Witcha'be (9 page)

“You’re welcome. And remember, perfect love drives out fear.” She pointed to the verse on the wall. “Did you know that passage is from the Bible?”

I shook my head. I couldn’t remember ever opening a Bible. I wasn’t even sure we owned one.

“First John, chapter four, verse eighteen. God’s love is perfect, Molly.” She lifted my necklace, tucking the cross into my palm. “Believe, and He will take your fear away.”

* * *

Lenni and I tossed our stuff in the locker and walked to the cafeteria. I peeked over Kit’s shoulder on the way to the lunch line. “Corn dogs. Yum, yum.”

My plastic tray was blue. I’d read somewhere blue was the least appetizing color in existence. To lose weight, a person could buy blue plates or paint their kitchen blue. Personally, I found grasshopper-green, the color of Lenni’s tray, to be the least appealing. We found an empty section of table and slid in. I faced Lenni, my back to the cafeteria entrance.

We chatted about the Dizzy concert and made plans to eat at
Build a Bite
, the new sandwich shop in the city. Lenni waved above her head. I glanced over my shoulder, shrugged, and squirted my dog with mustard. A strange aroma surrounded me—spicy and woodsy—stealing my breath. I raised my corndog and sniffed.

“Where’ve you been? You look amazing.”

I stared at Lenni as if she’d gone mad. “What are you talking about?”

“Not
you
. I’m talking to Bianca.”

The back of my neck prickled and I whirled around. Bianca stood directly behind me, wearing what looked like a shroud. A few strands of red hair escaped the hood and floated around her face.

“Sit.” Lenni pulled out a chair.

I shifted, irritated by the invitation.

Bianca stepped around the table and scooted the chair back in. She gazed past Lenni, surveying the teachers’ table with an incisive stare. “I only stopped in to look for Ms. Velma. I need to ask her a question about drama class.” Her green eyes scoured the cafeteria. Classmates dropped their gazes to the food-strewn floor.

“Suppose I’ll catch her later. Ciao, Lenni.”

“Chow, Bianca.” Lenni attempted to imitate Bianca’s smooth accent, but couldn’t pull it off. Bianca breezed from the room, dark satin cape trailing along behind her.

“Did you mention my dream journal project to Bianca?” I asked as we headed toward the trashcans.

“I don’t think so, why?”

“I had a weird dream last night and thought I’d ask.”

Lenni shook her head. I knew what would come next. “You think she caused a nightmare? I’ve told you before, Bianca can’t do things like that. She is just a—”

“Witcha’
be
,” I interrupted. “What did you mean the other day when you mentioned you wished she could give your dreams back?” I tried to sound casual as we walked through the double doors into the autumn sunshine.

“She tried to help me, not hurt me,” she said.

“Bianca?”

Lenni nodded.

“Help you how?”

“When I was twelve, a high school boy named Glen started following me around. At first it was no big deal. I thought he was just being friendly. He called me little sister and loved to give me gummy bears. But soon, he showed up everywhere. On my school bus and eventually at my school. I told my mom and dad about it, and they talked to his mom and step-dad. I’ll never forget
that
meeting. Glen’s parents accused me of leading him on. A twelve-year-old girl coming onto a seventeen-year-old boy?” She shook her head.

“After that, my dad filed a protective order. It turned out Glen was in juvie before, so his parents didn’t want any trouble. Not long after, they moved away. Nothing else happened and I never saw Glen again. But for some reason, I started having horrible nightmares. They seemed so real. When I told Bianca, she wanted to help. She said she would ask her mother how to fix dreams next time she visited her. So, one day Bianca returned from a trip to New Mexico, came over, and…took my dreams away.”

“But, how?” I asked.

“She massaged my temples, said a chant her mother taught her, and I haven’t dreamed since. Neither of us realized I would never dream again. I miss the good dreams, especially the ones when I played the piano. I don’t play, but in my dreams I was spectacular.” She wiggled her fingers.

“I don’t really know what to say,” I muttered.

“It’s alright. I’m basically used to it. I don’t think about it much.”

“But if she has the power to take your nightmares away, couldn’t she have the power to give me nightmares?”

“No. If she knew how to create dreams, she’d give mine back.”

* * *

I approached Mrs. Timble as Bianca drifted up the hallway, derailing my train of thought. “Sorry, I forgot what I was going to ask,” I stammered.

