15

"Remind me again why I’m doing this?” Hollis said, pulling the door shut and locking it.

“Because you are going to be cured, silly,” I said, checking first right, then left, and then yanking her down the steps toward the sidewalk. “You just need to trust me,” I said confidently, as I dragged her toward the bus stop.

Hollis lagged behind. I could hear her left shoe scraping along the cement. She seemed to be getting worse. I had to get her de-hexed and quickly. It was nearly ten o’clock. Hollis had taken over half an hour getting ready. I mean, seriously — who puts on makeup to see a witch? Even though I totally felt responsible for Hollis’s situation, I can honestly say I wasn’t exactly enjoying her company. I wanted to get this thing over with as quickly as possible and get my own life and limbs back to normal, so I grabbed onto her jacket sleeve and pulled her along to keep up.

Luckily, before sneaking out of my house, I’d done two things. First, I’d raided my secret cash-stash — the one I’d been saving for a tattoo removal on the odd chance my parents actually let me get a tattoo I’m bound to regret. I had to be prepared. I had amassed a total of forty-five dollars and sixty-two cents — not exactly a fortune, but, hey, the way I saw it, I had at least another decade before I’d be old enough to get one, love it for, oh, say a year, hate it passionately for another two, and then plan its removal. By then, there will be generations of people needing to be de-inked so they’ll have most likely invented a cheap and pain-free method, right? That’s what I was counting on, anyway. The second thing I did was Google the publisher. I got their address and even a map. This was going to be easy.

“Have you got a bus ticket?” I asked, as the vehicle lurched to a halt in front of us. A puff of noxious fumes caused me to step back before stepping forward.

“Why would I have a bus ticket?” Hollis responded, as though it were the most ridiculous question in the world. “I’ve never taken the bus in my entire life. My mother doesn’t believe in public transit — she says it’s too pedestrian.”

Oh brother, I thought. Aside from her totally environmentally unfriendly stance, it was also elitist. But did I expect anything else from the Van Horn family?

I rolled my eyes and reached into my pocket. I got on the bus and dropped two tickets into the fare box. Good thing I had some money — I’d have to buy more tickets for the ride home. I almost started walking down the aisle when I noticed, out of the corner of my eye, Hollis still standing on the curb. I swung round and grabbed her arm and pulled her on board.

“Threefold,” I muttered under my breath. “More like bounce back three-million-fold.”

“What’s that?” asked Hollis.

“Er, nothing,” I said.

As the bus bumped and jostled its way toward the subway station I had to deal with Hollis and her barrage of whiny questions.

“So, where does this White Witch live?” she asked.

“No idea,” I said, which apparently caused her all sorts of anxiety.

“What? What do you mean you don’t know where she lives?” Hollis yelled.

“Keep your voice down,” I said. “Stop attracting attention — I am skipping school, remember? And anyway, I told you to trust me — I have a plan.”

“Claire Murphy, you are the last person in the world I trust,” said Hollis. “And if we’re not going to the White Witch, then where exactly are we going?”

“To the publisher of the book,” I said, trying to keep my answer as brief as possible so as not to cause her to freak-out any further.

“And where is that?”

“Downtown.”

“Where downtown?”

“Queen Street.”

“And what do you hope to do at the publisher’s? How are they supposed to de-hex me? With ink and erasers?”

“You ask too many questions,” I said. “Just trust me. I know what I’m doing.”

“Trust you? Trust you! Famous last words …” she scoffed.

I’d had enough Hollis for the moment. I got up and threw myself into the row of seats opposite her. Yes, yes, yes — I still felt guilty and responsible for her frail condition, and I was going to fix that, but did I have to let her annoy me while I did so? I wished Paula-Jean were with us. Paula-Jean was even-tempered. She would be able to defuse the tension between Hollis and me.

I pretended to look out the window, all the while keeping an eye on Hollis. Her posture wasn’t good and she was fidgeting nervously with her left fingertips. I could tell she was uncomfortable sitting there alone, but I decided to let her suffer a little while longer. Then, when a really ragged-looking guy — not much older than Jordan, I guessed — got on the bus, sat down beside her, and started harassing her, I had no choice but to spring into action.

“Leave her alone,” I said, racing toward them.

“Get lost,” he said.

Hollis looked petrified.

“Do you see this book, buddy?” I said grabbing it out of my pocket and brandishing it like a sword. “This is magic. And believe me I will not think twice about cursing your butt into the next millennium! Now move!”

“Chill, man,” he said, waving the book out of his face. He shifted down the row a few seats. “I was only asking if she could spare some change …”

Satisfied I’d rescued Hollis, I calmed down, tucked my book away, and looked him over. His hair looked like it hadn’t been washed in days. His fingernails were dirty and his hands looked way older than his face. So did his eyes, for that matter. He was a street kid. Clearly homeless. I felt bad for threatening to curse him. Apparently, I hadn’t learned my cursing lesson yet. I reached into my pocket and before I knew what I was doing, I’d handed him five bucks.

“Thanks,” he muttered. Something about the way he said that made me realize it was a fortune to him.

“Why did you do that?” hissed Hollis. “I wouldn’t have given that guy a dime!”

I looked at Hollis’s fancy clothes and fancy shoes. Her painted nails and expensive earrings. I looked back at the guy who had no one and nothing — nothing except the five bucks I’d just given him. I suddenly found myself wondering if I wasn’t the only one who had some character-cleansing to do.