Witcha'be (8 page)

“Watch your language, Kit,” Mrs. Piper warned.

“Dizzy is such a joke.” Jesse puffed out his cheeks as if he was going to vomit, but even he couldn’t bring me down today.

“Congratulations. I hope you have a fabulous time. We’ll need a play-by-play after the show,” Mrs. Piper said.

She laid a blank warm-up on my desk—the short pre-assignment she used to get our
creative juices
flowing. I frowned at the instructions, wondering how to describe the color green in three ways without saying the actual word. I barely finished, still scribbling down the word
avocado
when Mrs. Piper asked us to pass our papers forward.

“Okay, class, the moment you’ve been waiting for. Please open your dream journals.” The room grew loud with chatter about who dreamed what the night before.

I stared at the first page. My breath quickened and hands trembled. The nightmare rushed back in vivid detail, right down to the twitching antennae on Bianca’s drawing.

“Who would like to share a little bit about their dream?”

A few hands shot into the air. Mrs. Piper nodded at Kit. “While Kit is recounting, take notes on setting and do a few character sketches. Try to organize his dream into three elements of a story—setup, confrontation, and resolution. Go ahead, Kit.”

He smiled crookedly. “Okay. It went like this. Jake Hughes and me were at the store buying some games for our systems. We paid the guy in candy, which got him all excited. We walked toward the front of the store, but weren’t in the store anymore. All of a sudden, we were lost in some kind of maze—like on that old movie,
The Shining
—only the maze wasn’t bushes, it was razor blades.” Kit’s smile disappeared and his forehead creased. “So then, Jake and me got separated and couldn’t see each other. I was scared because of the razors. I wanted to stop, but a creature was chasing me. A zombie or something.”

A giggle in the room broke his concentration. His head snapped up and he gawked around, the grin returning to his face. “And I hunted the thing down and killed it. Poked its eyes in with my thumbs and threw it into the razor wire!” Kit jumped up from his desk and mimicked a zombie fight scene. Laughter exploded.

Mrs. Piper gazed sternly, arms crossed. “Pass me your journal, please. I need to verify your details.” She held out her hand.

“Oh, I, uh, didn’t write everything down.” Kit returned to his seat and covered a fake cough. “I’ll stick to what I wrote, Mrs. Piper. Sorry.” He began reading again. “Anyway, this zombie-thing chased me and I couldn’t run. It was going to catch me for sure. I tried to scream but nothing came out. Then, I saw…”

“What? What did you see?” Amy asked, her normally soft voice shrill with curiosity.

“I saw, um, part of Jake’s shirt, all ripped and bloody, hanging on the razors.”

Gasps echoed.

“Then I woke up.” Kit closed his journal and shrugged his shoulders.

“Very intense dream, Kit. Thank you for sharing. May I ask what you did before bed last night and what you ate for dinner?”

He turned his gaze to the ceiling. “I skipped dinner because my mom made fish. I ate a family-sized bag of candy and played
Zombification
until I passed out on the floor. The controller buttons were imprinted on my skin when I woke up this morning. Guess I laid on it all night.” Kit lifted his shirt and examined his belly. “Gone now.”

“So you were under the influence of sugar and
Zombification
. I’m less worried than I was a few moments ago.” Mrs. Piper chuckled, placing a hand on his shoulder.

I analyzed the reasons behind my own nightmare—a blend of Bianca’s drawing, an insecticide commercial, and the ham and cheese with pickles I’d gobbled for dinner.

“Raise your hand if you can tell me the setting of Kit’s dream?”

Mrs. Piper nodded in my direction.

“The store?”

“Yes, that’s right. The dream began in the store. Therefore, the initial setting is a store, even though the scenery changed later. Now, who can describe the characters?”

“It was Kit and that gigantic dork he hangs around with, Jake,” Jesse blurted without raising his hand.

“That was rude and uncalled for,” Mrs. Piper snapped.

Jesse smirked.

“As Jesse impolitely established, the characters were Kit and Jake. Later, we’ll change the names of characters along with their physical attributes, so they no longer resemble people we know. Jot down a few of Kit’s and Jake’s traits. Remember, be respectful.”

Kit blushed and lowered his pencil. I used his flushed cheeks as part of my character description. I wrote that he loved video games and jokes—leaving out the fact that no one thought he was funny. For Jake, I described his broad shoulders, large hands, and unhurried walk.