Self-control
. Remembering Mrs. Piper’s words, I resisted the urge to sidestep Bianca’s path. She glared and huffed around me.

“Good afternoon, class,” Mrs. Timble said, closing the door. “Today we will begin scientific notation.” She wrote on the dry erase board as we opened our books.

That’s
the question I’d forgotten in the hallway. I was going to ask Mrs. Timble when we would start scientific notation. Guess I had my answer.

Feeling a sudden chill, I raised my eyes. Bianca captured me in her cold stare. My heart leapt but resumed a normal rhythm quicker than usual. I darted my gaze to Mrs. Timble, and then glanced back. Bianca continued to stare, green eyes seeming to glow beneath her dark hood.

Perfect love drives out fear.
A peculiar sensation tugged me. Something was missing…I didn’t have the hiccups. I clutched my chest in amazement and wrapped my fingers around the cross.

Mrs. Piper was right—I’d thought about what God’s love might feel like, and my fears scattered. For the first time, I had the tiniest inkling that things could turn out okay. I couldn’t help but grin.

Bianca blinked, extinguishing the glowing embers behind her eyes. She looked away.

The last bell rang. I burst from the classroom and ran down the hall. “Hurry! We’ll miss the bus,” I warned, tugging Lenni away from the locker. We sprinted through the double doors as Loch Ness pulled from the curb.

“Darn!” I exclaimed, spinning in a slow circle. Lenni stared after the bus, looking dejected. I had to laugh. “Don’t take it personally.”

“Girls!”

We turned toward the teachers’ parking lot. A faded, red jeep with a khaki top was parked in the space normally occupied by Principal Parker’s car. My mother jumped from the jeep then ran her arm down the side like a magician’s assistant.

“Mom?” We jogged toward her.

“My new toy. Your dad brought it home today at lunch. A client wanted to get rid of it cheap. Isn’t it adorable?” She bent to examine the headlights. “Think I’ll get her a bra.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Can we take the top off?”

“Sure, if we can figure out how.” She frowned and tugged at the canvas.

“I’ll help,” Lenni said, dropping her books, rushing over to help Mom, and loosening the Velcro seams. I unhooked the latches, and together we folded back the top.

“Uh, Mom, you know it doesn’t have a backseat, right?”

“It came that way.”

“Guess I’ll try it out,” I said, climbing into the cargo area behind the front seats. The wind felt great in my hair as Mom wound through the parking lot and onto the highway.

“So, I heard about your big win.” Mom gazed at me in the rearview mirror.

“The Dizzy concert! Mom, you’ve got to let me go Friday night. It’s life or death.” I crawled forward and wrapped my arms around her car seat.

“I think that can be arranged,” she said, laughing.

“How’d you find out?”

“Pam texted this morning. We’ve decided to take you girls to the show together. That way we can enjoy a night out in the city while you two are banging your heads at the concert.”

“Sounds fun,” Lenni piped in. “Maybe you can go to
Daffodils
!”

“Yeah, maybe you can go to
Daffodils
, Mom. Just your kind of place,” I teased. The most exclusive restaurant in Oklahoma City was galaxies over our budget.

“We’ll see.”

We pulled in front of Lenni’s house and she hopped out. I moved to the front seat. “See you tomorrow.”

“My mom will be able to give us a ride again in the morning,” she said.

“Hey, wait a minute. I’m dying to put some miles on this machine.” Mom revved the engine. “Lenni, I’ll pick you up before school.”

“You got it.” Lenni ran up the steps, waving over her shoulder.

We turned into our driveway a moment later. Mom pulled the key from the ignition and held up her keychain, a miniature ruby slipper.

“Boy, her hair is turning redder and redder,” she said as we stepped onto the porch. She picked up a handful of porch witch’s mane and examined it. “Should I move her inside?”

“I think she’s fine out here. Boo might decide to use her for a fire hydrant. Remember what happened to Dad’s cardboard cutout of the racecar driver?”

Mom cringed. “Guess you’re right. Perhaps the witch decided redheads have more fun.”

“Good one, Mom.”

Boo danced a crazy jig at my feet. I scooped him up.

“We’re having breakfast for dinner. Gotta try out the Belgium waffle maker I bought at the Glidewells’ garage sale.”

“Sounds good. I’ll be down after I finish homework.”

