They disappear inside, the doors slamming behind them.
“He’s in sooo much trouble,” I say.
Sunny and Paige nod in agreement. “Do you think we should wait for him?” Sunny asks. “Maybe we can talk to his parents.”
“I’m not talking to his parents!” Paige says.
I’m glad Paige said that, because I don’t want to talk to his parents, either.
Sunny pauses. “Maybe we should let them calm down a little.”
“Like for a year,” I say.
“Or two,” Paige says. “So what do we do now—go home? What a waste of a free afternoon.”
“We could go to the mall and get Martin a sympathy card,” Sunny says.
I don’t think they make SORRY YOU DESTROYED YOUR SCHOOL cards, but I still think the mall’s a fun idea. Paige jumps to her feet. “Let’s go!”
The three of us walk away from the school, but when we reach the corner, something strange happens. My shoes suddenly freeze to the sidewalk.
“Come on, Lacey!” Paige says.
I struggle to lift my foot, but it won’t budge, not even an inch. “I’m trying!”
“What’s wrong with you?” Sunny asks.
“I can’t move!”
Sunny and Paige lean down and tug at my feet, but it doesn’t help.
“Did you do something with your magic wand?” Paige asks.
“No. It’s in my pocket.”
All at once, my shoes turn around and start walking, and so I have to walk, too. “I can’t stop!” I wail.
Sunny and Paige grab my arms, and my shoes kick them. The girls both leap away.
“I’m sorry! It’s not me!”
The shoes start running me in the direction of my house. “I’ll text you!” I yell back at the girls as they vanish into the distance.
When my shoes have trotted me halfway home, I see Scott on the corner doing spins on his unicycle. “Hey, Lacey!”
“Hey, Scott.” It’s going to seem rude if I run right past him, so I try to stop and run in place for a moment. But the shoes keep dragging me down the sidewalk. “I’m…uh…jogging! I want to be in shape for the Uni-Cyclones.”
“That’s great!” Scott pedals alongside me, hopping on and off the curb with the unicycle.
“You’re really good!” I say as my shoes sprint me along.
“Thanks. I’m hoping our whole club can go to the Uni-Convention next spring.”
“Uni-Convention?” You’d think I’d be out of breath from all the running I’m doing, but I think the shoes are doing most of the work.
“It’s in Kingston every year. There are unicycles everywhere! If the school carnival has a good turnout next month, we can get money from the school fund and go.” He suddenly thinks of something. “The water got into the school basement where the carnival supplies are. Do you think a lot of stuff got wrecked?”
“I hope not,” I say.
We reach my house, and my shoes sprint up the porch steps while Scott unicycles in place on the sidewalk.
“I guess I better go,” I say.
“Okay. Lacey, I was wondering something.…”
I wonder what he’s wondering. To try to slow the shoes down, I sit on the porch rail and let the shoes run in the air. It probably looks a little crazy, so I say, “It’s always good to cool down for a while after a run. What did you want to talk about?”
The shoes seem to realize I’m struggling against them, so they (and my feet) air-run even harder. It’s all I can do not to fall off the porch rail.
Scott stammers, “I was kind of wondering if you…you and I…we could go to a—”
Whump! My shoes pedal so hard that I fall backward off the porch rail into the bushes.
“Lacey!” Scott calls over the railing. “Are you all right?”
“Fine! Fine!” I say as my feet kick the side of the house.
As Scott reaches into the bushes to help me up, there’s a booming voice from inside: “LACEY UNGER-WARE! YOU GET IN HERE THIS INSTANT!”
It’s Katarina, but Scott doesn’t know that. “Uh-oh—your mom sounds mad.”
“I better go in.”
“YOU’RE DARN RIGHT YOU BETTER GO IN!”
The shoes march me right to my bedroom.
Only it’s not my bedroom. It’s a classroom, complete with a chalkboard and narrow wooden desks. It looks like something out of an old movie. The shoes yank me to a desk at the front of the room, and I topple into it. A thick book slams down onto the desk, ready for me to study.
