Wart

by Anna Myers

  Georgia glanced at Wanda Gibbs. "Oh," she said, "I love pet shows. Molly can do the best tricks, and I can hold a little Dot."

  Stewart pretended to be interested in spreading butter on a roll. "There's only one Dot left. Rachel's sold the other three."

  "She has?" Georgia frowned.

  "Georgia doesn't want a dog, Stewart. I am going to get her a special cat. One of my friends has a cat with some darling kittens. As soon as they are old enough, I'll get one for Georgia."

  "But you could still help Rachel with the pet show. Remember how we decided having you hold one of the little Dots would be so cute?"

  "It wouldn't hurt to help with the show, would it?" Georgia looked at Wanda.

  "Of course, it wouldn't hurt." James Wright spoke up. "You don't want to let Rachel down."

  "That's right," said Stewart.

  Wanda Gibbs stood up. "You know what?" she said. "I forgot to tell you about what I have upstairs. It's a wonderful creature that I am sort of babysitting for a friend. You could take it to the Pet Place and win your own prize. No need to be just a helper in the contest."

  "What is it?" Georgia's eyes were big.

  "Hey," said Stewart, "what about Rachel?" He turned to look at his father. "Dad, remember what you said about not letting down Rachel?"

  "Oh," Dad said, "you could still help Rachel, and have your own entry."

  Stewart could feel Wanda's eyes on them. He could tell that she didn't want Georgia to help Rachel.

  "Why don't you all just finish your meal," said Wanda, "and I'll go upstairs and bring it down." She turned back to the antique china cabinet behind her, picked up a plastic cake carrier that sat there, and headed upstairs. "You're going to love this pet," she called out just before she started up the stairs.

  Stewart stared down at his plate. "Oh goody, a surprise," said Georgia. "I love surprises." She reached over to pull at Stewart's sleeve. "What do you think it is? Maybe it's a pony."

  "Wanda wouldn't keep a pony upstairs," said their father.

  Stewart didn't say a word, but he knew. He knew what Wanda kept upstairs, and he knew that she planned to put that something in the cake carrier. In only a minute or so, Ms. Gibbs came back. She held the cake carrier out in front of her. Stewart noticed there were holes all across the top of the plastic lid. Had they been there earlier? He wondered.

  "Where's the surprise?" Georgia asked, and she started to push back her chair.

  Wanda held out her hand in a stop gesture. "Wait, now. Stay where you are, and I'll show you." She set the cake carrier back on the china cabinet. "Voilà!" she said, and she took off the lid. There sat a huge green frog. If that's Ozgood, thought Stewart, he's grown since the last time. Maybe Wanda wanted him to be more noticeable. "He does tricks," she said.

  Georgia clapped her hands. "Tricks! I love tricks. Show me."

  Wanda reached over to the table and pinched off a small piece of roll. She held up the piece of bread, and snapped her fingers. The frog jumped up high, took the bread from her hand, and landed back on the cake carrier.

  Dad and Georgia laughed. "It's his Thanksgiving dinner," Dad said.

  Stewart didn't laugh. He swallowed hard and looked down at the table. Poor Ozgood, a piece of bread was not much of a Thanksgiving feast. Georgia got up and went over to stroke the frog's back. "Can I take him home with me, just for tonight, and take him to the pet show tomorrow?"

  Wanda patted Georgia's head. "Oh, I don't think so, darling. I'd better keep my eye on Froggy. My friend would be really mad at me if something happened to him, but you and your daddy can come by to pick us up for the pet show. I can almost guarantee Froggy will win a prize."

  • TEN •

  Stewart didn't sleep well that night. He had a feeling of dread about the next day and about his whole life. "I'm not going to the pet show," he announced at breakfast the next morning.

  "Please," said Georgia, but Stewart shook his head. A little later, he stood at the big front window and watched his father and sister head toward the car. On the windowsill was a dead cricket. An idea came flashing into his mind, maybe a way to prove to himself that the frog was or was not Ozgood. He opened the door, and yelled, "Wait for me." Next he ran to the kitchen for a plastic bag.

  "Oh, I'm so glad," said Georgia when he got to the car. "I wanted you to see me and Froggy win a prize."

