Free The Unwilling Witch by David Lubar Page B

“My dad says to keep the noise down. He’s thinking about the universe and needs peace and quiet.”
    She was the only person I knew who got phone calls from her folks when they were all in the same house. “Sorry.” I dropped the handkerchief. “There’s more, but I haven’t really figured it all out. Words seem to have some kind of power. I mean, they can help me focus, but they seem to have more use than just that. I wish I was better with words.”
    We talked awhile longer; then I went back to my place and got started on my homework. I couldn’t resist trying to do it the easy way. I managed to make all the math answers appear, but that didn’t save me any work, since I had to check everything to make sure it was right. Then I tried to create an essay for English class. But when I read it, I wondered whether it had come from somewhere. What if it was a famous essay? I’d get in trouble for copying. In the end, I wrote my own essay.
    Nothing unusual happened until that evening when I walked into the living room. “Can you help me clean up?” Mom asked. She was in the middle of one of her assaults on dirt and disorder. The furniture had been moved out so she could get to the whole floor, and the windows were wide open, allowing a breeze to blow through the room.
    â€œSure. What do you want me to do?”
    She pointed to the closet. “I spilled some dirt when I was repotting those plants. Could you get the electric broom and sweep it up? I need to go fold the laundry.”
    â€œOkay.” I went to the closet. The electric broom is like an upright vacuum. As I grabbed the handle, it tugged against my grip. I probably should have let go. But I held on.

 
    Twenty-three
    SWEEPING THE SKY
    The broom shot out of the closet, dragging me across the floor. “Hey!” I shouted.
    The front of the broom lifted into the air and headed toward the window. I tried to stop, but I just kept sliding along. Mom had done a nice job waxing the floors. By the time we reached the window, I was nearly off my feet.
    The broom flew outside, zooming up like a jet taking off from an airport. Then the front flipped back between my legs, and I was riding it.
    I tried to make it turn back to the house, but it didn’t pay any attention to me. This wasn’t a spell I’d cast—this was the power running wild. I wasn’t in control. We—the broom and I—climbed higher, soaring in an upward spiral.
    The air grew cooler as we rose. We slowed, and we were no longer alone. Birds flew toward us from all directions. Crows, wrens, sparrows, and cardinals sped across the sky. A red-tailed hawk joined us. It was beautiful.
    I was in my element—I was in the air.
    We flew far above Lewington. I tried to spot my house. I found the school. The track was a tiny oval far below. The breeze whipped my hair as I traced the streets back to my house.
    I stopped clutching the broom and just held on lightly to the handle. I didn’t think I’d fall, even if I let go. I relaxed and enjoyed the ride, scanning the ground for more places I knew. The park was easy to spot—a large rectangle of green plunked near the houses and streets. And across from it, sure enough, the mall really did look like a giant turtle, its five corridors stretching from the Hub like arms, legs, and a head.
    After circling the whole town, the broom swooped sharply downward, leaving the birds behind. We picked up speed as we got closer to the house. Air blasted past me, rippling my shirt and tugging my hair. It felt fabulous. By the time we reached the living room window, we were going so fast, I could hear a whoosh . We shot into the room and turned in a tight circle, zooming around so rapidly that the breeze pulled up all the dirt. The circle grew tighter and tighter, until we were spinning like an ice skater in the middle of the room.
    We stopped.
    The cyclone of dirt spun away from us, then