indignation. âI know how that goes.â
âNo, no.â The witch flapped her small arms. âShe flew. She turned into a bird. A yellow warbler. And not by choice, Iâm fairly certain.â
Sadieâs heart did a little flip of excitement. Now they were getting somewhere. She leaned forward. âSo Ethel was cursed?â
âCareless is more like it. I told her a thousand times, âWear your glasses when youbake or hex!â But oh no, Ethel knew best. So it was adderâs eyelid instead of almond extract. Cactus instead of cardamom. With a recipe, that means customers spitting out their scones. With a spell, it means sheâs five inches tall and chip-chip-chip -ing her head off. Thatâs how I found her. And thatâs when I saw Onyx, my cat, stalking her.â
Horrified, Sadie looked over at Wilson and pictured tiny, feathered versions of Jess and Maya dangling from his jaws. âWhat did you do?â
âWell, there was no time for my Whoops-I-Didnât-Mean-to-Do-That Anti-Hex potion,even if Iâd had the gargoyle scales, which I seriously doubt. So I grabbed Onyx and tossed him out. But when I opened the front door, out flew Ethel, too. So there I was, without my two best friends. I havenât seen either of them since.â
âTheyâll come back,â Sadie said.
âOne can only hope.â The witch sighed and leaned over the cauldron, out of which, curiously enough, soap bubbles now floated. âShall I wash and you dry?â
As Sadie swirled a black dishtowel around inside the clean teacup, she said, âMy two best friends left this morning.â
âAnd you miss them.â
Sadie hesitated. âSort of. I guess. I mean, yes.â
The witch raised her eyes from the suds. âWhich is it?â
âItâs just that Jess can be so . . . Jess-like.â
The witch peeled dishwashing gloves from her gnarled hands. She tossed them into the black bag and said, âAt least your Jess knows which way sheâs going. Birds get blown off course. Take a wrong turn at the third cloud from the left. Who can predict where a bird will end up? Especially a stubborn yellow warbler who takes off half-blind without her spectacles. Itâs all so frustrating!â
Sparks shot from the witchâs fingertips.
With a screech, Wilson leaped straight into the air.
The playhouse filled with thick gray smoke.
Chapter 5
Big Black Bag
âW ow,â said Sadie after her coughing subsided.
The witch flicked the baby blanket at the last of the smoke to shoo it out the window. âCozy and better than mugwort for protection!â she croaked, beaming at the ducky-covered cloth.
Sadie looked over at Wilson, who was in the corner washing his front paw, trying to recover his dignity. âI guess Onyx left because his feelings were hurt,â she said. Wilson bobbed his head in what was either a nod of agreement or a vigorous attempt to lick the fur on his chest.
âThereâs really no excuse for how I behaved,â said the witch. âShouting at him. Banning him from the cottage.â A small puff of gray smoke that must have been hiding near the ceiling floated down and hovered over the witchâs head like a thundercloud. She waved her arms in the air to disperse it. Then she said, âI know he can take care of himself, but I wish heâd come back and let me apologize.â
âI bet he will,â Sadie said. âJess and Maya and I fight sometimes, but then we make up. Friends donât stay mad forever.â As if to prove her point, Wilson padded over and butted his head against the witchâs fingers, asking to be petted. A peace offering.
âI do sometimes worry in the middle of the night.â The witch gathered Wilson into her lap. âWhat if Onyx is cold or hurt? What if Ethel is somewhere with a lot of cats? Like the Catskills.â
âArenât those just