  Stewart grunted and got in the front seat. He wasn't going because his little sister wanted him to go. He stared out the car window. So what will you do if you prove to yourself that the frog is Ozgood, he asked himself, but he did not come up with an answer. One step at a time. That's all he could manage. He gave himself a little shake. Do you really want to do this? If Ozgood was a frog, Ms. Gibbs was a witch. If Ms. Gibbs was a witch, Stewart had become popular because of a witch's spell. The car was pulling into Ms. Gibbs's driveway, and Stewart wanted to get out and run. The thought of just chucking it all and running away from home went through his mind.

  "Why don't you get in the back, Stew," his father said, "so Wanda can get up front."

  "Okay." Stewart opened his door just as his father was getting out. "Ozgood can hop in back with Georgia and me," he said.

  "No," said his father, "I don't think Ozgood is home yet."

  That's not what I said, Stewart thought, but he got out of the car and climbed into the back. Georgia bounced on the seat when she saw Ms. Gibbs come out of the house with the cake carrier.

  "I'll help Rachel," Georgia said, "but I don't want the little Dot." She sighed. "I just had to quit liking dogs after Wanda told me she didn't like them either. They are just too smelly. And they bark way too much."

  "And they don't like witches," Stewart muttered.

  "What?" said Georgia, but she didn't press the issue. Wanda had opened the back door to set the cake carrier between Georgia and Stewart.

  "When is Ozgood coming home?" Stewart asked when they were driving toward the Pet Place.

  Ms. Gibbs turned in her seat to smile at him. "It is so nice of you to be interested in my little boy," she said. "Actually, I'm not certain. Our friends will drop him off sometime today. They have a little boy just Ozgood's age."

  Stewart drew in a deep breath and a bit of courage. "Ozgood told me he didn't have any friends," he said.

  Ms. Gibbs smiled at him again, but Stewart saw that the smile was on her lips only, not in her eyes. "Stewart, darling," she said, "Ozgood exaggerates a good deal. Haven't you noticed?"

  Stewart didn't know what to say, but he wasn't ready to drop the subject. "Well, anyway, I wish he could see the pet show."

  "He doesn't care a lot for such things," Ms. Gibbs said. "Ozgood's too serious, you know. I'm afraid it's my fault, somehow."

  Even from the backseat, Stewart could see the warm look his father gave Ms. Gibbs. "I think Stewart and Georgia will help him loosen up," he said, and Ms. Gibbs reached over to pat his shoulder.

  When the car was stopped in front of the pet store. Georgia reached out for the carrier. "Let me carry Froggy," she said.

  "I don't know," said Dad. "He's pretty heavy. Better let Stewart carry him most of the time."

  Stewart took the carrier. A line from an old song he had heard ran through his mind, "He ain't heavy. He's my brother."

  Pet Place was a huge building. They stopped inside the door and looked around. In a far corner a big circle was roped off for the contest. Rachel was there with Molly on the far side of the ring. She had the puppy in a kind of sling that hung from her neck, and the little dog's head stuck out to see the world. "Oh," said Georgia, "that baby Dot looks so sweet." Stewart saw his sister start to move, and he knew she wanted to run to Rachel. He wasn't surprised when Ms. Gibbs reached for her hand and held her firmly. Georgia didn't pull away.

  There were three other dogs, a parakeet, and a white rat with their owners, who sat in folding chairs. The bird and the rat were in cages, and the dogs all had leashes. "There isn't a single cat in the contest, I guess," said Stewart.


  "I don't think cats are easy to teach tricks to," said Dad as they moved toward the circle.

  "You'd be surprised," said Ms. Gibbs. "I've known some really well-trained cats." That familiar little shiver passed over Stewart.

  Georgia slipped under the rope, then reached back to take the cake carrier from Stewart. Ms. Gibbs leaned across the rope to remove the lid. "Stay put until your jump, Froggy," she said, and Stewart thought she sounded as if she believed the frog understood. Dad took a card from a man with a white beard. He wore a Pet Place name tag that said "Carl." Dad wrote Georgia's name and Froggy's on it before he handed it back to the man, who gave each of them a small voting machine. "Just punch for your favorite," Carl said. "I would imagine that will be . . . " He looked at the card, "Froggy." Another employee brought a chair for Georgia, who held the carrier with the frog on it.

