by Anna Myers
"All I have is one all-weather jacket." Stewart wiped water from his arms with a paper towel. "We don't usually go for long walks during rainstorms."
"Trash bags," said Rachel. "Two for each of us."
They each wore one over their head with a face hole cut out. The others were tied around their waists like skirts. Rachel carried another bag filled with her equipment. Over his shoulder, Ham slung a trash bag with food in the bottom.
At first the walk was pretty miserable, rain hitting them in their faces and splashing up their jeans' legs. About halfway through the journey, the drops got smaller and farther apart. The rest of the way was not so bad, just sprinkles.
"Bell Street," Rachel said when they came to a corner. "We're almost there." She leaned for a minute against the pole that held the street sign.
The house stood on the next corner. The front part of the first floor was bright, the second story dark. They were in the driveway before Stewart noticed the car. He stopped walking and reached out to grab the edge of the bags each of the others wore. "Wait," he said, "that's Martha's car!"
"Are you sure?" Rachel asked.
"Yes, that's hers all right." He pointed. "See the book bumper sticker. 'Take a book to bed.'"
They huddled together under a tree near Ozgood's window. Stewart couldn't stop thinking of Martha inside with Ozgood. "This doesn't make sense," he said. "Martha is in there babysitting while that woman goes out with the man she loves." He felt too tired to stand up. Leaning against the tree, he lowered himself to the wet grass.
Rachel and Ham sat down, too, and for a minute they were all quiet. Then Rachel said, "What're you thinking, Stew?"
"Martha wouldn't hang around with witches. I mean, she's a librarian. Nobody is as sensible as a librarian."
Ham started getting up. "Well," he said, "if you're thinking Ms. Gibbs isn't a witch, let's just go on home."
Rachel grabbed his garbage-bag skirt. "No," she said, "we came to get the necklace, and we're going to do it."
Just then the light went on in Ozgood's room. They could see two forms through the shade, and then the light went off again. "She tucked him in," said Rachel. "It won't be long now."
They waited without saying anything, barely breathing until the light came back on and went off three times. "It's time," said Rachel. They stood up and moved quietly toward the back door.
"Quickly," said Ozgood's voice in the dark. "Quickly and cautiously up to my room. The closet door is open."
Tiptoeing, they went through the kitchen into the dining room, where the stairs were. An open door separated the dining room from the family room, where Martha sat watching TV.
Their feet didn't make a sound as they crossed the room, but the rustling of their garbage bags seemed loud to Stewart. He held his breath. If Martha decided to get up or to turn down the sound, they were dead. Once they were up the stairs, he relaxed some. The first hurdle was over.
"We need to look over Ms. Gibbs's room," said Rachel, "see how things are arranged in there. The door was half open, and she pushed it wider. For a minute they all looked inside, then moved on.
Ham landed in the closet first, and the other two piled in after him. "We'll close the door at first," whispered Rachel, "so we can use the flashlight, but after a bit, we'll have to open it for air."
The thought came to Stewart that Rachel had definitely become the leader, but he didn't mind a bit. He knew he was too nervous to think clearly. Ham took food from his bag and arranged it on the closet floor. They all ate. The sandwiches were sort of squashed, but they tasted good. Ozgood had politely pushed his bones into a corner, but Rachel, also a serious science student, pulled them out and started to examine them. While she ate, the bones rested beside her, a skull in her lap. Stewart thought it was a strange picture, but his life had changed so much that odd almost seemed normal.
After a while they switched off the light and opened the door just slightly. It wasn't long until they heard voices downstairs. None of them dared even whisper because the sounds were coming closer, up the stairs. Ham grabbed Stewart's arm. Feeling Ham shake made Stewart even more nervous, so he reached for Rachel's hand and held it. They sat there, crunched together in a terrified little pile.
A light from the hall told them that Ozgood's door was being opened. It was too late to close the closet. "I won't turn on the light," whispered Ms. Gibbs. "Just want to look in on him."
"He's a darling," said Martha. "And you are, too, Wanda. I'll never forget what you're doing for me, uprooting your life and Ozgood's to move here."
