Free Witch Twins by Adele Griffin

said Adam Chow, thinking that Claire was Luna.
    “Good. Let’s do it during lunchtime. And whichever one of you is Claire Bundkin, please report to Five B.” Ms. Fleegerman’s regular strict voice was back.
    “See ya,” said Claire.
    Wasting lunchtime to do teacher-helping stuff was kind of unfair, Claire thought, but it didn’t turn out to be all bad. Ms. Fleegerman brought a special lunch; some sandwiches, peanut butter cookies, and grape soda from the teacher’s lounge.
    When all the words were pinned back in the right place, Ms. Fleegerman surveyed the room.
    “It’s not Hawaii,” she said, a bit dejectedly.
    “All the kids say your room is the best decorated,” Claire told her. “Honest.”
    “Really?” Ms. Fleegerman sounded surprised.
    “Yep.” Adam Chow nodded. “I think the person who took your letters didn’t do it from meanness. He or she probably couldn’t resist them.”
    “Exactly!” said Claire.
    “I had never thought of it that way,” said Ms. Fleegerman, who now seemed content to think of it exactly that way. Her face brightened, and she took a big bite of her cookie. “I love beautiful words like aloha ,” she confessed. Her voice was almost shy. “I always feel an early-morning Hawaiian breeze in that word.”
    “Another good word is prickly ,” said Claire before she could stop herself. “It would hurt your fingers to pick up that word.”
    “I like the word besotted ,” said Ms. Fleegerman. “It’s a fat, sleepy word.”
    Claire had not exactly planned to have Ms. Fleegerman turn into her word friend. And kids sometimes gave Claire strange looks when Ms. Fleegerman called out “Heliotrope!” or “Pumpernickel!” or “Hugger’ mugger!” whenever she saw Claire in hall rotation. (After becoming her word friend, Ms. Fleegerman never again mistook Claire for Luna.)
    As well, Claire never again could see her as an awful word like Fleegermonster.
    Which made the friendship, all in all, a change for the better.
    Like the transformation of a haughty old caterpillar into a lovely mariposa.

7
The Princess and the Peep
    T HE FIRST WEEKEND OF MAY was when Tower Hill Middle School’s fifth and sixth grade would perform The Princess and the Pea. Since Luna and Claire both were involved with the play, they would have to miss their usual weekend in Bramblewine.
    “Then you may come out next weekend,” said Grandy.
    “Are we especially invited?” asked Luna worriedly. She wanted to make sure, after what had happened the last time.
    “Yes,” said Grandy. “You are extra-especially invited. And good luck with your play. Sorry I won’t be there, but I hate-hate-hate school plays. There’s always too much chorus singing.”
    Everyone else was coming. “Mom and Steve, Dad and Fluffy, and Justin.” Claire ticked off the names on her fingers while she and Luna sat in the audience watching a dress rehearsal. Aside from being on crew—Claire for stage-managing and Luna for scenery painting—the twins had non-speaking roles as ladies-in-waiting in Act Three.
    The rest of the time, they helped out by being the audience.
    “We need to buy five tickets,” said Claire. “Frogfeet and fiddleheads, I wish I could figure out a way to get Fluff seated behind someone really tall!”
    “Mmm.” Luna was not paying attention to Claire’s schemes. She was listening to Angelica Antonio sing.
    Angelica Antonio was a sixth grader. She had waist-length hair and wore ankle-length skirts, and she played the lead role of Princess Winifred, the princess who felt the pea under twenty mattresses.
    “She’s the greatest singer I’ve ever heard,” said Luna. She wondered if Angelica Antonio would be available to sing at her wedding one day.
    “She’s also the snootiest girl in the sixth grade,” Claire answered. “I can’t stand how she swishes her hair over the back of her chair when she sits down. Hey, maybe we could put some chair-colored bubble gum on Fluffy’s seat!”
    Luna