by Mikey Brooks
“This boy was caught trying to injure one of my students,” said a woman with a slight French accent. “I think a few hours doing kitchen duties might teach him a lesson or two.”
“Lady, I’m not scrubbing pans!”
Ethan immediately recognized the voice of Robbie Maser.
“You’ll be lucky if that’s the worst of it,” the teacher snapped. “You could have seriously hurt that girl. You need to learn a lesson.”
“Chill out, she’ll be fine,” Robbie whined.
“You better hope so, or scrubbing pans will be the least of your worries.”
“Don’t fret, Miss LeBeau,” a familiar voice said. Wasn’t that one of the lunch ladies? Griselda, or something? “We’ll take good care of the boy.”
“Thank you,” Miss LeBeau said sweetly. “Once he has finished his work, please make sure he gets back to Mr. Farris’s class.”
Jax pushed Ethan up against the library door as high heels clicked on the tiled floor. Emmy’s teacher rounded the corner and headed down the hallway. Sudden panic entered Ethan’s stomach. Robbie had tried to hurt someone—a girl! Was it Emmy?
“Like I told her, I’m not scrubbing pans. That’s your job,” Robbie barked.
“Belladonna, this boy seems to have a serious lack of good manners,” the voice of Griselda said.
“I agree, sister, shall we?”
“What are you—?”
There was a brief flash of light, accompanied by a loud sizzle, followed by what sounded like a zap of electricity. Ethan looked to Jax, who despite his brown skin, went pale. They didn’t move, they didn’t even breathe. Ethan could feel his heart pounding, and he knew any second the witches of Roosevelt Elementary were going to come around that corner and do to them whatever they had just done to Robbie.
“That’s better,” Belladonna giggled. “Now, let’s get to work. We only have a couple hours until lunch.”
“Can we make something other than pizza? Honestly, my hands are getting tired of kneading the dough.”
“Let Hazel handle the dough today. You work on the sauce. We need to bump up the dosage on the potion if we’re going to be ready by Halloween.”
“You mean, secret ingredient,” Griselda giggled. “Don’t get too careless, sister.”
The sound of a door flapping closed seemed to echo in the empty spaces of the hallway. Ethan was paralyzed. The witches had cast a spell! They had actually used magic, he knew it. What did they do to Robbie? Not that it mattered; the kid had it coming for the longest time. Ethan was half curious to see if a toad with Robbie’s face now sat in the hallway. Jax took a step forward and Ethan followed.
RIIIIIIIIINNNNGG!
Ethan let out a sound that was somewhere in between a burp and the sound of a baby’s cry. He felt himself come down from the ceiling he’d subconsciously jumped to. Shaking his head, he turned to Jax. His best friend looked like he’d seen a ghost. Kids started to fill the hallway and the color started to return to Jax’s face. He even let out a slight laugh. The rush of kids gave Ethan the courage he needed to look down the hallway. Arm to arm, Ethan and Jax peered down the hallway. It was empty except for a single black shoelace that lay curled in front of the cafeteria’s double doors. Ethan wondered if the shoelace was all that was left of Robbie Maser.
Chapter Twelve: The Dance of the Witch Queen
Emmy could kill Robbie Maser. That bully had gone too far! Thanks to him, Miss LeBeau cancelled the after-school rehearsal. Emmy tried to explain that her ankle didn’t hurt anymore, but Miss LeBeau insisted they take the night off. She also ordered Emmy to keep it elevated and iced.
“I can’t have anything happen to my principle dancer,” Miss LeBeau had said. Those words kept Emmy smiling . . . until she reached the schoolyard. The minute she saw Ethan, she knew he’d been told about Robbie and the rubber band. His worried expression made Emmy think he was on his way to obtaining the title of youngest person with an ulcer ever.
“I’m fine,” she said, planting her butt on the grass. Ethan cocked his head to the side, inspecting the purple bruise under her eye. “Stop staring! I said I was fine.”
“Whoa! Calm down! I didn’t even ask how you were.”
“Well, in case you wanted to ask, I’m fine. And, no, I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Good, because I wanted to talk to you about something else.”
