Just Add Magic

by Cindy Callaghan

  This idea made me a little nervous, because maybe the girls and I made my little brother lose his voice, and maybe we gave Charlotte painful blisters on her feet. I mentally examined the last few days: Darbie had Rollerbladed to my house a million times, and this week she wiped out. In fact, she couldn’t stop wiping out. And me, I had to carry Charlotte’s books. But why hadn’t anything bad happened to Hannah?

  Before drifting off to sleep, I got out of bed and approached the computer. I googled “Law of Returns.” The online dictionary defined it exactly as Señora Perez and Hannah had. And it sounded a lot like karma. After surfing around, I found some info I didn’t like about karma. I read that it was a phrase used by witches. Some scholars even believed that the Salem Witch Trial hangings in 1692 were actually the Law of Returns punishing those witches with death. Suddenly, carrying Charlotte’s books didn’t sound so bad.

  My eyelids felt heavy. After a while, I fell asleep at the computer and dreamed. . . . I was walking to the bus stop, but when I turned around, my house had disappeared. Charlotte was on my shoulders and she was very heavy. I saw Bud in the distance. Behind him was a group of Gypsy-people dancing barefoot. I felt hot air on my back and turned to see a dragon chasing me. I ran as fast as I could, but Charlotte got heavier with each step. I called to Darbie, but my tongue was gone. I thought Coach Richards was yelling at me to do sit-ups.

  I woke up sitting at the desk.

  The clock read four a.m.

  Kelly Quinn out.

  15

  Punked-Out-Pumped-Up-Poo-Poo-Potion

  Get:

  1 bad dream

  20 bricks

  1 case of the heebie-jeebies

  1 love-potioned seventh-grade boy

  Directions:

  Whisk together in Home Ec class until

  everything is completely mixed up.

  The next morning her majesty knocked on the back door.

  I sighed and got my stuff for school.

  Apparently Charlotte had chosen to bring bricks to school, just to make sure I suffered. And of course she couldn’t even carry her own stupid red umbrella. Charlotte was talking and talking about her cousin’s wedding . . . a dress . . . blah blah blah.

  I saw a woman about my mom’s age in a tennis outfit strolling down Mrs. Silvers’s driveway toward the newspaper. Ever since we’ve lived across the street from Mrs. Silvers, I’ve never seen another person at her house.

  “Good morning, girls,” the woman said cheerfully.

  “Hello,” I said. Charlotte kept walking and talking, not even noticing that I had stopped. “Umm, who are you?” I asked.

  “I’m Joanne Silvers, Regina’s daughter. I’m staying here while she’s in the hospital.”

  “Did you say ‘hospital’?”

  “Kelly Quinn, if we miss the bus, you’re going to be sorry,” Charlotte yelled from the end of the block, hands on her hips.

  Joanne said, “You better get going.” And she disappeared into the house.

  At that precise moment everything became clear. We had been warned, we hadn’t listened, and now we were cursed.

  If you do bad things, bad things will happen to you. I gave Mrs. Silvers the Fresh Citrus Squeeze to cause her strife, so that she would stop calling me to scoop her poop. And now she was in the HOSPITAL!

  What will the payback be?

  WHEN?

  At the next curb I came to a full stop. I mean, I completely halted and carefully looked both ways for oncoming traffic. By the time I felt it was safe to cross, Charlotte was halfway across the street, still talking. At the corner I stood way back on the sidewalk, for fear the bus driver would lose control and the giant yellow school bus would run me over.

  Could that be a bad enough punishment for SENDING SOMEONE TO THE HOSPITAL?

  I sat on the bus, holding my breath until Darbie and Hannah got on.

  I couldn’t talk.

  “What’s the matter?” Darbie asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  I was totally tongue-tied. That’s it! I’ve swallowed my own tongue. I won’t be able to talk ever again!

  Hannah dropped her lunch out of its paper sack and handed me the bag. “Here, breathe into this,” she said. “Count to ten.”

  I counted really fast, one-two-three.

  Darbie said, “Slow down, Shoobe.”

  The bag crinkled as it collapsed and filled back up. I took several breaths before I lowered the paper bag to my lap. My fingers searched the inside of my mouth. Phew. My tongue was there.

