by Anna Myers
"Dad," he said. "It was really stupid of me . . . " He paused and shrugged his shoulders slightly. "I mean not wanting you to marry Martha. I don't . . . maybe even after all that time I really hadn't, you know, accepted Mom's death."
His father was quiet for a second, just stood there with the eggs in his hand. Then he said, "It's okay, son. I guess I used you for an excuse. If I had really been ready for marriage, I wouldn't have waited for your approval." Dad smiled at him, and Stewart could see that his father thought their problems were over.
Stewart set his alarm for one. Then he fell into bed and went right to sleep. His dad and Georgia weren't home when he woke. After a nice long shower, he cooked a frozen pizza, scarfed it down, and was ready to go.
He got his bike from the garage, deciding to push it for a time before getting on, giving his muscles a chance to warm up. It was a good day for a bike ride. His father's remarks about Christmas shopping made him realize that he wouldn't have many more days like this one before winter. Well, he told himself as a red leaf drifted down to land on his face, today is an important day. The damp leaf had stuck to his face, and he did not remove it. Today he would decide what to do with his life. He could keep fighting like Rachel said he should, or he could just give in and quit being a worry wart. He felt very tired. If Dad wants to marry Ms. Gibbs, well, that's his business. Maybe he just wouldn't think about supernatural stuff. "Hey," he said aloud, "the woman makes great cookies."
"Cookies?" said a voice, and he saw Mrs. Wolf, their new neighbor, straighten up from behind her hedge. "Don't be pestering me for cookies. I gave them all away last night."
"Oh no, ma'am," he said. "I won't pester you." He got on his bike then and began to ride. "Maybe I won't pester anyone," he told the wind. He reached up to take the leaf from his face. "Maybe I'll turn over a new leaf."
He liked the way the library looked, made from some kind of white rock, and he liked the smell of it when he stepped inside. Martha was behind the desk, and Stewart saw her as soon as he came into the library. She was glad to see him, like always. "Stewart, good to see you. Did you come for a book on psychology?"
He opened his mouth to say yes because he was getting so used to lying, but he stopped himself. "No," he leaned on the big counter and looked at her warm, honest face. "I think maybe I'll get a book like that, but I came today to see you."
Tears came to her eyes, but she gave a little laugh. "Come on, now," she protested, "you've never been exactly wild about me." She shook her head. "Of course, there's no danger now of my stealing your father's attention."
"No, honest." Stewart leaned against the counter and he felt like crying too. He forced down the feeling. "I was wrong to act like a spoiled brat." He ducked his head for a second, then looked up again. "You would have been great."
"Oh, Stew," she said, wiping at her eyes, "that's good to hear even if it is too late."
Stewart wanted to ask her about Ms. Gibbs. He wanted to know what Martha would say if he just asked straight out about the witch thing, but the words wouldn't come. "Guess, I'll go now," he said, but she reached out to touch his arm.
"Wait, Stew," she looked right into his eyes. "Your father would have married me if he really wanted to. Don't blame yourself, but do give Wanda Gibbs a chance."
"I don't like that woman." He blurted out the words.
"Oh, Wanda is a little different, but she has a good heart. I should know! She's helped me plenty. If you had come in an hour earlier, you would have run into her. She was in here getting a book, and she talked to me about how much she thinks of you and Georgia." She smiled at him. "Believe me, Stew, things are going to work out for us all."
"She got a book?" he stalled, trying to think of how to ask his question.
"Yes, Wanda has developed an interest in poltergeists."
Stewart imagined his ears might be stretched up over his head. This was really interesting. "Does she believe in them?" He hoped his voice sounded casual.
Martha stacked a few books that were lying on the counter. "She doesn't know, but she told me an interesting story about something that happened to her last night."
"Really?" He put his hands in his pockets because he could feel them shaking and didn't want Martha to see. "What happened?"
Martha smiled. "I guess Wanda wouldn't mind my telling you. It seems she had a strange experience with a necklace. I babysat with Ozgood . . . " She paused.
"Go on," Stewart urged, then he realized he was showing too much interest. "I mean if you have time. I'm sort of interested in poltergeists."
