Wart

by Anna Myers

  Dad reached over and put his hand on Stewart's shoulder. "Give it some time, Stew. We've got time."

  "Probably not much," Stewart looked down at the floor. He knew there was no use saying anything else.

  Dad started the car again, and neither of them said anything more until he stopped in front of the school. Stewart opened the door. "You know," said his father, "you need a mother and so does Georgia. Maybe someday Wanda could be a big help to all of us."

  Stewart sighed and closed the car door after him. Help? Sure. She could zap him up a Porsche when he learned to drive. Of course by then he'd probably be a permanent member of the frog kingdom. Frogs don't need sports cars.

  He sat through his first two classes in a sort of daze, noticing nothing until Taylor got up to go to the pencil sharpener. Even then he watched her swinging hips as if he were in some dream instead of real life, but he was wide awake when he walked into the art room.

  Ms. Gibbs was waiting at the door. "May I speak to you, Stewart?" She smiled sweetly at him. He felt cold all over, but with his eyes down he followed her to the corner of the classroom and stood beside her desk. "Don't fight me, dear," she said in a half whisper. "You can't win, Wart. Besides you should give me a chance to show you what I can do for you."

  "Do for me?" He looked down at the floor. She had her hand on that strange green necklace, and Stewart was afraid to meet her eyes.

  "Yes," she said, "for instance, I know you like Taylor Montgomery. A woman could give you little tips and things about how to impress girls. I know too that you love basketball. Who knows, I might even be a help with your game."

  "How?" Let her believe she's convincing me, he thought.

  "Oh," she touched his shoulder, "let's just say I have my ways."

  "Ms. Gibbs," someone yelled. "I spilled paint." She turned away to look, and Stewart escaped to his place at the table beside Ham.

  "What'd she say?" Ham whispered.

  "Says she can help me with Taylor and basketball." Stewart kept his eyes on Ms. Gibbs while she cleaned up the paint. "I'm going to play along with her. Get proof. You know, beat her at her own game."

  "Man," said Ham. "That will be hard to do. You haven't had a bit of experience turning people into frogs."

  At lunch, Ham and Stewart headed toward a table where Rachel sat at one end by herself. Stewart put down his tray. "I hope no one bothers us," he said.

  Rachel rolled her eyes. "Ashley won't be here all week. She's going to Alaska to see her brother. No one else is likely to sit down. It's not exactly like the whole world is dying to eat with us."

  "We've got to get a plan." Stewart had been repeating those words to himself over and over. He knew there was a desperate sound to his voice as he said them aloud. Ham had begun to spread mustard on his hamburger and didn't even look up, but Stewart could see that Rachel was about to say something.

  "Halloween is coming up real soon," she said slowly, still thinking as she formed the words. "Witches are supposed to do special things on Halloween." As she talked she waved her spoon back and forth. Rachel frequently ate her dessert first, and the spoon had chocolate pudding on it, but Stewart didn't even care if the stuff flew off and hit him in the face. If moving her spoon helped Rachel think, he could take some goop in his face.

  "Yeah. Yeah." He urged her on by using his hands like he would to call a dog to him. "Keep thinking. What else?"

  "Well, if she thinks you've warmed up to her, maybe she would be off guard. We might catch her at something."

  "Take pictures or stuff for proof." Stewart leaned across the table, resting his elbows as close to Rachel as he could get.

  "No, wait." Ham pointed to his mouth and the others waited while he swallowed his bite of hamburger. "I read in this book that witches can't have their pictures taken. They don't show up on film or something."

  "I think that's just made-up stuff, you know, for books." Rachel went back to eating her pudding.

  "Well," Ham said, and Stewart could see that his feelings were hurt. "How do we know the business about witches doing junk on Halloween isn't just made up for books too?"

  "That's good thinking, Ham," Stewart nodded. He couldn't afford to let either of them get discouraged with helping him. They weren't much, but they were all he had. "But still I think Rachel's idea is worth a try."

  "Halloween is Friday night. We don't have much time to plan our strategy," said Rachel. "We're going to have to go over there."

