Wart (4 page)

"Turn it down!" Stewart yelled, but he could hardly hear his own voice. At the top of the stairs, it wasn't hard to tell which of the three rooms was Ozgood's.

Stewart pushed open the door. The room was dark, but the light switch was right near the door. When light flooded everywhere, Stewart let out a whistle. This was no normal kid's room. On the wall was a huge picture of Dracula. In one corner was a big white table full of bones. The curtains and bedspread were black and red. Ozgood was in the bed, propped up on one elbow, staring at Stewart.

"Turn it down," Stewart yelled again. His eyes fell on the iHome. Why didn't the kid use the earphones?

Ozgood only stared at him. Stewart was ready to choke the kid when finally Ozgood leaned out of bed toward the iHome. After he tuned it down, he turned back toward Stewart. "I'm sorry. You will need to repeat what you were saying to me."

"I was yelling to turn it down." Stewart eased down on a chair beside the door. The room was fascinating. He wanted to look around without getting far from the escape hatch.

"You would probably prefer some foolish band." Ozgood leaned back on his pillow.

"Well, yeah, but not so loud. The neighbors will call the police." Stewart wanted to go over to look at the bones. Could he tell if they were human?

Ozgood followed Stewart's gaze. "I'm a serious science student," he said.

"Sure." It was all Stewart could think of to say. Then he looked at the poster. "That's neat." He pointed at Dracula.

"I rather enjoy the story." Ozgood snuggled down on his pillow. "But it isn't true, you know."

"Sure." Stewart's vocabulary was starting to seem pretty small. He'd go downstairs and find some way to amuse himself. He got up and moved toward the door.

"They will be married," Ozgood said.

"Who?" Stewart turned back to look at him.

"Our parents, of course." He had a worried look on his face.

Poor kid, Stewart thought. He didn't understand at all. "Oh no." He wanted to reassure him. "They just went out to eat. Seafood, Dad said. They'll be back before you know it."

"But," Ozgood let out a long sigh. "They will be married. She says he is Mr. Right."

That one made Stewart laugh. "It's just our name, Wright. Look, lots of women have wanted to marry my dad, but he has a mind of his own. If he wanted to get married, he'd already be married." Stewart turned back toward the door.

"Is he a match for a witch?"

Stewart stopped, walked back, and sat down again on the chair. "What are you talking about?" The kid obviously wanted to get his attention. Maybe the boy was lonely.

"I asked if your father is a match for a witch because my mother is one." He wasn't smiling.

"Ozgood, that is not a good thing to say. Your mother is very nice." Actually, Stewart wasn't crazy about Ms. Gibbs, but "witch" did seem a little strong.

"No!" Ozgood rolled over to face the wall. "I am trying to warn you despite great peril to myself. My mother is a true witch. She will use her spells on your father, and if she learns that I have told you the truth, she will turn me into a frog."

Stewart laughed out loud. "Your mirth will be shortlived," Ozgood said.

The kid was more than lonely. He was nuts! Stewart got up and walked again to the door. "You'd better get some sleep now." He went out and closed the door. What a kid. He couldn't wait to tell Ham. He'd go downstairs and call him right away.

He had seen a phone in the kitchen. Stewart wished for the first time that he had a cell phone. Lots of kids he knew had them, but he had never particularly wanted one. He had no one to call except Ham. The home phone worked fine for that. When he went somewhere, Ham was pretty likely to be with him, so a cell phone had never seemed necessary. He wondered if Ms. Gibbs might have some kind of recording thing on her phone. Oh well, he'd chance it.

All the way to the kitchen, Stewart turned often to look over his shoulder, expecting Ozgood to sneak up behind him. He didn't think the whole thing was funny. His father was out with a woman who had a nutcase for a son.

On a pad beside the phone was the note, "In case of emergency, call Martha Long." Martha's number was written there too. Stewart shook his head. This whole deal was about as weird as it could get. It seemed Martha was practically giving Dad to Ms. Gibbs. He leaned against a wall and dialed Ham, who answered right off. "Everything over here is really wild."

"Yeah? How?" Ham was munching something that sounded like chips.

