The Magickers (36 page)

When they paddled into the cove, Jefferson was still wading among a few of the canoes, trying to straighten them out. Bailey and Ting flew by, waving their paddles. Jefferson checked his watch and frowned.

“Two days beached,” he said, pointing at them. “And get that cabin in shape, you've got inspection coming up as soon as I break classes for lunch.”

Trent groaned. That meant no swimming or canoeing. In the heat of early July, that was cruel punishment. Jason was almost glad, though. He was not sure he wanted to go back into the water just yet!

They jostled shoulders heading back. They'd left the clean laundry lying every which way, and it looked as though it had rained socks. Other than that, it didn't take them long and they had just finished when they heard Stefan lumbering past outside, Rich at his heels, sneering something they couldn't quite hear. Trent went to the window. He motioned for Jason.

“They've got something.” Trent eyed the pillowcases slung over their shoulders.

“What do you mean?”

“They're up to something. Somehow I don't think that's their laundry.”

Jason watched the two disappear down the trail toward the main buildings. “He didn't say we were confined to the cabin, did he?”

“Nope.” Trent slipped out the screen door. “Let's see what they're up to.”

Staying just far enough behind, they stalked the two down to the restrooms. There, Rich handed his bulging pillowcase to Stefan and took up a casual watch at the corner of the building. He looked around, then motioned to Stefan who did a mad dash into the girls' side of the building.

“What—”

Trent shushed him. “This is going to be good,” he said. “Whatever it is.”

Jason shifted uneasily. “We ought to do something.”

“Do what? We don't even know what it was they did!”

They watched intently. A long minute dragged by, then Stefan rolled out of the girls' toilets and joined Rich, trying to look nonchalant as he stuffed two empty pillowcases into his shirt. And waited.

In a few moments, the trio from Kittencurl came around the curve of the lake. Jason could hear scraps of singing and chatter as they headed for the restrooms. Rich looked at Stefan and smirked as they moved back in the shadows.

“Whatever it is,” Jason said, “I think we should warn them.”

Trent started to shake his head, then muttered, “Too late anyway,” as the three girls went into their half of the building.

A moment later, Ting screamed. Jennifer burst out of the building in long-legged strides, her blonde hair flying behind her, before she turned and stood, pointing wordlessly. Rich doubled over in laughter, leaning on Stefan.

Trent and Jason went to see just what it was. As they drew closer, they could hear . . . frogs.

Frogs croaking, ribbiting, and making whatever other noises they could. Ting stood in the open doorway to the bathroom, surrounded by green bodies of all sizes, hopping and croaking. Big frogs, little frogs. Ting seemed frozen, mouth half open. Bailey picked her way through, color blazing over her angry expression.

She pointed toward the doorway. “Out! Out! Everyone out!”

The frogs and toads began milling around, jostling each other. Ting looked at her and shook. “I . . . can't . . . move,” she wailed.

Bailey put her hands on her hips. “Oh, really!” She took Ting by the wrist. “Follow me!”

She led the helpless girl out of the bathroom. There was a moment of silence as they emerged into the sunlight. Then, in a rippling ocean of green, the frogs and toads followed. Hop, splosh, hop, gr beep, ribbit.

With a squeak of her own, Ting lunged away from Bailey and ran across the lane to where Jennifer stood. The pursuing frogs crowded in around Bailey. They ribbited hopefully. She stepped away.

Hop, hop, they followed. She moved again, trying not to step on anything.

The frog chorus eagerly hopped after.

Bailey threw her hands up. “Somebody do something!”

Stefan and Rich fell over laughing. Tomaz Crowfeather appeared on the pathway next to Jason and Trent. Trent could hardly stand up for laughing and hung onto a pine tree. The sapling bent and wobbled, waving its branches wildly.

“What's going on here?”

Everyone looked at Tomaz and shrugged.

He raised an eyebrow in gentle disbelief.

“Bailey is . . .” Rich caught his breath. “Frog herding.” He doubled over in another fit of snickers.

“I am not!” Bailey tossed her head, ponytail bobbing. She marched off a few steps in a huff, following by a rippling, croaking, trail of green. The big ones hopped and plopped. With gleeful chirps, the little tree frogs pinged high out of the herd, soaring above the others. Jason watched them parade. Hop, plop, ping! Hop, plop, ping!

