this.”
“You’re almost a witch,” Bean pointed out. “Can’t you magically make money?”
Ivy thought about it. “I’ve never heard of witches making money with magic.”
“Why not?” Bean asked. “Even witches need money.”
“Wait!” Ivy slapped her head. “Duh! Witches make money by selling potions!”
“Well, heck!” said Bean. She stood up, causing a major earthquake in Eraser Valley. “What are we waiting for?”
OUT OF BUSINESS
Ivy had been practicing to become a witch for a long time. She was going to be one when she grew up, for sure. She had already learned a lot of important witch things, like spells and potions. Especially potions. Potions were funbecause you had to mix ingredients to make them. Ingredients for potions were things like bugs and hair and leaf juice and rust. Ivy’s collection of ingredients stood on a shelf in a special section of her room she called the magic lab.
Ivy took her magic book from its hiding place and flipped through the pages, looking for a potion to sell. It had to be something that people would want to buy.
“What do people want?” she asked.
“Horses,” said Bean. She wanted a horse.
Ivy looked in her book. “Here’s one for making your horse as fast as an eagle.”
Bean rolled her eyes. “That’s not much help if you don’t have a horse.”
Ivy nodded. Then she giggled. “Here’s one that makes the first person you touch fall in love with you.”
“Eeeww, gross! Touching.” Bean shivered.
“Maybe we could sell it to Nancy,” suggested Ivy.
“Too mean,” said Bean.
“To Nancy?” asked Ivy.
“No! To whoever touched her! Geez!”
“Okay.” Ivy looked through more pages. Then she stopped. “This is a good one. A flying potion. Hey, and flies are one of the ingredients! I’ve got tons of flies!” She looked at the bottle of dead flies on her shelf.
“That’s perfect,” Bean said. “Everyone wants to fly. I bet we could charge ten dollars a bottle for a flying potion.”
“Ten dollars. That’s two bags of Belldeloon cheese,” said Ivy.
“That’s twelve pieces of wax,” said Bean.
+ + + + + +
“Yuck,” said Leo the next day at lunch recess.
“But you’ll fly ,” said Bean, flapping her arms up and down to show flying.
“What are those black things?” he asked, looking at the jar of potion. It had turned out sort of yellowish, except for the bits that were black.
“Secret,” said Bean.
“Flies,” said Ivy at the same moment.
“Gross!” he said. “Nobody’s going to drink that. You guys are nuts!”
Ivy and Bean looked at each other and sighed. The potion business was not so good. No one wanted the potion, not even at the special sale price of one dollar. Eric said that he would give Bean a quarter if she drank it, but she decided not to. A quarter wasn’t enough to buy Belldeloon cheese anyway.
Lunch was almost over. They needed a potion-buyer on the double. Vanessa walked by, a lump of red wax in one hand and her brother Toby in the other. Even though he was only in kindergarten, he had a lump of red wax, too.
It was worth a try. “Hey, Toby, trade you a flying potion for your wax!” called Bean. He turned around and looked at her. She waved the jar of potion. “Don’t you want to fly?” She waved the jar some more. “Look, I can hardly keep it in my hand! It’s trying to fly away!” She gave the jar a little toss. “See? It’s—” The jar slipped through her fingers and crashed against the cement of the breezeway. Ivy and Bean stared at a million pieces of glass sitting in a puddle of dead flies and yellow glop.
“Just what do we have here, young ladies?”
Ivy and Bean turned around. It was Rose the Yard Duty. The potion business went from bad to worse.
BREAKING THE NEWS
That afternoon, Bean’s dad wandered into the kitchen. “Holy moly cannoli, what are you eating?” he squawked.
“Gmckr tnch,” said Bean. Her mouth was full. “Ff bplzrp npnd
“You’re almost a witch,” Bean pointed out. “Can’t you magically make money?”
Ivy thought about it. “I’ve never heard of witches making money with magic.”
“Why not?” Bean asked. “Even witches need money.”
“Wait!” Ivy slapped her head. “Duh! Witches make money by selling potions!”
“Well, heck!” said Bean. She stood up, causing a major earthquake in Eraser Valley. “What are we waiting for?”
OUT OF BUSINESS
Ivy had been practicing to become a witch for a long time. She was going to be one when she grew up, for sure. She had already learned a lot of important witch things, like spells and potions. Especially potions. Potions were funbecause you had to mix ingredients to make them. Ingredients for potions were things like bugs and hair and leaf juice and rust. Ivy’s collection of ingredients stood on a shelf in a special section of her room she called the magic lab.
Ivy took her magic book from its hiding place and flipped through the pages, looking for a potion to sell. It had to be something that people would want to buy.
“What do people want?” she asked.
“Horses,” said Bean. She wanted a horse.
Ivy looked in her book. “Here’s one for making your horse as fast as an eagle.”
Bean rolled her eyes. “That’s not much help if you don’t have a horse.”
Ivy nodded. Then she giggled. “Here’s one that makes the first person you touch fall in love with you.”
“Eeeww, gross! Touching.” Bean shivered.
“Maybe we could sell it to Nancy,” suggested Ivy.
“Too mean,” said Bean.
“To Nancy?” asked Ivy.
“No! To whoever touched her! Geez!”
“Okay.” Ivy looked through more pages. Then she stopped. “This is a good one. A flying potion. Hey, and flies are one of the ingredients! I’ve got tons of flies!” She looked at the bottle of dead flies on her shelf.
“That’s perfect,” Bean said. “Everyone wants to fly. I bet we could charge ten dollars a bottle for a flying potion.”
“Ten dollars. That’s two bags of Belldeloon cheese,” said Ivy.
“That’s twelve pieces of wax,” said Bean.
+ + + + + +
“Yuck,” said Leo the next day at lunch recess.
“But you’ll fly ,” said Bean, flapping her arms up and down to show flying.
“What are those black things?” he asked, looking at the jar of potion. It had turned out sort of yellowish, except for the bits that were black.
“Secret,” said Bean.
“Flies,” said Ivy at the same moment.
“Gross!” he said. “Nobody’s going to drink that. You guys are nuts!”
Ivy and Bean looked at each other and sighed. The potion business was not so good. No one wanted the potion, not even at the special sale price of one dollar. Eric said that he would give Bean a quarter if she drank it, but she decided not to. A quarter wasn’t enough to buy Belldeloon cheese anyway.
Lunch was almost over. They needed a potion-buyer on the double. Vanessa walked by, a lump of red wax in one hand and her brother Toby in the other. Even though he was only in kindergarten, he had a lump of red wax, too.
It was worth a try. “Hey, Toby, trade you a flying potion for your wax!” called Bean. He turned around and looked at her. She waved the jar of potion. “Don’t you want to fly?” She waved the jar some more. “Look, I can hardly keep it in my hand! It’s trying to fly away!” She gave the jar a little toss. “See? It’s—” The jar slipped through her fingers and crashed against the cement of the breezeway. Ivy and Bean stared at a million pieces of glass sitting in a puddle of dead flies and yellow glop.
“Just what do we have here, young ladies?”
Ivy and Bean turned around. It was Rose the Yard Duty. The potion business went from bad to worse.
BREAKING THE NEWS
That afternoon, Bean’s dad wandered into the kitchen. “Holy moly cannoli, what are you eating?” he squawked.
“Gmckr tnch,” said Bean. Her mouth was full. “Ff bplzrp npnd
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