"Well, after she came home, Wanda had taken off her green necklace. You may have noticed it, the one she wears a lot."
Stewart nodded and resisted the desire to urge her on.
"She says she is certain she put it on her nightstand. Then something woke her in the night. She decided to go to the bathroom, and several feet from her bed she felt an object under her foot. It was her necklace. She wonders how it could have moved and if the sound of that movement was what woke her." Martha gave a little laugh. "Who knows, maybe there really are such things as poltergeists? Anyway, Wanda has the book if you want to look at it. The fellow who wrote it believes in little spirits."
"Really?" It was all he could think to say.
"Yes," she stacked the last book, "and I think Wanda might too. She says she's going to sleep in the necklace from now on. It's very special to her because it belonged to her grandmother."
Stewart forgot all about the psychology book and wandered off after telling Martha good-bye. Right outside the library was a low brick wall, and he sat down on it. It was a place where kids liked to sit and wait for their rides. Usually they read the books they had just checked out. Stewart had no book, but he had to be still and think.
He sat for a long time. Several kids came to wait on the wall and were picked up, but Stewart hardly noticed them. Finally, he jumped down from the wall and got his bike. His mind was made up. Ms. Gibbs wouldn't have had to tell Martha a thing about the necklace. That meant, he was sure, that her story about finding it must be true.
He was anxious to talk to Rachel about what he had decided. She was in the front yard working with Molly Dot. The puppies were in a box on the front porch, their front paws and heads sticking up over the edge so they could watch their mother. Rachel took a dog treat from her pocket. She held it high with one hand. Then with the other hand also held high, she snapped her fingers. Molly sat up on her back legs. Rachel began to sing, "Patty cake, patty cake baker's man. Bake me a cake as fast as you can." All the time Rachel sang, Molly brought her paws together, over and over. When she quit singing, Molly dropped to all fours and Rachel gave her the treat.
"Wow!" Stewart said. "She's getting really good at that. I bet you win that prize." He got off his bike, leaned it against the porch, and went over to stroke Molly's head.
"I hope so. Georgia holding the little Dot should help." Rachel went over to sit on the porch and set the puppies out of the box onto the porch. She picked one up. Stewart went to sit beside her.
He picked up a puppy too. "Everything is okay." He sighed deeply and smiled at Rachel. "I don't believe Ms. Gibbs is a witch." Stewart poured out the story about the poltergeist book.
"So?" Rachel shrugged. "I don't see what that proves." Then she put down her puppy and held up her hand. "Wait, it does prove something, but it doesn't disprove the witch theory."
Stewart sighed. Sometimes Rachel got on his nerves. "What do you think it proves?"
Rachel gathered up the puppies and put them back in the box. She didn't say anything until she was standing up. "It proves, dummy, that Martha is in on the whole thing. Don't you remember what she said to Ms. Gibbs? Martha is grateful for something Ms. Gibbs has done for her. Maybe Ms. Gibbs is blackmailing her or maybe Martha traded your dad for some magic Ms. Gibbs did for her. Does Martha have a sick mother or anything? Well, anyway, Martha knows Ms. Gibbs has bewitched your dad, and she doesn't care!"
Why wa
s Rachel always so unreasonable? Stewart jumped up. "You're crazy, Rachel, really crazy." He stomped off, forgetting all about his bike.
His father was reading the paper in the family room when Stewart got inside. They exchanged greetings. Stewart sat down and turned on the TV, but he didn't even try to find something to watch. After a minute, he took a deep breath, and said, "Dad, if you want to marry Ms. Gibbs, it's fine with me."
Dad put down his paper and looked at Stewart. "That's nice to hear, son. It's good to know you've grown up lately. Time will tell about a wedding."
Stewart had expected a more joyous reaction, but it didn't matter. He felt relaxed and free for the first time in what seemed like ages. He flipped off the TV and wandered to the front of the house. Through the big picture window he saw Rachel walk by. She was probably going to Ham's, probably going to share her crazy idea about Martha. Oh well, Sammi might be right about Rachel. He might be better off if he didn't hang around with her. Besides Rachel could be really aggravating.