"Oh, don't thank me," said Ms. Gibbs, and she laughed. "I'm having fun. The man's a challenge. I'm just glad you called me for help."
Then the door closed and the two women went back down the stairs. In the closet, they quit holding onto each other, took deep breaths, and slipped off their garbage bags.
Stewart bent his head to rest on his raised knees. What was Martha talking about? What was Ms. Gibbs doing for her? Then a thought came to him. "Martha must be under a spell," he whispered. "That's the only thing that makes sense. Martha's under a spell and so is my dad."
"Maybe," said Rachel. "Do you think Ozgood is really asleep?"
"Surely, he didn't go to sleep, knowing we're hiding in here," said Ham, but Stewart pointed out that little kids sometimes went to sleep no matter what. After a long time, they heard Ms. Gibbs come upstairs and open her bedroom door.
"How long do you think it will take for her to get to sleep?" Stewart whispered.
"Not long, I hope," said Ham. "I've got to go to the bathroom."
"Put your plastic bag back on and wet your pants," said Rachel. "We aren't leaving this place for at least two hours." Ham groaned.
They settled back to wait. Rachel passed the time touching the bones. Stewart decided to try to get his mind on a good Taylor Montgomery daydream. He settled on being the president of the United States, the youngest ever elected. Having lost track of Taylor, he had never married despite the fact that women swooned when he spoke.
Things were going along well until a bunch of people on a subway are taken hostage by some terrorists. No one in the country knows what to do, so of course they turn to President Wright. He looks at the passenger list and sees Taylor's name.
People beg him not to, but he is determined to trade himself for the hostages. Just before he is ready to leave, a note comes from Taylor. She says that the terrorists let her write it because she is about to die. She tells Stewart that she has always loved him, but that she had to drop out of his life because she thought she wasn't good enough for him.
He takes out his handkerchief and wipes his tears. There are a lot of reporters who want to take the president's picture while he cries over the hostages. "There is no time for tears or pictures," Stewart says. "This is the time for action!"
His advisers send for all kinds of bulletproof vests and stuff, but Stewart refuses them. "Bring me two garbage bags," he says. "They were the protection I wore on my first dangerous mission."
He was just at the good part where he burst onto the train and Taylor held out her arms to him when Ham started to move. "I'm going to the John," he said.
"No," Rachel protested. "She may not be asleep."
"I'm going anyway." He pushed the closet door open wider.
"If he makes it to the bathroom, we might as well check out Ms. Gibbs's room. Maybe we can tell if she's asleep," Stewart suggested.
"Well, I don't know," Rachel said. "If we are going to do it, we have to plan first."
"Plan quick," Ham said.
"Okay, here's the deal." Rachel took the bones out of her lap and arranged them gently in the corner. "Ham, you go first. Don't turn on the bathroom light or flush the toilet. Stew and I will wait here just inside the room until we see you come back from the bathroom. If it is real quiet in there, we'll open the door just enough to crawl in." She breathed deeply. "Now let's see, there was a dresser, a bureau, and a nightstand. I'll check out the dresser top. There may be a jewelry
box there. Ham, you take the bureau top, and Stew will do the nightstand. If one of us finds it, we just head out. The other two will follow."
"All right," said Stewart, "but what if we don't find it? What if it's in a drawer or still on her neck? What then?"
"Well," Rachel said, thinking. "Well, then we go into the closet and look for other evidence. I'll bring the camera and the flashlight."
Ham went first on his hands and knees. "You can walk," whispered Rachel, but Ham stayed down. Stewart thought it was probably easier for Ham to control his strained bladder that way.
When Ham was out the bedroom door, Rachel and Stewart left the closet and moved to the doorway. As soon as Ham's dark form came out of the bathroom, they tiptoed toward Ms. Gibbs's room. Once there, they all dropped to their knees. The low sound of a train whistling through the crossing a few blocks away sent shivers down Stewart's spine, and when it passed, the sound of their breathing seemed to echo loudly against the walls of the hallway.
