juice from the carton Myra had taken out of the refrigerator a few minutes ago. “May I have some eggs?”
Startled into silence by her response, Myra automatically scooped a spoonful of eggs onto Angel’s plate, then scooped another onto Marty’s plate, not even noticing that half of her husband’s serving dropped directly onto the table. Not that it mattered, for Marty was as oblivious of the eggs as Myra, his eyes still fixed on Angel.
“You do what your mother tells you,” he said, but there was a note in his voice that betrayed his fear.
“I can wear what I want,” Angel said, looking directly at her father.
Marty’s gaze wavered, then broke. “If you get kicked out of school, don’t come crying to me,” he mumbled. Picking up his lunch box, he moved toward the back door.
“Marty!” Myra protested. “You haven’t even eaten your breakfast!”
“I’ll get a doughnut on the way to work,” he said. And with one more quick glance at Angel, he was gone.
Frowning, Myra turned back to her daughter. “What on earth are you trying to do?” she demanded. “You scared your father half to death! Your own father!”
For a moment Angel said nothing. Then looking directly into her mother’s eyes, she asked, “Why do you think that is? Why do you think Daddy would be scared of me?”
Instead of answering her daughter’s questions, Myra turned away from her, just as a few days earlier she’d turned away from Angel’s fears about her husband.
A heavy silence hung between mother and daughter, a silence that wasn’t broken even when Angel left to begin the long walk to school.
Seth Baker gazed at himself in the mirror and rubbed a hand experimentally over his chin, but just as on every other day, there was no trace of a beard — just the same soft, smooth skin that had been there every other day of his life.
But this day he felt different, if for no other reason than what had happened last night when Zack Fletcher was about to beat him up and instead wound up lying semiconscious on the sidewalk. When Seth got home, he’d been terrified his father had already discovered what had happened. But his father was watching a football game on TV and barely noticed him as he scurried up the stairs to his room. Still, he’d been certain that sooner or later the phone would ring and his father would be told what he’d done. But the phone hadn’t rung. In fact, his father hadn’t paid any attention to him at all last night. And that was a good thing, because even after what he’d been able to do to Zack, Seth wasn’t sure he’d have the nerve to try the trick on his own father.
But when he awoke this morning, he felt better than he could ever remember feeling. He was no longer afraid of Zack Fletcher and Chad Jackson and Jared Woods. The feeling of well-being that had come over him persisted as he went into the bathroom, used the toilet, brushed his teeth, washed his face, and finally checked to see if there was yet any sign of a beard.
It hadn’t bothered him that there still wasn’t even a single whisker. He hadn’t really expected to find one. Besides, a beard — no matter how thick — didn’t have anything to do with what he’d done last night.
It was so easy. He’d just pictured Zack rising into the air, and it happened, just like it had happened with the rock out by the cabin where he and Angel had made the potion.
Now, turning away from his image in the mirror, he looked for something to experiment on, and focused on the bar of soap sitting on the edge of the sink.
In his mind, he pictured it rising into the air and floating over to the bathtub.
And nothing happened.
The soap remained where it was.
Seth picked the bar of soap up, turned it over so its wet side was up, and set it on a dry spot on the sink.
Once again he imagined it rising into the air, and once again it remained where he’d put it, not moving even a fraction of an inch.
He stared at the bar of soap, focusing as hard as he could, and a cold knot of fear formed in the pit of his stomach as he realized what it meant if the bar didn’t rise.
The soap stayed exactly where he’d put it.
He took a deep breath and tried once more, but already knew what had happened: during the night, the effect of the strange broth he and Angel brewed in the kettle had worn off, just the way every medicine wore off if you didn’t keep taking it.
The knot of fear tightened in his belly, and he felt almost sick, thinking about what would happen that day.
Seth took the long way to school that morning, certain that if he followed his normal route, not only Zack Fletcher, but Chad Jackson and Jared Woods would be waiting for him somewhere. And he didn’t think that this morning they’d stop with just taking his backpack, or pantsing him, or figuring out some other way to humiliate him.
Today they would be out for blood.
“Where the hell is the little prick?” Zack Fletcher asked, his voice shaking with fury. He and Chad Jackson were around the corner from Seth Baker’s house, well enough concealed by a thick laurel hedge that there was no way Seth would be able to see them. And Jared Woods was stationed across the street, ready to cut Seth off if he happened to spot them and made a run for it.
“He’ll show up,” Chad said, staring at the lump on Zack’s head, which was now covered with a bandage. “Jeez, man — what did he do to you?”
“Jumped me,” Zack said. “He was hiding over on Court Street — you know, where the Jacobsons live?”
“What do you mean, hiding?” Chad asked.
Zack glared at him. “Like, hiding, all right?”
“You mean he was waiting for you?”
“Well, you don’t think I just let him walk up and hit me with a baseball bat do you?”
Chad’s eyes widened as he pictured Seth Baker stepping out from behind a bush wielding a baseball bat and taking a swing at Zack’s head, and he winced as he thought about how hard the bat must have hit Zack to raise a lump the size he was sporting. “So, did you call the police?”
“You gotta be kidding! I didn’t call anybody — I was flat on my back, out like a light. Mrs. Jacobson found me, and called my folks and an ambulance. I had to go to the hospital and everything.”
“So, is your dad gonna sue the Bakers? I mean, you could have died, couldn’t you?”
“That little bastard Seth is going to die when I get my hands on him,” Zack said, his eyes narrowing to little more than slits. “I swear to God, I should’ve brought my own bat this morning.”
Jared Woods appeared then, dashing across the street.
“Are you nuts?” Zack demanded. “If he sees you, he’ll never come this way!”
“He’s not coming this way anyway,” Jared retorted. “You know what time it is? It’s ten of eight,” he went on, without giving either Zack or Chad time to answer. “You guys can keep waiting if you want, but if I get one more tardy, I’ll get three hours in study hall after school.”
“Well, where is he?” Zack asked. “He couldn’t have just walked right by us.”
Now it was Jared Woods who rolled his eyes. “Jeez, Zack! Seth’s geeky, but he’s not stupid. You think he didn’t figure out you’d be waiting for him this morning? Bet he went over his back fence and through the Shroeders’ yard, then cut down a couple of blocks.”
“Too chicken to face us,” Zack sneered.
“I guess he wasn’t too chicken last night,” Jared said, eyeing the lump on Zack’s head with a hint of a grin playing around the corners of his mouth.
“I told you,” Zack shot back, his voice belligerent. “He jumped me!”
Jared shrugged and started down the block. “Hey, anything you say.” As Zack glowered at him, Jared shifted his gaze to Chad. “You coming, or not?”
Chad glanced from Zack to Jared, then back to Zack.
