Free Witch Ball by Adele Elliott

was young , she sent me postcards from the places she visited. She never forgot my birthday. I loved her like you do." I thought she was finished, and then she spoke again. "Aunt Fleur taught me a bit about the power of wishes."
    I was amazed at this answer. My mom was, well, plain, never exotic like her aunt. It was impossible to imagine her working magic.
    All children understand the difference between boys and girls. Oh, I don't mean the physical differences. I just know that even a very young child can put people in a category. Moms are girls. Dads are boys. But boys dressed as girls, or girls dressed as boys, this was something no one ever told us about.
    Now, I learn that for some reason there are "gangs" that attack them. Anyone who gets to know Aunt Fleur would have to love her, like Mom and I do. They would just have to.
    During all the excitement I had almost forgotten about Eric. I hadn't been to "work" at the library for about a week. That's one advantage of being a volunteer. It's hard to get fired for slacking up.
    When I finally went back to the library, Eric was quite cool to me. I had already figured out that he was moody. I wanted to talk to someone closer to my age. He is a college boy, so I assume he understands sex and sexuality better than I do.
    Whenever I thought we would have a moment to talk, he was suddenly very busy with re-shelving books, or helping people who didn't know how to use computers. I couldn't talk him into going to the coffee house, or anywhere. He looked self-conscious when I got near him, lowering his eyes and stuttering slightly.
    One day the head librarian recruited him to explain the Dew ey Decimal System to me. He had no choice. We went into the second-floor stacks to have our lesson.
    He tried not to make eye-contact with me, focusing on the space just over my shoulder. I turned on the charm. At first I asked him about a bandage that he had wrapped around one hand. "Just a fall from my bike," he told me. "It's almost healed."
    "Yeah, my aunt had an accident recently, too. She's doing much better."
    This news did not impress him much. But something clicked inside his head. "You know, Truly, I do like you...a lot. I even think we could be better friends. But, that crazy aunt would have to go. I just can't accept you with that freak always around you."
    This totally shocked me. "That doesn't make sense. You have so much empathy for slaves who lived more than a hundred years ago, but for some reason you can't stand my sweet old aunt."
    He switched his weight from one foot to the other. "I can't explain it. It's just that ever since that night that we went to the movie, I can't get you out of my mind."
    That night seemed so long ago. It was only a couple of weeks, but it felt like years. Now, I realized that Aunt Fleur's "attraction charm" had actually worked. Then, I had wanted him to like me, maybe more than I admitted. Now, I wasn't so sure. My feelings had changed lately.
    "Well, Eric, I guess you read in The Packet that she is a bit unusual. That doesn't make her any different from the person that I love. She is as sweet as ever. I guess you still believe that she is some sort of witch. How silly is that?"
    "I didn't need to read The Packet to know what she is. I knew it the first time I met her. She is an old queen. I hate gays!"
    "Oh, pleeeze . This is Columbus. How many could you have known here?"
    "More than you will ever understand." He slammed a book against the shelf. I walked away, angry, confused, but certainly no longer in love with him.

 
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    I thought that both mysteries were quieting down—the big one, Coach Russell's murder; and the small one, the attack on my aunt and her friends. But both remained unsolved. There was little about either in the papers, now. Her injuries were healed for the most part, and I felt relief.
    One afternoon, I stood on her front porch about to ring the bell. I heard a weak meow from behind a potted