Witch Twins (8 page)

The next morning, the girls ran to school very early. While Luna watched the hall, Claire poked the letters into the manila envelope.

Then they both dashed into 5A to see what would happen.

When Ms. Fleegerman walked into the classroom, she was holding the envelope. She shook the letters onto her desk. For a moment, her face melted with relief.

Then she looked closer. She seemed puzzled.

“Eggplants and eyeballs, she knows,” Claire whispered. “Our letters probably weren’t as good as the ones she made herself.”

But if she did know, Ms. Fleegerman didn’t let on. “I see the mystery borrower has returned my letters,” she declared. “To that person, I would like to say thank you. Now, who will volunteer to help me tack them up?”

“I will,” said Claire.

“I will,” said Adam Chow, thinking that Claire was Luna.

“Good. Let’s do it during lunchtime. And whichever one of you is Claire Bundkin, please report to Five B.” Ms. Fleegerman’s regular strict voice was back.

“See ya,” said Claire.

Wasting lunchtime to do teacher-helping stuff was kind of unfair, Claire thought, but it didn’t turn out to be all bad. Ms. Fleegerman brought a special lunch; some sandwiches, peanut butter cookies, and grape soda from the teacher’s lounge.

When all the words were pinned back in the right place, Ms. Fleegerman surveyed the room.

“It’s not Hawaii,” she said, a bit dejectedly.

“All the kids say your room is the best decorated,” Claire told her. “Honest.”

“Really?” Ms. Fleegerman sounded surprised.

“Yep.” Adam Chow nodded. “I think the person who took your letters didn’t do it from meanness. He or she probably couldn’t resist them.”

“Exactly!” said Claire.

“I had never thought of it that way,” said Ms. Fleegerman, who now seemed content to think of it exactly that way. Her face brightened, and she took a big bite of her cookie. “I love beautiful words like
aloha
,” she confessed. Her voice was almost shy. “I always feel an early-morning Hawaiian breeze in that word.”

“Another good word is
prickly
,” said Claire before she could stop herself. “It would hurt your fingers to pick up that word.”

“I like the word
besotted
,” said Ms. Fleegerman. “It’s a fat, sleepy word.”

Claire had not exactly planned to have Ms. Fleegerman turn into her word friend. And kids sometimes gave Claire strange looks when Ms. Fleegerman called out “Heliotrope!” or “Pumpernickel!” or “Hugger’ mugger!” whenever she saw Claire in hall rotation. (After becoming her word friend, Ms. Fleegerman never again mistook Claire for Luna.)

As well, Claire never again could see her as an awful word like
Fleegermonster.

Which made the friendship, all in all, a change for the better.

Like the transformation of a haughty old caterpillar into a lovely
mariposa.

T
HE FIRST WEEKEND OF MAY
was when Tower Hill Middle School’s fifth and sixth grade would perform The
Princess and
the
Pea.
Since Luna and Claire both were involved with the play, they would have to miss their usual weekend in Bramblewine.

“Then you may come out next weekend,” said Grandy.

“Are we especially invited?” asked Luna worriedly. She wanted to make sure, after what had happened the last time.

“Yes,” said Grandy. “You are extra-especially invited. And good luck with your play. Sorry I won’t be there, but I hate-hate-hate school plays. There’s always too much chorus singing.”

Everyone else was coming. “Mom and Steve, Dad and Fluffy, and Justin.” Claire ticked off the names on her fingers while she and Luna sat in the audience watching a dress rehearsal. Aside from being on crew—Claire for stage-managing and Luna for scenery painting—the twins had non-speaking roles as ladies-in-waiting in Act Three.

The rest of the time, they helped out by being the audience.

“We need to buy five tickets,” said Claire. “Frogfeet and fiddleheads, I wish I could figure out a way to get Fluff seated behind someone really tall!”

“Mmm.” Luna was not paying attention to Claire’s schemes. She was listening to Angelica Antonio sing.

Angelica Antonio was a sixth grader. She had waist-length hair and wore ankle-length skirts, and she played the lead role of Princess Winifred, the princess who felt the pea under twenty mattresses.

“She’s the greatest singer I’ve ever heard,” said Luna. She wondered if Angelica Antonio would be available to sing at her wedding one day.

