The Runaway Spell Read online

  B waved to him, called to him, tried to catch his eye, but her best friend never seemed to notice. It seemed that all he could think of was grazing….

  Grazing!

  B ran around behind the bleachers and slipped through the metal slats until she was underneath. Here, where the grass grew thick and unmowed, B found a huge juicy patch of dandelion greens that she scooped up. Then she ran back out to where George stood with his teammates, and called to him.

  This time, he turned.

  She waved the fistful of greens like she was beckoning to a horse. And George trotted over just as a horse would have.

  “Awesome!” he cried, reaching for the greens. “I needed an energy boost, but all they have over there is oranges. Yick!”

  B glanced over her shoulder toward where Mr. Bishop was. “Careful,” she whispered to George. “Don’t let people see you eating weeds!”

  But George buried his face in the fresh-picked salad. B could only hope no one saw him doing it. She leaned forward, grabbed a couple of his shaggy blond hairs, and yanked them out.

  “Ow!”

  “Whoops, sorry,” B said, trying to sound innocent. “Have some more dandelions.”

  He hadn’t gotten far before the warning whistle blew, and he galloped off to rejoin the game. B crept back under the bleachers where she could hide. She pulled out the stinky sock once more and held it in one outstretched hand, with George’s hair in the other. She closed her eyes and thought about George, his ears, his tail, his stripes. This had to work. It had to.

  “U-N-D-O,” she spelled.

  The whistle blew to kick off the second half. B climbed out from underneath the bleachers and resumed her seat on the top row, watching George intently. Were his stripes fading? She couldn’t tell. He did seem to be standing taller, though, and he was definitely more focused on the game. In fact, his footwork was outstanding! Twice he completely buffaloed a Falcon defender and got past him easily.

  “GO, GEORGE!” The crowd was noticing a difference as well. “GO, GEORGE!” they yelled.

  B joined in the cheer, but kept her eyes glued on her friend. He swept past the bleachers, and B squinted. The stripes were less noticeable now. She was 99 percent sure of it.

  A Tiger defender sent a long pass sailing down the field, and George was there to meet it. He passed to a teammate, who dodged a Falcon and sent it back to George. George put it in the net!

  The Tiger bleachers went berserk. B almost wished she had her pom-poms.

  The whistle blew, and the game resumed.

  No doubt anymore — none whatsoever. Those stripes were on their way out. Relief flooded over B. She cheered herself hoarse.

  With ten minutes left on the clock, George scored another goal to tie the score. Feet flashing, clock ticking, the Falcons and Tigers were dueling it out for the ball every second. B was on the edge of the bench, watching every move. George was having a great game, not as La Zebra, but as himself. With seconds left on the clock, he maneuvered a brilliant pass to Jamal Burns, who headed it into the goalie’s net.

  The whistle blew.

  The Tigers had won!

  Chapter 18

  The Tigers swarmed George and Jamal and hoisted them up on their shoulders, cheering. The cheerleaders surrounded the team, and the fans in the bleachers surged onto the field. B had a feeling she might get laryngitis for a week, she was screaming so loud. Relief that the spell was over made her giddy, and to see her best friend play so well — without magical help — and win made her happiness complete.

  She hurried down the bleachers to wait for George’s feet to hit the ground. She had to wait for Coach Lyons to put him in a headlock and give his scalp a noogie. Finally George broke away from the adoring masses and saw B. He ran to her and gave her a big hug.

  “Did you see, B? Did you see how I played like La Zebra? I don’t ever want you to switch me back. I don’t care how weird I look. I have you to thank for this!”

  B handed George a cup of energy drink she’d snagged from the team manager. “No, you don’t, silly,” she said. “Look at yourself.”

  George held up his arm and stared. “The stripes are gone!” He rubbed his skin.

  B couldn’t stop laughing.

  George grabbed at his shorts. “And my tail is gone!”

  B nodded. “Gone for good. You should sleep better now. No more hearing double.”

  “Oh, no!” George panicked. “Now I’ll never play that well again!” He wiped his face with his jersey.

  “It just so happens, George,” B said, “that I turned you back before the second half began. All your good playing today was after I switched you. If you don’t mind my saying so, as a zebra you were pretty lousy on the field. More interested in grazing than in scoring.”

  George seemed dazed. He twisted himself around and swatted at his lower back, still searching for his zebra tail.

  “Believe me, George, you won that game on talent and skill — and guts. You believed you were La Zebra, so you played like him. You can do that every week. And you don’t need a tail to do it.”

  It took George a minute of scratching where his zebra ears had once been to really believe it was all true. Then he stood a bit taller. “Thanks, B. For trying to help, and for believing in me. How did you figure out a way to reverse the spell?”

  “Magic,” B said with a smile. “That’s my secret.”

  B glanced over to where Mr. Bishop stood, talking with Coach Lyons. He turned slightly, met B’s gaze, and winked.

  Hmmm …

  “Well, I knew you’d figure it out,” George said. “I was never worried. Not really. I’ll bet you’re the best young witch in that whole M.R. whatever-it-is world you’re always talking about.”

  “Ssshhh!” B said. “Ready to go?” she asked, heading out to the street behind the school. George fell into step beside her.

  “No more transformations,” said B. “And no more spells on humans!”