Katarina flies up to me. “You were lollygagging at school!”
“I was not lollygagging. I don’t even know what lollygagging means.”
“It means goofing off.”
“I was not!” Okay, that was a lie. But there’s no reason that Katarina needs to know school was canceled.
Suddenly, my feet start tapping and I can’t stop them. TAP TAP, tap TAP, tap TAP tap tap, tap TAP tap tap. “What are they doing?” I ask.
Katarina cocks her head, listening to the sounds. “Morse code, of course. Your shoes say you were going to the mall!”
I look down at my sneakers. “You’re a couple of tattletales! See if I wear you again.”
“Don’t blame your shoes,” Katarina says. “It’s not their fault you were lollygagging.”
“School got canceled!”
“But magic lessons didn’t.”
“That’s not fair! And you stopped Scott in the middle of asking whatever he was going to ask me!”
Katarina rolls her eyes, which makes me even madder.
I cross my arms and glare at her. “And I should get some part of my bedroom for myself! Is it going to be like this forever?”
Katarina says, “Do you think I’m happy about this? I used to have a life, and friends, and lovely parties to go to. Now I’ve just got you, this room, and your detestable cat! It’s all too, too, much.” She puts her head in her hands and sobs, her little shoulders heaving and her wings drooping.
Geez. This is really not fair. This was supposed to be about me, and now it’s about her. Still…she does have a point.
“Don’t cry,” I finally say. “We’re stuck with each other. I’ll study if you’ll split the room with me fifty-fifty.”
Katarina looks up at me with red, puffy eyes. “Seventy-thirty.”
Okay. This is about me. “Fifty-fifty!”
“Sixty-forty, plus you read whatever I tell you to read this weekend.”
I look at Katarina’s sad, smeary face, and I don’t have the heart to argue anymore. “Deal.”
“Start reading,” Katarina says.
I flip open the book on the desk in front of me. At least it’s just one. Maybe I can read it this afternoon and have the weekend free.
Then there’s a rumbling sound, and an old wooden library cart rolls up to me. It’s crammed with dusty books about fairy godmothering.
If I knew Morse code, I’d be tapping out “Help me!”
That cart of books is huge. There’s no way I can read all of those in a weekend! Hmmm…Katarina said it was okay to use magic. But how can magic help me read?
I think about doing a spell that makes all the facts from all the books get zapped into my head. Probably a bad idea: there are at least a hundred ways fact zapping could go wrong, many of them involving my brain popping like a balloon.
Maybe Sunny and Paige would read some of them and give me book reports. But even if they would be nice enough to do that, there’s still too much here to read. I need about ten book reporters. But where would I get all those people?
I know!
Right outside my window, there’s a trail of ants walking by like they always do. A couple of months ago, I did a spell that turned an ant into a little footman—footmen are personal servants and very handy. If a footman can help polish jewelry (which is what my footman did), he can write a book report.
Raising my wand, I chant, “I need many book reports, so send me footmen in shorts!”
Katarina shudders. “Ugh! You’ve made some bad rhymes before, but that one’s the worst!”
Too late; I’ve already tossed the spell. There are flashes of sparkly pink light, and a dozen three-inch-tall men wearing white wigs and satin shorts appear on my windowsill. They all shout, “Milady! What can I read for you?” in their high, squeaky voices.
I go to the library cart and put twelve books on twelve desks. Then I put a footman next to each book and say, “Everybody, read your book and then tell me what it’s about.”
I’m so smart.
Two hours later, I’m thinking, I’m so stupid, as twelve little footmen all simultaneously tell me what they’ve read.
“And then, in 1542, Griselda Greenbriar said…”
“The prince was so happy that he gave Adelaide a solid-gold house. The settee was gold, the fireplace was gold, the bed was gold. And you’ll never guess what the toilet was made of.…”
“By the fall of 1756, her split ends had become unmanageable, and her fairy godmother…Oh, wait, I forgot to tell you that early in 1755…”
There are nine more book reports going on at once. None of them make much sense—they remind me of when Madison tries to tell me about cartoons she watched, and she gets everything mixed up. And with all the footmen talking at the same time, I can’t understand anything.