“She’s also the snootiest girl in the sixth grade,” Claire answered. “I can’t stand how she swishes her hair over the back of her chair when she sits down. Hey, maybe we could put some chair-colored bubble gum on Fluffy’s seat!”

Luna nodded distractedly. She was thinking of the perfect compliment to give Angelica after rehearsal. Something to express exactly how the music danced like butterflies in her stomach whenever she heard Angelica’s voice.

But it was hard for Luna to speak up to people she didn’t know. She decided to proceed with caution.

After rehearsal, she stood next to Angelica backstage and tried to say her compliment. She stood there for a long time. She began to feel stupid. When Angelica turned to her and raised an eyebrow in a way that meant
why are you standing next to
me? Luna hurried off.

That night after dinner, Luna tried to sing as she dried the dishes. Just to test the sound of her own voice, which she did not remember as being very good.

“Uh, did you swallow a tongue depressor?” asked Justin. Then he and Claire laughed and gave each other high-fives.

“Shut up,” Luna muttered. It didn’t seem fair that a person who loved-loved -loved singing as much as herself should have such a bad, crackly voice.

The next afternoon at rehearsal, Luna had an idea. She was just finishing up some back-drop scenery for Act Two, which showed the palace hall. She had been painting a silver mirror. But in a burst of inspiration, she decided to turn it into a portrait of Princess Winifred.

She worked hard to get the portrait to look like Angelica, with long hair and silvery musical notes floating from her mouth. As a final touch, she painted a tiger-striped kitten in Angelica’s arms.

“Who’s that supposed to be?” The sound of Angelica’s voice made Luna turn with a start.

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Luna, stepping back and looking at the picture as if she just noticed it herself.

“It looks dumb to put a face there,” said Angelica. “I liked it better when it was an empty window.” Then she walked away before Luna could explain that it was not a window, but a mirror.

Quickly, Luna painted over the portrait and turned it into a window.

On the evening of the performance, Luna had another idea. She bought Angelica a white rose and a card. Inside the card she wrote,
I think you sing perfectly!

She left the rose and note on the makeup table backstage, where Angelica would be sure to see it.

“Does anyone know gave this to me?” asked Angelica when she came into the dressing room. She held up the rose and spun around so that her hair swished. “Was it Zack? Adam? Peter? Who? Come on, guys! I know it was one of you!”

Luna could not bring herself to say any thing. She kept her head down.

“See? That’s what you get for being nice to snotty Angelica Antonio!” snapped Claire after Angelica left the dressing room. She turned so that Luna could button up the back of her lady-in-waiting costume. “Let me cast a throat-scratch spell on her!”

“Don’t even dare.” Now Luna turned so that Claire could button up the back of her costume. “That would wreck the play for everyone.”

“Well, guess what I
did
do? I put a wobbly chair in the place where Fluffy’s sitting. I peeked out into the audience and she looks all crooked! Ha ha!”

Luna was not really listening.

She waited until Act One was over before she steeled her nerve.

It was now or never.

Angelica was in the wings, sitting on one of the Styrofoam tree stumps and drinking hot lemon-and-honey water. Lindsey Berger, a sixth grader who played the Queen, was braiding Angelica’s hair. (There was always one girl or another braiding Angelica’s hair.)

“It’s me who thinks you sing perfectly, Angelica,” Luna said, so quiet she could hardly hear herself.

Angelica shrugged. “Okay,” she said. Then she realized. “Oh, you were the one who gave me that card and the rose. Thanks, Claire.”

“I’m Luna,” said Luna.

Angelica smiled in a way that didn’t really look like a smile at all. “Listen. Luna. That’s nice of you and all, but sixth graders and fifth graders are like oil and water,” she said. “They don’t mix. Get it? No offense.”

Lindsey Berger began to laugh, and then Angelica giggle-snorted. It was a mean, sixth grade giggle-snort, as awful as if Angelica had crushed the rose underneath her shoe.

Luna couldn’t think of a thing to say. Her eyes felt hot. She hurried off.

She watched Act Two from the wings. Angelica’s voice still was beautiful.

That almost made it worse.

In Act Three, when she and Claire were onstage for the Princess’s royal wedding, Luna forgot all the chorus lyrics. She did not even remember to mouth along. All she could hear was Angelica’s giggle-snort.

“Luna Bundkin, you sure got a case of cold feet out there,” said Mr. Rosenthal in the lobby after the show. He clapped a hand on her shoulder. “Stage fright, hmm? I guess that’s one way to tell you from your sister.”