The door wasn't completely closed. Rachel gave it a little pull. They waited. Then an encouraging sound came from the room, regular little snorts. Ms. Gibbs was snoring. Even in the dark, Stewart could see Rachel make a thumbs-up sign. Then Ham and Stewart started stacking their hands on top of each other's, like for luck before a basketball game. Rachel caught on and joined them.
Rachel, of course, went first, then Stewart, followed by Ham. Stewart wished he still wore his garbage bags as a sort of armor but they'd make too much noise. They moved around the end of the bed. So far so good. Stewart was beside the nightstand. He put up his hand and began to slide it across the top of the little table. At first, he was afraid to look at Ms. Gibbs, asleep there in her bed. Then he took a quick glance. It wasn't too dark for him to see that she slept in some sort of netlike cap, which he supposed was to protect her hairdo. There was a bunch of white stuff smeared all over her face. Witch or not, he thought she was plenty scary looking at night.
Then he forgot all about how she looked because his fingers touched a chain. Slowly he pulled it to him. There was moonlight from the window, and it picked up the green shine. He held it up for a second, hoping the others would see. Then, still on his hands and knees, he started for the door. Holding the necklace in one sweaty fist, it was hard to crawl, so he jammed it into his pocket.
Suddenly, there was an extra big snort from Ms. Gibbs, and she flopped over in bed. "Hold still," she muttered. "Don't hop." Then she tossed herself over in bed again. Stewart froze. She was about to wake up. What should they do?
Rachel moved quickly, reaching for the closet door and getting it open. Ham moved quickly too. Ms. Gibbs turned noisily again in her bed, and Stewart knew she was likely to wake herself by talking in her sleep. Still, he couldn't move. When something touched his foot, he started with fright and almost yelled out. It was Rachel. She gave his foot a hard jerk, then shot back into the closet. Stewart followed, pulling the door after him.
"What was that?" called Ms. Gibbs, and Stewart thought her voice sounded awake. It was totally dark in the closet, but it didn't matter because Stewart kept his eyes shut tightly anyway. If Ms. Gibbs opened the closet door, he wanted no possibility of seeing her face. He lay there, aware that either Rachel or Ham was under him, aware of the chemical smell coming from the bottles on the shelf, but unable to move.
From the crack under the door came a ray of light, and they knew that Ms. Gibbs had switched on her lamp. Any second now she would get out of bed, cross to the closet, and find them. Then Stewart remembered what was in his pocket. Could she turn them into frogs without that necklace? A small thumping sound and a sort of metallic rattling could be heard. Then the light went off again. Was she going back to sleep? For a long time they didn't dare move. Then it started again, that marvelous, delightful sound of Ms. Gibbs snoring. In the closet the three moved about a little, getting off each other, but it was a long time before they dared to push open the door and start the long crawl to safety.
Outside the bedroom, they stood up and began to move more quickly, across the upstairs hall, down the stairs, through the dining room, into the kitchen. Ham reached for a cookie from a plate of them on the cabinet, but Stewart slapped his hand. It would have taken too long to get the plastic wrap from around the plate.
When the fresh night air hit their faces, they all broke into a run, not slowing until they were out of the Gibbses' yard. It was Rachel who stopped first, sort of throwing herself down on the curb. Stewart sat down beside her and was shocked to see that she was crying. "Rachel," he said, "what's the matter. Are you hurt?"
"Scared," she sobbed. "I was so scared."
He could feel her shaking beside him, and he put his arm around her. "Don't cry," he said. "We made it because you were so brave." Stewart felt a big smile come to his face. He felt good, like he was saving Taylor Montgomery from terrorists or something. "Let's look at the necklace," he said. He took his arm from around Rachel and began to dig into his pockets, first the right, then the left. He jumped up yelling, "Where is it? Help! Oh no! It's gone!" He whirled and reached down to grabbed Ham's shoulder. "I've lost the necklace."
Ham slumped, resting his head on his knees. "I know it," he said, "and I left our snacks in Ozgood's closet."
"Ham," Stewart yelled. "Forget the food. The necklace is gone!"
"It's okay," said Rachel, back to her competent self now. "It must have fallen from your pocket. We'll find it."