"Get your algebra book, son." His dad got up and went into the kitchen to sit at the table. "We're in this algebra thing together," Dad said when Stewart was back. "We're in everything together." Stewart actually enjoyed the algebra lesson. Maybe he could just let go and trust his father.
He went to his room and turned on his computer. "Okay," he wrote to Sammi, "I'm thinking I might hang around with Ham and Rachel less. Taylor's noticed me some. What do I do next?"
Sammi was online, and she began to answer at once. "Surely you've called her. Right?" Stewart admitted he hadn't, and Sammi shot back, "Call her, Stew. Call her right now."
He got out his student directory, looked up Taylor Montgomery's number, and dialed it. It only took two rings for Taylor to answer, but that was long enough for Stewart to get scared. "It's me," he said, "Stewart, Stewart Wright."
"Why sure, Stewart," she said. "Of course, I know your voice."
"Oh, that's great! I mean it's great to talk to you." He said, and because she didn't say anything, he knew he had to come up with something else. "Listen, I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am about missing your party." He hoped she would say something because he couldn't think of another word.
"You're soo sssweet." She dragged the last two words out, and the sound of her voice gave Stewart goose bumps.
"Well, guess I'd better go hit the books and everything."
" 'Bye, Stewart. See you Monday." Stewart put down the phone. He couldn't just sit there quietly. Taylor Montgomery recognized his voice and said she would see him on Monday. Suddenly, he was jumping on his bed, like he had done when he was a little kid. One jump, though, and he knew why he hadn't done it lately. He had to duck his head to keep from hitting the ceiling.
Stewart woke on Monday excited about going to school. He knew Taylor Montgomery would speak to him. It was enough to make him bolt out of bed when the alarm went off. He was ready early. Instead of waiting for Ham as usual, he walked around the corner to meet Ham as he came out of his house.
Ham had been gone all day on Sunday, so Stewart had not talked to him. "Come on let's move it," he called to Ham. "I'm in a hurry to get to school."
"Why?"
Stewart began to walk. "Well, for one thing, I've got a feeling Taylor Montgomery might be waiting for me," he called over his shoulder.
"Nah, what are you talking about?" Ham caught up with him, and Stewart told him about the conversation.
"Hmm." Ham frowned.
"What?" Stewart demanded.
Ham shrugged, "Oh, I was just thinking how mad Rachel is going to be if you start hanging out with Taylor. Maybe you haven't noticed, but Rachel doesn't like Taylor much."
"Who I hang out with is none of Rachel's business."
"Well, Brad Wilson isn't going to like it either."
Stewart slapped at Ham's shoulder. "Lighten up, Ham Bone. You worry too much."
The first person they saw inside the building was Ms. Gibbs. She came around the corner just as they stepped into the hall. Stewart froze, knowing she was coming toward him. He kept his eyes down, away from her green necklace. She stopped beside him. "Come on down to my room, Stewart. I need to talk to you," she said softly.
Stewart wanted to look for Taylor, but he didn't say so. "Okay." He waited until Ms. Gibbs started away, then fell in behind her.
"See you later," Ham said, and he hurried off in the opposite direction. Suddenly, following her down the hall, Stewart's resolve to trust Ms. Gibbs began to fade.
At the art room door, she stopped and turned back to him. "We'll only be a minute. You'll still have time to talk to your friends before school starts."
This is the right thing to do, he told himself, but he felt shaky as they entered the room. She closed the door after they got inside. Then she walked to the desk and picked up a small bottle. "I'm not sure I told you," she said, "but one of my hobbies is making cosmetics. I've been working on this new cologne for men. Will you try it out for me?" She was pointing the sprayer in his direction.
"I guess so." He didn't feel he really had a choice.
"Just a dab." She was spraying. "This is strong stuff." The scent was nice, not too powerful, but definitely there. She put the cap back on. "There, go find your friends now."
He muttered a sort of combined thank-you and goodbye. "Stew," she called just before he went out. "Let me know if Taylor likes the cologne."
It didn't take long to find out because he almost bumped into Taylor as he left the room. "Stewart," she said, "I was hoping to see you." She wrinkled her nose. "Boy, do you smell nice!"
