The Runaway Spell by Lexi Connor

Author:Lexi Connor [Connor, Lexi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-545-32230-0
Publisher: Scholastic Inc.
Published: 2010-11-22T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

B pulled George toward the far back corner of the cafeteria and sat down at the last seat, directing George to sit in the seat opposite her.

“Where is he?” he asked, perplexed.

“Right by your feet,” B whispered.

Casually, as though she did this kind of thing normally, B poked her head under the table. Mozart was crouching, his arms wrapped around his ankles, his eyes wide with terror. Little whimpering sounds of fright came from his throat.

“Oh, Mozart!” B whispered. “What happened? Did someone hurt you?”

Mozart nodded. His eyes were rimmed with red. “All the noise hurts my ears!”

“Psst, B!”

B sat up straight. George was making strange faces at her, jerking his head toward the kids at the other end of their table, who were looking at B strangely.

“I know it looks weird,” B whispered, “but we can’t just leave him there! The poor thing’s scared to death!”

“The poor thing,” George replied, “is a tall sixth-grader who’s crying under the table. How are you going to explain that?”

“Tell them he’s your cousin,” B said, “if you need to tell anyone anything. Find me a carrot, will you?”

George trotted to the salad bar while B tried to comfort Mozart, who was curled in a ball, chewing on his lower lip. He’s got the tracksuit on, B thought, but he’s still more hamster than kid. She held out her hand.

“Come on, Mozart,” she crooned in a soft, soothing voice. “It’s all right. You can come out now.”

Mozart leaned toward her hand, almost sniffing it, his eyes wary and distrustful.

“I won’t hurt you,” B said. “I’m your friend, remember?”

Mozart hesitated.

George returned with two carrots, one that he ate himself, and another that he offered Mozart. The carrot tipped the scale. Mozart crawled out, clumsy and trembling, and snatched the carrot from B’s hand. Then he let himself be guided to stand up and take a seat next to B. He hunkered down, gripping his carrot with both hands and stuffing it into his rapidly chewing mouth.

“Hey, what’s with that kid?” a curly-haired boy from the end of the table asked. “His clothes are the same color as his favorite food, carrots!”

Mozart’s head flew up. “Carrots? More carrots? Where?” He rose from his seat, sniffing the air, his nose twitching a mile a minute.

“The carrots are there, on the salad bar,” the curly-haired boy said, pointing.

Mozart followed the kid’s pointed finger, and gasped. His eyes bulged. His tongue hung out. “S-salad bar?”

B looked at George. “Oh, no!”

Mozart was already waddling off toward the salad bar, his arms outstretched like a zombie.

“Grab him, George!”

But before George could get far, the bell rang. Mozart never made it to the salad bar. He was swept out of the cafeteria on a surging tide of sixth-graders heading for their next class.

“What do we do?” George asked.

“You go ahead to gym,” B said. “I’ll search for Mozart. If I don’t show up in a few minutes, though, get a hall pass and come looking for me, okay?”

George nodded and galloped off.

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