Octagon Magic Read Free Page A

was out of his sight, she hurried, her book bag bumping first against the stairs and then the walls as she went. Then she was at their own door, breathing fast, hunting under her jacket for the key. The Lockner door across the hall was closed. Mrs. Lockner was not watching for her.
    Lorrie turned the key and slipped inside, shutting the door quickly behind her. Now she fronted the big mirror on the coat closet door and she gasped. No wonder Mr. Parkinson had stared so at her. She looked more of a mess than she had feared.
    She hurried on to the bedroom she shared with her aunt. Then she pulled off her clothes, spreading them on her bed while she put on an old cotton dress. With a brush she set to work, trying to erase the marks left by her adventure.
    Lucky, oh, she was lucky! Most of them brushed off. And those left were not too visible, even when she held them right under the lamp. This was Friday, too, so she could have another go at them in the morning. Finally she hung them up in the closet and went to the dressing table where all Aunt Margaret's nice-smelling bottles and jars were set out in a line against the base of the big mirror.
    Such nice smells. There were lots of good smells in the world—burning leaves was one. Lorrie stood still, lookinginto the mirror, not now seeing her reflection but a picture out of memory....
    Mother and Daddy raking leaves for Lorrie to pack into a big basket.... Lorrie shook her head. She did not want to remember that because then she had to remember the rest. Mother and Daddy and the airplane that had taken them away from her forever....
    Lorrie closed her eyes and was determined not to remember. Now—she looked at the mirror again—there was her face, rather like the cat heads she used to draw when she was little—a triangle. Her black hair was straying out of its rib bon tieback as it always did at this hour of the day. Lorrie set about remedying that with the same will and force she had given to brushing her clothes.
    Greeny eyes—just like a cat's. Now suppose she did have a fairy godmother, what would be her next wish, after making Jimmy Purvis a big yellow duck? Yellow hair and blue eyes like Kathy Lockner's? No, Lorrie decided, she did not want those. What she had suited her well enough. She made the worst face she could think of at the mirror and laughed.
    She smoothed down her skirt. What would it feel like, she wondered, to wear yards of skirt the way Hallie did? People all did in the olden days whether they were grown up or just girls. Lorrie enjoyed leafing through Aunt Margaret's costume books to look at the pictures. Aunt Margaret wrote ad vertising copy for Fredericka's Modes and knew all about high fashion. But nobody wore such dresses any more, so why did Hallie? Did she have only very old, old clothes? But the red dress had not looked old or worn. Or did Hallie wearjust what she wanted to, and did not care if it were stylish to have a skirt short, or long, or in the middle?
    Lorrie went on into the kitchen and began to bring pack ages out of the freezer section of the refrigerator. As she set the table in the dinette she thought of Jimmy and his gang. Jimmy would not forget her, but tomorrow was Saturday and then there was Sunday, no school, no Jimmy. So she had two days before she had to worry about him again.
    If Aunt Margaret did not have to work overtime they would go shopping together in the morning. Then Lorrie could stop at the library. If only Aunt Margaret would stop worrying about why Lorrie did not have any close friends. Who needed the kinds of friends one could find about here? Kathy Lockner with all her silly jokes, and whispering about boys and playing those screechy records?
    It was getting harder and harder to evade Aunt Margaret's pushing. Lorrie laid a napkin straight. She was not going to tell her that she did not like Kathy, or Kathy's friends.
    There were some girls at school Lorrie would like to know better. Lizabeth Ross, for example.