“Really? What kind of twin brother are you? You don’t want to know how I am or what happened?”
Ethan held up his hands in surrender. “You said you didn’t want to talk about it.”
“And you said you were fine,” Jax added.
“Sometimes I wish I had a sister instead of a brother. And maybe she wouldn’t have an annoying friend!” The minute she said it, she wished she hadn’t. Why was she always letting her temper get the better of her? Jax looked shocked, but Ethan looked devastated. “Ethan, I’m sorry—I didn’t—”
“Forget it!” Ethan pushed her hand away. “I don’t want to tell you now. Sorry you’re having such a bad life, Emmy! Maybe you’ll get a sister in the next one!”
Mama J pulled up before Emmy had a chance to say anything. Ethan and Jax jumped into the back of the minivan and pulled the sliding door shut. Emmy growled under her breath and got in the passenger door. Fine, if Ethan and Jax want to play “be mad,” I’ll play “be mad” too.
“How was school today?” Mama J asked when Emmy got in and fastened her seatbelt.
“It sucked,” Emmy, Ethan, and Jax said in unison. Emmy turned around in her seat and shot a glare at Ethan, who rolled his eyes. Jax harrumphed.
Mama J put the car back into park. “You three get out of this car right now. I am going to give you exactly sixty seconds, then you can come back into the car, only this time with a better attitude. Got it?”
Emmy dramatically let out a breath, undid her seatbelt, and stepped out from the minivan. She crossed her arms and glared at the pavement. She refused to look at Ethan and Jax. She was still playing “be mad.” The seconds seemed to drag on like hours. Finally, Mama J rolled down the window.
“Hi kids! How was your day?”
“It was super fun,” Emmy lied, getting back into the minivan. “Best day ever! Yeah, during recess Robbie Maser—you know, the school bully—well, he decided to take my eye out with a rubber band. No, way! Yes, way! I twisted my ankle in the process and now Miss LeBeau won’t let me rehearse today. Total bummer, right? I am so happy, though, because I have to be.”
Mama J was not impressed. She glared Emmy down like she was out to win a black belt in staring. Emmy started to squirm under the stare and suddenly felt stupid.
“Emmy, I don’t know if this is the way you talk to your mama, but it is not the way you will talk to me. I’m sorry that bully is acting up again and that you can’t rehearse for your talent show today, but really that’s no excuse for bad behavior. I’ll wait another two minutes to see if your attitude can get a little less crazy and a whole lot more respectful.”
“I’m sorry. I just—”
“Two minutes, Emmy. I’ll be right here waiting.” She turned to Ethan and Jax. “You two can get in.”
Emmy nodded glumly. Again, she got out of the minivan. This time she caught the gawks of other kids ogling her. She glared back. She must look like an idiot. This wouldn’t have happened if you could just control your temper. Why was it when Emmy didn’t want to hear her inner voice lecture her, it always did? Emmy closed her eyes and tried to focus on her breathing. It wasn’t Ethan, Jax, or Mama J’s fault that she got hurt. It was Robbie’s fault. She needed to stop taking it out on them.
After two minutes Emmy got back into the minivan, and Mama J gave her a hug.
“Sweetie, I know what it’s like to be a girl your age. Everything is emotions. You can tell me about what happened with that bully when we get home. I’ve got double chocolate chip cookies waiting, and I know my cookies fix everything.”
&n
bsp; Mama J was right. After a few gooey cookies and a glass of milk, Emmy was feeling fantastic. Ethan and Jax were still playing “be mad,” but Emmy refused to play back. She tried to apologize several times, but Ethan reminded her each time that he was a worthless brother and Jax was an annoying friend. Emmy didn’t care. She went up to her room and did as Miss LeBeau had instructed, placing an ice pack on her ankle and elevating it.
She leaned back into her pillow and let the warm tingling move up her arms as she opened The Art of Choreography and read a chapter on spirit dances. The more she read the more the warmth coursed up her arms. Her eyelids started to feel heavy.
Whether it was the full stomach, the quiet sound of the ceiling fan rotating, or just being in her bed, Emmy closed her eyes and found herself dreaming.
