definitely make my bay leaf bath work even better. It’s sitting there, waiting to be used. Wanting to be used. And I wouldn’t even use the whole bottle, I tell myself. Just one big, fat drop plopped into a bathtub full of bay leaves might do the trick. And even if it
doesn’t
help, how much could it hurt?
The problem is, I don’t know the answers to those questions, and I can’t stand it anymore. It’s been over a month since I got the potion, and I’ve been patient enough! I need to find out how it works.
I’m doing it. I’m calling Uncle Arnie.
I sit at my desk and click on his name. I hope it’s not too late to call New Orleans, but Uncle Arnie doesn’t seem like the type to go to sleep early. After a bunch of rings, though, I’m ready to give up. He’s probably in his own bath playing with rubber duckies or out concocting more ways to confuse me. I guess it just wasn’t meant to be.
My finger is about to press “end” when a screen suddenly clicks on. No one says hello, though. The screen is a filmy white, like a sheet or something is hanging over the computer. Behind it I can see Uncle Arnie’s living room, the mess it always is. I start to say a quiet, uncertain “hello” when a loud female voice bursts through my speakers.
“What in the world was that?” it asks. It sounds like an older lady, with a Southern accent so strong it almost sounds fake.
“I think it’s his phone, Mama,” says another Southern voice, a younger lady.
“His computer is a phone? How can he lift it up to his ear?” the older lady crows. Then, without warning, her face fills Uncle Arnie’s screen. All I see is long, fuzzy, mostly gray hair and bushy, dark eyebrows—kind of like a female Uncle Arnie. But I only see her for a second because I leap out of my chair and squat on the floor, out of view.
“I saw someone, there on that screen!” she screams. “A little girl with yellow hair.”
Poop! She saw me!
“Well, she’s not there now,” the younger voice says.
“What’s that, then?” says the old lady. “As sure as the day is long and the grass is growin’, that looks like the top of a blond head.”
Poop, poop, poop! I throw myself flat on the floor so I can’t be seen at all.
“I don’t see anything, Mama.”
The older voice gets closer to the computer’s microphone. “Well, now it’s gone! I don’t know if it was a ghost or a demon disguised as an angel, but it was there!” I hear a banging sound, like she’s hitting the computer. “Come back, ghost child! Tell us what life is like in the beyond.”
I stay flat on the floor, staring at my ceiling. Who
are
these people?
“We’d better turn it off, Mama,” says the younger voice. And a moment later, I don’t hear any sounds at all.
I stay on the floor, too scared to move. I want to make sure those people are truly gone and Uncle Arnie’s computer is really off before I get up.
I lift my head slowly. “Hello?” I say quietly.
There’s no response, so I sit up halfway.
“I am the ghost child of Los Angeles!” I whisper in a spooky voice. When I don’t hear any answer to that, I feel safer. I glance at the computer screen. It’s black on Uncle Arnie’s side.
My heart is going wild and a million questions are running through my head. Then I remember something else that’s running—the bathtub! I dart across the hall, where the water has inched up and up and is about to go over the edge! I turn off the faucet just in time.
That was a close one. There’d be no way to explain to Dad an overflowing tub or the smell in the bathroom right now. I need to forget about whatever weirdness is going on at Uncle Arnie’s and start working on my own weirdness, without his love potion. I’m too freaked out from what just happened to even think about using it now!
After letting some water drain out, I get into the tub slowly, like a corn dog being dipped in its bubbling batter. Once I’m all the way in, I lift my toes out of
doesn’t
help, how much could it hurt?
The problem is, I don’t know the answers to those questions, and I can’t stand it anymore. It’s been over a month since I got the potion, and I’ve been patient enough! I need to find out how it works.
I’m doing it. I’m calling Uncle Arnie.
I sit at my desk and click on his name. I hope it’s not too late to call New Orleans, but Uncle Arnie doesn’t seem like the type to go to sleep early. After a bunch of rings, though, I’m ready to give up. He’s probably in his own bath playing with rubber duckies or out concocting more ways to confuse me. I guess it just wasn’t meant to be.
My finger is about to press “end” when a screen suddenly clicks on. No one says hello, though. The screen is a filmy white, like a sheet or something is hanging over the computer. Behind it I can see Uncle Arnie’s living room, the mess it always is. I start to say a quiet, uncertain “hello” when a loud female voice bursts through my speakers.
“What in the world was that?” it asks. It sounds like an older lady, with a Southern accent so strong it almost sounds fake.
“I think it’s his phone, Mama,” says another Southern voice, a younger lady.
“His computer is a phone? How can he lift it up to his ear?” the older lady crows. Then, without warning, her face fills Uncle Arnie’s screen. All I see is long, fuzzy, mostly gray hair and bushy, dark eyebrows—kind of like a female Uncle Arnie. But I only see her for a second because I leap out of my chair and squat on the floor, out of view.
“I saw someone, there on that screen!” she screams. “A little girl with yellow hair.”
Poop! She saw me!
“Well, she’s not there now,” the younger voice says.
“What’s that, then?” says the old lady. “As sure as the day is long and the grass is growin’, that looks like the top of a blond head.”
Poop, poop, poop! I throw myself flat on the floor so I can’t be seen at all.
“I don’t see anything, Mama.”
The older voice gets closer to the computer’s microphone. “Well, now it’s gone! I don’t know if it was a ghost or a demon disguised as an angel, but it was there!” I hear a banging sound, like she’s hitting the computer. “Come back, ghost child! Tell us what life is like in the beyond.”
I stay flat on the floor, staring at my ceiling. Who
are
these people?
“We’d better turn it off, Mama,” says the younger voice. And a moment later, I don’t hear any sounds at all.
I stay on the floor, too scared to move. I want to make sure those people are truly gone and Uncle Arnie’s computer is really off before I get up.
I lift my head slowly. “Hello?” I say quietly.
There’s no response, so I sit up halfway.
“I am the ghost child of Los Angeles!” I whisper in a spooky voice. When I don’t hear any answer to that, I feel safer. I glance at the computer screen. It’s black on Uncle Arnie’s side.
My heart is going wild and a million questions are running through my head. Then I remember something else that’s running—the bathtub! I dart across the hall, where the water has inched up and up and is about to go over the edge! I turn off the faucet just in time.
That was a close one. There’d be no way to explain to Dad an overflowing tub or the smell in the bathroom right now. I need to forget about whatever weirdness is going on at Uncle Arnie’s and start working on my own weirdness, without his love potion. I’m too freaked out from what just happened to even think about using it now!
After letting some water drain out, I get into the tub slowly, like a corn dog being dipped in its bubbling batter. Once I’m all the way in, I lift my toes out of
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