Sadie's Story Read online

  “I do, too, dear. I just wish this one had a happier ending.”

  Chapter 4

  No More Llama Drool

  “Soup?” The witch held out a teacup from Sadie’s old, blue toy tea set.

  “No, thanks.” Sadie jiggled the smoothie. “This is pretty filling. Dad made it.”

  They were back inside the playhouse, door shut, seated at the little plastic table. Wilson, showing no interest in smoothies or soup, settled on the baby blanket and began the nap portion of the afternoon.

  “Is your father in the potion business, too?”

  Sadie laughed. “It’s just fruit and yogurt.”

  “Ah, that takes me back to Potions 101. We started with fruit and yogurt.”

  The witch blew on the contents of her teacup to cool it and took a tentative sip. “I know what’s missing!” From somewhere near her feet she produced a worn black bag. She dug around inside it until she pulled out a small glass jar labeled “Oregano.” But when she shook the jar over her cup, only a few dusty green flakes fell out. “Well, that’s a pity,” she said, returning the jar to the bag. “I used to just pop over to Ethel’s for more. We were always running back and forth to each other’s cottages to borrow things. A pinch of oregano here. A cup of llama drool there.”

  “So your neighbor had llama drool?” Sadie asked as she wiped her purple mustache on her arm.

  The witch nodded. “Neighbor and best friend. Ethel lived right next door to me.”

  “In the forest,” Sadie added.

  “In Milwaukee.”

  “In a gingerbread cottage?”

  “Hardly.” The witch shivered. “Milwaukee gets cold in the winter. Anyway, Ethel had a nice home and a job she loved.”

  “Don’t all witches love their jobs?” said Sadie. “I would.” She wouldn’t mind, say, having the power to make the water in a certain moose-themed lake disappear.

  “Being a witch isn’t a job, it’s a calling. Ethel was a pastry chef.”

  “Was?”

  “A sad verb, don’t you agree?” A fat black ant crawled across the table onto the witch’s hand and into the folds of her sleeve, reappearing at her collar. With her finger she made an elevator to gently lower the ant back onto the ground.

  “I’m sorry,” Sadie murmured, staring down into her smoothie.

  “Oh no, sweetheart, Ethel didn’t die. Not as far as I know. But she did leave. Left her cottage. Left her job at Cake Charmer. Left me.”

  “Where did she go?”

  “Well, it was fall, so I expect she flew south with all the others.”

  “And there wasn’t enough room for you, so you weren’t invited,” Sadie said, her face growing hot with indignation. “I know how that goes.”

  “No, no.” The witch flapped her small arms. “She flew. She turned into a bird. A yellow warbler. And not by choice, I’m fairly certain.”

  Sadie’s heart did a little flip of excitement. Now they were getting somewhere. She leaned forward. “So Ethel was cursed?”

  “Careless is more like it. I told her a thousand times, ‘Wear your glasses when you bake or hex!’ But oh no, Ethel knew best. So it was adder’s eyelid instead of almond extract. Cactus instead of cardamom. With a recipe, that means customers spitting out their scones. With a spell, it means she’s five inches tall and chip-chip-chip-ing her head off. That’s how I found her. And that’s when I saw Onyx, my cat, stalking her.”

  Horrified, Sadie looked over at Wilson and pictured tiny, feathered versions of Jess and Maya dangling from his jaws. “What did you do?”

  “Well, there was no time for my Whoops-I-Didn’t-Mean-to-Do-That Anti-Hex potion, even if I’d had the gargoyle scales, which I seriously doubt. So I grabbed Onyx and tossed him out. But when I opened the front door, out flew Ethel, too. So there I was, without my two best friends. I haven’t seen either of them since.”

  “They’ll come back,” Sadie said.

  “One can only hope.” The witch sighed and leaned over the cauldron, out of which, curiously enough, soap bubbles now floated. “Shall I wash and you dry?”

  As Sadie swirled a black dishtowel around inside the clean teacup, she said, “My two best friends left this morning.”

  “And you miss them.”

  Sadie hesitated. “Sort of. I guess. I mean, yes.”