She was on a stage. Floor lights lined a far wall next to a crimson velvet curtain. Emmy looked down and saw that she was wearing a pale pink tutu. Delicate lace flowers twined around her waist and up into her sleeves. The costume felt fantastic, light and silky against her skin. She looked down at her feet. Pink satin ballet shoes shimmered up at her.
As if she had been doing it all her life, Emmy stepped back on one foot and then lifted herself on point. She stretched her leg out and made the pose she had worked so hard on over the weekend. Soft cathedral-like music began to echo around the stage, and a lazy fog drifted over the floor. She caught the slightest aroma of roses. The curtain lifted and a full moon descended, lighting up the space in front of her. Emmy twirled and danced, letting the haunting music fill her soul.
Beautiful dancers in black sprang from the fog and circled around her, mimicking her motions. The music picked up tempo and a rhythmic drum began to beat in the background, like the pulse of a heart. Emmy changed her motions, keeping in step with the pulse. The dancers came in closer and two of them picked Emmy up. She felt their warm hands under her arms, and as their fingers touched the delicate fabric, her pink costume turned black, the inky color spreading from her sleeves down into her starched skirt and along the translucent tights. She stretched out her foot and her ballet slippers transformed into shiny black pointed shoes. Emmy turned and the fog lifted. The dancers shifted, changing from ballerinas into witches. Their black pointed hats reflected the moon’s light. They closed in around her, reaching out, trying to touch her, but unable.
Emmy lifted her hands in the final pose of her dance routine. The witches fell to their knees as if in worship. Emmy began to pirouette. She spun faster and faster. The witches and the fog mixed together and vanished. The music grew quiet. The moonlight faded.
Emmy stood alone on the stage, crimson roses at her feet. Something twinkled, catching her eye. A silver hand mirror lay amongst the roses. She picked it up and lifted it to her face.
Emmy was beautiful. Her skin was pale and free of any freckles. Her lips were blood red and glossy, complementing the dark mascara and eye shadow. Her ginger hair was sleek and pulled up in an elegant bun with a decorative hairstick. Atop her head rested a tiara. The most beautiful tiara she had ever dreamed of. Emmy was Cleopatra—the Witch Queen.
The fading music changed tempo once more. The drums began to beat again. Emmy tore her eyes from the mirror to see she was surrounded by dark figures all with stark-white expressionless masks. Each figure had a silver necklace with the insignia of the W.H.O. The witch hunters held long, sharp spears in their hands, and they positioned them to strike. Emmy spun round, trying to find a way to escape. They moved in closer and closer.
“Stop!” she ordered. “Stop!”
“Emmaline Margaret Orion,” the hunters said in unison. “You have been found guilty of witchcraft, for which there is but one sentence . . . death.”
The hunters flung their spears forward.
“I’m not a witch!” Emmy protested. “You’re wrong! I’m not a witch!”
The lights on the stage blacked out.
“Emmy, Emmy, wake up, baby,” Mama J said, stroking Emmy’s hair.
“I’m not a witch!” Emmy cried. “I’m not!”
“Oh, child, goodness knows you’re not a witch. Did that Maser boy call you a witch?”
The question made Emmy think back to the incident at school, forgetting about the horrible dream. Robbie had called her a witch.
Emmy nodded.
“Well, don’t you think on that anymore. That boy wouldn’t know a witch if she cast a spell on him. Are you okay? Do you want to talk about anything?”
Emmy shook her head. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a bad dream. She couldn’t even remember what this one had been about. Something about dancing and witches, but that’s all she could recall.
She sat up and laughed. “I feel stupid.”
“Don’t you dare,” Mama J said, smiling. “I have bad dreams too, everyone does. Even Papa Washington occasionally calls out because someone stole his lime Jell-O. Don’t tell him I said so. He likes to think he is the world’s most silent sleeper, and you know as well as the rest of the neighborhood that he snores loud enough to wake the dead.”
Emmy laughed.
“You wanna come help me make dinner? I could use some help.”
Emmy nodded.
