. Dooley or facing Ms. Gibbs? He hadn't even tried talking to his own father, not really. It wouldn't be easy. Neither Stewart nor his father were communicators. Stewart knew for sure that his father loved him and that his father would always take care of him, but they didn't spend a lot of time talking, not about important things. There would have been lots more talking in the family if his mother hadn't been taken away from them, but still, Dad was a reasonable man. Stewart would talk to him. He had it. Just as Dad and Georgia started out for school, he'd ask to ride along, telling Dad there was something he wanted to discuss. Right after the alarm went off, he called Ham's house.
"Please tell Ham not to wait for me this morning," he told Mrs. Hamilton. "I've got to ride with my dad." Stewart felt pretty confident about his plan as he went downstairs to eat.
When Georgia jumped out at her school and waved at them, Stewart got his courage up. He wasn't doing this just for himself. He had a little sister to consider. They were pulling back onto the main street, when he started. "Dad, you've got to be careful!" The words came out faster and more excited than he'd meant for them to, sort of a scream.
Dad slammed his foot on the brake and threw his head from side to side looking for the car or body he supposed he was about to hit. "Stewart," it was Dad's turn to yell, and his face was red. "What the devil are you doing?"
It was not a good beginning, but Stewart swallowed hard and pushed on. "Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean driving, I meant with Ms. Gibbs. That's why you've got to be careful. She's . . . she's not normal like us. Ozgood got turned into a frog Saturday night, just hopping around and croaking all over the place."
His dad didn't say anything, but he pulled off the street and stopped under a huge maple tree. A red leaf drifted down on the windshield as they stopped. Stewart thought it would be a great place for a picnic, but he knew they weren't about to have one.
"Look, Stewart," his father talked slowly and calmly, and Stewart's hopes rose. Maybe Dad was going to be reasonable. "I know you don't want me to get involved with Wanda. You don't want me to marry anyone." He stopped for a minute and looked at Stewart, who knew his father wasn't finished and that he should keep his mouth shut. "I can understand that, son. I know it's hard for you to think I'm replacing your mother. What I can't understand is your making up crazy stories in an effort to stop me. We've always been straight with each other, haven't we?"
Stewart bit at his lip. "Dad, it's true. She's a witch. Ask Ham and Rachel."