Parties & Potions #4 by Sarah Mlynowski Page B

inside. “I bet you took us to the wrong address.”
    “Oh, sure, assume I’m the one who screwed up. Maybe you wrote down the wrong address.”
    She cocks her head. “It’s a little more likely that you messed up, isn’t it? Don’t deny that I’m the superior witch.”
    Puh-lease! I kick up my second left shoe. “Oh yeah, Ms. Superior? Do I look like I have two left feet?”
    She flushes. “Well, I have seen you dance.”
    “Hello there,” says a low voice behind us. A male voice.
    We spin around to see a boy. He’s on the small side— maybe five foot five—is thin, and has light brown messed-up hair. He’s wearing faded jeans and a green untucked shirt.
    And he’s cute.
    “Do you live here?” Miri asks. “Because if you do, we’re in the wrong place. ’Cause you shouldn’t be here. I mean—”
    What is she saying? That girl has got to learn how to talk with boys! “Not that there’s anything wrong with you,” I say. “Or with where you live….” I look at Miri. I’m not doing much better.
    He breaks into a smile. “Judging from the lithium batteries you’re holding, I’m thinking you’re in the right place.” He opens his hands and reveals two batteries. “Transportation spell, right?”
    Omigod! He’s a boy witch. A cute boy witch. I’m talking to a cute boy witch.
    “You’re a warlock?” Miri asks him. “That is so cool! We’ve never met any warlocks our own age before.”
    “How old are you guys?” he asks, stepping closer.
    Oh, look at his blue eyes. Big blue eyes that crinkle when he smiles!
    “I’m twelve and Rachel’s fourteen,” Miri says. “I mean thirteen. I mean, I’m thirteen, and Rachel’s—”
    “Fifteen,” I interject. “I just turned fifteen on Thursday.”
    He gives me a crinkle-eyed smile. “Happy birthday, Rachel.”
    He knows my name! How does he know my name? He is an all-knowing warlock! Oh, wait, Miri just said it. “Thank you.” Now we’re just smiling at each other. This is weird. Must stop!
    “I’m Adam.” He puts out his hand.
    Adorable! We’re going to shake hands. I stick out my hand and we shake. I don’t expect his hand to be so … warm. “This is my sister, Miri.”
    Now they shake. There’s a whole lot of shaking going on. Is he still smiling at me? He is! I look down at my identical shoes.
    “Nice to meet you,” he says. “You’ve never been here before, have you?”
    “We’re newbies,” I say.
    “Where are you from?”
    “New York,” Miri says.
    “New York City,” I clarify. He should know that we are city girls, and therefore super-cool. “You?”
    “Salt Lake City.” Oh! He’s a city boy too! He’s also super-cool!
    Do cool people know they’re cool? Or does wanting to be cool automatically make you uncool?
    “So, Adam, what are you doing here?” Miri asks. “Isn’t this the place for Samsorta lessons?”
    “I’m studying for my Simsorta,” he says.
    “Your what?” I ask.
    “Studying for my Simsorta,” he repeats.
    “No, I heard. I’m just wondering what a—”
    “Can we continue this conversation inside?” Miri interrupts, fidgeting. “I don’t want to be late.”
    “Miri,” I say, “we’re not late. We’re here.”
    “Isn’t Samsorta class at one?” Adam asks.
    “Yeah,” Miri says. “And it’s already a quarter to.”
    Adam taps his watch. “It’s only a quarter to ten. There’s a three-hour time difference.”
    Miri’s eyes widen. “I forgot that part.”
    I laugh. “Good work, Mir.”
    “I’ll show you guys around, then,” he says. “Should we go in?”
    “I tried knocking,” I say. “But no one answered.”
    “Did you try umretto ?” Adam asks.
    I don’t know what to do with that sentence. “Is it raining?”
    He laughs. “Not umbrella. Umretto. It means ‘open’ in Brixta. It’s the secret code.”
    Guess Matilda was too busy pausing to give us the password.
    “Watch.” He approaches the door, knocks three times, and says, “Umretto!” The