Mama J gave her another hug. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”
“Okay.” Emmy got up from her bed and The Art of Choreography dropped to the floor. She picked it up, trying to fix the crumpled pages. A photograph caught her eye. She didn’t know why, but it looked familiar. It was a black and white photo of a dancer posed with her hand in the air holding some sort of stick. Surrounding her were seven black-clad witches on their knees. The caption under the picture read: The Dance of the Witch Queen.
Chapter Thirteen: Keeping Secrets
Ethan hated it when Emmy got rude. She seemed cranky all the time lately. Unless she was dancing, or reading about dancing, or talking about dancing—it was all about dancing. Normally Emmy’s love for dancing didn’t bother him, but right now they had bigger things to worry about than a dumb talent show. Dancing is stupid! Ethan decided that he and Jax needed to come up with a plan. They had to find a way to stop the witches.
“The lunch ladies are planning on doing something at the Halloween party,” Ethan said, thinking back on the conversation they’d overheard. Jax nodded and wrote that down in their top secret notebook. “What do you think it could be?”
“Maybe they’re in charge of the food?” Jax offered. “Maybe they plan on putting an extra dose of their secret ingredient in the punch bowl or something?”
“You mean potion,” Ethan said. “I clearly heard Belladonna say potion.”
“Me, too.”
Ethan nodded and repositioned himself on the floor of Jax’s bedroom. “It has to be more than just spiking the food. Griselda said it as if all the stuff they’ve been doing was to get them ready for Halloween. The potion must be doing something.”
“Well, I looked in the handbook and it didn’t say anything special about Halloween.”
Ethan scrunched his face, trying to think. If they could figure out what the witches had planned, they might be able to stop them. Then there was the memory of hearing them cast a spell on Robbie. The very thought made Ethan terrified of what the lunch ladies could do to him.
Jax looked up from the notebook, catching Ethan’s worried expression. “You know we don’t have to do anything. We can pretend we don’t know and just wait for your mom and dad to get home.”
Ethan had thought about that. His parents had promised before they left they’d be back by the end of the week, but that didn’t give them much time to figure out what to do. Ethan also wanted to prove his capabilities by taking on the lunch ladies. If he pretended nothing was wrong, like some ostrich with its head in the sand, his parents would think he was a dweeb—not witch hunter material.
“No,” Ethan snapped. “We’re going to stop them. We know what we have to do. Even if we have no idea how to contact the wardens, we can at least
break the witches.”
“Yeah, but how do you expect us to get their wands? They aren’t just going to hand them over.”
Ethan pointed at the notebook. “That’s why we’re planning this out.”
“Dude, I’ve got like three things written down and none of them are plans to get wands from the witches’ hands. Maybe there are some case studies or something.”
“Case what?”
“You know, like records of cases gone wrong—or right. Files on this stuff.”
Ethan caught on to what Jax was saying. The police filed reports on cases. Why should the W.H.O. be any different? They had records of imprisoned witches and the most wanted. “We’d have to go back to my house. Emmy will probably freak out or something.”
“She doesn’t need to know,” Jax said, a smile spreading on his face. “We can do it tonight after everyone goes to bed. We’ll sneak over and try to find something. We might even find the wardens’ contact info.”
Jax had a point. It might be worth taking another look-see through the secret lair. Maybe those strange gun things he’d seen were special weapons? Maybe a ray-gun that could paralyze the lunch ladies? How else do you steal a witch’s wand?
“Sounds good,” Ethan grinned. “We’ll make that Operation Number 1. Or maybe we should give it a cool name like ‘Operation Sneak Out’ or ‘Operation Secret Lair.’”
“Why does it need a name?”
“A codename, so we can talk about it without anybody knowing. They do that in the military all the time.”
“How do you know?” Jax looked skeptical.
“Dude, you need to watch more movies and read fewer history books.”
“Just because you saw it in a movie doesn’t mean it’s real.”
“I don’t know about that anymore,” Ethan said, his tone growing quiet. “Think about it. Would we have believed a few weeks ago that witches were real? Or the stuff we read about the Bermuda Triangle? All that junk has been talked about in movies forever. Maybe we should start believing everything we see.”