Jesse snorted and cleared his throat as he wrote, covering a stupid half-smile with his hand while his shoulders shook. Mrs. Piper stood by his desk.

“Mrs. Piper?” Mrs. Butler’s voice crackled through the intercom. “Please release Jesse Parker. Coach Jeffrey’s bus is waiting for the football players.”

Jesse stood and tugged at his jersey, offering a cocky grin to the rest of the class.

“Take your journal home and finish the character sketches. Also, remember to record your dreams tonight. Good luck at the game.”

“Luck? Yeah, right. Benton Bobcats are the ones that need luck, not us. It’s gonna be a bloodbath. Whoo!”

The class erupted with desk-slaps and foot-stomps. Jesse gathered his books and offered Kit a high five on the way out, pulling back at the last second. Kit slowly lowered his un-slapped hand.

“Okay, class, settle down. We have time for one more dream. Volunteers?” She scanned the classroom.

My foot bounced as I debated raising my hand. Talking about my nightmare might make it less scary. The whole thing actually sounded kind of funny now.
When Grasshoppers Attack
.

My gaze shot around the room. Jesse’s empty desk eased the tension a bit. With a shaky breath, I raised my hand.

“Molly.” Mrs. Piper walked toward me.

My heartbeat thumped in my ears. “I didn’t really write it down, so I’ll have to tell it from memory.” My mouth went dry. I swallowed air.

“You’ve got plenty of time.” She glanced at the wall clock above the doorway. “Class, take notes.”

“Hey! Why did I have to read mine?” Kit interrupted.

Mrs. Piper shot him a look.

“I know, I know.” He sighed. “Because I embellish.”

She nodded. “Molly, you may begin.”

I took a deep breath and let the words roll out. “Yesterday evening I was really excited about starting the dream journal project. I couldn’t wait for bed so I could have a dream and write it down. Seemed like it would be so much fun to wake in the middle of the night and journal in the dark.” I glanced around at the other students. They appeared to be listening. “I decided to take a long bath, to relax. Before I left my room, an insecticide commercial came on showing all these disgusting grasshoppers dying.”

“Oh, yeah, I’ve seen that one. They’re all dragging their legs and squirming. Nasty!” Kit stood and limped around his desk, trailing one leg.

“Sit down.” Mrs. Piper raised her hand like a stop sign. “Continue, Molly.”

“In the bathtub, I dried my face and felt a thorn in the towel. It twitched when I pulled it.” I swallowed. “Grasshoppers squirmed out of the towel and flew everywhere, plopping into the water, landing all over me. I jumped out and fell, crushing them. I tried to get up, but couldn’t. I kept slipping on the tile. A monstrous grasshopper appeared on the wall, looked at me, and got ready to jump. I was paralyzed. Then…it jumped.”

I swiped my forehead with the back of my hand and pictured sweat forming dark crescents in the armpits of my peach top. A fierce hiccup tore from my throat. People struggled to hide their smiles as tears blurred my vision. Amy patted my back.

“So?” Kit frowned. “Then what happened?”

“I woke up. In the bathtub. My parents were beating on the door, and I was freezing.”

Hic!

“Ha! That’s great.” Kit smacked his desktop.

The bell sounded, rescuing me from further humiliation.

“Class, finish your character sketches at home, please. You’re dismissed.” Mrs. Piper lowered her voice. “Molly, can you stay after class for a few moments? This is my planning period, and I would like to visit with you.” She placed her hands on my trembling ones.

“I don’t think I can.”
Hic!
“I have Mr. Williams for science this period.”

“I’ll write you a note. Just stay with me a few moments, Molly. Please.” She gently squeezed my hands.

My shoulders and chest relaxed a little.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Mrs. Piper closed the door, walked to her desk and picked up a box of tissues. She scooted a chair close to mine.

“Can you tell me what’s bothering you?” Her voice soothed and evoked emotion at the same time. Tears trickled down my cheeks. “This is about more than the grasshopper nightmare, isn’t it?” She handed me a tissue and slid an arm around my shoulders.

“I don’t know where to start.” My mouth tugged down and I tried not to sob.

“Share a little about yourself. You recently moved to Redbend, right before school started.” She gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze before pulling her arm from around me.