  To show how short their time really was, the first bell rang, which meant they had to scarf down their last bites and put up the trays. Stewart saw Rachel in the hall before last period. "Wait for me after school," she said. "I've got something to tell you." There was an excited tone in her voice. He wanted to ask her what was up, but she hurried on to her class. Stewart did not go after her. He couldn't chance being late to gym class.

  After school, Ham and Stewart stood out front until finally Rachel came out. "What took you so long?" Stewart asked.

  Rachel put her hands on her hips. "If I had a friend who was trying to save me from a witch, I wouldn't complain about having to wait for her for a few minutes." She started to walk, and the boys fell in on either side of her.

  "Sorry," said Stewart. "You sounded like you were on to something, and I'm anxious to hear about it, that's all."

  "I think I am on to something." Rachel's expression was full of satisfaction and so was the nod of her head. Stewart waited, but she didn't say anything else. He chewed on his lower lip.

  "What? What? Spill it!" said Ham.

  Rachel stopped walking, drew in a deep breath, and said, "Well, I asked myself, where could we turn for help, and, of course, I knew the answer—the Internet. You can find anything on the Internet. When I got my English assignment finished early, I asked to go to the library. You know how they have the computers fixed so what you look up is limited? Well, I was pretty sure I couldn't use those computers to look up witches, so I just went to Mrs. Reynolds and I told her right out that I wanted to read about witches, and she didn't even ask me why, just said I could use her computer."

  "Sure the librarian is going to like you when you've read practically every book in the library," said Ham.

  Rachel went on "Well, let me tell you when you put in witches, you get all sorts of stuff. Mostly these people want to charge you for spells or potions to make you attract love or money or success or something."

  "I don't have much money." Stewart tried to remember how much cash he had in his top bureau drawer. "Maybe fifteen dollars."

  "Not enough." Rachel shook her head. "Even the cheap spells cost nineteen ninety-nine."

  "I could chip in," said Ham.

  "No," said Rachel. "The thing is, I'm pretty sure those things aren't real. I'm pretty sure real witches wouldn't have a Web site and be willing to take Visa cards. Why would they? A real witch wouldn't need to make money that way, now would she?"

  "So, did Ms. Gibbs have a Web site?" asked Stewart.

  "She did not. I kept on looking. Finally I got to things people had posted, free stuff, about spells and how to undo them. I was just about to write some things down when I realized the bell was about to ring, so I went back after school." She reached around to get her backpack and pulled out a sheet of paper. "I had to take notes because I couldn't print that stuff. You know how they have to approve anything you print, and I thought I might be pushing Mrs. Reynolds too much if I asked to print it."

  Stewart reached for the paper, but Rachel held it away from him. "You couldn't read my writing. I wrote down what seemed like the best thing we could do. We have to get several onions and some garlic, chop it all up and mix it together. Then we divide it up into small portions and stick them in corners of the house. A witch will have no power in a house protected by onions and garlic."

  "Oh, I don't know." Stewart's shoulders slumped. "That doesn't make much sense to me."

  "Wouldn't it be awful smelly?" said Ham.

  "No, listen, the article said
the stuff could be wrapped up tight, you know in foil or something. Regular people don't have to be able to smell it, but a witch can. We can even hide it under rugs and stuff. I read a testimonial by this woman who claimed she had a friend, and she didn't know her friend was a witch until the woman went running out of her house after she did the onion and garlic thing."

  Stewart shook his head. "So if she didn't suspect her friend was a witch, why did she put the junk around her house in the first place?"

  "She was having bad luck. She thought it was caused by her husband's sister, but it turned out she was blaming the wrong person." Rachel put the paper back in her backpack and started to walk. "Of course, it's up to you, Stew, but if I thought my dad was about to marry a witch, I would try just about anything."

  There was a supermarket just a block off their way home. Stewart shrugged. "Okay," he said, "we'll go to the store. How much money do you two have? I'll pay you back."

  "I've got a five-dollar bill," said Ham. "Are onions and garlic expensive?"

  "Who knows? I hope not because I've only got fifty cents," said Stewart.

  "I don't have any money with me, but I can go home and get some if I have to." Rachel smiled at Stewart. "We're going to help you, just like I said."

