Free TALES FROM WITCHWAY WOOD: Crash 'n' Bang by Kaye Umansky Page A

agreed to travel light. What do you want to bring that for?’
    ‘Because someone might steal it while I’m gone.’
    ‘Clever!’ howled Sludgegooey. ‘He’s scared someone’ll pinch it so he’s taking it to a crowded music festival where everyone knows you don’t get thieves. What a genius!’
    ‘They can’t pinch it if I’m holding it,’ said O’Brian. He clutched the Pot tightly to his chest. ‘I’d see them do it and run after them.’
    ‘Ah, but you’ll have to put it down sometime. And the second you do, mark my words, it’ll get stolen.’
    ‘Look,’ said O’Brian. ‘Look, just stop picking on me, will you? I can look after my own Pot. What? ’
    Filth was beckoning him over for a private word.
    ‘The T-shirt over the jerkin,’ said Filth quietly. ‘Not a good look, man.’
    ‘I know,’ said O’Brian. ‘I know , all right?’
    ‘So do something, dude.’
    ‘I’ve tried . I nearly strangled myself trying to get it off last night.’
    ‘Thought you were going to cut it off?’
    ‘I was, but there’s something odd about the material. The scissors won’t go through. Or the leather knives, or the shears. I hacked away for hours, but all the tools went blunt.’
    ‘Well, there’s gotta be a reason. Hey! TT!’ Filth raised his voice. ‘Like, what’s with O’Brian’s T-shirt, man? He still can’t get it off. Dude’s stuck in it.’
    TT shrugged, clearly uninterested. He had the new camera mounted on its tripod and was shaking out the cloth.
    ‘I’m just thinking,’ mumbled O’Brian, trying to sound casual, ‘just wondering if there might be – I don’t know, I know it sounds weird, but it’s almost like there might be some sort of – um – curse on it. Or something.’
    ‘Rubbish,’ snorted Sludgegooey, who had sidled up and was listening. She considered herself an expert on such matters. ‘A curse on a T-shirt! I’ve never heard of such a thing.’
    ‘Whoever would put a curse on a T-shirt, O’Brian?’ agreed Arthur. ‘You haven’t upset any Witches or anything, have you?’
    ‘We’d do more than curse his T-shirt,’ said Sludgegooey.
    O’Brian bit his lip. He had already said too much. Confessing that he’d lost the goodwill of the Fairies was hardly likely to endear him to the present company. Right now, they needed all the luck they could get.
    There came the sound of the van doors slamming. Chip had finished the loading.
    ‘Where’s the We— Tallula?’ asked TT.
    ‘We’re picking her up in the mountains,’ explained Arthur. ‘That’s where her cave is. She said she wanted to wash her hair. That takes a while, apparently. There’s rather a lot of it.’
    ‘I do like a nice head of hair,’ said Arthur’s mum happily.
    ‘Ye-e-e-e-s,’ said Arthur. ‘Not all of it’s on her head, of course. But she can certainly sing,’ he added hastily. ‘That’s what really matters.’
    ‘How did the rehearsals go?’ asked TT, ducking under the cloth. ‘She do all right?’
    ‘Oh yes,’ said Arthur. ‘She did better than all right.’
    And she had. She had done better than any of them could imagine. Tallula was a natural. Not only did she know all their old Crash ’n’ Bang tunes, she had ideas for new ones. Her little black book was bursting with good words for songs. The minute she started humming, you just knew how it should go. Everything fitted together like a dream. The time had flashed by. The Boys had never enjoyed rehearsing so much.
    ‘Good,’ said TT. ‘Well, she won’t be in the photograph, but that’s probably no bad thing. Chip, get Gareth from the dashboard. I want him in this too. Everybody close up together in front of the van. Band and supporters. Big smiles.’
    ‘I won’t have my photo taken right now, if you don’t mind,’ said O’Brian. He knew he didn’t look his best. Besides, he was the only one who didn’t have any supporters to wave him off. That made him feel a bit left out.
    He climbed in the van and