“We bought our house in the middle of June, but didn’t actually move in until after the Fourth of July. We spent the last two weeks of June at a lake cabin with the Flemmings. That’s when I met my best friend, Lenni.” I sniffled.

“What do you think of the town?”

“It’s alright, I guess. Lenni showed me around and introduced me to people.” Bianca’s cold stare invaded my head.

“You’ve made new friends?”

“A few, besides Lenni.”

“I’ve never had the pleasure of teaching Lenni, but I have chatted with her in the hall. She seems very sweet.”

“Yes, and very vulnerable. A little naïve too. But that’s what I love about her.”

“Those are refreshing qualities to find these days. Do your parents enjoy living in Redbend?”

“My dad likes his job. He works for Lenni’s dad, Neal, at Flemming Accounting. Mom stays home, taking care of the house and collecting antiques.”

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“Nope. I’m an only child. Unless you count my dog, Boo. He’s a Chihuahua, but he’s like a very hyperactive younger brother.”

“I’d love to meet your family sometime, including Boo the dog.”

“I’d like that too.” Maybe I would talk Mom into inviting Mr. and Mrs. Piper over for spaghetti some night.

“May I ask what’s been troubling you over the past week or so?”

“It’s hard to talk about. I don’t think you’d understand.”

“You might be surprised. I teach creative writing, remember? I have a unique way of looking at things. I won’t judge you, and I’ll try very hard to understand where you’re coming from.”

My gaze followed Mrs. Piper’s to my cross necklace. “It was a gift from Lenni.” I placed the small cross in her hand. She closed her eyes, smiled, and gave a gentle squeeze.

“Are you ready to talk?” she asked, straightening the chain around my neck.

“Okay, I’ll try.” I blew out a breath and squared my shoulders. “It started when I moved here. Apparently, Bianca felt threatened because Lenni and I were spending so much time together. Lenni wants all three of us to be best friends. She doesn’t believe how much Bianca hates me, or how dangerous she is.”

“Dangerous?” Mrs. Piper’s eyes darkened.

“It started out with little things. She would glare at me, mutter under her breath, roll her eyes. Pretty much normal stuff girls do when they don’t like someone. But Friday, last period, she stared at me longer and harder than usual. And in the hallway after class, she plucked a hair from my head.”

“Why would she do that?”

I squirmed, not wanting to tell her that Bianca probably put my hair into a big black caldron with some frog warts and eye of newt. I bounced my foot and crossed my arms.

“Don’t shut down on me. Please.” She touched my arm.

I sniffed and cleared my throat. “Bianca is a witcha’be.” I knew she wouldn’t believe me.

She leaned closer. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t make out what you said.”

“
Witcha’be.
A wannabe witch. A witch who isn’t fully developed yet. I know it sounds crazy, but it’s true.” I examined Mrs. Piper’s face, intending to stop talking at her first sign of disbelief.

“You believe Bianca plucked your hair to perform some kind of spell?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Did you notice anything odd after that happened?”

“Odd?” Laughter rolled out of me, strong and deep. I jumped to my feet. Mrs. Piper stood and wrapped me in her arms. I pressed my face into her shoulder as the laughter turned to sobs. “She’s playing with my mind, even messing with my dreams.” My cheeks warmed at how ridiculous I must sound.

“Everything’s going to be fine,” she reassured me, stroking my hair.

I plucked three tissues from the box, dabbed my eyes, and blew my nose. “When?” My thoughts were tangled like a useless heap of wire hangers. I broke her embrace and paced the room.

“Molly, take control of the things you can.” She gently grasped my arms to halt my caged-animal stride.

“But I don’t have control of anything. That’s the problem.”

“Yes, you do.” She stepped back, clutching my shoulders, looking me in the eye. “You have control over
you
. Never give that to anyone. Self-control is a gift. You’ve already received it. You’re just not using it.”

She believed what she said. I wanted badly to believe, too. It sounded impossible, like a comic book hero discovering he’d had superpowers all along.

Mrs. Piper glanced at the clock. “Five minutes until the bell. Would you like to splash some water on your face?”

“Do you believe me, about Bianca?”

“Molly,” she said gently.

I raised my gaze to hers.

“I believe you. Can you stay after school tomorrow, so we can talk again?”

“I think so.”
She believes me… She believes me...
The words sang through my heart like a beautiful melody. “Thank you, Mrs. Piper.” I gave her a quick hug.