Cattywampus

by Ash Van Otterloo

  Tyler frowned and pressed harder. “ ’Sides, I don’t really love the idea of turnin’ into Big ’n’ Ugly again. Threatening folks ain’t really my style. Help … oughta look like being kind.”

  “Are zombies really folks?” Katy asked, nose wrinkled.

  “Guess not,” Tyler admitted. “Still. Seems like we might be in over our heads.”

  “Maybe. It’s complicated.” Katy struggled to her feet and they began walking toward Puppet.

  Tyler bit his lip. “I mean, unless you think we can really do it. Are you pretty sure you can do the hex, once we find the well?”

  Katy’s heart thudded. “Tyler? Can you keep a secret?”

  “Sure.” Tyler scratched his ear. “I’ve had a lot of practice, I guess, with the whole Snarly Yow thing.”

  Katy drew a ragged breath. “Okay, here it is. I’m not sure my magic can be fixed. Hearn magic travels from mother to daughter, woman to woman. And I have something called androgen insensitivity.”

  Tyler’s face fell. “Are you … you ain’t dying, are you?”

  “No, silly. I’m not sick. It’s just … I have XY chromosomes, where most girls have two Xs. And even though I like myself fine, I think maybe I’ve confused the magic. Like it might not work for me. Ever.” Saying it out loud was a relief, but now, her worry felt more real.

  “Oh. Huh. Cool.”

  Katy raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think having goofed-up magic is very ‘cool.’ ”

  “I meant … the other thing. You’re unique!”

  “Yeah. But that’s why I’m worried.”

  “So why not ask your family to help you?”

  Katy jutted her chin. “I still want to try to do it alone. I’ve got to. I don’t want to disappoint Delpha. And my family will feel sorry for me, or worry about me, and I don’t want that.”

  Tyler’s eyebrows furrowed. “But if folks see the zombies, they’ll start asking questions. Don’t you reckon they’ll trace it back to your family?”

  Katy walked faster. They’d almost caught up with Delpha. The dark-haired girl stood with shoulders drooped, struggling to animate Puppet. Katy lowered her voice.

  “Probably. If the zombies don’t kill them first.”

  “Maybe if we figure out what a ‘bond’ is, that’ll help,” Tyler offered. He smiled, but his eyes stayed clouded. He’s trying to be hopeful for my sake, Katy realized. Even though his optimism was just a kindness, it made her want to fight for her magic.

  “My cousin’s ghost said ‘my fur’ right before she disappeared. I think that might be a clue to what my ‘bond’ is. What could ‘my fur’ mean?”

  “Fur coat? Maybe she was super attached to it and misses it.”

  “That ain’t it. Fur … furniture? Fertilizer?”

  “Furby?”

  Katy giggled. “Furbies are not magical. They’re creepy.”

  Puppet groaned, coming to life. Delpha wiped her nose on her sleeve, then spat red into the dirt. Katy winced. “You got more food in that bag?” she whispered. “Delpha’ll be hungry as a bear again. Doing magic turns her into a food furnace.”

  Tyler unzipped the backpack. “We’re down to baby carrots, Vienna sausages, and broccoli.”

  Katybird wrinkled her nose. “You brought broccoli? Even my mama’s plant magic can’t make broccoli taste good.”

  Tyler wiggled his eyebrows. “But it’s good for you! And d’you know the scientific name ‘crucifer’ comes from the same Latin root as ‘crucify’? Guess the ancient Romans thought broccoli was pure torture too.”

  Tyler laughed at his own joke, then kept chattering. But the phrase “pure torture” stuck in Katybird’s mind like a song on repeat. Pure torture, pure torture. Katy had heard that recently, but when? Her forehead puckered. The words felt important. She tried the trick of thinking of something else instead, but nothing popped into her head.

  “C’mon, y’all!” Delpha called. She sagged inside Puppet’s doorway, wand raised. Katy and Tyler climbed inside, as anxious as Delpha to get going.

  Puppet lurched down the hill, jarring Katy’s bones. Tyler settled cross-legged on the floor, still fiddling with his portable radio. “Too bad your cousin couldn’t have been clearer about the whole ‘bond’ thing.”

  Delpha snorted. “Seeing as she’s dead, I’d say she did her best. Anyway, you didn’t help much, Nimble. Next time, knock,” she spat.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, I’ll knock the next time I’m risking my neck to warn you that your pet zombies have escaped—”

  Katy wished they’d both shut up, because her thoughts were confetti in a whirlwind. “Pure torture” still plagued her. She absentmindedly picked some of Podge’s shed fur from her sleeve. Katy’s thoughts gathered into a single idea. Podge!

