Wart (10 page)

Stewart woke on Monday excited about going to school. He knew Taylor Montgomery would speak to him. It was enough to make him bolt out of bed when the alarm went off. He was ready early. Instead of waiting for Ham as usual, he walked around the corner to meet Ham as he came out of his house.

Ham had been gone all day on Sunday, so Stewart had not talked to him. "Come on let's move it," he called to Ham. "I'm in a hurry to get to school."

"Why?"

Stewart began to walk. "Well, for one thing, I've got a feeling Taylor Montgomery might be waiting for me," he called over his shoulder.

"Nah, what are you talking about?" Ham caught up with him, and Stewart told him about the conversation.

"Hmm." Ham frowned.

"What?" Stewart demanded.

Ham shrugged, "Oh, I was just thinking how mad Rachel is going to be if you start hanging out with Taylor. Maybe you haven't noticed, but Rachel doesn't like Taylor much."

"Who I hang out with is none of Rachel's business."

"Well, Brad Wilson isn't going to like it either."

Stewart slapped at Ham's shoulder. "Lighten up, Ham Bone. You worry too much."

The first person they saw inside the building was Ms. Gibbs. She came around the corner just as they stepped into the hall. Stewart froze, knowing she was coming toward him. He kept his eyes down, away from her green necklace. She stopped beside him. "Come on down to my room, Stewart. I need to talk to you," she said softly.

Stewart wanted to look for Taylor, but he didn't say so. "Okay." He waited until Ms. Gibbs started away, then fell in behind her.

"See you later," Ham said, and he hurried off in the opposite direction. Suddenly, following her down the hall, Stewart's resolve to trust Ms. Gibbs began to fade.

At the art room door, she stopped and turned back to him. "We'll only be a minute. You'll still have time to talk to your friends before school starts."

This is the right thing to do, he told himself, but he felt shaky as they entered the room. She closed the door after they got inside. Then she walked to the desk and picked up a small bottle. "I'm not sure I told you," she said, "but one of my hobbies is making cosmetics. I've been working on this new cologne for men. Will you try it out for me?" She was pointing the sprayer in his direction.

"I guess so." He didn't feel he really had a choice.

"Just a dab." She was spraying. "This is strong stuff." The scent was nice, not too powerful, but definitely there. She put the cap back on. "There, go find your friends now."

He muttered a sort of combined thank-you and goodbye. "Stew," she called just before he went out. "Let me know if Taylor likes the cologne."

It didn't take long to find out because he almost bumped into Taylor as he left the room. "Stewart," she said, "I was hoping to see you." She wrinkled her nose. "Boy, do you smell nice!"

He could feel his face getting red. "It's too much, huh?"

"No, oh no, not at all. Just right." She stepped toward him, and he actually wanted to move back. He was shocked. He'd never have figured he'd have to work at avoiding a public display of affection with Taylor Montgomery. "Walk me to my locker, okay?" She smiled at him, and her face nearly touched his. He started to move. Her body did not touch his, but he could feel her near him.

Stewart watched Taylor take her books from her locker and waited until she walked away, waving over her shoulder at him before he went to his own locker. He was late for English.

Between first and second period, he searched the crowd in the halls for a glimpse of Taylor and didn't even notice Brad and Jake walking behind him until they were right in front of the girls' restroom. Suddenly, the two boys were on either side of him, and Stewart knew what was going to happen. He tried to run, but Brad's hands jerked him back. Stewart felt himself being lifted between Brad and Jake. They each had a hand holding one arm and one ankle. "Want to fly, Wart?" Brad asked. "Want to fly into the girls' bathroom?"

Stewart did fly for just a second, hit the floor, and went sliding on his back into the restroom. He shut his eyes, waiting for girls to scream, but the room was quiet. Then a familiar voice spoke. "Stewart," said Rachel in disgust, "Taylor isn't in here, look somewhere else." She stepped around him and went out the door.

Without raising his gaze from the floor, he jumped and ran. Outside the restroom, he slowed only enough to avoid being called down for running in the hall. Still breathing heavily, he slid into science class.

