Just Add Magic (13 page)

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
R
s 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.”

“Well,” I said, “so much for soccer tryouts today. Coach Richards is gonna love this.

I chased Billy Applegate. “Here, Billy, you dropped your pencil back there.” I handed it to him, and held the door to the classroom open for him, and for a few others coming in.

As soon as I took my seat I realized I needed to go to the bathroom. I asked Coach for a hall pass, which he reluctantly gave me. “Hustle,” he said.

In the bathroom I found Darbie, standing next to the sink and holding a stack of paper towels. She handed one to Misty after she'd washed her hands. “Good job washing,” she said to Misty. “You can't put a price on killing germs.”

Misty said, “You're a weirdo.”

“You have yourself a nice, germ-free day,” Darbie said to Misty's back.

“What are you doing?” I went into the stall.

“Being nice.” She lowered her voice and whispered through the crack in the door. “Reversing the Law of You-Know-What.”

“Misty's right. You are a weirdo.”

“I don't see you coming up with any better ideas.”

I finished in the stall, washed, and took a towel from Darbie's stack. “I will. Come on, we're late.”

“I already have detention,” she said, but she followed me in anyway.

I returned to my seat just in time for homework collection. I popped up and gathered everyone's papers. I neatly left them on Coach's desk. After class I pushed in everyone's chairs and erased the boards. Turning to be thanked by Coach for my niceness, I found that he'd left the room—and so had Darbie. I could hear Darbie in the hallway. “Be careful,” she said. Don't slip. Wet floor.”

“What now?” I asked her.

“I don't want anyone to fall and get hurt, so I'm diverting people from this spill to a safer traffic pattern. Isn't that nice?”

“I suppose.” Maybe she'd come up with a good one.

“Move along, people,” Darbie said, waving kids in a certain direction.

As the hall cleared, I picked her backpack up from against the wall. I noticed an empty water bottle in her pack. “Darbie,” I said. “How did that puddle get there?”

She didn't look at me, but after the hall was clear, she bent down and wiped it up.

Darbie wasn't happy that I volunteered for us to shelve library books during detention. She just stuck them in the wrong places, sometimes not even bothering to look at the spine of the Book. About every ten minutes Hannah, all the other ANtS soccer hopefuls, and Coach Richards ran past the library window. Charlotte wasn't with them.

“Now we're never going to make the team,” I said. “Coach Richards isn't going to take us after missing tryouts.”

“You don't have anything to worry about. You're a good soccer player. I'm a total spaz.”

“
Girrrls.
Therrre is no talking in detention.”

When we were done shelving (silently), we sat (quietly) and did our homework (without a sound) until we were excused. We flew to the locker room and changed into our soccer clothes faster than the speed of light. We sprinted to the field for the last five minutes of practice. Coach looked at us running down the hill, an hour late, and just shook his head. A few steps before reaching the bottom, Darbie wiped out, rolling the last few feet. Thankfully, Coach didn't see that part.

Darbie whispered to me, “So much for balancing out the bad luck. What a load of crap. I shelved library books. Can you believe that? I'd rather push chopsticks under my toenails than shelve library books.”

Coach called to us over his shoulder, without making eye contact. “Join Barney.” Charlotte was doing stomach crunches. We crunched. After a dozen my belly burned. Charlotte must have been doing them for a long time now, because her face was Texas hot sauce red.

The girls were scrimmaging. Hannah dribbled around the defenders wearing yellow practice jerseys. She shot and scored. The ball rolled under the goal's net and into the bushes.

Hannah jogged into the bushes to retrieve it. Suddenly, she came out screaming.

“Ahh! Help!” She ran around the field waving her arms and crying.

Coach yelled, “Hannah, are you okay?”

“Ah! Bees! Help!” She ran to Coach Richards. “Coach, get 'em off me. Ouch! They're stinging me!” Coach Richards swiped the bees off with his clipboard and sprayed them with his water bottle. In a minute all the bees were gone. Coach Richards led her to the bleachers.

“Let me see those stings.” He grabbed lotion out of the first aid kit and spread thick pink liquid all over Hannah. When Coach was done, Hannah looked like she had gotten into a fight with a Tootie Fruity Super Swirley and lost.

We met Hannah after practice as she was getting her backpack.

“You ready?” I asked.

“For what?” Hannah asked, wiping dirt off her hands.

“We're going to see Señora Perez.”

“Oh, man. I really don't want to. I have homework to do,” Hannah said. “And these stings really hurt. I just want to take a hot bath.”

“Well, I
really
need to talk to her,” I said. We hadn't told Hannah about Frankie. I figured that if I could reverse the Love Bug Juice potion, I wouldn't have to.

Darbie said, “It's the Law of Returns.”

Hannah asked, “What is?”

“The bee stings. It's the return for giving Frankie a love potion. You were the one who added the ginseng. Now all three of us have been zapped by the Law of Returns.”

Hannah had trouble heaving her backpack onto her back. She yelped when the canvas touched her tender skin. “Darbie, I never thought I'd say this, but I'm beginning to think maybe you're right. Maybe it is the Law of Returns.”

“Speaking of Frankie,” I said. “Have you seen him?”

“Nope. Not all day. So much for the experiment,” Hannah said.

Darbie and I shared a glance.

“But”—Hannah pointed—“there goes Tony.” Tony rode past the field on his bike. His neck twisted to see the soccer field as he passed by.

Hannah said, “Guys, I'm hot and hungry, and I'm just not in the mood to play Nancy Drew today.”

Darbie said, “But we need to turn off these returns. Kelly can't carry Charlotte's books forever. And if I keep falling down, I'm going to break a bone. Maybe an important one. And you—do you want to continue to get stung by flying insects?”

“No,” Hannah answered. “But does it have to be today?” She winced in pain.

