Free Sadie's Story by Christine Heppermann Page B

hat.
    Sadie began, “You’re not a—”
    â€œI am.”
    â€œAnybody can put on a costume.”
    â€œTrue. But their ‘costumes,’ as you put it, don’t come from Britches for Witches.”
    The tiny woman took off her hat, revealing matted gray hair. She flipped the hat over. “Read the label.”
    Sadie peered inside the sturdy felt cone. “It does say ‘Britches for Witches.’”
    â€œSurely you’ve heard their jingle.” The woman cleared her throat noisily and sang, “Britches for Witches. Black cats and hats. Broomsticks and cauldrons and thousands of gnats.”
    â€œGnats?”

    â€œFor annoyance spells. Very useful at picnics.”
    Sadie couldn’t stand all the way up in the little doorway, so she duck-walked a few steps forward. “If you’re a real witch, prove it.”
    â€œHow about this: did you see me sneak into your playhouse?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œExactly. I just appeared. Poof!”
    Wilson sniffed at the cauldron, the contents of which glopped and gurgled until the woman gave them a brisk stir.
    â€œBut I haven’t been staring at my playhouse all day,” Sadie countered. “Could you do something more . . . supernatural?”
    â€œLike a trick?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œA trick is by definition meant to deceive. I don’t want to deceive you. Why don’t you sit down, Sadie, and let’s get to know each other?”
    â€œHow did you know my name? I didn’t tell you my name. Come to think of it, I didn’t tell you Wilson’s name, either.”
    The woman’s smile was a bit snaggletoothed, but it seemed friendly. “Sit down, my dear.”
    Sadie sat.

Chapter 3
    Just Doing Magic with a Friend
    S omehow, even with all three of them, plus the cauldron, the space inside the playhouse did not feel cramped.
    Wilson, normally wary of strangers, settled down at the witch’s feet and closed his eyes. Not quite proof that the woman was magical, Sadie decided, but pretty solidevidence that she was, well, different.

    Raising the spoon to her lips, the witch sipped and cocked her head. “It needs something,” she said finally.
    â€œWhat are you making? Is it a potion?” Sadie imagined Jess and Maya calling from the road and asking what she was up to. Oh, nothing much. Just doing magic with a friend. Nobody you know.
    â€œIt’s soup,” the witch said.
    â€œFor the hex?”
    â€œFor lunch. I finished the hex. Next I have to work on a spell. After that, a nap. I wonder if you could find me a blanket.”
    â€œNow?”
    â€œPlease.”
    Sadie crawled back out into the brightafternoon sun. “C’mon, Wilson,” she called over her shoulder. The cat blinked but otherwise didn’t move. Great. Even Wilson was deserting her. A couple more defections and she’d be an orphan.
    â€œMay I keep him here?” asked the witch. “Just for a little while.”
    â€œAren’t you supposed to have a cat of your own?” Sadie said grumpily.
    The witch shook her head. “Long story. After the blanket, perhaps.”
    On the way to her room, Sadie passed her mother upside-down against a wall in the hallway.
    â€œHow about coming along to the studio with me later?” Her mother worked as a yoga instructor. Sadie was accustomed to having conversations with her mother’s feet.
    â€œNo, thanks.”
    â€œAre you sure? I don’t want you wandering in and out of the study every few minutes. Dad took the summer off from teaching to write his book, not to listen to you moan about how bored you are.”
    Looking directly at her mother’s ankles, Sadie answered, “I’m not bored. Not anymore.”
    â€œWell, good for you, honey. Keep your spirits up. Your friends will be home soon. If you start to miss them, take deep cleansing breaths.”
    â€œOkay.” Sometimes Sadie wondered if