At lunch Rachel didn't even slow down, just walked by without a glance at the table where Stewart and Ham sat. Watching her, Stewart felt surprised to remember how brave she had been at Ms. Gibbs's and how he had felt good when he comforted her. Just then, though, he saw Taylor walking toward a table full of kids. Brad was there with Jake and Taylor's best friend, Madison, along with two other girls and a boy. Stewart put down his piece of pizza and watched her sit down. Someone said something and everyone laughed. He could see Taylor's white teeth as she put back her head and opened her mouth. What would it feel like, he wondered, to be at that other table, the one with the cool kids?

For a long time he watched, saying almost nothing to Ham. Finally, he picked up his pizza again, looked down, and started to eat. It was a surprise to hear her voice. "Stewart." Taylor had come to the other side of his table. She leaned across toward him. "Do you want these?" She held out two big chocolate-chip cookies. "You need your strength for basketball."

"Hey, that's nice of you," he said. She smiled, and then she was gone.

"She's right," said Ham after Taylor walked away. "You're going to need your strength for basketball, and not just for playing even. Look over there." He leaned his head to the right, and Stewart saw Brad Wilson staring at him from his table. "He's going to be waiting for you in the dressing room," said Ham. "Maybe you ought to get sick and go home before last period." He picked up one of the cookies from Stewart's plate and ate it.

Ms. Gibbs stood in the hall just outside the cafeteria. She motioned for Stewart to come over to her. "Well?" She waited, but when Stewart didn't say anything she went on. "How did the cologne go over?"

"Oh, fine, I guess." He nodded. "Fine."

"The thing is, I've added a new ingredient since this morning." She reached out for Stewart's hand and pressed a small bottle into it. "Put some on right before you go to gym class."

"You mean after, right? To make me smell better after I sweat."

She shook her head. "No, no. This is important. Put it on before. Smelling good will give you confidence while you play. It might even make people feel more friendly toward you."

"Okay." He couldn't think of anything else to say, and he stepped backward to get away from her.

"Use my cologne and you never need worry about being Wart again."

"That's nice. Thank you." After a few steps and a little wave, he turned and almost ran.

"She means Brad," Ham said when Stewart told him about the conversation. "The stuff casts a spell, and it'll protect you from Brad."

They were in front of their lockers, and Stewart jerked hard on the door of his. "I'm dropping the witch business. Remember? My dad is going to marry the woman. She can't be a witch! Quit talking about it and just close your big mouth for once in your life."

"Well, you try to believe that if you want to, but Rachel and I, we know the truth. You'd better spray yourself good with that stuff before you go down into that dressing room." Ham picked up his book and, without waiting for Stewart, walked toward class.

Stewart knew he had been rotten to Ham, and he wondered if Ham would wait for him before gym class, but there he was at his locker as usual. It was best to act normal. "Hey, what's up?"

Ham shrugged, "Just hanging, waiting for you." They walked together toward the gym. Before they went down the steps to the dressing room, Ham grabbed Stewart's arm. "Take out that stuff, and spray yourself. I'm telling you."

"Okay, okay, but it isn't magic." Stewart took the bottle from his pocket and sprayed.

Sure enough Brad was already in the dressing room when they got there. Stewart barely glanced his way, but it was clear from the look on Brad's face that he was furious. Ignore him, Stewart told himself and he bent to untie his shoes. When he raised his head, Brad was there in front of him.

"Stay away from Taylor." Brad grabbed Stewart's shirt, yanked him up from the bench, and pulled him close. Brad's nose began to twitch. "What's that smell?" His voice became calmer, and he let go of Stewart's shirt.

"Let's take it easy," Stewart tried not to let his voice shake. "Hey," Stewart was thinking hard. "If a girl doesn't want you, you sure don't need her. Right?"

Brad chewed for a second at his lip. "Well... there's a whole gang of girls who have the hots for me."

"Why sure," Stewart said. "No need to fight over a girl. They're everywhere." He reached out and gave Brad's shoulder a friendly little punch.

"It's the cologne," said Ham when Brad had moved away. "Hang on to that bottle."

It was true that Stewart seemed magic again as they practiced. Every ball he put up found its home in the hoop, and he killed them on defense, too, taking away the ball and moving with it toward his team's goal.

"Son," said Coach Knox after practice. "What is it with you? We all have our better days, but you're like two different players. We've got to figure what it is that makes you so hot on some days."

