The crowd dwindled quickly. Without a word, B and George walked away from Enchantress Le Fay’s stage. Neither one of them looked back.
George kicked at a broken soda cup on the ground.
“So,” B said eventually, “want to hit the roller coaster?”
An organ grinder and his monkey passed by. The monkey jumped up onto George’s shoulder and tried to steal his glasses.
“Hey! Get off!”
The monkey leaped down, chattering his displeasure. B laughed, and finally, George did, too.
“I think I’ve had enough of the fair for one week,” George said. “Let’s go.”
Soon the noise and lights were behind them. Crickets drowned out the carousel in no time.
“That was … strange,” George said at length. “The bit with the rabbit was really convincing. I don’t get why she fell apart and ran off, though, just because of her wig.”
B scratched her chin thoughtfully. “She seemed pretty unstable, don’t you think?”
George gave her a sharp look. “Did you have something to do with that?”
“What, I made her unstable?” B said, waving indignantly, grateful that the honesty potion had worn off. “How could I have had anything to do with it?”
“Hm.” George nudged her with his elbow. “You made me come tonight, though. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you had some kind of magic powers.”
B laughed out loud — possibly, she thought, a little too loud. “So are you really cured?” she asked. “No more curse?”
George nodded. “No more curse. She was not a real witch.”
B laughed. It felt so good to have George back — the real George, not the cursed zombie he’d been these last few days. Soon the fair would leave town, and all this trouble would be gone for good.
“I’m sorry I was such a pain,” George said.
Good old George! B’s spirits soared. She’d done it! She’d squashed George’s curse and gotten her best friend back, and given Enchantress Le Fay a well-deserved lesson about real witchcraft while she was at it.
“Dad and I decided to take our tap dancing lessons right here in town,” George said. “I figured, why try to hide it? There’s nothing wrong with tap dancing.”
“Exactly!” B said. “That’s great. I’m glad to hear it.”
“I don’t know what was the matter with me,” George said. “I know there are no witches. Knew it all along. I mean, how could there be?”
This time B’s laugh was harder to manage. “Yeah, really,” she said. “How could there be?”
They were nearly home. B’s front porch lights twinkled invitingly, and Nightshade’s silhouette waited on the top step.
They were just passing the Peabodys’ driveway when a truck whizzed by, plowing straight through a huge mud puddle by the edge of the road.
An arc of spray rose in the air. B saw George about to get soaked… . More bad luck! No!
“S-T-O-P!” she cried.
The drops of water froze, suspended in midair, like they’d been captured in a photograph, while the truck taillights dwindled into pinpoints in the distance.
George looked at B, his mouth hanging open.
“What,” he gulped, “was that?”
Oh, no.
Oh, no, no, no.
So much for secrets!