The Unwilling Witch by David Lubar

Author:David Lubar
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates

Sixteen

DINGDONG

Something that belongs to her? I remembered the words I’d read: Power seeks its rightful owner. In a flash of quick thinking, I managed to mutter, “I … uh … ummm … what?”

She smiled. “Relax, child. It was a simple error. She’d promised it to me and then she gave it to you. But this should make things fair.”

She held up a twenty-dollar bill. Was that all my power was worth? I shook my head. “No.”

“All right,” she said. She reached into her pocket and pulled out another twenty-dollar bill. “Surely this is enough.”

“You can’t put a price on it,” I told her.

“But it’s just a book,” she said.

“A book?” I was too relieved to protest. “I’ll be right back.” As I ran up to my room, I wondered how the woman had found me. Then I remembered that Jan had used my last name at the spell shop. We were the only Claypool family in the Lewington phone book. I came back down and handed the book to the woman. She gave me the money.

“Such lovely hair,” she said. She reached out and stroked my hair where it brushed my shoulder, then turned and walked off.

I put the money in my pocket and went up to my room. Forty dollars for a book that hadn’t cost me anything—something wasn’t right. Before I could think things through, the doorbell rang again.

“Angie,” Mom called, “one of your friends is here to see you.”

I ran down the stairs, then skidded to a halt. Never in a million years, except maybe in a million nightmares, would I ever have expected to find May Mellon at my door.

“Uh, hi?” I said. I almost added: Did you change your mind and decide you wanted to beat me up after all?

She jerked her head to the side. For an instant, I thought it was some kind of dreadful twitch. Then I realized she wanted me to come out to the porch. I walked through the doorway, feeling vulnerable. May was big and strong. She was powerful enough to pick me up and throw me off the porch. But I had power, too. That thought made me stand a bit straighter and look her in the eye. “What do you want?”

“Does this match?” she asked.

“What?” I had no idea what she was talking about.

“Does it match!” she shouted, as if my problem had to do with the volume of her words and not the meaning. “You’re supposed to know this stuff.” She pointed at her shirt.

“Oh, your clothes.” Amazing. A few hours ago, she was ready to smash me. Now she wanted my advice. I tried not to flinch as I studied her outfit: jeans, a red belt, and a green shirt with orange flowers on it. “You look fine.” What could I do? I couldn’t tell her she looked like a walking advertisement for Hawaiian Christmas vacations. She’d clobber me for sure.

May nodded, grunted a word that might have been “Thanks,” and walked down the steps. I should have made my escape, but something didn’t seem right.

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