Stewart gave the coach a sort of shrug and walked on, but Ham was right behind him. "We know what it is," he said. "Witch power!"

"It is not." Stewart swallowed hard, afraid he might cry. "It just can't be."

• EIGHT
•

O
n Tuesday the Rams played the Bulldogs, from a neighboring town. "Now, Wright, this is your chance to start," the coach said to Stewart before the game. "Show us you can deliver in the real thing like you've been doing in practice." Walking across the court, Stewart felt good. He made his first shot. The second one missed, but all his others swished through clean and beautiful. Just before halftime, the score was twenty-three to twelve in favor of the Rams, and eighteen of those points belonged to Stewart. He could hear the cheerleaders chanting his name.

When the buzzer sounded, the team headed down toward the locker room. Ham caught up to Stewart on the stairs and followed him to his locker. "Hey," Ham said when Stewart opened the door, "you got that spray in here?" He reached for the bag.

"Sure." Stewart pulled his bag away and stuffed it back in the locker. "It always makes a person feel more confident if he doesn't stink." He turned his back and began to do some stretching exercises.

"Come off it." Ham moved around Stewart so they were facing each other. "The stuff is magic, and you know it. What I want to know is are you going to share it with me?"

Stewart stared at him. "You just can't admit that I'm becoming a great player." Maybe he'd really be better off without Ham.

Ham made a snorting sound. "Sure you are. Sure you are." He gave Stewart an angry look. "So what will it hurt to spray me?"

"Okay, okay!" Stewart grabbed up the bag, took out the bottle, and shot the stuff all over him.

"Pew," someone yelled. "Enough of that stuff. You're polluting the air!" Stewart walked to the back of the dressing room to join Brad and Jake.

"All right," said the coach when the team went back out after half time, "let's make some substitutions." Everyone knew the team was far enough ahead so that the coach would let some of the second-string guys play. "Ham, you go in for Wright." The other starting players were taken out too.

Stewart gave Ham's hand the good luck slap. "You've got the magic," Stewart said, but he did not smile.

Right off, Ham dropped the ball. Next time he got his hands on it, one of Henderson's players stole it from him. He never even got a chance to shoot because he couldn't lose the guy who guarded him. The scoreboard showed that Henderson was gaining.

"Stewart," the cheerleaders yelled. "Put Stewart back in."

Stewart knew the coach wasn't likely to be guided by cheerleaders, but he must have been planning the move anyway because in just a few minutes he motioned for Stewart to come down to talk to him. "Ham," he said to Stewart, meaning who was to be replaced.

When Stewart ran out onto the court, he pointed to Ham. There was no good luck slapping of hands. Stewart did not try to hide his sarcastic look.

After the game, the team gathered around Stewart, congratulating him and celebrating their victory. Brad even invited Stewart to go out for pizza with him and Jake.

Ham sat alone on the end of a locker room bench. His head was down, and he looked miserable. Stewart was ready to be friends again. He walked over to Ham and flipped his towel against Ham's shoulder. "So, I guess you know now it isn't the spray, huh?"

Ham looked up. "No," he said, "I still believe the spray is magic, but I know now it's magic just for you, your special formula. But you know what, Wart, I feel sorry for you. You want to be a good basketball player, and you want to be popular. You want those thing so bad you don't care how you get them." He shook his head. "Hope you have someone to pick you up when it's all over." He shrugged. "But it won't be me, man. I won't be picking you up."

"You're a poor sport, Hamilton," Stewart said. "You can't stand to see me winning." Ham stood up then and walked out of the dressing room without even saying "See you."

At home that evening, he sent Sammi an e-mail. "Okay, I've done it. I probably won't be hanging around Ham and Rachel much in the future."

Sammi fired back, "Great! You're on your way to being popular! Life is going to be fun, Cuz!"

Stewart stared at the words. It was true, he was on his way. He wished he felt better. From that day, life for Stewart was different. Ham no longer came around the corner to walk to school with him. On the first day, Stewart waited for quite a while, just in case. Then realizing Ham must have cut through the other way, he walked alone. At school, he looked up as he passed the library and through the glass walls he saw Ham and Rachel sitting together at a table. Probably studying witchcraft, Stewart thought, and he wished he could throw something at them.

