Free The Runaway Spell by Lexi Connor Page B

“I needed an energy boost, but all they have over there is oranges. Yick!”
    B glanced over her shoulder toward where Mr. Bishop was. “Careful,” she whispered to George. “Don’t let people see you eating weeds!”
    But George buried his face in the fresh-picked salad. B could only hope no one saw him doing it. She leaned forward, grabbed a couple of his shaggy blond hairs, and yanked them out.
    “Ow!”
    “Whoops, sorry,” B said, trying to sound innocent. “Have some more dandelions.”
    He hadn’t gotten far before the warning whistle blew, and he galloped off to rejoin the game. B creptback under the bleachers where she could hide. She pulled out the stinky sock once more and held it in one outstretched hand, with George’s hair in the other. She closed her eyes and thought about George, his ears, his tail, his stripes. This had to work. It
had to.
    “U-N-D-O,” she spelled.
    The whistle blew to kick off the second half. B climbed out from underneath the bleachers and resumed her seat on the top row, watching George intently. Were his stripes fading? She couldn’t tell. He did seem to be standing taller, though, and he was definitely more focused on the game. In fact, his footwork was outstanding! Twice he completely buffaloed a Falcon defender and got past him easily.
    “GO, GEORGE!” The crowd was noticing a difference as well. “GO, GEORGE!” they yelled.
    B joined in the cheer, but kept her eyes glued on her friend. He swept past the bleachers, and B squinted. The stripes were less noticeable now. She was 99 percent sure of it.
    A Tiger defender sent a long pass sailing downthe field, and George was there to meet it. He passed to a teammate, who dodged a Falcon and sent it back to George. George put it in the net!
    The Tiger bleachers went berserk. B almost wished she had her pom-poms.
    The whistle blew, and the game resumed.
    No doubt anymore — none whatsoever. Those stripes were on their way out. Relief flooded over B. She cheered herself hoarse.
    With ten minutes left on the clock, George scored another goal to tie the score. Feet flashing, clock ticking, the Falcons and Tigers were dueling it out for the ball every second. B was on the edge of the bench, watching every move. George was having a great game, not as La Zebra, but as himself. With seconds left on the clock, he maneuvered a brilliant pass to Jamal Burns, who headed it into the goalie’s net.
    The whistle blew.
    The Tigers had won!

Chapter 18
    The Tigers swarmed George and Jamal and hoisted them up on their shoulders, cheering. The cheerleaders surrounded the team, and the fans in the bleachers surged onto the field. B had a feeling she might get laryngitis for a week, she was screaming so loud. Relief that the spell was over made her giddy, and to see her best friend play so well — without magical help — and win made her happiness complete.
    She hurried down the bleachers to wait for George’s feet to hit the ground. She had to wait for Coach Lyons to put him in a headlock and give his scalp a noogie. Finally George broke away from the adoring masses and saw B. He ran to her and gave her a big hug.
    “Did you see, B? Did you see how I played like La Zebra? I don’t ever want you to switch me back. I don’t care how weird I look. I have you to thank for this!”
    B handed George a cup of energy drink she’d snagged from the team manager. “No, you don’t, silly,” she said. “Look at yourself.”
    George held up his arm and stared. “The stripes are gone!” He rubbed his skin.
    B couldn’t stop laughing.
    George grabbed at his shorts. “And my tail is gone!”
    B nodded. “Gone for good. You should sleep better now. No more hearing double.”
    “Oh, no!” George panicked. “Now I’ll never play that well again!” He wiped his face with his jersey.
    “It just so happens, George,” B said, “that I turned you back before the second half began. All your good playing today was after I switched you. If you