Free Witch & Wizard by James Patterson, Gabrielle Charbonnet Page B

news? Well, a rating of Extremely Dangerous lowers the age for execution from eighteen down to… zero. Which means, let me see… both of you can now be executed…
tomorrow.
”
    He smirked and smoothed his presmoothed hair. “What’s that you say? Black cat got your tongue? No wizardly wisecracks? Honestly, I’d love to know—what do you think of that hot pooping scoop?”

Wisty
    WELL, AT LEAST
SOMEBODY
on this lockstep planet was happy and excited.
    But the Tattling Weasel’s snotty smile had pushed me over the edge. And Whit was right there with me.
    “You think that’s funny?” my bro said in a low voice, his fists clenched. “What if Wisty were
your
sister, and she was going to be executed tomorrow?”
    The Tattling Weasel looked at us smugly. “My sister was a traitor to the New Order.” He spoke slowly to drive home the point. “And… I… turned her…
in.
”
    I couldn’t believe it. Even back when Whit had drawn mustaches on every doll I had, and I had truly wished he’d never been born, at least I knew I wouldn’t want him condemned to death. Torture, sure—but not death.
    “So you think we’re Extremely Dangerous?” I said, tapping my drumstick against my side.
    “Yes,” said the TW. “The world will be a far better place without either of you.”
    “Because I’m a scary witch?” I sneered. “A
bad,
scary witch?”
    “That is correct,” said the TW. “You probably sold your soul for your demonic powers.”
    I waved the drumstick at him. I saw fear and pride have a wrestling match on his little pointy face. He glared back at me. “Put that down. I command it!”
    “Ooh, I’m a bad, scary witch,” I said in a psycho kind of voice. “I’m going to turn you into a pumpkin! Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo!”
    Then I brandished my drumstick as if it were actually a magic wand.
    To my complete and utter astonishment, we heard a real live
crack
of electricity, and actual sparks flew out of the end of the stick. The TW gave a startled cry, and then there was a
boom
like a jet had just broken the sound barrier.
    When the smoke in the room cleared, Whit and I were standing there, looking at… well, an honest mistake.
    But a very bad mistake all the same.

Wisty
    I COULD HAVE SWORN I said “pumpkin.” Didn’t I say “pumpkin”?
    “Um, I think I just turned the Tattling Weasel into a lion,” I said weakly.
    “That seems fairly obvious” was all Whit could say.
    The lion coughed, putting one paw on its chest. “Ahem,” it
spoke
in a scratchy voice. Then the very large cat opened its mouth wider and tried a practice roar.
    “Change him back,” Whit said as he pulled us up against the nearest wall. “Do it now! Quick, quick, quick! Before the weasel realizes he’s changed into a man-eating carnivore! Try saying something other than ‘pumpkin’!”
    The lion roared again—even louder. It seemed to be warming up to the idea of being a lion. Then it sort of smiled at me. Mostly what I saw, though, were really long, sharp teeth.
    “Change him
back,
” Whit repeated, not taking his eyes off the king of beasts.
    The lion opened its mouth again and let out a huge roar. It blew my hair back, filling the room and reverberating off the walls.
    I raised my drumstick. “Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo!” I said firmly.
    Nothing happened. Of course, right?
    I concentrated. Funny thing about concentration—you don’t realize how little you do it until you finally do it. Fact is, I don’t think I’d ever
truly
concentrated on anything until that moment with the very big lion in the very small room.
    “Turn into
your natural form!
” I wielded the drumstick again. “Do it! DO IT—I’M SERIOUS!”
    Boom!
Lightning, sparks, acrid smell, et cetera, and lots of smoke.
    I waved my hand in front of my face so I could see, and it became clear that there was no more lion. But there was no Byron, Disgrace to Kids Everywhere, either.
    Whit and I looked at each other in amazement but also utter