Rachel started crawling then, and the other two joined her, crawling through the wet grass in the Gibbses' yard, searching in the dark for a green stone. At the back porch they stopped. "Well," Rachel said, "it must be inside."
"Do we go after it?" Stewart asked.
"Sure." Ham already had his hand on the door. "We can't give up after all we've been through tonight."
"That's right," Rachel agreed, so they went inside. Retracing their path, they traveled on all fours across the kitchen, into the dining room, and up the stairs.
"I'll just go into Ozgood's room and get the food," Ham whispered. "Meet you guys outside."
Rachel and Stewart moved on to Ms. Gibbs's room. The sound of snoring came to their ears, and they knew the woman was sleeping. Slowly, Stewart pushed open the door. She was lying on her side, and this time Stewart looked at her right away.
Rachel looked right off too. Stewart knew that because she grabbed at him just as he was reaching for her, both of them pointing toward the sleeping woman. The moonlight was shining in brightly now. They could see her plainly, the net thing around her hair, the white goop on her face, and on her neck a chain with a shiny green stone.
Without pausing to close the door, they backed up just a little, stood, and made a tiptoeing dash for the stairs. Every little bit, Stewart turned back to make sure they weren't being followed.
• SEVEN •
It was a miserable walk home. No one said anything except to complain about aching feet. Ham didn't even eat anything from the snack bag.
When they were finally there and inside the garage, Stewart looked at his watch to see that it was three o'clock. They climbed into the van, where they planned to sleep.
"You take the fold-out seat," Stewart said to Rachel. "We'll sleep on the floor."
Rachel took out the alarm clock from her equipment bag, set it, and said, "Good night."
"I'm giving up," Stewart said, and he closed his eyes. "There is no use trying to fight her."
"Might as well," said Ham. "Maybe she really will help you with stuff. Maybe she'll even help me if you ask her to."
"Stop it you two, and, Stewart Wright, don't you even think of giving up." Rachel sat up and shook her finger at Stewart. "You can't let a witch take over your family. We aren't beaten yet."
"Maybe she isn't a witch at all. Maybe she found the necklace," he said sadly. "Maybe she found it when she turned on the light. Remember the rattling noise we heard?"
"It found her," said Rachel, "and you know it." She lay back down.
Stewa
rt didn't answer. There was nothing more, it seemed to him, to say. The next thing he knew the alarm was going off. He looked at the time, seven thirty. Dad was probably up and could be coming out to the garage any time. They climbed out, ready to go their separate ways. "Thanks," said Stewart. "Thanks, both of you. You were great."
"Anytime," said Rachel with a little laugh.
"Yeah," said Ham, "anytime in the next century!"
Stewart sat for a while on the front step, feeling dejected and alone. When he heard his father stirring in the house, he got out his key and went in with a story ready about waking up early at Ham's house and deciding to come on home.
His father was in a great mood, singing and joking. "Got any plans for the day?" He poured himself a cup of coffee.
"I'm pretty exhausted, not much sleep last night at Ham's. I don't even want any breakfast. I just want to go to bed." It was true that he was sleepy, but he also figured his father was going to suggest some activity involving Ms. Gibbs. That was a face Stewart just couldn't look at again so soon. He headed out of the kitchen.
"Okay." Dad was taking eggs from the refrigerator. "Think I'll pick up Georgia, and if she's not too tired, we might go do a little Christmas shopping. We'll have our algebra lesson when I get home."
Stewart stopped and turned back to his father. "Christmas shopping? Last night was just Halloween."
"Well, sure it's early. Probably I won't buy anything, just look." He smiled at Stewart. "I think this will be our best Christmas ever."
He'll probably be married by December, Stewart thought with an inward groan. Then suddenly he remembered last Christmas, Martha helping them decorate the tree. Martha, he had to see her today. Maybe he would just level with Martha, ask her what Ms. Gibbs was doing for her. No, he couldn't admit hearing that. Still, he would go to talk to Martha. He would find a way to get information.
"Dad," he said, "after I wake up, I'd like to go over to the library to get a book and maybe talk to Martha a little."
"Sure, there's no reason Martha can't still be a friend of the family." Stewart thought his father's voice sounded a little sad.