I climbed the stairs, feeling somehow stronger and saner than the night before. The grasshopper dream seemed to have occurred a lifetime ago. Emboldened by Mrs. Piper’s words, I marched to the bathroom, pulled down the sheet, and rubbed my fingers over the redheaded mermaid’s eyes. No way she could have winked.

I stepped into my room and returned my Dizzy posters to their rightful positions.

* * *

The smell of incense lingered in the room as I groped for my dream journal in the dim glow of the alarm clock. Two minutes past three a.m. Boo squirmed as I rolled from my bed, padded to the light switch, and then sat on the edge of the mattress. I uncapped my pen and flipped to the first clean sheet of paper. With hard strokes, I wrote down every detail I could remember.

A little girl, scared and alone, is calling for her mother inside a rundown house. She wears a winter coat to shield her from the draft. Running from dirty pane to dirty pane, she struggles to get outside, but the windows are painted shut. Something unseen looms in the house with her. Frantic, she beats against the door. A shadow falls. She tries to scream, forming only a whisper. The shadow grows, blotting out every patch of sunlight that filters through the filthy glass.

The girl claws at the windows and angrily kicks the door. She curses, balling her fists and puffing out her chest. She challenges the shadow, swearing she will cast an even bigger one. Her ribcage rises and falls sharply. Her nostrils flare. From her small body, a low rumble builds to a terrible roar. The house quakes and clatters. Smoke rises from the floorboards.

I’m now locked inside with the little girl. I take her hand, but she jerks away. I search the shadows for a way out. There is none.

Flames grow. I clutch my heart in fear. My fingers close around the cross necklace. I break the chain, run to the front door, and slip the cross into the lock. The door swings open. I motion for the little girl to come. She won’t budge. Flames lick her legs. She kicks and screams as I throw her over my shoulder, carrying her into the sunlight.

The house collapses in flames. I lower the little girl to the green grass, the hood of her coat falling between her shoulder blades. Out tumbles a mass of long, red hair.

CHAPTER EIGHT

“Let’s go,” Mom called up the stairs.

I traced the grooves on the page, knowing the dense blue strokes held significance and a message only I could decode— a sort of inkblot test for my soul.

I met Mom in the living room. Wind crept beneath the front door, chilling my flip-flopped toes before I even stepped outside.

“Away we go!” She held up the little ruby slipper as we stepped onto the porch.

“That wind is chilly. The jeep’s top will have to stay on this morning.”

Porch witch’s hair stirred like flames in the autumn breeze.

“Oh, Mom, I almost forgot. I’m staying after school.” I climbed into the jeep and snapped my seatbelt.

“Why? You’re not in any trouble, are you?” Mom cut her gaze to me before she backed from the driveway.

“Me and Mrs. Piper are going to talk about some stuff that’s happening at school. No big deal. I’m pretty sure she’ll bring me home afterwards.”

“If she can’t, give me a call.”

We parked in front of Lenni’s house as Mrs. Flemming backed her car from the drive. She waved out the window.

“I’ll text Lenni we’re here.”

The front door opened immediately after I texted. Lenni stepped down the porch wearing a faded, teal tank top, slashed jeans, and her hair in a bun. She wrapped her arms around her body and jogged toward us, the wind whipping tendrils over her face.

“I’ll climb in back,” I offered.

“That’s okay. I want to try it out,” she said, squeezing behind the seat. “Brrr, I should’ve grabbed a sweater.”

“Want to go back in for one?”

“Nah, it’s supposed to warm up later.” She rubbed her biceps with her palms.

“Ready?” Mom looked at Lenni in the rearview mirror.

“Yep.”

“Mom, can I turn on the radio?”

“Absolutely.”

I pressed a button and the stereo blared. Mom scrambled, turning down the volume.

“Really, Mom? You’re listening to 99.9 now?”

“Thought I’d familiarize myself with your music. Plus, rock sounds killer in these speakers.”

“No one says
killer
anymore. That is
so
1989.” I rolled my eyes.

“How would you know? You weren’t even born.”

“I watch VH1. They show documentaries about the old days.”

“Shhh!” Lenni flapped her hand. “Oh, sorry, Madeline. I forgot you were an adult. But can you please turn up the radio? Dizzy’s on.”

Mom dialed it up as Dizzy sang the first line. My pulse quickened as I thought about Friday night.