  “That’s IT!” Katybird exclaimed, grabbing Delpha’s sleeve. “I think Echo was sayin’ it was pure torture being parted from Fatso, her cat!”

  Delpha shook her arm loose. “Don’t touch the driver! What do you mean?”

  Katybird turned to Tyler, heart racing. “What do all the Hearn zombies have in common?”

  “Poor skin care?”

  “Pets! They all have animals! When Echo said ‘my fur,’ I think she meant her fur baby—her pet! She was talking about Fatso!”

  “You think Fatso was Echo’s bond?”

  “Yes! And if Fatso is Echo’s bond, that means I need a bond, too. It’s my raccoon, Podge. It has to be. He’s like … my heart!”

  “This is turning into a wild-goose chase, Hearn,” Delpha groaned. “Are you sure you can’t just try harder to make your magic work? We’re cutting it close here.”

  “I’m doing the best I can!” Katy protested. She swallowed the fat lump in her throat. “We can’t all be you. Now, will you help me find Podge, or not?”

  Stomp, stomp, stomp went Puppet’s legs. After several tense minutes, Delpha let out a frazzled sigh. “All right, Katy. After we find the well.”

  “Thanks,” Katy whispered.

  Tyler resumed messing with the radio dial like nothing had happened, but Katy suppressed a smile. Delpha had used Katy’s first name. And she’d agreed to help Katy find Podge. A friendly, warm sensation—hope, Katy realized—spread from her heart outward.

  Maybe we’ll make it to town before the zombies get there. Maybe Podge isn’t dead, after all. Maybe we won’t all die.

  Doubt tried to whisper in Katybird’s ear, same as always.

  To drown it out, Katy kept right on maybe-ing herself to the rhythm of Puppet’s running, like a prayer.

  Maybe we’ll find the well water, then find Podge, then fix my magic.

  Maybe we’ll undo the curse, and I’ll make my mama and nanny proud, after all.

  Maybe I’ll be a nature talker.

  Maybe I’m a real witch.

  Maybe, maybe, maybe.

  BY THE TIME THEY’D SKIDDED TO A STOP ON THE edge of town, Tyler looked green from Puppet’s frantic side-to-side rocking. He looked crabby, too, as he fished through his bag and pulled out a bag of carrots and a container of herb capsules, yanking on the zipper harder than strictly necessary. “Here,” he said, thrusting the carrot bag into Delpha’s hands before swallowing one of the capsules. Delpha wiped the blood from her nose and raised an eyebrow.

  Katy was quieter than normal, too. She was twisting her friendship bracelets on her wrists nonstop, looking nervously around every few seconds.

  Delpha’s muscles felt like she’d been hit by a falling piano. She grimaced in the blinding midday sun and crunched a carrot. No sign of the zombies.

  They left Puppet hidden in a stand of cypress trees behind the hardware store with the McGill spellbook inside—it was a hair conspicuous looking—then quietly trudged toward the quaint congregation of buildings that was downtown Howler’s Hollow.

  The tantalizing haze of pit-style barbecue smoke drifted through the air along with the clingy odor of fresh-cut grass. An employee from Sadie’s Kitchen clanged the bell in front of the restau
rant to announce they were now serving an early lunch of fresh sweet tea, fried catfish, and shrimp ’n’ grits. Microphone feedback shrieked from a large gazebo stage as a voice boomed, “Test, one-two-three, a-hey-and-ahidey-ho!” Soft flapping and ting, ting, ting sounds filled the air as a breeze teased its way through dozens of canvas booths tied onto metal frames, providing relief to the craftspeople as they sold their wares in the midday heat. Katy plastered a cheerful smile on, and Tyler bounced on his heels, apparently buoyed from the sudden rush of chatter.

  Main Street was crammed to the edges with folks scarfing fried plantains, fish, and boiled peanuts. Delpha’s head swam with hunger, and she stumbled in her boots, crashing into a balding man holding a funnel cake. The man brushed off his shirt and snarled at Delpha, “Watch it, young’un!” Delpha apologized, but the man only eyed Delpha suspiciously.

  Katy’s breath was hot on Delpha’s ear as she hissed, “For mercy’s sake, Delpha, your wand!”