  “Nee-hee-hee!” George whinnied.

  B halted in her tracks.

  George laughed. “Just kidding!”

  B shook her head, then laughed with him. “Let’s go home and get something to eat.”

  “I’ll say,” George said. “I’ve gone a whole week without chocolate!”

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  B’s charmed adventures continue in

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  B’s paintbrush hovered over the rough paper tacked to her easel. With the faintest of strokes, she trailed the tip of the bristles in a graceful arc.

  Another whisker for Nightshade, her cat. Only about twenty more to go.

  Beatrix, or “B” for short, glanced at the photo of her black tomcat pinned to the corner of the easel. She was so absorbed in her work that a voice at her shoulder made her jump.

  “Quit your humming, Bumblebee,” Jason Jameson said. “You sound like a beehive, and you’re giving the rest of us a headache.”

  B glowered at Jason, who’d been a raging pest ever since preschool. Now that sixth grade was here, he was worse. He and his insect insults, reserved especially for B because of her nickname, drove her buggy.

  “I thought everyone liked the Black Cats,” B said, pretending to sound innocent.

  “Was that ‘Yowl’ you were humming?” Jamal Burns asked.

  “I bet that’ll be the first song they play at Saturday’s show,” Kim Silsby said. “I’m so jealous you’ve got tickets, B!”

  B grinned. “Only because George won the spelling bee, and shared one of his tickets with me,” she said. “I can barely wait until Saturday night.”

  “You’re not the only one with tickets, Cockroach,” Jason scoffed. “My parents bought me a seat in the second row. Betcha don’t know how much that cost.”

  “Who cares what it cost? Quit showing off, Jason,” Kim said.

  B dipped her brush once more and carefully traced another whisker, and then another, peering at the photograph between strokes to get each one perfect.


  She was on her second-to-last one when Miss Willow’s voice made her jump, dragging her brush across Nightshade’s face and smearing one of his amber-colored eyes.

  “Everyone,” her art teacher said in an extra-cheery voice, “I have an announcement to make.”

  B groaned silently. Her painting was ruined! Here was where a little spot of magic would come in handy. Checking quickly to see that no one was looking at her easel, B whispered, “E-R-A-S-E.” The errant black stroke disappeared, as B had known it would—but so did all the whiskers she’d added that morning! B sighed. Typical of B’s special brand of magic. When she spelled words, things happened, but not always the things she had in mind!

  “Now, class,” Miss Willow said, “I want you all to meet a new student in our school, just joining us today. Her name is Katrina Lang.”

  Next to Miss Willow’s cluttered desk stood a shy-looking girl in a dark skirt and a cream-colored sweater, very trim and proper except for her dark hair pulled back into a messy bun.

  “What a nerd!” Jason whispered to Jenny Springbranch, who tittered softly.

  “Beatrix, will you show Katrina where the paints are kept? Katrina, we’re painting animal portraits today.”

  “Her name may be Kat-rina,” Jason whispered loudly to Jenny, “but she looks more like a mouse to me. Hey, Kat-rina!” His freckle-plastered face broke into a nasty grin. “Why doncha paint a mouse self-portrait?”

  Katrina’s jaw set in a hard line. B steered her toward the back counter where the paints were kept. “Don’t pay any attention to him,” B told Katrina. “Most people here are nice.”

  Katrina studied B’s face for a minute, her dark green eyes wary and doubtful.

  “Here, let’s fill your paint tray,” B said. “What animal are you going to paint?”

  “A panther,” Katrina said without hesitation.

  “Excellent!” B said. “Here’s the bottle of black.”

  “Thanks, Beatrix,” Katrina said, this time with a warm smile.

  “Not a problem. Call me ‘B.’ Most everyone does.”

  “Okay.” Katrina grinned. “Call me ‘Trina.’”

  “Sounds good.”

  They returned to their workstations. Jason Jameson grabbed bottles of green and orange paint, squirted way too much of it into the tray on his easel, and bumped into B’s easel accidentally-on-purpose after returning the bottles to the back counter.

  Jason snickered and dipped his brush in the orange paint. “Stinkbug!” he said.

  B fumed. She stared at Jason’s paints. “S-P-I-L-L,” she whispered under her breath.

  Jason’s easel pitched toward him. His paint tray flipped upside-down, landing on the legs of his pants before clattering to the floor.

  Special thanks to Julie Berry

  Other Books in the B Magical Series

  B Magical #1: The Missing Magic

  B Magical #2: The Trouble with Secrets

  B Magical #3: The Runaway Spell

  B Magical #4: The Cat-Astrophe

  About the Author

  LEXI CONNOR loves word searches, crosswords, and word puzzles. When she was younger, she won her county bee and traveled to the regional competition, where, in a moment of extreme stage fright, she misspelled “C-E-M-E-T-E-R-Y.” She lives with her black cat named Abbey in Massachusetts.

  Copyright

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Working Partners Limited, Stanley House, St. Chad’s Place, London WC1X 9HH, United Kingdom.

  Copyright © 2010 by Working Partners Ltd.

  Cover art by Tuesday Mourning

  Cover design by Yaffa Jaskoll

  All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Inc., 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012. SCHOLASTIC, APPLE PAPERBACKS, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.

  This edition first printing, April 2011

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

  e-ISBN 978-0-545-32230-0