  Stewart could feel Rachel's stare, but he did not look her way. Carl smiled at Georgia. "Ladies, gentlemen, and children of all ages, we will start with our youngest owner, Georgia Wright and her pet, Froggy. Remember the Pet Place Corporation will award a prize of a hundred dollars to the pet selected by you as the most talented. Only one vote will be recorded by each machine, so don't vote until you've seen all the tricks."

  When Ms. Gibbs reached into her purse for the piece of bread, Stewart knew he had to move fast. He pulled the plastic bag from his pocket and took out the cricket. "Let me give him this," he lifted his hand with the insect, but Ms. Gibbs slapped his hand.

  "No," she said, "I don't want him eating that!" She handed the piece of bread to Georgia. "Snap, dear," she said.

  Georgia held out the bread, snapped her fingers, and the frog jumped for it. The crowd applauded. Georgia smiled, and holding the carrier in front of her, she bowed her head, just as Ms. Gibbs had taught her. Then she handed the carrier to Stewart and slipped out of the ring to stand beside Ms. Gibbs.

  Ms. Gibbs turned to put the lid on. "It was good of you to bring the cricket," she said to Stewart, "and of course, most frogs do like bugs. This one, though, is a little different. I didn't mean to be rude, but I was afraid you would give him the cricket before I could explain that Froggy can't eat such things. They make him sick."

  Stewart felt frozen, but he managed to nod his head and mumble, "Sure." To him everything seemed dreamlike now, and he blinked his eyes trying to focus. The girl with the parakeet took it from its cage, and the green bird sat on her finger. Stewart's heart raced, and the green color of the bird seemed to spread over the girl who held it. The parakeet said, "I love you. I love you. I love you." At least, that is what the announcer said the bird would say. Stewart couldn't understand the parakeet's words. At first, he thought it was probably his condition, but then he was fairly certain he saw doubtful expressions on other faces too.

  The boy who owned the white rat held him in his hand. When he released the rat, it ran up the boys arm, across his shoulder, climbed onto the cage, and made its way back inside. "Nothing special, so far," Ms. Gibbs whispered.

  The first two dogs to perform both stood on their back legs to beg for a treat. Then a dog jumped through a hoop. Somehow Stewart focused enough to think that Molly would win. None of the other tricks were as good as Molly's Patty Cake. "Now for the last performer," Carl announced. "Here is Rachel Thomas and her Molly Dot. Her assistant will hold Molly's baby. Rachel handed the puppy to Georgia before she turned back to Molly."

  "Sit," Rachel said, and she reached into her pocket for the treat. Later, going over it all in his mind, Stewart remembered that Ms. Gibbs put her arm around Georgia. That, he decided, was the reason for Molly's behavior. Rachel held up the treat and snapped her fingers. Molly didn't sit up. Instead she turned her head to look at Ms. Gibbs. A low growl came from Molly. "Sit," said Rachel again, but Molly did not sit. Molly lunged. She lunged at Ms. Gibbs, who screamed and ran. Molly followed, her leash bouncing after her. "Stop, Molly!" Rachel yelled, but Molly did not stop.

  The crowd scattered, a couple of women screamed, and Molly barked. "Stop that animal!" Carl yelled. Suddenly three other dogs were running too. They had broken away from their owners, who were now shouting their names.

  For a second, Stewart did nothing except stare. Move, he told himself. He set the cake carrier on one of the chairs inside the ring, and started after Molly. He caught a glimpse of Ms. Gibbs across the big room, her feet pounding the cement floor as she ran toward the door. Molly was close behind. All at once, Molly stopped, sat down, and howled. Stewart was closer now, and he moved his head from side to side. What had become of Ms. Gibbs? She could not have made it to the door, but she was not in sight. He did not stop running, and he reached Molly before Rachel got there. He grabbed the dog's leash. "Whoa, girl. Stay, Molly."

  Then Rachel reached them. She held the puppy in her hands. "See," she said. "I told you. Molly hates her."

  "Get that dog out of here!" Carl crossed the floor, waving his hand in a dismissive way. Rachel's mother was right behind him. Stewart still held Molly's leash, but Rachel snatched it from him.

  "I'll take her," she said. "You'd better be checking on your witch."

  Stewart stood up and looked around. Ms. Gibbs was nowhere to be seen. His father and Georgia came toward him. His father had the carrier under one arm and the lid in one hand. Froggy was not with them. Stewart moved in their direction. "Where's Ozgood?" he said when they were close enough to hear.