  The witch raised her eyes from the suds. “Which is it?”

  “It’s just that Jess can be so . . . Jess-like.”

  The witch peeled dishwashing gloves from her gnarled hands. She tossed them into the black bag and said, “At least your Jess knows which way she’s going. Birds get blown off course. Take a wrong turn at the third cloud from the left. Who can predict where a bird will end up? Especially a stubborn yellow warbler who takes off half-blind without her spectacles. It’s all so frustrating!”

  Sparks shot from the witch’s fingertips.

  With a screech, Wilson leaped straight into the air.

  The playhouse filled with thick gray smoke.

  Chapter 5

  Big Black Bag

  “Wow,” said Sadie after her coughing subsided.

  The witch flicked the baby blanket at the last of the smoke to shoo it out the window. “Cozy and better than mugwort for protection!” she croaked, beaming at the ducky-covered cloth.

  Sadie looked over at Wilson, who was in the corner washing his front paw, trying to recover his dignity. “I guess Onyx left because his feelings were hurt,” she said. Wilson bobbed his head in what was either a nod of agreement or a vigorous attempt to lick the fur on his chest.

  “There’s really no excuse for how I behaved,” said the witch. “Shouting at him. Banning him from the cottage.” A small puff of gray smoke that must have been hiding near the ceiling floated down and hovered over the witch’s head like a thundercloud. She waved her arms in the air to disperse it. Then she said, “I know he can take care of himself, but I wish he’d come back and let me apologize.”

  “I bet he will,” Sadie said. “Jess and Maya and I fight sometimes, but then we make up. Friends don’t stay mad forever.” As if to prove her point, Wilson padded over and butted his head against the witch’s fingers, asking to be petted. A peace offering.

  “I do sometimes worry in the middle of the night.” The witch gathered Wilson into her lap. “What if Onyx is cold or hurt? What if Ethel is somewhere with a lot of cats? Like the Catskills.”

  “Aren’t those just mountains?”

  “Nevertheless.”

  “Once Wilson was missing for two days. I thought he was gone forever, but he was just locked in a neighbor’s garage. He was fine. Except for knocking over the potting soil. He thought it was kitty litter.”

  Stroking Wilson’s back all the way down to the tip of his tail, the witch said, “You’re right, dear, I should think positively.” But she sounded so droopy and sad that Sadie couldn’t stand it for one single second longer. “You know what? We should find Ethel and Onyx.”

  “Well, as I told you, I’ve tried.” Suddenly the witch’s face brightened. “But I do have a new idea. Just being around someone like you gives me so much energy!”

  Gently she scooted Wilson out of the way, reached into her black bag, and began taking out things. Little pouches of things. Little vials of things. Little boxes of things. Little pinches of things.

  Sadie watched with growing delight. “Are all those magical?”

  “What in the world isn’t magical? Nobody understands electricity. Not really. And look at penicillin. It grows on bread! You think that isn’t magical?” She shook one of the baggies. “These are herbs, mostly. Borage for courage. Wolfsbane for invisibility.”

  “I’ve always wanted to be invisible,” said Sadie. Although, she had to admit, sometimes she felt invisible already. Like she could stomp her feet, hold her breath until she turned magenta, and no one would notice. Okay, Maya might notice. Might say a few comforting big words. Still, that wouldn’t stop her from linking arms with Jess and going away.
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  “Being invisible would help,” the witch mused. “We wouldn’t frighten Ethel when she landed. She doesn’t know you, and she’s shy. The thing is, I can never find the wolfsbane.”

  The witch reached deeper into the bag. “But it works. I think. I have an acquaintance named Zelda who’s always saying how invisible she is, but it’s inevitably after the fact. She’s all, ‘Oh, I was so invisible yesterday.’ Or, ‘You should have not seen me last week.’ Here it is!”

  “You found the wolfsbane?”

  “No, but I found what I was looking for,” the witch said, her arm still buried.

  “Oh, good! Is it a book of spells handed down from forever?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Is it a wand made from an enchanted tree?”

  “No.”

