The Trouble With Spells by Lacey Weatherford Page A

bowl, which was still floating in the air.
    “Are you still
doing that?” Grandma asked, her eyes widening.
    I shrugged. “I
guess so. No one told me to put it down.”
    “This is amazing,”
Grandma said, looking at Vance.
    “I know,” he
agreed with an appreciative look.
    “What’s the big
deal?” I asked, not understanding what was so wonderful.
    “You kept the bowl
in the air all this time even with us distracting you. That’s usually the sign
of a very accomplished witch.”
    “Oh.” I stared at
the levitating object.
    “You can put it
down now, show-off,” Vance said teasingly, with a gentle elbow to my ribs.
    I concentrated on
lowering the bowl to the table until it softly touched the hard surface once
again without making a sound.
    “I’m going to
suggest something a little unorthodox,” Grandma said, tapping her lips with her
fingers.
    “All right.” I was
a little apprehensive, wondering what she had in store for me now.
    “I want you to
wander around the house, and yard, or wherever. Try to use your magic for
whatever crosses your mind. Don’t hold yourself back, just do anything you feel
like doing.”
    “But what about
the Law of Three?” I asked, worried about upsetting some sort of balance and
being punished for it later.
    “As long as you’re
not hurting anyone or anything in a bad way, you’ll be fine. The Law of Three
is there as a guideline. It doesn’t necessarily mean something bad will happen
to you or a consequence will be immediate.”
    “Then how come you
got warts after casting against your brother?” I asked, not understanding how
it all worked.
    She laughed at me.
“Apparently, you didn’t read the part about my mother being the magic behind
that. She was trying to teach me a lesson, and it’s a lesson for everyone
whether they’re magical or not. You get back what you put out there. So if
you’re doing good works, the chances are you’ll reap good works in return. But
if the things you sow are evil, then that’s what you’ll harvest as well.”
    “So it’s basically
a metaphor?” I asked, trying to wrap my head around this pearl of wisdom she
was trying to teach me. “It doesn’t necessarily apply to magic?”
    “It is a metaphor,
and it can apply to magic depending on the things you’re doing,” she replied.
    “I’m confused,” I
said, my head starting to hurt again.
    “I’m saying it’s
not absolute, but you should always try to be aware of what you’re doing.”
    “So, better safe
than sorry?” I asked.
    “Exactly, but
don’t be afraid to use your magic either.”
    “Okay,” I said,
thinking I kind of understood what she meant.
    The three of us
headed upstairs and I began my wandering, not really knowing what to do. I
tried to concentrate on the energy flowing through me.
    I spotted a glass
vase on the mantle. I focused on it and raised my hand slightly into the air,
flicking it. The vase swept off the mantle and landed with a loud crash onto
the wooden floor, shattering into a million pieces.
    Instantly, I felt
sorry for breaking Grandma’s vase. “Oh no,” I cried out, and I leaned over to
pick the broken pieces up wishing I could put it back together. I think I was
just as shocked as everyone else when the vase reassembled itself in front of
me. I carefully reached down, picked it up, and gently placed it on the shelf.
    “That was
impressive,” Vance said and my grandma agreed.
    “Can you do that?”
I asked both of them.
    “Yes,” Vance
replied. “But it took me a few days to master it.”
    “Days?” Grandma
chuckled, shaking her head slightly. “It took me months.”
    Not willing to
risk damaging the house anymore, I ventured out into the yard and walked over
to her flower beds, where the flowers were showing some signs of wilting with
the cooler fall air approaching.
    I slowly ran my
finger over one of the plants, and it immediately began turning greener,
standing up straight as the flower burst back into full bloom. I