“I guess.” Luna swallowed.

Her parents and Steve and Fluffy all looked at her sympathetically. It was embarrassing.

I will never do a single nice thing for any body, ever again, Luna thought as she lay in bed that night. No More Nice. That would be her new policy.

The next morning, the sound of Angelica’s giggle-snort had not left Luna’s memory.

“Crumbs, Loon, you’re still thinking about that? Who cares about snotty Angelica Antonio’s giggle-snort?” Claire scoffed. “But if it really gets to you, cast a little itching-pink-eye spell on her. I won’t tell Grandy.” She grinned and rubbed her hands together. “In fact, I cast one on Jemina Consolo after she stole my rainbow eraser.”

“Mmm.” Luna pretended to agree, but it wasn’t a witching revenge that she felt. It was a sadder feeling.

All week, whenever she saw Angelica, it was as if she was trapped in that same awful minute of the giggle-snort. It hurt the same amount.

No More Nice, thought Luna.

The next weekend, rain poured over the city. A tornado watch was on.

“May is coming in like a lion!” squealed Claire.

“No way I’m going to Bramblewine,” said Justin. “It’s even worse there when you’re stuck indoors. Tell Grandy I have a debate competition.”

“Maybe you girls should take a
rain
check on Bramblewine, too,” joked their mother. (Most doctors tell pretty bad jokes.)

“We’ll be fine!” Luna said. She was still upset about Angelica. At least at Bramblewine, she could cast a few grumpy spells in this witching weather. Grandy had promised to teach them how to shake branches down from the trees. Or, with Claire’s help, she could send a mini-clap of thunder across the sky.

After layering them in raincoats and hats and preparing a thermos of hot cider, their mother dropped them at the station. The twins sat together in the train, passing the cider back and forth. The train creaked and swayed, and the lights flickered.

“I never took the train in a rainstorm,” said Claire. “It’s scary cool!”

To Luna, it was just scary. The trees bent in the wind. Rain hammered the top of the car. The conductor’s shoes squeaked as he walked down the aisle.

“Maaay-rose!”

“Siiilver-toad!”

Men and women collected their umbrellas and blundered into the howling weather. The train chugged on.

“Laaang-ham!” the conductor shouted.

As always, the only person left was the man in the old-fashioned hat and the pea coat. As always, he was sleeping.

“Poor thing, he doesn’t have an umbrella,” murmured Claire. “I wonder why he didn’t remember one? He might catch a cold. If I hadn’t lost my umbrella, I’d sure lend him mine.” She looked at her sister meaningfully.

Luna clutched her own umbrella. She did not want to lend it. It would go against her new policy of No More Nice.

Besides, it was never a good idea to talk to strangers.

Yet after so many years spent riding the train with the old man, he did not seem exactly like a stranger to Luna. He seemed more like a very nice old gentleman who would be soaked the minute he got off the train.

The train creaked around a narrow bend, and just as he always did, the man woke up with a start. Which, come to think of it, was pretty strange, Luna thought. How did he know to wake up at the same exact moment, every time?

She decided to put her No More Nice policy on hold for now. She stood up and walked down the aisle.

“Excuse me, would you like to borrow our umbrella?” she asked the old gentleman. “My sister and I already have hats and raincoats. Our mom is a doctor, and she’s strict about cold and flu protection.”

The man looked at her. He had eyes the color of warm chocolate chips.

“A doctor, hmm? She must be an intelligent woman,” he said. His hands closed around the offered umbrella. “If you’re sure you don’t mind, then I thank you kindly. Are you getting off at the next stop?”

“No, we’re the last stop. Bramblewine.”

“Ah, Bramblewine,” said the old man sadly. “That’s where I’d like to go. But for some reason I keep jumping off at Dillweed.”

“Then what do you do?” asked Luna.

“Why, I catch the next train and loop around again,” he said. “I’ve been doing this for a few hours. Let me tell you, it’s quite frustrating. Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, young lady.” He stood, reached for her hand and shook it.

Luna looked hard at the old gentleman. Something about him seemed familiar.

“Diiill-weed,” hollered the conductor.

“Unfortunately, that’s my stop,” said the old man with a sigh.

“No, it’s not, remember?” Luna clutched the old man’s hand. He tried to shake free of Luna’s grip.