Free Red Witch: Book Two of the Wizard Born Series by Geof Johnson

Witch!”

Chapter 8
    Rita was sitting at the bar with Cassandra when her bleached-blonde friend poked her thigh. “Look what the cat just dragged in.”
    Rita turned to look at the front door, where she saw a medium-built serious-faced man in a dark blue police uniform, standing with his hands on his hips, surveying the room. He walked toward them and Rita whispered to Cassandra, “You don’t have anything illegal on you, do you?”
    Cassandra shook her head as they watched the officer approach. He nodded to them when he reached the bar and Rita said, “Well, if it isn’t Deputy Fife himself. What brings you out here tonight? Lookin’ for some bad guys? Some wicked jaywalker, maybe?”
    The uniformed man frowned. “It’s Sergeant Lambeau, ladies.” He held his hand up for the bartender.
    Alphonse came over and said, “Hey, John Paul. What’s up?”
    “Have you seen Ramon in here tonight?”
    Alphonse shook his head. “Why.”
    “He missed his court date today.”
    “What’d he do?” Cassandra snickered. “Forget to pay his parking ticket?”
    John Paul’s jaw muscles twitched and he said, “You know I’m not at liberty to discuss that.”
    “At liberty!” Cassandra snorted. “Tell you what: why don’t you and I go out to your cruiser and have a little liberty in the back seat?”
    Rita shook her head. “Watch it, Cass. He might try to charge you with prostitution again.”
    “He can’t. I’m giving it away.” She slapped Rita on the shoulder and guffawed.
    John Paul’s eyes were narrow. “That’s very amusing.” He looked at Alphonse. “If you see Ramon, tell him I’m looking for him.” John Paul turned on his heel without another word.
    “My, how rude,” Cassandra said in a haughty, fake British accent. “He didn’t offer a proper goodbye.”
    “Yes, Dahling,” Rita said in the same bad accent. “He should’ve at least kissed our hands and bowed.
    “Or kissed something else,” Cassandra said, and they both howled.
    * * *
    Fred lay in bed, tossing and turning. I’m not a witch. I’m not. Witches are hags with bad teeth and big noses and…something.
    But what if Jamie’s right? Do I really have some magic power? All day she’d tried little things, like moving her pencil with only her willpower or reading her teacher’s mind, but nothing had worked . But I definitely talked to Jamie in a dream . That feeling had been wonderful. I wonder if I can do it again tonight. We could have a special thing, like nobody else has ever had. She sighed and tried to imagine it, then she fluffed her pillow and rolled over.
    But first I have to go to sleep!
    * * *
    Fred’s brain was humming from lack of sleep the next morning when she met Jamie at his car. Her eyelids felt like sandpaper and her head throbbed at her temples.
    “You don’t look so good,” he said.
    “Thanks a lot ,” she huffed. “You’re not supposed to notice.” She opened the car door and dropped her purse on the seat, but didn’t get in. “I had trouble sleeping ’cause I kept trying to send my thoughts to you all night. Did you notice anything?”
    “Not a thing.”
    She made a smug face. “Maybe I’m not a witch after all.”
    “Maybe not.”
    “But right now I feel like one. A mean one.”
    * * *
    Fred and Melanie walked past the tenth grade lockers and a familiar voice called out, “Yo’, ladies! Wait up.”
    “Not him again,” Melanie muttered.
    Logan caught up with them and walked beside Fred, who barely glanced at him before turning her eyes straight ahead.
    “How you ladies doing?” He got no answer. Fred and Melanie walked faster.
    “I’m trying to talk to you.” He grabbed Fred’s arm but she jerked it free. “Don’t do that,” she said in a level voice, eyes hard. She started walking away, but he grabbed her arm again.
    Fred stopped and turned, then stepped into him and drove her knee into his groin. He dropped to the hall floor like he’d been shot, holding his crotch with both