  Delpha snatched the wand from behind her ear and thrust it into her back pocket.

  “What are you young’uns playin’ at? Wizards?” A tense smile settled on the man’s face. “Ain’t you … Kathleen McGill’s girl?”

  Fear pierced through Delpha’s chest. She shook her head stupidly. Her brain was so tired, it wasn’t working right. Katybird slid in and winked. “Hi, Mr. Bell. Delpha’s working on a top secret whittlin’ project for the museum, but we’ll let you in on it since you’re a patron. She’s tryin’ her hand at making full-sized Irish whistles.”

  Delpha bobbed her head in agreement. Bless you, Hearn.

  Mr. Bell’s wife joined him. “Well, Katybird Hearn! Your mama’s been worried sick about you all mornin’, baby. I heard her askin’ around for you down at the museum booth.”

  “Thanks, Miz Imogene. I’ll go right down and see her,” Katy replied politely. Out of the corner of her eye, Delpha saw Katy pull her hands into her jacket sleeves.

  The couple wandered off, whispering as they went.

  “That was close,” Katybird muttered. Her bottom lip wobbled. “My mama’s worried about me. She’s right to be, too, Delpha.”

  “Don’t get off track,” Delpha snapped. The world around her spun in a tilt-a-whirl of food smells, bright sun, and crowd chatter. One of her knees buckled. She reached into her pocket for the familiar comfort of her knife, but her fingertips brushed nothing but grit and lint. Gone. Where had she lost it? She groaned inwardly. Probably jostled out while she was driving Puppet. They’d covered miles of mountainside, and now it was probably lost for good. It don’t matter, she chided herself. But it did. Delpha felt sick.

  “You need somethin’ besides rabbit food,” Katy observed. “You’re a mess. Your magic is liketa kill you if you don’t slow down!”

  Several heads nearby jerked in their direction.

  “Ix-nay on the agic-may!” Tyler muttered through a fake grin.

  “I’m going to get you some nachos,” Katy huffed.

  Delpha’s stomach vetoed her objections. “Don’t be gone longer than five minutes,” she snapped. “Tyler and I will keep at it.”

  Katy nodded and scurried off into the crowd.

  “This is it,” Delpha said without turning to Tyler. “You got your dowsing stick?”

  Tyler nodded. He pulled out the dowsing rod and drew a deep breath.

  “Remember what Clement said,” Delpha reminded him. “Picture the old Hearn well in your head.”

  Tyler winced as families streamed around them with foil-wrapped sausage biscuits and steaming coffee in their hands, oblivious to the impending zombie doom. “This is weird-lookin’, even for me.”

  Delpha grunted. “Better weird than dead.”

  “Here goes nothin’,” he muttered, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. “I’m dowsing for the old magic Hearn well.” The hazelwood branch jerked sideways so powerfully, it nearly pulled his arms clean out of their sockets. He stumbled forward on the pavement. “Whoa! We shouldn’t have ANY trouble finding this well,” he said, grinning.

  Delpha’s pulse quickened. “Good. Keep going.”

  They weaved through the crowd and past the tents, ignoring quizzical looks and glares as Tyler was pulled along like a drunken go-kart driver, sometimes bumping into people or strollers. “Sorry, sir. ’Scuse me, ma’am.” Delpha winced at the trail of whispers and looks that followed them, but there was no helping it. She hoped to goodness they’d write it off as Tyler being, well, Tyler.

  Finally, the two of them circled the massive gazebo stage that sat halfway down Main Street, where a troupe of traditional cloggers stamped out a rhythm to a live bluegrass band. The gazebo was raised several feet off the ground on stilts, with the space beneath covered in latticework. After several times around the structure, it was clear the dowsing rod was determined to lead them underneath the gazebo.

  “What’re we gonna do?” Tyler moaned. “There’s lattice. And probably eighty people here watching the cloggers!”

  “Let’s go around the back,” Delpha replied, scanning the crowd. “Where’s Katy?” Tyler shrugged. “C’mon, then.” Delpha and Tyler shuffled through the audience, then circled behind the gazebo. There, they found a narrow gap in the lattice for electrical maintenance and wiggled through, crouching to avoid hitting their heads. The cloggers’ feet pounded a deafening cadence above, and Delpha had to shout in Tyler’s ear.

  “We’ll have to dig,” she hollered.

