Free Kristy's Great Idea by Ann M. Martin Page A

against the panes of glass.
    Karen saw the face, too. “Augh!” she screamed. “That’s Morbidda Destiny! She’s home after all! Where’s Boo-Boo? Where’s Boo-Boo?”
    Mary Anne began to feel afraid again. She knew there were no such things as witches (were there?), but the face at the window didn’t look very friendly. And Andrew was crying, and Karen was panicking.
    â€œAll right.” Mary Anne tried to remain calm. She thought about what Watson had told her—that Mrs. Porter was just an eccentric old lady. “Let’s look for Boo-Boo, you guys,” she said.
    â€œWe don’t have to,” wailed Karen. “I see him. He’s—” Karen gulped. She pointed her finger. “He’s in Morbidda Destiny’s garden!”
    â€œWell, I’ll just go get him—somehow,” said Mary Anne, remembering that she wasn’t supposed to touch Boo-Boo, let alone pick him up.
    â€œShe’s already gone from the window!” Karen cried. “She’s coming to the door! I know it.”
    â€œOkay, okay. Karen, you’re in charge of Andrew for a few minutes. You stay in the yard with him and watch him. I’ll be right back.”
    Mary Anne said her heart was pounding as she crossed Watson’s yard and stood at the edge of Mrs. Porter’s property. Boo-Boo was about ten feet away from her in the middle of some chrysanthemums, digging away happily.
    â€œBoo-Boo,” Mary Anne called softly. She glanced at the house. No sign of Mrs. Porter. Maybe she hadn’t seen Boo-Boo. “Boo-Boo,” Mary Anne called again. “Come here.” She snapped her fingers.
    Boo-Boo didn’t even look up.
    â€œYoo-hoo! Boo-Boo!” Mary Anne stepped closer. Boo-Boo sat down and scratched himself. “Boo-Boo. Hey, fat cat!”
    â€œBoo-Boo. Hey, fat cat!” called a croaky voice.
    Mary Anne’s heart just about stopped beating. She whirled around. As she was whirling, she could hear Karen shrieking in Watson’s yard. Behind Mary Anne stood … a witch. “Honest to goodness,” she told me later. “She looked just like a witch from a picture book.”
    Mrs. Porter, or Morbidda Destiny or whoever she was, was dressed in black from head to toe. Her hair was gray and frazzly. There was a wart on the end of her nose. She was carrying what Mary Anne at first mistook for a broom, but which turned out to be a rake.
    â€œThat fat cat,” said Mrs. Porter, shaking the rake with every word, “is digging up my mums.”
    â€œI know, I know. I’m sorry. I’m trying to get him out for you.” Mary Anne decided to forget Watson’s warning. She stepped right into the garden and reached for Boo-Boo.
    Boo-Boo hissed and swiped at her with his paw, claws extended.
    Mary Anne jumped back.
    â€œThat does it, girlie,” said Mrs. Porter. She jumped into the garden and waved the rake at Boo-Boo.
    Boo-Boo’s eyes opened wide. He leaped over a bush of golden mums and streaked away.
    Luckily, he streaked back into Watson’s yard.
    Mrs. Porter shook her rake after him. “Rapscallion!” she cried. She headed for her house. Mary Anne could hear her muttering things like “Children and pets” and “Darned nuisance.”
    Back in Watson’s yard, Karen greeted Mary Anne tearfully. “Did you hear that? It was a curse!”
    â€œWhat was? ‘Rapscallion’?” Mary Anne asked, looking nervously over her shoulder at the chrysanthemum bed.
    â€œYeah!”
    â€œNo, that wasn’t a curse. That’s a real word. She was calling Boo-Boo a name, but she did
not
put a spell on him.”
    â€œAre you sure?”
    â€œPositive. Right, Andrew?”
    â€œYup.”
    â€œI don’t know,” said Karen. “I don’t know.”
    â€œLook,” Mary Anne went on. “Did you see Morb—Mrs. Porter mixing up herbs or looking for