Free Sadie's Story by Christine Heppermann Page A

out. But don’t bring home anything gross.”
    Sadie lifted the window.
    Zip! Wilson was gone. He streaked across the flagstones, past the petunias and Queen Anne’s lace, right to the playhouse. Well, not to , exactly. He stopped a few yards away and froze except for his tail, which swished back and forth like a windshield wiper.
    Why was he acting like that?
    Then she saw it. An almost invisible wisp of smoke rising from the playhouse roof.
    Maybe she had imagined it. She blinked.
    The smoke was still there.

Chapter 2
    Britches for Witches
    I n the kitchen she found her father, fussing with his blender. Sliced fruit lay everywhere. “This is going to be the best smoothie ever,” he announced without turning around.
    â€œDad, I think the playhouse is on fire!”
    â€œWhat, sweetheart?”
    â€œLook!”
    Clutching a kiwi, her father followed her over to the window. Squinted. Took off his eyeglasses, cleaned them with his shirtsleeve, and put them back on. “No smoke, no flames. Everything looks okay to me.”
    Sadie stared hard at the patch of sky above the playhouse. There was no trace of white, not even a cloud. The smoke was gone. If it had ever been there in the first place.
    â€œBesides, the playhouse is plastic. If it was burning, we’d smell dioxin. All I smell is”—he stuck his nose down by the open windowsill—“a neighbor cooking something yummy.”
    â€œI guess,” she said. “But I think I’ll double-check.”
    Her father chuckled and kissed the top ofher head. “Let me know if we need to call the fire brigade.” He returned to the counter, dropped the kiwi, and scooped up some mango. He popped a piece into his mouth. “Heaven!” he exclaimed between chews. “Want to try a bite of heaven, Sadie?”
    â€œSure. When I get back.”
    Outside she filled the watering can with the hose. Just in case.
    Through the gap between two blue plastic shutters she spied a flash of black. Something was moving! Or someone. And what was that strange smell? Like the something-someonewas baking a cake out of orange peels, cinnamon, and . . . bicycle tires?

    One step. Two steps. Before she knew it she stood at the playhouse door. The door she’d opened a thousand times before while playing with Jess and Maya. But this time she had no idea what she’d find on the other side.
    She crouched, setting down the watering can. She raised her fist to knock. She lowered her fist. She raised it again.
    Jess wouldn’t be scared. Jess would have burst through the door already without knocking at all.
    Rap, rap. “Hello?” Sadie called softly. Then with more volume, “Hello?”
    Silence. Wilson pressed his whole bodyagainst her calves as if trying to nudge her forward.

    She knocked again. “I know someone is in there.”
    â€œI’m not hurting anything,” said a thin, scratchy voice.
    â€œThat’s good. But what are you doing?”
    â€œJust a minor hex.”
    â€œA minor hex? Something’s on fire!”
    â€œNot really.” The voice was stronger now. “Everything’s under control.”
    Hunched in the dirt with one hand on the pink plastic doorknob, Sadie paused to, as Maya would say, evaluate. There had to be alogical explanation. “Are you homeless?” she asked.
    â€œNot anymore.”
    â€œRunning away?”
    â€œI’m a little old for that.”
    â€œSo you’re a grown-up.”
    â€œDearie me, no. Not one of those dull, horrid specimens.”
    Not sure what to do next, Sadie glanced down at Wilson. He stared at her mutely. She tried again. “Okay. But who are you?”
    â€œWhy don’t you and Wilson come inside and see?”
    Sadie slowly opened the door. There, beside a bubbling cauldron, stood a tiny woman holding a long wooden spoon. She was dressed all in black—black smock dress,black pointy shoes, black pointy