“Quiet! Quiet!” I plead.
The footmen ignore me and keep on blabbering.
I look over at Katarina, hoping for some teacherly help. She’s sitting on a desk reading another fashion magazine, and she’s wearing fluffy earmuffs over her ears to block out the sound.
On the chalkboard behind her, Katarina has written, Just because you can use magic doesn’t mean you should.
Now she tells me!
The little footmen talk in my ear until midnight. I don’t learn a thing.
By the time I walk to school Monday morning (and believe me, I’m wearing different shoes), I’ve read so many fairy godmother autobiographies that my brain hurts. Since the footmen weren’t helpful at all, I had to read the old-fashioned way. With my eyes. My burning, tired eyes. I’d tell you some titles, but the books were all about people you’ve never heard of helping other people you’ve never heard of.
Sunny joins me along the way. “Where were you this weekend? I texted you about a million times.”
“Katarina took my phone because she wanted me to study. What did I miss?”
“Martin’s mom called my mom and told her I needed to leave Martin alone.”
“That’s weird! Why?”
“Mrs. Shembly said Martin needs to concentrate on his violin and stay out of trouble.”
“You weren’t the one who got him into trouble! You guys weren’t even spending that much time together.”
“That’s what my mom said. And she said a few other things, too, before she hung up on Mrs. Shembly.”
I love Sunny’s mom. “Are you upset about it?”
“No. I’m just upset for Martin. He doesn’t have that many friends.”
I think about what she just said, and I’m sure Sunny is right. These days, Martin needs all the friends he can get.
When we reach the school, we see a new chain link fence around what’s left of the old water tower. The legs look so bare without the Lincoln stovepipe hat on top of them.
Mrs. Neff, our homeroom teacher, tells us to go straight to the gym for an assembly. This has never happened before, at least not that I can remember.
“You don’t think the assembly’s going to be about Martin, do you?” Sunny whispers in my ear.
“I don’t think it’s going to be about Martin—I know it is.”
After we sit down in the bleachers in the gym, Principal Conehurst walks to the podium. Usually before an assembly, everybody’s giggling and joking. But today he looks so serious that all the students are quiet.
Principal Conehurst switches on the microphone. “Good morning, students. I didn’t want rumors spreading, so I would like to talk to you all directly about the incident on Friday and its consequences.”
Ooh. An adult talking about “consequences” is never a good thing.
“I’ve been meeting all weekend with the school board, and there are three things I need to tell you. First, it was decided that, since the water tower was so severely damaged, it will be torn down.”
There are unhappy murmurs from the kids, and Principal Conehurst raises his hands for silence. “I know the water tower is a symbol of the school, but there’s simply not enough money in the budget to repair something that hasn’t been used in years.”
Yikes. The kids are definitely going to blame Martin for this. I look around to see how he’s reacting, but I don’t see him anywhere.
Principal Conehurst says, “The next decision was about the school carnival. All the carnival supplies were stored in the school basement, where we had severe flood damage. Unfortunately, the school’s insurance policy doesn’t cover flood damage. So I’m very sorry to tell you that this year’s carnival is going to have to be canceled.”
Now there aren’t just unhappy murmurs from the crowd—there are groans and moans. The carnival isn’t fancy, but it’s fun and everyone looks forward to it. There are games and prizes and booths. At least there were games and prizes and booths, until Martin decided it was a good idea to zip-line off the water tower.
Principal Conehurst taps on the microphone. “Quiet, everyone. I’m almost finished. The third thing I need to tell you also isn’t very pleasant. The carnival raised money for many of the after-school clubs’ activities. So, for this year at least, all you Lincolnites will need to pinch your pennies. No new supplies will be bought, and all field trips will be canceled.”
OMG! This is horrible. I’m in five clubs! That’s five field trips I won’t get to go on!
