Spells & Sleeping Bags #3 Read Free Page B

solved. Almost. I can't believe it; I'm about to do my first real spell! Of course, I've been using my raw will all over the place, but since my mother hasn't given me my much-deserved copy of A 2 , I haven't yet tested an existing spell. She wouldn't let me begin my training earlier because she wanted me to focus on studying for my finals, and since I can't train from camp, she insists I wait until fall, when she will zap me up my very own copy of the book. So you can understand how excited I am about performing this spell. It's my very special rite of passage. Kind of like a bat mitzvah. A bat mitzvah in a gas station bathroom.
    Hands trembling, I dab the soap on our shirts and then on the shorts we're still wearing. Then, after I rip open the packet and dump the salt in my left hand, I turn the water back on and say:
    “Mark upon these robes be gone,
    Mark upon these robes be gone,
    Mark upon these robes be gone!”
    The power boils from somewhere deep inside me, through my arms and into my fingertips. The room gets really cold. And then, suddenly . . . our clothes are spotless! Yes! Yes, yes, yes! They're clean and they're . . . tie-dyed? Huh? The three colors in our outfits have somehow merged and turned into swirls on our clothes. Oh, man, is my magic cool!
    “Oh, no,” Miri whines. “I knew I should have done it myself.”
    “Give me a break, we're going to look awesome.” The uniforms are far less boring now. People will think that we just happened to have extra camp outfits in our knapsacks and that we're über-creative.
    “We are not. We'll look like we're wearing psychedelic pajamas. Yikes! Look what your butt says!”
    “What?” I turn around and try to stare at my behind in the mirror. Instead of saying Camp Wood Lake, my shorts now say Oodle Wamp Ack. As does my shirt. As does Miri's. Oops. “Can you fix it?”
    We hear a honk.
    “There's no time,” she says anxiously. “I don't know how, and A 2 is in my duffel bag. At least people will be so busy trying to read your T-shirt, they won't notice your misshapen breasts.”
    Gee, thanks.
     

     
    When we return to the bus, Janice has already wiped up the mess and now looks more nervous than ever. She's also chewing a brand-new black pen. If this one explodes, she's going to look like a bruise.
    Head down, Miri squirms into her new seat in the second row. “Please stay up front with me?”
    Aw. First it was panic, then it was hot water and salt. Now guilt washes over me. How can I abandon my sister on her first day of camp? Though in all fairness to myself, camp hasn't officially started, since we're not there yet. Nevertheless, I take the seat next to her. And then I look back—forlornly—at my new friends in the middle.
    And we're off again. Off to a not-so-magical start.

 
     

     
     
    2
BAD TIGGER
     
    Miri stares longingly out the window. “I wish I could poof myself off the bus.”
    Unfortunately for her, she can't. The one and only spell Mom has cast in the past month is a location charm that keeps Miri and me shackled to camp. It's essentially an invisible anklet made of distilled vinegar and cactus essence that works like a high-powered magnet. All we know is that we can't take it off without Mom's permission. Mom wants to keep us from zapping ourselves to Africa (Miri) or the Caribbean (me) when she's not around to monitor our comings and goings.
    “No broom flying or transporting for you,” I say.
    Miri looks back at all the girls and her shoulders tense. “I should have refused when Dad said he was sending us to camp.”
    “Too late now,” I say.
    “It's so unfair that Prissy gets to come for only two weeks, and we have to stay all summer. Why can't they have a starter session for older kids too?”
    My poor, socially inept sister. “Unlike Prissy, you're not six. Anyway, Mom is going to be in Thailand with Lex for most of August and it's not like she'd let us stay home alone.” It's weird that my mom is suddenly so serious