  “But it will help us find Ethel and maybe Onyx?”

  “Oh yes. Close your eyes and hold out your hands.”

  Her palms prickling with anticipation, Sadie did as she was told.

  Chapter 6

  The Park

  “Really?” Sadie stared at the binoculars in her grip. “No spells or potions? No eye of newt or tongue of toad?”

  The witch waved her hand dismissively. “Been there, done that. And between you and me, eye of gecko is cheaper and just as effective.”

  She lifted a second pair of binoculars, pointed them out the window, and adjusted the focus. “I’ve been a bird-watcher all my life, and I can tell you, the most powerful magic is something anyone can do. It’s called paying attention.”

  “But why look for Ethel here?”

  “Well, since she’s a ditz about directions, she could have ended up anywhere. Here seems like as good a place as any. Shall we go for a walk and see what we can see?”

  “Both of us?” Sadie asked, eyebrows raised. “Out in the neighborhood? Um, together?”

  “Of course. There’s a lovely park nearby. I’m sure you know it. We could start there.”

  “I’ll be right back,” Sadie said finally.

  She found her father in the study, yelling at his laptop. “Helvetica Bold! Who told you to change the font to Helvetica Bold?”

  She tiptoed through the maze of books and papers scattered across the floor and stood directly behind him. “Dad, I’m going to the playground for a while.”

  “Fine, fine. Have fun. And take Helvetica Bold with you!” he said, still scowling at the screen.

  “Actually, I’m going with a witch. From Milwaukee.”

  “Is she? That’s nice, sweet pea. Grab a sweatshirt before you go.”

  Sadie would grab a sweatshirt, but not for warmth and not for herself, either.

  A few minutes later she presented the witch with a purple hoodie and a pair of old jeans that she’d rescued from the giveaway bag.

  “A disguise,” Sadie explained. “Because if you’re all in black with a pointy hat, everyone will look at us looking for Ethel.”

  The witch examined the hoodie critically. “I wish this said ‘I Love Bowling’ instead of ‘I Love Gymnastics.’ Ethel and I used to bowl in a league every Thursday night against the Mid-City Shamans.”

  “I’m trying to picture that,” said Sadie. She turned her head away politely while the witch changed.

  Then off they went.

  Past the Goldbarths’, where Binky, a dachshund with the personality of a tiger shark, lunged at their ankles through the chain-link fence.

  Past the Simonsons’, whose sprinkler watered the grass, the sidewalk, and half the street.

  “I’m melting!” shrieked the witch as they dashed under the spray.

  “What . . .”

  “Just a joke.”

  Past Jess’s house, where the drawn curtains, garage doors shut tight, and general no-one-is-home-ness started Sadie feeling sorry for herself all over again. The witch grabbed her hand and pulled her along.

  “Now, this is nice,” said the witch when they reached the entrance to the park.

  And it was. Picnic tables, giant oak trees, a tire swing, a twisty slide that was the closest Sadie ever came to flying, except on hot days when her thighs stuck to the molded metal.

  “Let’s sit over there.” The witch headed for a table in the shade.

  “I don’t see any birds,” said Sadie once they were settled.

  “You will.”

  The witch lay back on the top of the picnic table, and beside her, Sadie did the same. Yet no matter which way Sadie swiveled her binoculars, they showed her nothing but leaves and branches and empty blue sky.

  Well, she couldn’t blame the birds for staying away with all the noise in the playground. Toddlers squealing. Mothers chattering and laughing. A little girl wailing from the top of the jungle gym while her dad, arms raised, hollered “Jump!” A swing creaking as it arced back and forth.

  Wait, was that really a swing? She sat up.

  Screek!

  Sadie practically fell off the picnic table.

  The witch jutted out her chin, flattened her lips, and made the sound again, louder.

  And from somewhere close by came an answer: Screek! Screek!

  Chapter 7

  Call Me Ms. M

  “Blue jay,” the witch confirmed. “That’s his squeaky gate call. They also have calls that sound like bells.”

  She pursed her lips and made a high-pitched pip. “I had a pair nesting outside my kitchen window. Kept thinking my cauldron timer was going off.”