  More money wasn't necessary. With five dollars they were able to buy four onions and a whole pound of garlic. Ham even got a little change. "We're in luck on one thing," Stewart told the others after they had paid and were on their way home. "Dad told me this morning that Gran isn't staying today after she brings Georgia home. She's just going to make sure I'm home before she leaves. We can go to work right away. Do we have to cook the stuff?"

  Rachel stopped to read the paper in her hand. "No, it says here, 'Place chopped onion and garlic together, wrap in foil, and place in corners of all rooms in which a witch or warlock is thought to be casting spells. Protection will be provided as long as material has not decayed.'" She shook her head. "There's not a word about cooking. Oh, I forgot about this other story. A woman named Margaret says a witch she worked with wanted the promotion Margaret had been promised. For a while it looked like the boss was leaning toward the witch, but after Margaret did the onion thing, the witch turned in her resignation."

  "Sounds bogus to me," said Stewart as they entered the kitchen, "but it's all we've got right now."

  They had just spread the onions on the countertop when Georgia came bouncing in. Stewart hurried out the front door to talk to Gran, so that she wouldn't come in.

  Back in the kitchen, Ham and Rachel had the wooden chopping board full of onions. "I guess I ought to do the cutting up. I mean it is my life we're trying to save."

  "We'll all have a turn," said Rachel. "We're in this with you."

  Ham had chopped most of the onions when the doorbell rang. "I'll get it," Georgia called from the family room, where she was watching TV.

  "Wait," Stewart headed toward the front of the house. "You know you aren't supposed to go to the door by yourself."

  "It's okay," called Georgia. "It's just Wanda. I can see her through the window."

  "No," Stewart yelled. "Stop! Don't let her in," but he could already hear Ms. Gibbs's voice saying hello to his little sister. He whirled to look back through the kitchen door. There was Ham, knife in hand, standing beside Rachel who held garlic.

  Before Stewart could say anything, Ms. Gibbs was beside him. "Stewart," she said, peering around him into the kitchen, "how nice that you have your friends here." She stepped around him and into the kitchen. "Hello Rachel, Andrew, whatever are you doing?" She reached out to touch an onion that lay unsliced beside the chopping board.

  "It's for supper," Ham said. "We're helping Stew get ready for supper."

  "Gran already made supper." Georgia had come into the kitchen behind Ms. Gibbs. "She made a chicken pot-pie." She pointed toward the refrigerator. "It's in there. Remember, she told you to put it in the oven at five?"

  "Oh yeah," said Stewart, and he knew his voice sounded shaky. "That's right. I kind of forgot, and we were making... soup. Onion soup, it's one of my favorites."

  "Such a lot of onions and garlic too," said Ms. Gibbs. "I think you may have overdone it slightly. I can't think of any recipe that would call for that much of either ingredient."

  "We... ah," Stewart tried to say something, but gave up.

  "I hope you didn't get a recipe off the Internet. You know you can't trust what you find there. I even read a bunch of nonsense there once about how to stop a witch's powers by using onions and garlic." Ms. Gibbs laughed. "Isn't that ridiculous?" She laughed again. "So foolish, believing in witchcraft! I mean this is the twenty-first century." She turned back then to the family room and took Georgia by the hand. "Come along, dear," she said. "I want to measure you because I am going to make you a new dress." She took a measuring tape from her purse. Stewart stepped just inside the room, but he didn't go far from Ham and Rachel, who stood in the doorway between the rooms.

  "Oh yes," said Georgia. She grinned and clapped her hands. "I love new dresses. What will it look like?"

  "It will be a very special dress." Ms. Gibbs dropped to her knees and put the tape around Georgia's waist. "A dress so special you could wear it to be a flower girl in a wedding. Doesn't that sound nice?"

  Georgia squealed. "What color will it be?"

  "Oh," said Ms. Gibbs. "I don't think the color scheme has been decided yet for the wedding. Do you have any suggestions?"

  "Pink," said Georgia. "I love pink."

  Stewart swallowed hard. "Black," he turned toward the kitchen and mouthed the word to Ham and Rachel.