  I quickly explained the Law of Returns, Señora Perez’s warning, karma, and my late-night Internet research.

  “They’re all the same thing?” Darbie double-checked.

  I nodded and told her the rest. “Remember last time Mrs. Silvers called me to scoop? Remember I told you that I’d just had it with her? I stirred up a drink from the Book.”

  Hannah said, “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

  “I made a drink that would cause strife.” I leaned my head forward onto the back of the green plastic bus seat.

  “Wow, strife is not good,” Darbie said. She stared out the window. “What exactly is strife?”

  Hannah said, “If you want to cause someone strife, you want to cause them a difficulty or a hassle, maybe a conflict or problem of some kind.”

  “Sure,” I said. “Hassle, difficulty, conflict. They’re all fine. I just wanted her to leave me alone. And this morning I found out that she’s in the hospital. Do you know what that means?”

  “You poisoned her?” Darbie asked.

  “Oh my God, do you think I poisoned her?”

  Hannah said, “No. You didn’t poison her. What did you put in the drink? Not drain cleaner or anything like that, right?”

  “No,” I said. “Just oranges, lemon juice, cherry juice, and mint, like the Book said.”

  “See,” Hannah said. “You didn’t poison anyone.”

  “Then there’s no problemo,” Darbie said.

  I picked up the bag and started to breathe in it really fast again. Into it I said, “Yeth, therth thill—”

  Hannah pulled the bag away. “We can’t understand you. What’s wrong?”

  “There’s still a big problem. I made her a drink from the Book, which sent her to THE HOSPITAL!” I exclaimed. “The warnings say that something bad is going to happen to me now.”

  Hannah tried to calm me. “She got sick. Old people go the hospital all the time. It just happened on the same night you brought her the juice. It’s just a co—”

  “Don’t you dare say ‘coincidence,’” I said.

  Darbie said, “I have to agree with Kelly on this one, Hannah. You saw what happened to Bud and Charlotte. It can’t all be a coincidence—those recipes from the Book have some special powers.”

  Hannah blew her bangs out of her face.

  Darbie asked, “I mean, what are the odds of Mrs. Silvers going to the hospital right after Kelly gives her some punked-out-pumped-up-poo-poo-potion she made from an ancient book of hidden secret recipes that contained a warning saying ‘Beware of the Law of Returns’?”

  I answered: “Those odds are not very good. Not very good at all. But I really didn’t mean to hurt her!”

  “It appears that doesn’t matter. We need to keep you really safe,” Darbie said. “OMG!” She clapped her hand over her mouth.

  “What?” Hannah asked.

  Darbie lowered her hand. “I just had a thought about this Law of Returns mumbo-jumbo-jigsaw-mambo. What if I got the klutzies for giving Bud that Shut-the-Heck-Up Cobbler? And . . .” She slapped her face again.

  “What?” I asked.

  “You’re carrying Charlotte’s books as payback for hexing her legs,” she said. “Think about it. I was the one who added the vetivert to the cobbler, and you added the rue to the pie. “And . . .” She slapped her face a third time. This time her eyes got really wide.

  “What now?” I asked.

  “Hannah . . . ,” she said,
her face growing pale.

  “What about me?” Hannah asked.

  “What’s going to happen to you for”—Darbie looked up the aisle and lowered her voice—“potioning FR with magic Love Bug Juice? You added the special ginseng.”

  We were so busy speculating about the disastrous fate that awaited Hannah that we didn’t notice that the Rusamanos had gotten on the bus, or that the bus had arrived at school. None of us checked out Frankie’s current love status.

  I gathered my things and Charlotte’s stuff. Hannah and I started to get off the bus. Darbie stopped us. “Let me go first. I need to make sure nothing bad happens to you two Shoobedoobedoowhops today. I can handle a few bruises.” Darbie walked down the long bus aisle, inspecting every inch of the bus for danger. She descended down the first step. Then, tripping over her own feet, she plunged to the curb. Her backpack broke her fall.

  Hannah blew her bangs out of her face. “And who’s going to make sure nothing bad happens to you?”

  “I’m all right!” she called from the ground.

