Ivy and Bean - Annie Barrows [8]
“How many do we need?” asked Bean. The worms were piled on top of one another on the bottom of the bucket.
Ivy looked “Only ten. But the more worms we have, the harder she’ll dance.”
“This is enough,” said Bean. “Poor worms.”
“All right,” said Ivy. She looked toward Bean’s house. “Let’s go see if your sister is home.”
“Okay, but we’d better sneak,” said Bean.
Bean’s house was good for sneaking. At the back, there was a porch. If you crawled like a bug across the porch, you could look through a big window into the kitchen.
The girls ran toward the bushes that grew next to Bean’s porch and ducked down, hiding. Quietly, they began to creep up the stairs that led to the porch. Very quietly, they crawled across the floor. And then—Bean heard a sound.
She froze.
There it was again.
A sob.
It was someone crying. Bean listened.
It sounded like Nancy.
Bean put her hand on Ivy’s arm and pointed to the window. They crawled to it and peered in like spies.
There was Nancy. She was sitting at the kitchen table. She was alone. She was crying.
Bean got a funny feeling. Nancy was usually so bossy, so nosy, so sure she was right. It was weird to see her cry, all alone.
“Maybe she’s crying because she thinks you’re lost,” whispered Ivy. “That’s kind of nice.”
Bean didn’t answer. She had never thought she could make Nancy cry. Bean felt a lump in her throat. She remembered that Nancy let her snuggle into her bed when she had bad dreams about the spooky man. She remembered that Nancy let her play with her glass animals sometimes, even after she had broken the starfish. She remembered that Nancy had once bought her a fairy coloring book with her own money. Bean looked at the tears rolling down Nancy’s cheeks. Poor Nancy. Bean sniffed. Maybe she didn’t want to put the dancing spell on her sister, after all.
Nancy said something. Bean couldn’t hear it, but she was sure it was something about missing her.
“What?” said Bean’s mother’s voice from another room.
“Everybody has them!” Nancy shouted. “Everybody but me! I’m the only one who has to wait!” She began to cry harder.
What? Bean pressed her face against the window.
Her mother’s voice said, “We’ve talked about this a million times. You can have them when you’re twelve.”
“Even some of stupid Bean’s friends have them!” yelled Nancy.
Suddenly Bean knew what Nancy was crying about. “She’s not sad about me at all! She’s crying about pierced ears!” hissed Bean to Ivy. Bean got mad. Really mad. She was even madder than she had been when Nancy tried to drag her into the house. Bean was so mad she forgot all about being sneaky. She stood up and banged on the window with her fist. “You’re a big turkey!” she yelled.
Nancy stared and then jumped up. “Hey! Hey! Mom! Bean’s back! Get in here, Bean breath!” She flashed out the back door before Bean could even begin to run. In two seconds flat, she had Bean by the arm and was pulling her in the door. “Just wait till Mom gets hold of you,” she was saying. “You’re going to be in so, so, so much trouble—”
“STOP!” yelled Ivy. She stood in front of Nancy, waving the wand at her face. “I command you to free Bean!”
THE SPELL
Nancy stopped dragging Bean across the porch and looked at Ivy. “Who are you?” she asked.
Ivy smiled and slitted her eyes. With her white face and red blood drops, she looked very witchy. “It matters not. Free my friend,” she hissed.
Wow, thought Bean. She’s really going for it.
Nancy dropped Bean’s arm and lifted one eyebrow, which was something she had just learned how to do and did all the time. “What’s that supposed to be?” she asked in a snippy, grown-up way, looking at Ivy’s wand.
Ivy shook the wand in Nancy’s face. “This