“I have an idea,” I said. “Why don't you walk down the street with us and you can go to Sam's. I'll even buy you a
Swirley. And you can relax in the air-conditioning and do your homework while we go to La Cocina. Hopefully Señora Perez can explain how to undo the curse. Then we'll meet you when we're done. It won't take us long.”

“Unless she turns us into frogs or something, in which case we'll need you to rescue us, if we can't hop away,” Darbie said. “Consider yourself our backup.”

Hannah blew her bangs out of her face. “Fine, but I'm getting a large Swirley.”

We hoisted our backpacks onto our shoulders and walked five blocks to the strip mall. On the way, I tried to think how I could prove to Hannah that the Love Bug Juice experiment had worked. We had the data she was looking for, but if she found out that Frankie loved me instead of her, she'd be crushed, and I didn't want to do that to my BFF.

How was I going to do this?

When we arrived, Hannah wished us luck and offered to order our Swirleys. “The yuush?” Hannah asked. (Our speak for “the usual.”)

It struck me that she was still dotted with pink bee-sting lotion. “Um, Han—”

Darbie interrupted, “Yes sirree, ma'am. Rocket Launching Rainbow. Extra chunky,
por favor
.”

“And a Black and White for me,” I said. “But, Hannah—”

“Don't worry about me. I'll be fine here by myself. I have to read for History.”

I figured what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her. Sam certainly didn't care what she looked like, if he even noticed.

Upon our arrival at the door to La Cocina, Darbie said, “Let's chat with this kooky fortune-teller cat, find out how to reverse the Law of Returns, get an antidote for Frankie, and get the hex out of there, because I hear my Swirley calling me. Can you hear it?
Darbie, drink me. . . .”

Fill a room with:

1 moose head

1 big buzzard

1 raccoon

1 deer head

1 rabbit

1 squirrel

Each of which was probably cute and cuddly in life.
But now they're crusty, neglected, and, well . . . dead.

Directions:
Stuff them all and give them bright, glass eyes. Hang them on your
walls until they give goose bumps to anyone who walks by.

The string of shells jingled, but no one came out from behind the mysterious beaded curtain. “Hello?” I called.

No one answered.

“Let's look around,” I said.

“Oh, that sounds like great fun,” Darbie said.

The overhead lights were out, but the room was filled with an eerie glow coming from lighted candles set on the counters and shelves, and thick pillar candles rested on the floor. They gave just enough brightness to illuminate a thick layer of dust and brought a glow to the glass eyes surrounding us. My mom would've had a festival cleaning the joint.

Darbie pointed to a candle that was close to the wall. “Fire hazard,” she said. The scent of burning candles was overpowered by the aroma that came from the back of the store. Someone was cooking something familiar: chili.

I saw Darbie's shoulders quiver abruptly. “Oooh, I got a chill,” she said.

Although the tinted windows made the sky outside appear extra gloomy, I couldn't miss the heavy black clouds looming. But I kept my focus on searching the shelves.

Behind a large rack of ponchos there was an armoire filled with small bottles of elixir. Darbie and I scanned them. “What are we looking for?” she asked.

“An antidote for Love Bug Juice, or something like that,” I said. I picked up several little silver shaker bottles that sounded like they were filled with nuts or dried beans. “And I suppose we need enough for Charlotte's blisters.”

“Do we have to?”

I said, “I think we do. We can't let her have funky blistered feet forever.”

“Then you need something for Mrs. Silvers, too,” Darbie said.

“Good point.”

“That is, if she's still alive,” Darbie said.

“That's very helpful, Darbie. Thanks for the positive attitude.”

“No problem, Shoobe. That's what I'm here for.” We looked around. Then Darbie said, “But Bud's voice came back on its own. That's weird, huh?”

A lightbulb went on in the cobwebbed section of my brain.
Can it be that simple?
I said, “Darb, you're a freakin' genius! I know what we need to get. I think I know what the antidote is.”

I told her what to look for.

“Half this stuff is in Spanish,” Darbie said. She was right. We really could've used Hannah's help.

We wandered around the store.

I examined the jars and tins on the bottom shelf. One of the jelly jars was filled with the most disgusting things that looked like tails and something that used to be spiders.
So gross!
Then I saw a shimmery golden tin with a familiar bee on it. The bee wore a sombrero. I picked up the tin and turned it over. There was something written in Spanish that I couldn't read, but it didn't matter. I remembered that the drops inside made Bud's voice come back.
Holy guacamole, I've found it!

“Maybe we should just go find that Señora,” Darbie said. “I have a date with a lonely Swirley that's melting.”

I took the tin and Darbie didn't see me slide it into my pocket. “We're all set. I have a plan,” I announced confidently.

Before Señora Perez could magically appear, we dashed toward the door. I stopped, turned, and ran back to the cash register. I pulled a handful of money out of my pocket. Without counting it, I slapped it onto the counter.

“Gracias,”
Señora Perez said, sweeping the colorful beads aside.

We had almost made it.

“Remember what I told you?” Señora Perez asked.

“
Quien siembra
blah blah . . . ,” Darbie said, totally annoyed that we hadn't made it to the sidewalk.

“Si,”
Señora Perez replied.

I said, “It's the Law of Returns.”

“That's right,” Señora Perez said. “It has found you.”

“Are you psychic?” Darbie asked.

“Oh no, not psychic. I can see the bruises on your legs, Darbie. And the worry on Kelly's face. And I saw the stings on your friend when she walked by. I see the Law of Returns has found you, as I thought it might.”

“Then it's real?” I asked.

“I can assure you that the Law of Returns is very real. You see, the universe must always be in balance. If you do something bad, something bad will come back to you. Maybe not right away, but it will come. I promise you.”