  I dropped Charlotte’s hundred-ton backpack at her locker. As usual, she failed to thank me. We headed to homeroom. I told the girls about my dream on the way.

  The teacher began calling roll: “Bill Applegate.”

  “Here.”

  “What should I do?” I asked Hannah.

  “You should just chill out,” she said. “I hate to state the obvious, but Darbie fell down because she isn’t a great Rollerblader. Don’t make this into something it isn’t.”

  “Hannah Hernandez?”

  “Here!” She lowered her voice. “If you really think that doing bad things gives you bad luck, why don’t you try doing some good things to get some good luck?” She straightened her books on her desk. “I don’t think you’re in any danger, but if you think you are, there’s someone you can go to for help.”

  Darbie said, “Don’t say what I think you’re going to say.”

  “Señora Perez.”

  “She said it anyway,” Darbie said. “That lady gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

  “Darbie O’Brien?”

  “Here.”

  Hannah said, “Fine. Don’t talk to her. Kelly can become a tongue-tied, barefoot Gypsy who gets chased by a dragon instead.”

  I said, “Hannah’s right. Señora Perez knows something about the Law of Returns. Maybe she even knows something about the Book. In the meantime, we need to think about how to undo this mess.”

  “Fine.” Darbie sighed. “We’ll go see Señora Perez.”

  “Kelly Quinn?”

  “What do you mean we?” Hannah asked. “I like to keep a distance between myself and animal carcasses. Thanks anyway.”

  “What are you, chicken?” Darbie asked. She put her hands under her armpits and moved her elbows up and down. “Boc, boc, boc.”

  Hannah said, “Sticks and stones, Darb, sticks and stones.”

  “MISS QUINN? Are you with us today?”

  “Si!”

  * * *

  Over the mixer’s hum I heard Mr. Douglass clapping his hands. I turned it off and saw Frankie Rusamano standing at the front of the classroom. “Okay, class,” Mr. Douglass said. “We have a new student to add to our class. Everyone, please welcome”—he looked at a pink slip of paper from the school office—“Franklin Rusamano to our happy haven of free expression. Franklin, you may choose to work with anyone you wish. And welcome!”

  Frankie cautiously backed away from Mr. Douglass, dropped his books on an empty desk, and came over to my kitchen area.

  “Hi, Franklin,” I said. “Now who looks scared? Frankie Rusamano is scared of the Home Ec teacher.”

  “I’m not afraid of the teacher. I’m afraid of cooking. So I’m glad you’re my partner.”

  Partner? “Don’t you ever cook at home? Isn’t that, like, your mom’s favorite thing to do?”

  “Exactly. She cooks. I eat. I’m not afraid of eating. I’m good at eating, actually.” He peeked into the bowl and slipped his index finger along the edge for a lick. He tasted it and looked at me. “Mmmmm, good. I’m really glad you’re my partner. You know, we don’t spend enough time together.”

  “We don’t?” What’s gotten into him?

  “No. I’ve been thinking. We should probably hang out more often.” He cocked an eyebrow.

  “We should?” What is he talking about? I turned the mixer back on and blended nervously. Loudly I asked, “Umm, what are you doing here? I mean, why are you even in Home Ec?” I turned off the mixer.

  He smiled, mouth closed. “Maybe it’s just to spend more time with you.”

  Okay, something is wrong here. “Seriously?” I looked at Frankie like he was crazy.

  “Sure. But I also forgot to sign up for a non-core class this year. The guidance counselor looked at my schedule and told me I would have to add one or make it up at summer school. I don’t want to go to summer school. Woodworking, Drawing, Painting—even Pottery was full. So here I am. But I didn’t realize you were in this class. Now it’s not as bad as I thought.” He did the eyebrow thing again. “Did you already find out if you made the soccer team?” Frankie asked.

  “Not yet. We have two more tryouts.”

  “I heard that Coach is going to take everyone who tried out. But even if he didn’t, you would still definitely make the team,” he said, staring at me strangely. I wiped my cheek in case there was some flour on it.

  “Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence. But, if that’s true, then why would he bother having tryouts?”

  “Probably because it makes you guys—I mean girls—practice harder.”