The next couple of weeks, he spent lots of time with Brad and Jake, and at lunchtime, he ate with them and Taylor at the cool table. He told himself that he didn't believe the business about the cologne, but he was never without it either. When his supply ran low, he went to Ms. Gibbs's room. "I'm not out," he said, "but I . . . you know, don't want to take any chance."

"Oh no, you don't want to run out of this." She reached into the bottom drawer of her desk and pulled out a large bottle. "I won't be here much longer teaching. You will have to be sure to replenish your supply at home."

"Not here?" Stewart took the bottle from her. "Why won't you be teaching?"

She sighed. "Oh, I don't know, this job is hard work. I may look for something easier. Of course after your father and I are married, I'll probably want to stay home, at least for a while." She closed the desk drawer. "Maybe Mr. Harrison will be coming back soon."

In the hall, Stewart moved slowly. Ms. Gibbs's words kept going through his mind. "After your father and I are married." What's wrong with you, he asked himself? You knew they were going to get married. You even told Dad it was okay with you. Still, he hardly had the strength to walk.

The girls' restroom was across and just down the hall from the art room. Stewart looked up to see Rachel coming out of the door. He did not expect her to walk over to him, but she did.

"You," she said, and her face showed her disgust, "have a right to know what I just observed."

Stewart knew Rachel was about to say something unpleasant. He considered walking on, but he knew that Rachel wouldn't let him get away. "I guess you're going to tell me?" he said.

"I certainly am. That is, if I can get it out without throwing up." Rachel moved to lean against the wall. A sort of shudder passed over her. "Taylor! I just saw your dream girl, Taylor, in the restroom." She looked at Stewart with an expectant expression, but when he didn't say anything, she went on. "She was in there practicing. Looking in the mirror, peering back over her shoulder to see if her rear swayed just right when she walked."

Stewart didn't know what to say. He hadn't had any experience with girls or their rears. "So, you think that's bad?"

"Think
that's bad!" Rachel's voice was loud, and Stewart looked around, relieved that no one seemed to be paying attention. Rachel's face had turned red, and for a minute Stewart thought she might tear into him with her fists like she had done once when they were little. She didn't hit him, though, not with her hands. "You make me sick," she said really low and mean this time. "You both make me sick, you and your rear-shaking girlfriend."

"She's not exactly my girlfriend," Stewart said weakly.

"She will be if the witch's cologne keeps working."

Now it was Stewart's turn to get angry. "Drop the witch stuff. My Dad and Ms. Gibbs are getting married."

"Okay, believe it isn't the cologne then, if you want to." Her face was twisted with anger. "If it isn't the cologne, it's because you're suddenly such a hotshot ball player. Why would you want a girl who never looked at you when you were just plain Stewart? I used to think you were pretty smart." She stomped away leaving Stewart thinking it might have been easier if she had just hit him with her fists.

That evening he walked home slowly, thinking about how Ham and Rachel were both mad at him. Rachel was already home and playing with the puppies on her front porch. She did not wave at Stewart when he walked by, just pretended she saw no one.

He and Rachel had had arguments before, but he could not remember a time when they didn't speak to each other. It was true he didn't want to hang around with Rachel at school, but not even speaking was too strange. Stewart felt miserable. Maybe he would go in, get Georgia, and go over to Rachel's house. Rachel liked Georgia. She would talk to Georgia, and she wouldn't be hateful to Stewart in front of his little sister. Maybe while they were there he could think of a way to get Rachel to be his friend again.

Georgia was watching TV in the family room. "Want to go over to Rachel's and look at the puppies. They're just about big enough for us to bring one home."

Georgia didn't move, and Stewart tried again. "Rachel's got the puppies out. Let's go."

"I'm not getting a puppy, and I don't want to play with them anymore." Georgia did not take her gaze from the TV.

"You aren't getting one? Why? Who said?" He went to sit beside her on the couch.

"Wanda doesn't like dogs. She says they're smelly and don't make good pets. She knows some people who have special kittens, and she's going to get one for me."

He reached out, put his hands on either side of her face, and forced her to look at him. "Why? You've been planning to get one of the Dots for a long time. You don't have to change your mind because someone else doesn't like dogs."

"I want a kitty," Georgia said. She pulled herself away from him and folded her arms across her chest.