“Interesting.” Tomaz crossed his arms across his chest, turquoises and silver glinting in the sun. “I think we need to talk, Bailey.”

She opened her mouth to say something, but an immense toad plopped across her sneaker, puffed up, and beat her to it. “Rrrrrrribbit!”

Ting giggled and clung to Jennifer who laughed so hard a tear slid down her cheek.

“That . . . that's a lot of potential princes,” Trent managed. He fell back into the pine tree in a shiver of branches and mirth. “You going to kiss all of them?”

“At least I won't draw flies!” She glared at them. “More than I can say about all of you, standing around with your mouths open!”

She stepped away. Hop, plop, ping! The frogs followed in adoration. Jason could not contain his laughter any longer. It bubbled out gleefully. Bailey looked at him, and then the others. Even Tomaz's mouth twitched although he tried to keep a careful lack of expression on his face.

“Am I amusing everyone?” Bailey looked around.

“Not quite,” Rich snickered. “But if you wait a minute, I can get the rest of the camp here.”

She snorted and flounced off then, down to the lakeside, her chorus line of frogs hopping and gurgling quickly after her. Every once in a while, she waved behind her, yelling, “Shoo!”

With a thoughtful look, Tomaz followed as well. They could hear his voice drifting back as he informed her that she had somehow summoned them, and only she could send them away. Bailey let out a groan, echoed in croaks loud and small from her adoring audience. When last seen before duty called them away, she was sitting on a boulder by the lake, frogs croaking in chorus to her, plopping in and out of the water, little tree frogs pinging high in the air to punctuate the deeper ribbits with cheerful chirps.

25

B
AILEY'S amphibian audience still had everyone laughing at dinner. Having finally gotten rid of them, she took the joking with good humor, wearing a T-shirt she and Ting had decorated in Crafts Class which read DANCES WITH FROGS across the front.

“At least,” Trent said to her when he caught his breath, “they didn't try to pull you back into the lake like Wanda did Jason.”

To a chorus of “What?” Trent then had to tell Jason's story. Jason ignored him and picked on a meatloaf that, quite unlike FireAnn's usual fare, seemed rather tasteless and uninteresting. Jennifer, Ting, and Bailey all slid their food trays down to hear Trent, and Jon, Danno, and Henry swung around on their table benches to listen as well.

He made a well out of his mashed potatoes and gravy and hoped that would taste better. He really didn't want to think about the thing that had played with him in the deep Lake Wannameecha waters and whether he'd actually seen anything like what he thought he saw. Or if something about him or his hand, that cursed scar, had set it off. Was he now a doorway, drawing things through that should not be? And if he was . . . were they evil?

Trent drew oohs and aahs from his listeners as he spun the yarn out. Jason, catching a sentence every now and then despite trying not to listen, felt his ears grow warm and the back of his neck begin to itch. He squirmed on the cafeteria bench as Ting giggled at something, then scraped his fork over his plate loudly and rattled his cup. When he finally heard Bailey laugh, repeating “Wanda!” he exhaled, knowing the story was over. The fetish bag rested inside his shirt comfortingly, but he didn't like knowing that he would have to remove it again.

“That's a good one,” Danno praised. “Tell it for the Talent Show!”

“Maybe.” Trent grinned. “I have a certain room-mate to live with, though!” They all laughed.

“I,” announced Jon, “have a tale to tell at the campfire tonight.” His tone drew Jason's attention. He gave up on his meatloaf and turned around.

Henry beamed in approval and pushed his glasses up his nose to their proper resting spot. Eagerly, he leaned forward on his elbows to listen, quite unaware of a puddle of gravy spreading around one of them.

Jonnard nudged a paper napkin across at Squibb before continuing, “It is the tale of the snipe bird, a rare bird which is most often seen at night, unlike other birds. Its feathers are coveted for charms and talismans. Shapechangers particularly value them.” He smiled secretly.

“But a snipe hunt is a wild goose chase,” Bailey said, looking at all of them. She wrinkled her nose, freckles dancing.