  Tyler unzipped his bag and produced a tiny, fold-up shovel, used for digging latrines while camping. Delpha stuck out her bottom lip and nodded in approval. They took turns digging up the packed red clay, pausing here and there to wipe sweat onto their sleeves. About a foot deep, when Tyler’s wrists had begun to ache and a small pile of dirt had accumulated beside the hole, the shovel hit something with a dull thunk. Delpha’s heart jumped.

  They uncovered the object with shaking hands. It turned out to be a rotting wooden box. Nestled inside it was a petite antique glass bottle of murky brown liquid. The label had long disintegrated, so Delpha gently worked out the cork and sniffed. “Ginseng tincture,” she said, wrinkling her nose and replacing the cork.

  The cloggers stamped offstage, and a fiddle began to play a soft reel overhead. Tyler dropped his voice to a whisper.

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s made from one of the most valuable plants in this region. Folks have harvested it till it’s endangered.” Delpha tilted the old bottle, swirling the liquid. “That’s what this is.”

  “You can’t know that!”

  “I do. My mama’s no stalk witch, but she does make tinctures. It always smells like armpit.”

  “All right. Well, toss it and let’s keep digging for the well!”

  “Hold up,” Delpha grunted, handing Tyler the dowsing rod. “Dowse for Hearn well water again.”

  Tyler frowned but obeyed. This time, the dowsing stick didn’t react to the spot where they’d been digging but went nuts when it got close to the tincture bottle in Delpha’s hand. Tyler groaned. “Dang it. I flubbed it, Delpha. I coulda sworn I had my mind focused on the Hearn well!”

  “I think you got it right. Some Hearn witch prob’ly used her well water to make a tincture, then buried it away for a rainy day, lucky for us.”

  “But Katy can’t drink that! It’ll kill her!”

  “Nah,” said Delpha, pursing her lips. “Tinctures keep forever. The ginseng won’t hurt her. It’s the water that’s important, an’ maybe she’ll only need a drop or two. It’s our best shot. Besides, we can’t waste no more time.”

  Tyler frowned, studying her for a long minute, like he was deciding something about her. Finally he sighed. “You look awful tired, Delpha. You don’t have to take care of everything yourself.”

  Delpha wanted that to be true. “So help me, then. Please?”

  Tyler bit his lip, then nodded. “Okay. Let’s go find Katybird.”

  KATY HELD HER BREATH INSIDE A SMELLY port-a-john, indecision swirling in
her chest. This day was literally stressing the whizz out of her. She’d caught the tiny approving smile on Tyler’s face just as she’d left. He thought she was going to get her mama for help. And Delpha thought Katy was coming right back with nachos. Katy herself thought she’d rather be anywhere but here, caught between two rotten choices.

  Maybe I’ll let fate decide, she worried. She’d get the nachos. Then, if she ran into Delpha first, she’d keep trying the Reverse-Curse. If she ran into Mama and Nanny, she’d ask for help. Either way, you’re a disappointment, Doubt told her.

  Angrily, she slimed her hands with sanitizer before charging down the sidewalk, the noon sun stinging her neck. She kept her eyes peeled for Mr. and Mrs. Bell, too, not wanting another run-in with them after they’d seen Delpha’s wand. Katy shuddered. Folks in the Hollow would be sweet as pie to your face, but they could hold on to gossip and grudges long enough to put the archangels to shame. Not that they’re wrong about us doin’ magic, she thought.

  When Katy reached the end of Main Street without finding the Flores Family Taqueria stand, she doubled back between the two long rows of booths, deciding Delpha could make do with a burger from Moo and Chew. Katy’s nose tickled with the smells of tooled leather, lavender-sage soaps, and the mouthwatering aroma of chili and mustard from Hot Diggity Dog. She sped by them, not stopping to chat with the folks who waved and greeted her by name. As she passed the face-painting tent, a little girl in line pointed at Katy and piped, “Mommy! I want them to paint me pretty hands like hers!” Katy glanced down in dismay to see her fingertips glimmering green.

  Panicking, she pulled them into her sleeves and hurried away before the kid’s mother looked up. Katy jogged behind the booths and onto the sidewalk, hurrying away from the hubbub.

  Pent-up magic raged like fireballs in her knuckles and seared its way up to her elbows. Katy gasped to keep herself from hollering impolite words. She needed to be alone. All the shops would be locked, but the church was always open. Katy darted across the grass toward the brick building with a cross on it and yanked the glass door open.