Jess's Story Read online

  “Where are we?” asked Sadie. “I mean, what layer are we on?”

  Maya squinted at the pan. “Three, I think. Just dump in all the noodles and what’s left of the sauce.”

  Jess read from the recipe. “Bake covered at three-fifty for forty minutes.” She frowned. “Covered with what? A quilt?”

  “They probably mean aluminum foil or something,” Sadie guessed.

  Jess rummaged around in the drawer under the oven. “This should work.” She pulled out a white rectangular lid. “It’s the same size as the pan.”

  Carefully Jess slid the lasagna onto the oven’s top rack, closed the door, and sighed with relief. “Now we have to wash everything and put it right back where it was.”

  Sadie, who was lugging the biggest pot toward the sink, stopped in front of the window and froze. “There’s a cat out there that looks like Onyx!”

  “Ms. M’s Onyx?” Maya hurried to peer over her shoulder. “Maybe her postcard said ‘See you soon!’ In Aztec!”

  “Except I don’t see anything.” Jess leaned so close to the window that her nose touched the glass.

  “He was there a second ago, I swear.”

  “Let’s go look,” Maya said.

  Jess’s backyard was big. Mock orange and lilac bushes grew on three sides. The girls spread out, each inspecting a different section.

  “Kitty, kitty?” Sadie crooned, squatting beside the zinnias.

  “Are you sure it was Onyx?” said Jess as she circled the trash cans. “Not a squirrel? Or a rock?”

  “I’m sure it was a cat, and it was black.”

  Maya knelt next to Jess’s mother’s herb garden. She plucked a stem from a plant and smooshed it between her fingers. “This smells so good. Maybe it’s catnip, because it’s making me want to roll around on the ground.”

  Sadie plopped beside her. “Hey, if we can’t find a cat, we could always do the cat yoga pose.” She got onto her hands and knees and arched her back. “Or downward dog.” She straightened her arms and legs and pushed her back end toward the sky.

  Maya flipped onto her side. “Let’s do comatose sloth.”

  All three girls sprawled on the warm grass. The scent of herbs swirled in the breeze. The late summer sun dripped down and pooled on their faces. It was so easy to let their eyes close.

  Jess sat up first. Sniffed. “Do you smell that?”

  “Mmmm,” Sadie responded, not opening her eyes.

  “It smells familiar.”

  Now Maya was sitting, too. Suddenly she gasped. “Oh, no! Remember that time in first grade when we took the grill lighter and Jess’s dolls into the garage and played—”

  Sadie shot to her feet. “Volcano Barbies!”

  They raced for the kitchen door, reaching it just as the smoke detector started to blare: Screeeeeeeee!!!!

  “Open a window!” Jess yelled. Sadie plugged her nose with one hand and grabbed a potholder with the other. Maya whacked at the smoke detector with a broom handle, trying to silence it.

  Minutes later, all was quiet. The smoke detector hung from the ceiling like a giant dead spider. On the stovetop sat the stinky, smoldering ruins.

  “Melted cheese, melted plastic,” Maya said. “Not a nutritious combination.”

  “Aluminum foil,” Sadie whispered, shaking her head. “I said aluminum foil.”

  “How was I supposed to know it was the wrong lid?” Jess moaned. “It fit the pan.”

  “At least it was white,” Maya said semi-brightly. “It kind of matches the mozzarella.”

  I am so dead, Jess thought.

  Chapter 4

  The New Babysitter

  “We were trying to be nice to you yesterday. We made one little mistake. One!”

  Jess’s mother, already in her white chef’s jacket, continued transferring items—checkbook, wallet, keys—from one purse to another. She took a sip of coffee. “I appreciate the thought. I really do. And I’m sure someday my oven won’t smell like a tire factory every time I turn it on.”

  “I’ll wipe it out with soap and water again. I promise.”

  “Honey.” Her mother sighed. “It’s a big deal for me to work with Chef Paul, even for a week. The truth is, I don’t want to waste any more of that time worrying. You need a reliable babysitter. Someone who can keep you out of trouble and make sure you eat healthy meals.”

  “Peanut butter has protein and fiber and a whole bunch of other stuff.”