  “I don’t think Coach Richards would do that,” I said. But, now that I was thinking about it, I didn’t see why he couldn’t take everyone. Only about eighteen girls were trying out. And I had to admit I’d been running my heart out trying to impress him. If Frankie was right, Coach Richards was quite clever.

  “Do you wanna mix?” I asked.

  “Not really. You’re doing a great job.” He stared at me with a twinkle in his eye.

  Why is he looking at me like that? “Are you feeling okay?” I touched his forehead and suddenly jerked my arm away. “You shocked me!”

  “What can I say? Maybe there’s some kind of chemistry between us.”

  Okay, we’ve reached a level of weirdness that I’m not sure I can handle.

  “You’re in an awfully good mood,” I told him, angling the muffin pan so I could pour in the batter.

  “Why wouldn’t I be in a good mood, here with you, watching you cook. You don’t have a problem with me watching you cook, do you? I like watching you cook.”

  I shrugged as Mr. Douglass strolled over and looked over my shoulder. I poured the batter into muffin tins that Frankie now held. “Excellent. Franklin and Kelly, you make a wonderful team.”

  “See, Kell, I told you so,” Frankie whispered to me, and then he did the craziest thing. . . . He winked at me.

  OMG. Could the Bug Juice have backfired? That was it! The Love Bug Juice got its target mixed up. And now Frankie had the hots for me instead of Hannah!

  Question: What was I going to do?

  Answer: I was going to visit a spooky Mexican cooking store

  to talk to a fortune-teller with a freaky lookalike bird and beg

  her to help me get out of this mess.

  With my muffins laid out on a cooling rack under Mr. Douglass’ nostrils, I speed walked out of Home Ec to get away from Frankie. “You’ve done it again, Ms. Quinn,” I heard Mr. Douglass say as I scooted out of the classroom.

  I stopped Darbie in the hallway.

  “Darbie, listen carefully, we only have a few minutes before Science, and my legs don’t want to find out what Coach Richards will do if we’re late.”

  “What’s the matter?”

  “There’s a little problem with the Love Bug Juice.”

  “Oh no, please tell me Frankie hasn’t turned into a grasshopper.”

  “No,” I said. />
  “Moth?”

  “No.”

  “Oh no, not a scorpion. It’s a scorpion isn’t it? Something venomous,” Darbie said.

  “No!” I held her arms to keep her attention. “Frankie has a crush on me. Maybe he’s in love with me, who knows. At this point, anything is possible.”

  “Yeah, and I’m gaga over Mr. Douglass.”

  “You are?” I asked. This was a bigger mess than I thought.

  “No. I was just kidding,” Darbie said. “Get a grip.”

  “Please don’t joke right now, Darb. I’m totally serious. We have to go to La Cocina today. The Law of Returns is gonna get me. Maybe I’ll die a painful death. We need to reverse the Law of Returns and we need an antidote for the love potion before Hannah finds out about Frankie.”

  “Sounds like we’re going to have a busy afternoon,” she said. Darbie was such a great friend. “But I’ve had a crap-ola day too. I got gum in my hair. The nurse had to cut it out. Look.” She showed me a section of her hair, but I didn’t think it looked any different. “And I sat on my Twinkie. I look forward to my afternoon Twinkie. Today I didn’t have one. So, I’m grumpy.”

  “Thanks for warning me.” Frankie crushing on me certainly wasn’t a good thing, but it didn’t seem so awful compared to the bad luck Darbie was having.

  Darbie declared, “We need to get rid of this bad luck before I wither away to nothing from lack of Twinkies.”

  “We will. This afternoon. At La Cocina.”

  Darbie said, “I might not last that long.”

  “Well, be careful. I’m going to avoid Frankie. And until we can talk to Señora Perez, let’s just do as many nice things as we can in case Hannah is right about getting some good luck from it.”

  Just then Mrs. Eagle, the librarian with supersonic hearing, walked up and said, “Girrrls, the late bell has rrrung.” (She rolled her Rs when she talked.) “You arrre now late. So, you will spend the afterrrnoon with me in detention.” She walked into the library and closed the door.

  “Well, that’s just hunky-flippin’-dory,” Darbie said. “One more bad thing to add to my list. Detention. No, it’s worse. Detention without a Twinkie.”