Makayla leaps to her feet. “Principal Conehurst! I can still go to the Online News Association banquet, right?”
Principal Conehurst shakes his head. “There just won’t be the money for that, Makayla. I’m very sorry.”
Makayla’s eyes turn fierce. “This is all Martin Shembly’s fault! He’s wrecked everything! The water tower! The carnival! The clubs! And what are you going to do about it!”
“Makayla, this isn’t the place—”
“Yes, it is! He should be expelled! Or arrested! Or both!”
“Miss Brandice, sit down right now!”
Ooh. She got Miss-ed. Even Makayla is no match for that, so she sits back down on the bleachers.
Principal Conehurst looks out at all of us sternly. “I understand how disappointed everyone is, but I want to make one thing perfectly clear. I won’t tolerate any bullying. Any reprisals against Martin Shembly will result in suspension or worse. This is the end of the assembly. Now go to your first period classes.”
Everyone in the gym starts talking at once. The one word I keep hearing is “Martin.”
And for Martin, that’s not a good thing.
Sunny turns to me. “Where is he?”
As Sunny and I walk to first period, we see Mrs. Fleecy behind her counter in the school office.
“I’m going to find out what’s going on,” Sunny says, and I follow her as she goes up to the counter. “Is Martin okay?” Sunny asks.
“That’s confidential, dear.”
“I have to know! He’s my friend—except now his mother won’t let me talk to him.” Sunny’s eyes shine, and I can tell she’s trying not to cry.
Mrs. Fleecy leans forward and pats Sunny’s hand. She says in a low voice, “He’ll be all right. He’s suspended for a week, and then he’s got three months of campus cleanup duty. It could have been a lot worse.”
Ugh. Campus cleanup is this new thing that Principal Conehurst started, where instead of just sitting around in detention, you have to spend your time helping the janitor empty garbage cans and mop stuff up.
Maybe it could have been worse, but three months of that is still really, really bad.
When Martin returns to school a week later, he’s gone from being sort-of-invisible to being the biggest outcast in Lincoln Middle School’s history. People hate him. If it were me, I’d spend all my time hiding. But Martin can’t hide—he’s got campus cleanup duty.
I’m worried that Martin will get beaten up, but that doesn’t happen. Instead, people “accidentally” trip him, step on his feet, and knock his books out of his hands. People always tell him sorry, but they don’t mean it. They’re mad at Martin, and they’re letting him know it.
Makayla, who’s got to be absolutely furious about losing her trip to the news banquet, never once says the words “Martin Shembly” on her morning webcasts. But one night she posts a video on her “Makayla Unscripted” Web site. (She has a script for the webcasts? Who knew!)
She talks into the camera. “Hello, Lincoln Middle School. This is Makayla Brandice, speaking from her heart.” (She has a heart? Who knew!) “I’m worried about Martin Shembly. I don’t think he’s very happy at Lincoln Middle School. I’ve found a number of wonderful military academies and correctional boarding schools that might be perfect for him. Martin, if you’re listening, I’ll post them on my site. If I were you, my very top choice might be the Grindavik Academy in Chile. It’s safe and secure, and I’m sure that live volcano is nothing to worry about.”
Makayla pauses like she’s thinking deep thoughts. “But while Martin is still with us, fellow students, remember to be extra, extra, extra tidy in the halls. We wouldn’t want to make poor Martin’s life harder with spills, and gum, and trash, would we?”
Wow. Makayla is sneaky. She’s pretending to be nice, but she’s really sending out a not-so-secret message about how to make Martin’s life even more miserable.
A lot of kids must have watched Makayla’s video because Martin’s campus cleanup the next day is the worst ever. He has to scrape gum off the hallway floors, pick up overturned trash cans in the boys’ bathroom, and mop up mud from the gym floor.
After school, Sunny and I peer into the cafeteria and see Martin by himself looking at gallons of grape soda spilled on the floor. “Martin’s life stinks,” Sunny says.
The Spell Bind Page 4