  Ms. Gibbs measured from Georgia's waist to the floor, took a pad and pen from her handbag, and wrote down some numbers. "I must fly away now." She laughed. "Of course, I don't mean that literally, but I do have to go. Ozgood's lesson is almost over, and I must pick him up." She rose and moved toward the door.

  "What kind of lessons does Ozgood take?" asked Rachel.

  Ms. Gibbs turned back slightly and smiled. "Well, aren't you sweet to be interested in a little boy's lessons? I could tell the other night that you and Ozgood had made a rather special connection. He is at the aquarium. Today I think he is scheduled to learn about the lives of frogs." She reached out to take hold of Stewart's arm. "Come walk me to the door, dear."

  Stewart didn't want to go. He looked back at his friends. "Watch me," he wanted to say. "Don't let her zap me." He said nothing. Somehow, he made his feet move and his hand reach out to open the door for her.

  "Get to school early in the morning, Stewart," she said when she had stepped outside, and there was no asking tone to her voice. "Yes, get to school in time to come by my room. I need to talk to you, and, dear, come alone. Don't bring Andrew, Rachel, or the onions."

  "Woe is me," said Stewart to Rachel and Ham when the woman was gone. "I am undone."

  • FIVE •

  Wait for me in the library," Stewart told Ham when they were inside the building the next morning. "If I don't make it back, you can have my iPod." He was only half kidding. Very few kids were in the hall that early, and Stewart imagined the sound of his footsteps on the wooden floor echoed along with the sound of his heartbeat.

  "Stewart!" Ms. Gibbs seemed almost surprised to see him. "How nice of you to come." She smiled at him.

  He shrugged. "You told me to come. I thought... you know, that I had to."

  "Well," she said, "come sit beside me while we talk." She walked to her desk and pointed to a bright red overstuffed chair near the desk chair. The chair had not been there yesterday, and Stewart wondered if she had zapped it up just for him. He bent to run his hand across the seat before he sat down.

  "I'll get right to the point. You know I offered to help you with Taylor and your basketball playing." She paused. Stewart held onto the edge of the red chair and nodded his head. "Let's start with basketball. You have a game after school today, don't you?" He nodded again. "The thing is, Stewart, that I feel you may just lack confidence. Don't you
suppose that might be your problem?"

  "Well, sure, I guess so." Stewart had a strange feeling, like he was dreaming the entire conversation.

  Ms. Gibbs put one hand up to touch her green necklace. "I'll tell you something, Stewart, when you are playing just glance up at me. I think just seeing me might remind you to have confidence in yourself. I'll sit on the first row of bleachers, so you will have no trouble seeing me." She stood then, but Stewart didn't move.

  "You may go now, Stewart. Go find Ham. I'm sure he is waiting for you, right?"

  Stewart nodded, and she said, "Oh, you're welcome, Stewart. You did say thank you, didn't you?" Stewart nodded again.

  Stewart stepped out into the hall, but he couldn't think where he intended to go. He heard laughter and saw two boys shoving each other. Getting out of their way crossed his mind, but he didn't move. A body pushed against him. His backpack slipped from his shoulder, and he fell against the wall. Bending to pick up his pack, he remembered that he was supposed to meet Ham in the library.

  Rachel was there with Ham, sitting at a table near the door. "What happened?" Ham reached out to take the backpack Stewart was almost dragging.

  "Sit down." Rachel pulled out a chair beside her for him.

  He took the chair, then motioned to Ham. "Lean over here. I don't want to talk loud." Ham half crawled over the table, and Stewart drew in a breath. "She wants to help me." His words came out in a hoarse whisper.

  "With what?" Rachel asked.

  "Basketball and . . . stuff."

  "Wow!" Ham relaxed back into his chair.

  The bell rang. Rachel and Ham pushed away from the table, but Stewart didn't move. "Wait." He put a hand out toward each of them. "What am I going to do?"

  "We'll talk at lunch," said Rachel, and she hurried away.

  Ham waited for Stewart to get up, and they left the library together. Just before they separated for first period, Ham put his hand on Stewart's arm. "You didn't tell about Taylor," he said.

  "Huh?" Stewart pulled away.

  "You left out the part about helping you get Taylor to like you, didn't you?"