It all came tumbling out. "Ms. Gibbs looks real good, drop-dead gorgeous even! And the kid! His room's all done in black and red with bones and Dracula." Ham tried to say something, but Stewart went on talking. "But listen. I haven't told you the big thing yet. He claims she is a witch! Ozgood said it, and he might be a frog. Martha says don't worry, but I'm worried plenty!"

"I didn't get all that," said Ham. "Hold on. I need some dip."

While Ham was gone, Stewart took long deep breaths, and he felt calmer when Ham picked up the phone again. "The main thing is," he told Ham, "this kid is real strange. You wouldn't believe how he talks, like some old school teacher. He plays creepy music and has bones in his room."

"Really?"

"Yeah. But the big thing is that he claims his mother is a witch who plans to use a spell to make my father marry her."

"Wow! What are you going to do?"

"Well, there isn't a TV. Guess I'll just hang around, play on my Game Boy, and wait for Dad to come back."

"No." Ham sounded aggravated. "I mean what are you planning to do about the witch and your dad?"

"Ham!" It was Stewart's turn to be aggravated. "You don't believe that stuff?"

"Well, I don't know." There was a pause while he chewed. "You know something, I think I kind of do. There's something about that woman."

A sort of chill came over Stewart. "I better go check on the kid," he said, and he hung up the phone.

No sound came from Ozgood's room. Stewart wandered back down the stairs and stretched out on the couch. Determined not to think about Wanda the witch and her little warlock, he decided to daydream about Taylor Montgomery. In the dream he needed her to be about to marry some dismal fellow. Oh, Brad Wilson would work. He was down on Brad after the Wart thing and the comment about why he made the team. Anyway, he was pretty sure Brad really did like Taylor too. All the boys did. Okay, Brad is a miserable bag boy at a grocery store. It isn't clear why Taylor is about to marry him, but she is until tragedy strikes. Taylor comes down with a terrible brain tumor, and no one thinks surgery can save her. Stewart, who is the top brain surgeon in the world is called in to operate.

Brad gets all teary eyed and begs Stewart to forgive him for the Wart calling. He also begs Stewart not to charge much because being a bag boy does not pay much. Just before Taylor is put under, Stewart takes her head in his hands and looks long into her beautiful blue eyes. "Stewart," she murmurs, "I know now that I always loved you." They kiss and then he performs this miraculous surgery. All the female nurses get down on their knees and kiss Stewart's hand. Taylor recovers. Stewart and Taylor get married, and he arranges with the grocery store owner to make Brad an inside stock boy, which is a real step up.

He was just at the place where Taylor's hair was growing back when he heard the car. Dad and Ms. Gibbs were home. He jumped up because his feet were on the couch. Then he stood there, all nervous, while they came in.

"We're back," Dad announced when they stepped inside, and Stewart was shocked to see that they were holding hands.

Stewart, anxious to get all the good-byes and thank-yous said, edged toward the door. When they were in the car, he unloaded on his father. "That Ozgood is a real space cadet." He slumped down in the seat, leaned back, and closed his eyes.

"Interested in space, huh?" Dad obviously wasn't really listening.

"No," Stewart sat up and made his voice very distinct. "I mean he is out in space, loony, not in touch with reality."

"Wanda mentioned that he is going through a sort of hard time." Dad was fiddling with the radio.

"Hard time!" Stewart was practically yelling. "He claims his mother is a witch."

"Really?" This wasn't like Dad. He always paid attention when Stewart was serious. "You know, son, you could be a big help to a boy like that, a sort of..." He paused for a minute. "A sort of big brother."

Stewart slid back down on the seat and closed his eyes, but he certainly did not sleep. He had to think, had to plan. Man! He had never wanted Dad to get serious about Martha, good old regular librarian Martha. At this point he would dance at his father's wedding if he would marry Martha. He had to do something to stop this romance. Now!

They were almost home before Stewart found the strength to talk again. "Dad, doesn't it bother Martha at all, you taking out Ms. Gibbs?"

They were turning into the driveway. "No," said Dad. "Martha is such a sensible woman. Says she always knew things wouldn't work out between us because you kids didn't want me to get serious."

"I like Martha." His voice sounded desperate. "So does Georgy." Boy did he like Martha. "Dad," he said, "I was wrong to complain about you and Martha. You have your life to lead."

