flew out by the dozens to form themselves into a rainbow-colored replica of George’s house, right down to the shrubs.
And still the lava lamp swung its wide arc, illuminating the bizarre party like a strobe light, while Butterbrains barked like a maniac.
“Oh, man,” George said. “Think what you could do with this — the stuff you could pull off at school!” He doubled over laughing. “Just imagine, a school assembly, and you make the vice principal’s toupee float all over the auditorium.
Attack of the bad hair monster!”
B giggled. “No way! That’s so mean. Besides, my magic is an absolute secret, remember?
No one
can find out about it.”
“I know, I know,” George said, still laughing. “You’ve gotta admit, though, that would be an assembly to remember.” He pantomimed clutching at his head, as if his own hair had just flown away.
“Yeah, but you make me nervous, the way you keep bringing up ideas like that,” B said, watching as the clackety building blocks turned George’s house into a castle. “I would get in such huge trouble if the M.R.S. found out that you know about this.”
“The what?” George asked.
“The Magical Rhyming Society.”
George sat up, blinking at B. “There’s a Magical Rhyming
Society?
You mean, there are lots of witches, all organized and stuff?”
“Yup. Lots of them.” B aimed a G-L-O-W spell at a pair of glow-in-the-dark plastic swords. “What, did you think I’m the only one?”
Butterbrains ran in frenetic circles, barking at the bobbling balls, dancing figures, clashing swords, and building blocks, each in turn.
George shrugged. “How would I know? You’re the only witch I’ve ever —”
KNOCK.
They stared at each other, terrified.
KNOCK.
They stared at the whirlwind of toys. George’s dad’s voice came through the thin door. “What are you two doing to that dog?”
Chapter 2
“D-R-O-P!” B whispered.
All the floating toys clattered to the floor. Just in time, George dived to catch the lava lamp before it smashed to bits.
George’s dad poked his head through the door. “What on earth is going on in here?” He blinked at the sight of the toys all over the floor, then rolled his eyes. “Do I dare ask?”
B, her heart still pounding in her chest, let slip a nervous giggle. “We were just, you know, playing, Mr. F,” she said.
Mr. Fitzsimmons rolled his eyes. “That’s what toys are for, I guess. Clean this up, okay? And quittormenting poor Butterbrains.” He turned to go, then paused. “Oh, by the way. I came down here to tell you we just ordered some Chinese food. Should be here in a few minutes. Stick around for some Crab Rangoon, B?”
“Yum! You bet,” B said. “Thanks for the invite.”
George’s dad nodded and pulled the door shut behind him as he went back upstairs.
“C’mon, George,” B said, scooping up a handful of blocks. “Let’s get this cleaned up.”
“Can’t you just think up a spell to do the cleaning?” George said.
B chucked a green brick at him. “Get cleaning, lazy. Spells are harder than you think. And they don’t solve all your problems.”
George dumped the action figures back in the tub. “Well, anyway, you were just about to tell me who the other witches are in our school.”
B dropped an armload of balls into their tote. “I was not!”
“Oh, come on. Just whisper it to me. I won’t tell,” George teased.
B folded her arms across her chest. “No. Way. I’ve told you too much as it is. You might slip up and blab.”
“Who, me?” He flung the plastic swords back into the toy box. “My lips are sealed.”
“Good. Keep ’em that way. It would be a total disaster if any other nonwitches found out about me — or if any witches found out that I told you.”
“I promise, B,” George said seriously. “I won’t let it slip.”
B knew she could trust her best friend, but she was going to have to be really careful from now on. No more magic accidents!
“Um, B?”
And still the lava lamp swung its wide arc, illuminating the bizarre party like a strobe light, while Butterbrains barked like a maniac.
“Oh, man,” George said. “Think what you could do with this — the stuff you could pull off at school!” He doubled over laughing. “Just imagine, a school assembly, and you make the vice principal’s toupee float all over the auditorium.
Attack of the bad hair monster!”
B giggled. “No way! That’s so mean. Besides, my magic is an absolute secret, remember?
No one
can find out about it.”
“I know, I know,” George said, still laughing. “You’ve gotta admit, though, that would be an assembly to remember.” He pantomimed clutching at his head, as if his own hair had just flown away.
“Yeah, but you make me nervous, the way you keep bringing up ideas like that,” B said, watching as the clackety building blocks turned George’s house into a castle. “I would get in such huge trouble if the M.R.S. found out that you know about this.”
“The what?” George asked.
“The Magical Rhyming Society.”
George sat up, blinking at B. “There’s a Magical Rhyming
Society?
You mean, there are lots of witches, all organized and stuff?”
“Yup. Lots of them.” B aimed a G-L-O-W spell at a pair of glow-in-the-dark plastic swords. “What, did you think I’m the only one?”
Butterbrains ran in frenetic circles, barking at the bobbling balls, dancing figures, clashing swords, and building blocks, each in turn.
George shrugged. “How would I know? You’re the only witch I’ve ever —”
KNOCK.
They stared at each other, terrified.
KNOCK.
They stared at the whirlwind of toys. George’s dad’s voice came through the thin door. “What are you two doing to that dog?”
Chapter 2
“D-R-O-P!” B whispered.
All the floating toys clattered to the floor. Just in time, George dived to catch the lava lamp before it smashed to bits.
George’s dad poked his head through the door. “What on earth is going on in here?” He blinked at the sight of the toys all over the floor, then rolled his eyes. “Do I dare ask?”
B, her heart still pounding in her chest, let slip a nervous giggle. “We were just, you know, playing, Mr. F,” she said.
Mr. Fitzsimmons rolled his eyes. “That’s what toys are for, I guess. Clean this up, okay? And quittormenting poor Butterbrains.” He turned to go, then paused. “Oh, by the way. I came down here to tell you we just ordered some Chinese food. Should be here in a few minutes. Stick around for some Crab Rangoon, B?”
“Yum! You bet,” B said. “Thanks for the invite.”
George’s dad nodded and pulled the door shut behind him as he went back upstairs.
“C’mon, George,” B said, scooping up a handful of blocks. “Let’s get this cleaned up.”
“Can’t you just think up a spell to do the cleaning?” George said.
B chucked a green brick at him. “Get cleaning, lazy. Spells are harder than you think. And they don’t solve all your problems.”
George dumped the action figures back in the tub. “Well, anyway, you were just about to tell me who the other witches are in our school.”
B dropped an armload of balls into their tote. “I was not!”
“Oh, come on. Just whisper it to me. I won’t tell,” George teased.
B folded her arms across her chest. “No. Way. I’ve told you too much as it is. You might slip up and blab.”
“Who, me?” He flung the plastic swords back into the toy box. “My lips are sealed.”
“Good. Keep ’em that way. It would be a total disaster if any other nonwitches found out about me — or if any witches found out that I told you.”
“I promise, B,” George said seriously. “I won’t let it slip.”
B knew she could trust her best friend, but she was going to have to be really careful from now on. No more magic accidents!
“Um, B?”
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