  “Discussion over, Jess.”

  Jess held on to her mother’s wrists with both hands. “Sadie’s dad makes super-healthy smoothies. Let me stay over there today. I’ll even drink the green ones.”

  “I said, discussion over.”

  “Vicki is boring, but at least I know her,” Jess grumbled.

  “This babysitter is highly recommended. She has a background in nutrition.”

  “So she has sprouts growing out of her ears?”

  Just then the doorbell rang. Her mother picked up her purse and chef’s knife bag and hurried down the hall to answer it.

  Jess looked past her. Or tried to. She heard hellos, but she couldn’t see anyone.

  Then her mother stepped aside and there stood the new babysitter. In a KISS THE COOK sweatshirt. And a pointy hat.

  “Jess,” her mother said. “Meet Ms. M.”

  Out came the witch’s small hand. Her eyes flashed, alert and inviting.

  Jess could only stare.

  Here, right in her living room, was Ms. M.

  Sadie’s Ms. M.

  Just as Sadie had described her, including the hat. Especially the hat.

  Did Mom know she’d hired a witch as a babysitter?

  “So, Ms. M,” her mother said. “We had a long chat on the phone yesterday. You’ve got my cell number. Anything you need to ask before I go?”

  “Everything’s peachy,” said the witch. “You run along. We’ll be fine, won’t we, Jess.”

  Too overwhelmed to speak, Jess nodded. Her mother kissed her on the forehead and said, “Today you may not call your friends. You may not leave the house. We’ll see about tomorrow.”

  “Why don’t I just tie her to a chair,” said the witch.

  Jess’s mother turned slightly, looking puzzled. “Of course you care. I just told Jess you came highly recommended.”

  As the car backed down the driveway, the witch said, “Let’s wave.” So they did.

  Once they’d closed the door, Jess asked, “You aren’t really going to tie me to a chair, are you?”

  “I was only having a bit of fun,” Ms. M assured her, collapsing onto the couch.

  “So it’s really you?”

  “Back from Mexico. I was investigating an Ethel sighting.”

  “Sadie told us about Ethel. How she turned . . .”

  “Into a bird. Yes. A yellow warbler. Setophaga petechia.”

  Jess began, “Because a spell . . .”

  Ms. M nodded and her hat wobbled. “Yes. A spell that did not turn out well at all.”

  So it was true, what Sadie had told them about Ms. M and Ethel. Not that they hadn’t believed her. Well, they’d wanted to believe her. But now Jess really believed her. Really and truly.

  Jess asked, “Did you find Ethel?”

  The witch shook her head. “Alas, no. Some excellent enchiladas, but no Ethel.” She sifted through the small pile of magazines on the coffee table. Held up Bon Appétit. Sighed. “Ethel subscribed to this one. And of course to The Enchanted Epicure.”

  Jess perched on the arm of the couch. “Does Sadie know you’re back? She talks about you all the time.”

  “And I talk about her. But at present, I am here to see you.”

  “I can’t wait to tell her!” She reached for the phone and then stopped. “You’re not going to tell Mom, are you?”

  “That you called a friend even though you’re not supposed to? You haven’t actually called yet.”

  Jess hit Sadie’s number. “You’re not the boss of me.”

  “I’m
sure I’m not.”

  “How did you even get this job?” Ugh, the call was taking forever to go through! She hung up and tried again.

  “You heard your mother.” Ms. M leaped to her feet. Straightened her hat. “I always come highly recommended.”

  Chapter 5

  Mortar and Pestle

  In the kitchen, Ms. M walked around the butcher block island, caressed the mixer, admired the knives.

  Jess stared at the phone. “It’s weird,” she said. “There’s just this crackly sound.”

  “Let me listen.” Ms. M tilted her hat to one side so she could get the phone closer to her ear. She said, “Mishkabobnorbiddldomnexiamanmus.”

  “What was that?” asked Jess.

  “Gibberish,” replied the witch. “Most gadgets speak it. I used it to reason with a surly toaster the other day, but this phone doesn’t seem in the mood to communicate.”