  "Ozgood?" His father stopped walking and stood beside him.

  "I mean the frog." Stewart did not meet his father's gaze. "I mean where's the frog?"

  "Someone must have bumped the lid. A lot was happening, and I didn't notice. We need to find him. Wanda will be upset." His father looked around.

  "Where is Wanda?" Georgia was crying. "Why did Molly act so mean? Molly is never mean."

  Just then a voice came over the store's speaker. "Ladies and gentlemen," Carl said. "I am sorry to announce the pet contest is canceled. Each pet will be awarded a three months' supply of food, and thank you for shopping at the Pet Place."

  "Let's go out to the car and see if Wanda is there." Dad started toward the door. "We'll let her decide what to do about the frog."

  Georgia had to be pulled along by her father. "Froggy might get stepped on," she wailed.

  Stewart saw Rachel, her mother, and Molly about to leave the building. Rachel turned back to look at Stewart just before she went out.

  "Wait!" Stewart called. Leaving his father and sister behind, he hurried toward Rachel. She turned away and went out. Stewart waited near the door. He did not want to go on to the car alone. Ms. Gibbs would be furious over the dog attack, and he certainly didn't want to be the person to tell her the frog was missing. Let Dad deal with Wanda Gibbs. Stewart planned to climb into the backseat, hopefully uninvolved.

  Dad and Georgia finally came out. Both the lid and the carrier were stuck under Dad's arm now, and he was pulling Georgia behind him. "Come on," he told Stewart. "Get her other hand." They dragged her between them toward the car.

  Ms. Gibbs sat in the front seat. At first she faced in the other direction. Stewart wanted to crawl inside before she realized they were there, but Wanda Gibbs whirled around just as they approached the car. Stewart hunched his shoulders and stared at the parking lot pavement.

  "It's okay," Georgia's voice sang out. "Wanda's smiling at us. She must have Froggy, else she'd be crying, wouldn't she, Daddy?"

  "Let's just get you into the car." Dad reached out and opened the back door. That's when Stewart gasped with surprise. There was Ozgood! He sat in the backseat with his earphones in his ears, and he swayed slowly to what Stewart knew must be his weird music.

  "Where'd Ozgood come from?" Dad asked Wanda while he pushed Georgia over to the middle of the backseat.

  Georgia didn't wait for the answer. She had her own questions. "Do you know we lost Froggy?"

  Wanda turned back to smile at them all. "Don't worry about Froggy. I picked him up on my way out, and the friend he belongs to was jus
t bringing Ozgood in to me. Didn't that work out well?"

  Stewart shot a look toward his father. Surely the man wouldn't fall for such a flimsy story. Was his Dad so slow-witted that he couldn't see that Wanda had turned the frog back into the boy?

  "Get in, Stewart," was all his father said before closing the back door and going to the front. As he got in, he put out his hand to touch Wanda's cheek. "Are you okay?"

  "I'm fine," she said, "but something has to be done about that vicious dog." She shuddered and pulled her sweater closed. "That animal needs to be put to sleep."

  "No!" screamed Georgia. "Molly's a good dog. Most usually she is. Please don't make her dead."

  Ms. Gibbs turned in her seat. "Oh, darling," she said. "I wasn't serious. We'll just ask the girl to keep her away from us, won't we? Surely even that girl is smart enough to see that the dog needs to be tied up at all times."

  "Her name is Rachel," said Stewart. "She wasn't in art, but you've met her. The girl's name is Rachel, and she is smart enough. She's plenty smart."

  "Oh yes, your friend. Well, if she's smart enough to keep that dog tied up, everything will be fine, won't it?" Ms. Gibbs flashed her biggest smile toward the backseat.

  Stewart leaned back against the seat. Beside him, Georgia was starting to whimper again. "I thought we'd win a prize, but we didn't," she said.

  "Well," said Ms. Gibbs, "why don't we go buy a nice Christmas tree and decorate it this evening. It would make us all feel good."

  "I'm afraid it's too early," Dad said. "The tree would dry out."

  "Oh no," said Ms. Gibbs. "I don't mean a real tree. We'll get a lovely artificial one."

  "You mean for your house?" asked Dad.

  "I don't think we need two trees, do you? We'll get a tree for your house."

  Stewart leaned forward in the seat. "We always get a real tree, right, Dad? We don't like fake trees."