There was another surprise after his father came home. Stewart went into the kitchen, planning to talk to Dad about the puppy thing, but he forgot it when his father made an announcement.

"Today was Wanda's last day at your school." Dad was at the stove dishing up chili for supper. "She just called and said Mr. Harrison will be back tomorrow."

Stewart reached for his bowl, but he felt odd, like he might not be able to hold it. It's almost like the idea just came to her today that she wanted Mr. Harrison well, and now he is well enough to return.

"Oh boy," squealed Georgia. "Wanda can stop being a teacher and be our mommy!"

Stewart looked at his dad, expecting a comment, but he said nothing, just put Georgia's chili on the table, leaned down, and gave her a little hug.

Stewart tried to laugh. "Man, Mr. Harrison got over his crack-up sooner than I thought he would. He seemed pretty far gone, and now just the day Ms. Gibbs tells me she's tired of teaching, Harrison recovers. It's kind of funny, don't you think?"

Dad sat down to eat. "Oh, not so strange. I guess they can do a lot for mental breakdowns with medicine these days." He smiled. "Wanda talked to him herself. He told her they had asked him to stay on at the hospital to teach art to disturbed patients. He claimed he turned them down because it was so dull and normal at the hospital. He prefers the really crazy atmosphere at the middle school."

Georgia and Dad went on talking about Wanda and how now she would have more time to spend on the big Thanksgiving dinner she was planning to cook for them all. "I'll put up the pictures of Pilgrims and Indians," said Georgia, "and make a turkey centerpiece."

Stewart could see that his sister was getting excited. Last year Martha had taken her shopping for little Thanksgiving cutouts for decorations and shown her how to make a turkey from a brown bag.

Dad held out his hand in a
stop
motion. "Now, wait a minute. We've got plenty of time, Thanksgiving is still a week and a half away. Wanda is planning to cook at her house. Let's let her get in on the decorating plans."

"No!" Georgia jumped up and stomped her foot. "We have Thanksgiving at home."

Dad had always made a big deal of having holidays at home. Stewart thought it was because their mother was dead that his dad worked a little harder to give Georgia and him a sense of tradition. The idea of having Thanksgiving dinner at Wanda's didn't appeal to him much either. He felt glad that Georgia would pitch a big enough fit to put a stop to it.

"No!" Georgia said again. She sat back down then and began to eat, but the determined look did not leave her face.

Later Stewart brought up the subject. Georgia had gone upstairs, and Stewart and his father were cleaning up the kitchen. "Guess Wanda won't mind cooking over here when she finds out how important it is to Georgia. Will she?"

Dad shook his head. "No, problem. Wanda will talk to her and change Georgia's mind. Haven't you noticed how marvelous Wanda is with her? She can get that little girl to do anything. It's one of the things I like about the woman."

Stewart felt weak, and he sank into a kitchen chair. It was true! Stewart hadn't thought about it, hadn't even really seen it, but it was true. Wanda Gibbs could handle Georgia like a charm. Dad thought it was Wanda's wonderful way with children, but Stewart did not believe it. The whole thing made him feel sick. Wanda Gibbs was changing his little sister's personality, and Stewart didn't like it.

In a sort of a daze, he climbed the stairs. He wanted to talk this over with Ham or Rachel. He'd try Rachel. Maybe she had gotten some of her anger out of her system when she yelled at him earlier. He took the phone, and slid down the bed to sit on the floor.

"Ms. Gibbs won't be the art teacher tomorrow," he said quickly when Rachel said hello. He thought that piece of information might be interesting enough to keep her from hanging up on him. "Mr. Harrison is coming back."

"Oh yeah?"

"Ms. Gibbs told me today she was getting tired of teaching and maybe Mr. Harrison would come back, almost like it was her idea for him to be well. Besides that, listen, Rachel, the woman has been messing with Georgia's personality, changing her. I don't like that, not Georgia. She'll do anything the woman suggests and—"

"Stewart," Rachel broke in, "are you saying you finally believe Ms. Gibbs is a witch?"

"Georgia even changed her mind about the puppy because Ms. Gibbs said dogs are smelly and make too much noise."

"She did? She really talked Georgia out of taking one of the Dots?" Rachel's tone was unbelieving.