  She picked up a small bowl next to the stove. Resting inside the bowl was something that looked like a little baseball bat. “Now here’s an item that speaks volumes. A mortar and pestle. Electric gadgets are fine in their place, but this has gravitas. It’s got history.”

  Beaming, she held out the little bat for Jess to examine. “Look. Look how worn the pestle is. Who knows how many hands have used it, to make how many meals.”

  “I think Mom uses it to mash garlic.” Jess made a face. “Ick.”

  The witch nodded sagely. “Nothing like a mortar and pestle for grinding spices and herbs. And Baba Yaga flies around in one. Hers is much roomier than this beauty, of course.”

  “Who is Baba Yaga?”

  “A friend of mine from the Old Country. I’ll tell you about her another time.”

  Ms. M flipped the faucet on and off. Opened and closed drawers. Eyed the pots of herbs on the windowsill. “Did you know,” she said after a while, “that kitchens didn’t used to be in the house? They were off by themselves. Because they were hot and stinky and caught fire a lot.”

  “Thanks for the reminder.”

  “Even the best chefs make mistakes,” said the witch, peering into the bread box. “You heard what happened to Ethel. And she was a champion baker. Her Toad House cookies took the blue ribbon every year at the Wisconsin State Fair. Except for back in 1992, when she accidentally used iguana extract instead of toad. The iguana-intolerant judge swelled up like a water buffalo.” The witch clucked her tongue. “It was weeks before he could stop wallowing in the nearest mudhole.”

  “I don’t have to worry about that,” Jess said sourly. “I have you here to make sure I eat all the right foods. The nutritious foods—”

  A plaintive meow outside the open window interrupted her. “Hey! That really was Onyx in the backyard yesterday!”

  “He’s usually close by.” Ms. M rubbed her hands together. “Want to shoot some hoops in the driveway?”

  “Are you serious?”

  “I can’t drive the lane like I used to, but we could play HORSE. Or I’ll stand under the basket and feed you the ball.”

  “Don’t you want to watch birds, like you did with Sadie?”

  “Are you Sadie?”

  “No, but . . .”

  “So, are we going to play or not?”

  Chapter 6

  Good Game

  Outside, a cheering section of cicadas droned from the trees. Jess did jumping jacks to warm up. Ms. M bounced the ball a few times. She swayed in front of Jess, muttering, “Insy-outsy, alley-oop, make the ball go through the hoop.”

  “This isn’t going to be fair,” Jess protested.

  “Good point. You’re taller than I am. You’re a lot younger, and you’ve played a lot more round ball than I have. You should at least spot me the H in HORSE.”

  “No, I mean it’s not going to be fair to me. You’re a witch.”

  Ms. M waved that away. “Among other things. I’m also somebody who doesn’t like to sit around and appreciates fresh air.”

  “Somebody wearing a black pointy hat and pointy shoes.”

  “To make me look taller. And black is slimming. Everybody knows that. All right, shall we get started?”

  Jess made a simple lay-up. The witch did, too. Jess shot from way outside. So did the witch. Jess tried a little scoop shot. The witch answered, though the ball did circle the rim before it dropped.

  “Lucky,” said Jess.

  “Practice. A bunch of us get together in Phoenix every July for the Coven in the Oven. After the meetings we play round ball and swim.”

  “You don’t wear those hats in the pool, do you?”

  “In the pool? Of course not, silly. But we take all the black cats in.”

  Jess stared.

  “Kidding. Just making sure you were paying attention.”

  The witch retrieved the basketball and held it as she gazed around. “What a beautiful herb garden. Look at the variety. Amiable rosemary, enigmatic thyme. Oh, and there’s dill. Ethel’s favorite. She always said that without dill a pickle would just be a cucumber.”

  Jess walked closer to Ms. M. “Which one is dill, again?”

  The witch pointed to each herb and repeated its name. “I love how rosemary looks like a little forest. And it’s essential for memory spells. I always keep some handy for when I’ve misplaced my car keys.”

  “You have a car?”

  “When I can find it.” The witch tossed her the ball. “Your shot.”

  They played on, with the witch missing a few while Jess missed only one or two. The game was at HORS when Ms. M stopped to rest. She was panting a little.