He could feel his face getting red. "It's too much, huh?"
"No, oh no, not at all. Just right." She stepped toward him, and he actually wanted to move back. He was shocked. He'd never have figured he'd have to work at avoiding a public display of affection with Taylor Montgomery. "Walk me to my locker, okay?" She smiled at him, and her face nearly touched his. He started to move. Her body did not touch his, but he could feel her near him.
Stewart watched Taylor take her books from her locker and waited until she walked away, waving over her shoulder at him before he went to his own locker. He was late for English.
Between first and second period, he searched the crowd in the halls for a glimpse of Taylor and didn't even notice Brad and Jake walking behind him until they were right in front of the girls' restroom. Suddenly, the two boys were on either side of him, and Stewart knew what was going to happen. He tried to run, but Brad's hands jerked him back. Stewart felt himself being lifted between Brad and Jake. They each had a hand holding one arm and one ankle. "Want to fly, Wart?" Brad asked. "Want to fly into the girls' bathroom?"
Stewart did fly for just a second, hit the floor, and went sliding on his back into the restroom. He shut his eyes, waiting for girls to scream, but the room was quiet. Then a familiar voice spoke. "Stewart," said Rachel in disgust, "Taylor isn't in here, look somewhere else." She stepped around him and went out the door.
Without raising his gaze from the floor, he jumped and ran. Outside the restroom, he slowed only enough to avoid being called down for running in the hall. Still breathing heavily, he slid into science class.
At lunch Rachel didn't even slow down, just walked by without a glance at the table where Stewart and Ham sat. Watching her, Stewart felt surprised to remember how brave she had been at Ms. Gibbs's and how he had felt good when he comforted her. Just then, though, he saw Taylor walking toward a table full of kids. Brad was there with Jake and Taylor's best friend, Madison, along with two other girls and a boy. Stewart put down his piece of pizza and watched her sit down. Someone said something and everyone laughed. He could see Taylor's white teeth as she put back her head and opened her mouth. What would it feel like, he wondered, to be at that other table, the one with the cool kids?
For a long time he watched, saying almost nothing to Ham. Finally, he picked up his pizza again, looked down, and started to eat. It was a surprise to hear her voice. "Stewart." Taylor had come
to the other side of his table. She leaned across toward him. "Do you want these?" She held out two big chocolate-chip cookies. "You need your strength for basketball."
"Hey, that's nice of you," he said. She smiled, and then she was gone.
"She's right," said Ham after Taylor walked away. "You're going to need your strength for basketball, and not just for playing even. Look over there." He leaned his head to the right, and Stewart saw Brad Wilson staring at him from his table. "He's going to be waiting for you in the dressing room," said Ham. "Maybe you ought to get sick and go home before last period." He picked up one of the cookies from Stewart's plate and ate it.
Ms. Gibbs stood in the hall just outside the cafeteria. She motioned for Stewart to come over to her. "Well?" She waited, but when Stewart didn't say anything she went on. "How did the cologne go over?"
"Oh, fine, I guess." He nodded. "Fine."
"The thing is, I've added a new ingredient since this morning." She reached out for Stewart's hand and pressed a small bottle into it. "Put some on right before you go to gym class."
"You mean after, right? To make me smell better after I sweat."
She shook her head. "No, no. This is important. Put it on before. Smelling good will give you confidence while you play. It might even make people feel more friendly toward you."
"Okay." He couldn't think of anything else to say, and he stepped backward to get away from her.
"Use my cologne and you never need worry about being Wart again."
"That's nice. Thank you." After a few steps and a little wave, he turned and almost ran.
"She means Brad," Ham said when Stewart told him about the conversation. "The stuff casts a spell, and it'll protect you from Brad."
They were in front of their lockers, and Stewart jerked hard on the door of his. "I'm dropping the witch business. Remember? My dad is going to marry the woman. She can't be a witch! Quit talking about it and just close your big mouth for once in your life."
"Well, you try to believe that if you want to, but Rachel and I, we know the truth. You'd better spray yourself good with that stuff before you go down into that dressing room." Ham picked up his book and, without waiting for Stewart, walked toward class.