His father stopped the car. "I'm glad you feel that way, Stew, because I am going to tell you straight out. There is something special about Wanda. Something I can't quite put into words, but I haven't felt this way for a very long time."

His father got out then, but Stewart sat still until his dad called him. He felt too tired to open the door and was amazed that he could actually climb the stairs. He went straight to bed. All night he dreamed about Dracula and frogs.

The next day he felt better. Probably, he told himself, he had gotten all worked up over nothing. It was a pretty regular day at first. Dad went after Georgia about midmorning, but instead of coming into the house, she went next door, where Rachel sat on her front porch playing with the puppies. Rachel's Dalmatian, Molly Dot, had four puppies. Molly Dot was not an ordinary dog. Rachel had taught her all sorts of tricks and was hoping Molly Dot would win a talent show a big pet store was holding the day after Thanksgiving. The audience would hold little voting machines. Rachel planned to have Georgia hold one of the puppies up front while Molly Dot performed because that might appeal to the audience.

Stewart could see Rachel's front porch from his window, and he decided to join the girls. Dad had promised Georgia he would buy one of the puppies, called Little Dots by Rachel, for her birthday in early December. Stewart and Georgia spent lots of time trying to decide which Dot she wanted.

"I like this one best, maybe. Look, I think he's got more dots," said Georgia, and she held up a squirming black-and-white puppy. The puppies had been born white, getting their spots only as they got a little older.

"Let's don't decide until they're a little bigger," said Stewart, and he took the warm little body from his sister's hands. "This one is nice, though, but maybe we ought to see them run first."

"Dalmatians aren't racing dogs," said Rachel. "What difference does it make how they run? They aren't greyhounds."

Stewart didn't answer. Sometimes Rachel got on his nerves. Why did he have to live next door to her all his life? Wouldn't it have been wonderful to live next to Taylor Montgomery?

After a while, Ham came from around the corner. He carried a basketball under his arm. "Want to shoot some baskets?" he asked Stewart. The boys went back to Stewart's driveway to use the hoop up over the garage door.

Ham wasn't great, but Stewart was terrible. Only two of his first fifteen shots went into the basket. He felt sweaty and nervous. He had to get better.

Rachel left Georgia with the puppies and came over to stand near where the boys played. "Stewart," she said, "why do you break your neck trying so hard at basketball? Do you really like it that much? I mean, you don't have to be an athlete."

"Yes, Rachel, I like it that much." Stewart aimed the ball at the hoop, but he considered throwing it at Rachel.

"Okay, Wart," she said. "I just wondered."

"Don't call me that, Rachel Thomas. Don't you ever call me that again!"

"Boy, are you getting touchy." Rachel went back to the puppies.

Stewart was glad when his father called them for lunch. At least he was glad until the announcement. Stewart had finished one tuna sandwich and was reaching for another, when his father said, "Wanda has invited us all over for dinner tonight." Suddenly, Stewart couldn't eat another sandwich. He carried his dishes to the dishwasher, then went upstairs to wait for Georgia. He would try his little sister one more time. When he heard her on the stairs, he went to the door to motion her toward his room.

He led her into his room, closed the door, and pointed her toward the desk chair. He sat on the edge of his bed that was near her. "Listen," he told her. "Dad is getting pretty serious about that woman, and she's got the creepiest little kid you can imagine. His name is Ozgood." Stewart twisted his face. "Isn't that a disgusting name? If Dad marries Ms. Gibbs, that little fart will be our brother. You won't get anything you want ever again. You will be just like Cinderella. 'Bring me my breakfast in bed,' Ozgood will say, and you will run up with it. Tick up my dirty socks/ he will yell, and you will run to get them. Your little legs will be so tired." Stewart looked down at Georgia and saw a tiny tear on her cheek. Encouraged, he went on. "Dad will be too busy with his new son's problems to notice either of us. And of course there won't be any money for new little ponies or dolls because Ozgood eats an awful lot and probably has to go to a head doctor every Thursday."

Georgia jumped from her chair. "What can we do to stop Daddy from getting a marriage?" Her lips pressed together, ready for a fight.

"Scream," he said. "Refuse to go to her house. Say you want Martha for a new mommy. Say you are afraid of Ms. Gibbs." Stewart was beginning to be pleased with himself. He would not just sit and watch while his father ruined all their lives.