  “Are you okay?” Jess asked.

  Ms. M straightened her shoulders. She spun the ball on her finger like a globe. “Get your popcorn ready, ’cause I’m gonna put on a show!”

  She sank hook shots from both sides. She dribbled almost to the end of the driveway and sank one from downtown. Finally, she turned her back to Jess and made the last shot without even looking.

  “Wow, good game,” said Jess. She held up her hand for a high five.

  “A little lower, please, dear. My shoulder’s sore.”

  “Want to play again?”

  “Maybe later. Right now let’s go inside and see what we can find for lunch.”

  Lunch. So that was Ms. M’s plan. Wear Jess out. Get her hungry enough so she’d gobble up whatever disgusting muck dropped onto her plate. Well. They’d just see about that. “Okay. I’ll go up and wash my hands first.”

  Alone in her room, Jess tried to call Sadie again. Gibberish. Hmmmm. Then she actually did wash her hands. She thumped downstairs ready to sneer at anything stewed, poached, blanched, slow-roasted, or fricasseed.

  But wait. What was that in the center of the table? It looked like a can of tuna, without the can but still shaped like it, on top of a lettuce leaf.

  “Hope you like tuna salad!” Ms. M sang out.

  “That’s not tuna salad. Tuna salad has celery and herbs and mayonnaise all mixed together.” Jess shuddered.

  The witch pointed at the tuna, then the lettuce. “Tuna plus salad equals tuna salad.”

  “That isn’t how my mom would make it. Not that I want that.”

  “Is your mom, as you say, the boss of me?”

  “Um, yeah. Technically.”

  “True.” The witch lifted her hat and scratched her head. “Well, if you’d prefer your traditional family recipe.” She moved to take away the plate.

  “No! This is fine.” It didn’t look that bad, actually. It looked honest. No mystery ingredients. No weird seasonings.

  On the other side of the table the witch pulled out a chair and climbed into it. She handed Jess a fork. “Dig in, dear.”

  Chapter 7

  Boogers Begone

  That night Jess was watching a baseball game on TV when her mother came into the living room and sat beside her.

  “Did you and Ms. M actually eat three cans of tuna and a whole head of lettuce?”

  “Mom, tuna plus lettuce equals tuna salad.”

&nbs
p; Her mother frowned. Took a deep breath. “She is the oddest little person, isn’t she?”

  “She’s really different,” Jess admitted. “But we had fun. She’s not like Vicki, who just lies around texting. Ms. M knows a lot about herbs and stuff. She loves your garden.”

  “I’m glad.” Her mother seemed about to say something else, but Jess locked her gaze on the screen. Bottom of the ninth, two players on base, two out. Clutch time. The batter sent a weak pop-up down the third-base line, easily snagged by the left fielder. Jess groaned. “Dad would never choke like that!”

  Her mother laughed. “Because he knows you’d make him run wind sprints if he did.”

  Jess leaned sideways and let her mother stroke her hair. “I miss him.”

  “He’ll be home soon.”

  “You don’t think they’ll make the playoffs?”

  Her mother laughed again. “C’mon, Coach. Bedtime.” Wriggling out from under Jess, she rose to her feet and held out her hands. Jess clasped them and let herself be pulled from the couch to her bedroom.

  While Jess arranged the covers just the way she liked them, her mother wandered the room, scooping up dirty clothes, returning stray stuffed animals to their shelf. She stooped to kiss her daughter’s forehead and then lingered in the doorway for a moment. “I’m glad you had fun today, sweetheart. Tomorrow have fun while eating something besides tuna, okay?” She closed the door.

  Instantly Jess’s cozy feeling drained away and left behind itchy, uncomfortable thoughts. No matter what she ate, no matter what she did, in her mother’s eyes it would always be wrong. She would always be wrong.

  Tap, tap.

  What was that?

  Tap, tap, tap.

  It was coming from the window. Something was out there. Or someone. Someone in a tall black hat!

  She leaped out of bed and pushed open the window to find Ms. M and Onyx hunched together on the roof. Clouds ghosted through the sky behind them, passing over a pale sliver of moon.