  Pip. Pip. All of a sudden the blue jay was there, winging its way through the trees to perch near the drinking fountain.

  “Oh, look, dear, isn’t he gorgeous?” said the witch in a hushed voice.

  At that moment Sadie did have a magical power, though she didn’t know what to call it. All she knew was that the park had transformed. Or she had. Or now the park trusted her enough to share its secrets.

  A bush she’d thought was simply rustling in the breeze became alive with small brown sparrows.

  “Song sparrows, I believe,” said the witch. “See the dark splotch on that one’s chest? Like he has a leaky pen in his shirt pocket.”

  What at first had looked like pinecones scattered across the dirt turned into black-capped chickadees pecking for seed. “I do so admire a creature who shares my affinity for hats,” said the witch.

  A dancing yellow leaf grew wings before Sadie’s eyes and sailed up to land on the basketball hoop. She tapped the witch’s shoulder excitedly and pointed.

  “Hmmm. The coloration isn’t quite vibrant enough for a warbler. I think that’s an oriole. If only I could find my field guide. Drat that wolfsbane. It spilled in my bag and got all over everything.”

  They watched and listened for at least an hour. A robin tugged a fat worm from the grass and scurried away with it to dine in private. Three crows bickered by the sandbox. A male and female cardinal played tag from branch to branch. It was all so interesting that Sadie almost forgot about Ethel.

  “Tomorrow,” said the witch. “I have a good feeling about tomorrow.”

  On the way home, Sadie worked up the courage to ask the witch something she’d been thinking about, but before she could open her mouth, the witch said, “You learned the names of all of these different birds, and now you want to know my name.”

  “It does seem a little strange for me to just call you ‘witch.’”

  “No stranger than my real name.” The witch stopped to shake a pebble out of her pointy shoe. “My mother meant well, but . . .”

  Mr. Tucker from up the street drove by and waved. Did he turn around to gawk once he reached the intersection, or was Sadie just being a worrywart?

  “My first name is—are you ready for this?—Morgan.”

  “That’s not bad at all!”

  “Morgan Le Fay was a famous sorceress. But Morgan rhymes with Gorgon.” She looked at Sadie and waited. “The monsters from Greek mythology with snakes for hair?”

  “Oh,” said Sadie.

  “Exactly. Morgan the Gorgon. Grade school
was a total nightmare.”

  “My middle name is Lotus,” Sadie confessed. “After a yoga position. And a flower. Eric Myers found out and said it sounded like ‘blowfish.’ That’s what the boys called me all first grade.”

  They strolled in silence, shoulders almost touching, until the witch said, “Sadie is a lovely name. It suits you. And you can call me what Ethel calls me. What she used to call me when she could talk.” The witch smiled her crooked smile. “Ethel called me Ms. M. I rather like it.”

  Sadie smiled back wider than she’d smiled in days, maybe wider than she’d smiled all year. “Yes,” she said. “I like it too, Ms. M.”

  Chapter 8

  Sweet Dreams

  In the backyard they parted ways, Ms. M into the playhouse, Wilson trotting at her heels, and Sadie into the kitchen for dinner.

  “There you are.” Her mother, in purple tights and a yellow tank top, stood balanced on one leg in front of the stove. The sole of her opposite foot rested against her thigh. Sadie knew the name of that yoga pose: tree pose. Imagining the birds from the park perched on her mother’s “branches,” she giggled.

  “You’re all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed,” remarked her father as he entered from the study. “I knew that smoothie would perk you right up. Should we set the table?” He opened the silverware drawer.

  “It’s so nice out,” said her mother, transferring the contents of the wok onto a big platter. “Why don’t we eat on the patio?”

  “NO!”

  Both her parents stared at her. Mom held up a wooden spoon like a torch, Dad a fistful of forks.

  “I mean,” Sadie said, trying to steady her voice, “there are thousands of mosquitoes out there.” She scratched three or four places.

  “Thousands,” her mother said. “That sounds crowded. We’ll eat in here. Let me just check the rice.”