Jon continued smiling. “Precisely. However, the common snipe does exist, and I shall have a computer setup indicating that on its Web site.”

Trent tilted his head. “I sense a plot.”

“I should hope so.” Jonnard pushed his tray away. “Shall we discuss it later? Much depends on secrecy. Tonight, before dinner.”

They all nodded. It was time, it seemed, to get even with Rich and Stefan.

Ting took a bite of her oatmeal cookie before breaking it into crumbs and then showering them into Bailey's cupped hand.

Bailey looked about, then stuffed the crumbs into her pocket, which began to wiggle with a life of its own as Jason stared in fascination. As it jumped and moved, a long tufted tail snaked out and hung, twitching in satisfaction as its owner munched on cookie crumbs.

Jason grinned. “Your . . . erm . . . tail is showing.”

Bailey blushed and swept the packrat's tail back into her pocket. “She keeps doing that.”

Ting considered her friend. “I should think she wouldn't like being pocketed up.”

“Oh, Lacey sleeps most of the time. She only gets wiggly when she's hungry or at night.” Bailey joggled her elbow into Ting. “That's when she makes all her noise!”

Ting rolled her eyes. “It's a good thing I'm a sound sleeper. I heard Jennifer complaining about all the scrabbling and squeaking earlier. Maybe we should let Lacey go free?”

As if knowing her name, the little kangaroo rat poked her head out, shell-like ears opening up attentively. Her dark eyes sparkled brightly and she seemed to show no fear, unlike the night when captured. The past few weeks had been good to her, and her coat glowed with health. She scrubbed at her whiskers busily, little paws shedding extra crumb bits like tiny dust motes.

“Lacey,” said Bailey firmly.

The packrat glanced up, then dove back into the shirt pocket. The tufted tail gave a defiant flick before disappearing after the rest of the creature. Ting laughed. Bailey squirmed a bit, then giggled. “Tick lish,” she explained.

“I should think.” Trent stood, empty tray in hand. “If Jon is going to try to set up anything in the computer room—” he gave a lopsided grin, “he'll need help! Henry is good with a PC, but he doesn't know half of what he thinks he does.” He checked his watch. “I have just enough time before we're scheduled. I can set it up so all he has to do is push a button.”

“Even that might be too much,” Ting commented wryly as she trailed Bailey out of the cafeteria.

“You know,” Bailey murmured. “When I talk to Mom tonight, I bet she'll have some ideas for our costumes. . . .”

Trent snorted at Ting's last words. He bolted out of the cafeteria ahead of Jason who looked after him, then shrugged. The two of them seemed to be going in opposite directions more and more these days, and he couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that something was wrong with Trent. It was nothing he could put his finger on, but just a nagging tug. If only he knew what it was he'd done, or hadn't done. He sighed and left the mess hall.

Dark clouds hung above the jagged peaks, but they seemed to be moving quickly, and the hot summer day was unaffected except for the humidity. Maybe rain at midnight or so, he thought. He rather liked storms, and lying in bed listening to one would be far better than lying in bed trying to forget another nightmare! Lightning and the boom of thunder would be welcome compared to the specter of a cold tomb and its occupant reaching for him. . . .

A shiver ran across the back of his neck.

“Are you feeling all right, Jason?” Dr. Patel asked kindly, behind him.

He jumped. She stood next to him and he had not even heard her approach. She put her hand upon his brow, a quick touch, before he moved away. “I'm fine.”

“All right.” She did not sound convinced and had a faint expression on her face that reminded him of his stepmother when she was about to lecture him about being careful.

“Really. I'm okay.” He made a face. “Can't go out on the lake for a couple of days, but other than that, fine.”

“Too bad. The lake looks pleasant in these hot days. But you don't look warm to me, Jason. You look rather chilled.” Dr. Patel's brown eyes continued to watch him in concern.

He shifted. “You don't need to worry about me.”

She smiled gently. “The Magickers are a big family. Like all families, we quarrel, even brawl a bit, but heaven help the outsider who tries to hurt one of us. In short, Jason, if you need us, we're here.” She patted him on the shoulder and then moved off to her yoga class, sari wrapped about her slim figure.