Witch's Broom Page 2

Amy watched the birds until the doorbell rang. Jean had come back.

  “Mom said it was okay for me to eat lunch with you.” Jean handed Amy a paper bag. “She gave me these for us to have for dessert.”

  Amy peeked into the bag. “Yum, doughnuts!”

  The two girls made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. They pulled two bananas from the bunch on the kitchen table. Amy took paper cups from the kitchen dispenser and a container of milk out of the refrigerator. She found a folded piece of red and white checked oilcloth in the bottom drawer of the sink cabinet. Then the girls went out into the yard.

  Jean sat in the swing under the apple tree. Amy unfolded the oilcloth on the flagstone path and used it as a tablecloth. When the picnic was all spread out, Amy set up a garden chair for herself. “May I offer you a sandwich, Jean?”

  “Thank you.” Jean took one.

  All at once a bright streak of blue flew down from the peach tree and landed on the checked tablecloth. It was the jay.

  “Look at the dainty lady who wants to join our picnic!” Amy said.

  Jean edged the swing back from the tablecloth. “It’s that nasty bird. Amy, chase it away.”

  Amy looked at the beautiful bird. The jay tipped her head with the cocky crest. She reached out a claw. Amy broke off the corner of her sandwich and gave it to the bird. The bluejay nodded and chirped something. Then she stood on one foot while she held the piece of sandwich with the other. She pecked away at the bit of bread. When she finished it, she wiped her mouth with the back of her claw.

  Amy took a bite of her sandwich. Jean was too busy watching the bird to eat. When Amy finished the sandwich she poured a little milk into a paper cup and offered it to the bird. The bluejay put her beak to the edge of the cup. She didn’t lift her head high in the air to swallow, as Jean had seen other birds do. Instead she waited for Amy to tip the cup. Then she drank.

  Jean kept on watching the bird.

  “Aren’t you going to eat your lunch, Jean?” Amy asked.

  Jean began to nibble her sandwich. But she kept her eyes on the bird.

  The bluejay was walking around the tablecloth. When she came near the swing, Jean stood up and moved away.

  Amy peeled a banana and handed a chunk of it to the bluejay. At dessert time the jay seemed to enjoy the doughnuts just as much as Jean and Amy did. She hopped over to her paper cup. Amy helped her take a drink.

  While they were having lunch a dark cloud had come over the sun. A few raindrops splashed on the flagstones.

  Jean helped Amy gather up all the picnic things. She whispered in Amy’s ear, “Whatever you do, don’t let that bird into the house!”

  Amy thought for a minute. Then she handed Jean the paper bag, the cups, the milk container, and the banana peel. All Amy carried was the oilcloth.

  It was raining harder now. The bluejay sat on a branch of the peach tree and watched the girls. When Jean opened the back door, the bird flew down.

  Amy was ready. She waved the tablecloth in the air and swished the bird away from the door. Then she ducked in after Jean and slammed the door shut behind her.

  “Whew!” Amy flopped down on a kitchen chair. She looked at Jean with admiration. “How did you know the bird wanted to get into the house?”

  Jean was busy putting the picnic trash into the waste basket and the banana peel into the garbage can. She took the oilcloth from Amy and wiped it on both sides with a wet paper towel. Then she folded it and gave it to Amy to put away.

  “Well?” Amy said. “What about the bluejay?”

  “Don’t you remember that the bird was trying to get in once before?” Jean said. “That was when Wispy pulled me into the house.”

  Amy frowned. “I wonder why Wispy did that.”

  “She must be afraid of the bluejay,” Jean said. “There’s something spooky about that bird.”

  Amy put the milk container into the refrigerator. “You’re as bad as my mother about bluejays, Jean. This is the tamest bird I ever saw. Maybe she got away from a circus. And maybe she isn’t used to living outdoors. That could be why she wants to come into the house.” Amy peeked out of the kitchen window. The bluejay was sitting on a branch of the peach tree. “Wouldn’t it be fun to have a bird like that for a pet?”

  Bang! Amy looked up at the ceiling. Her bedroom was right over the kitchen.

  “Your pet broom must have fallen out of bed,” Jean said.

  The two girls ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs. When they opened the door of Amy’s room, they saw the broom flying round and round. She was crashing into the furniture and banging against the walls.

  “Take it easy, Wispy,” Amy said. “We didn’t mean to lock you in.”

  The broom slowed to a stop and floated just above the heads of the two girls.

  “Since you want so much to get out, Wispy,” Amy said, “what about taking us to the park?”

  “It’s raining,” Jean reminded her.

  “We could take an umbrella,” Amy said. “I like the park in the rain. It’s not crowded.”

  The broom flew to the window. She poked her blue bristles between the slats of the venetian blind. Amy pulled up the blind. The rain was rattling against the windowpane.

  All at once something crashed against the glass.

  “It’s the bluejay!” Jean said. “She’s still trying to get into the house.”

  The bird was hovering just outside the window. She looked straight at the little broom.

  Wispy backed away from the window. She wagged back and forth.

  “You mean you don’t want to take us to the park?” Jean sat down on the bed.

  The broom nodded.

  Jean looked at Amy. “Your broom doesn’t like to sweep. Now she doesn’t want to fly. What is she good for?”

  The blue bristles drooped.

  “Sh-sh.” Amy lowered the blind. She patted the little broom. Suddenly she had an idea. “I’ll bet I know what she’d like to do. Wispy, how about a game of Hide and Seek?”

  The broom seemed to be thinking. For a minute she didn’t move. Then she gave a little jump in the air. All the bristles perked up.

  “Do you know the rules?” Jean asked.

  The broom wagged, “No.”

  Jean explained the rules of the game. “No cheating, Wispy!” she said. “Amy, how will we know if Wispy is peeking when we hide?”

  Amy thought for a minute. “We’ll use the living room sofa as home base,” she said. “Wispy has to keep her bristles under a sofa pillow while she’s counting. And she has to tap out her counts with the end of her stick.”

  “What about ‘Ready or not, here I come’?” Jean asked.

  “Wispy can bang that out in rhythm, like this.” Amy tapped with her foot to show what she meant.

  “And if she finds one of us and gets to the sofa first, the one who’s caught has to admit it,” Jean said. “You can be It first, Amy.”

  They played Hide and Seek all over the house. Wispy was skinnier than Amy or Jean. It was easier for her to hide. But the girls knew all the best hiding places.

  The broom seemed to think that Amy and Jean were small enough to hide in a drawer. She poked her bristles into any drawer that was open even a little bit. And she kept looking in the closets.

  One time Amy found the broom behind the ironing board in the corner of the kitchen. Wispy caught Amy hiding under her mother’s bathrobe. It was hanging on the back of a chair. Twice Jean hid in a place where neither Wispy nor Amy could find her.

  Amy had just counted to eighty-seven when the front door opened. Her father came into the house. “Is your mother home yet, Amy?” he wanted to know.

  Amy lifted her head from the corner of the sofa. “What time is it, Daddy?”

  “A quarter to six,” Mr. Perkins told her, looking at his watch.

  Jean crawled out from behind the sofa. “I’d better rush,” she said. “I’m late for supper already. See you tomorrow, Amy.”

  “Amy, what in the world is the new broom
doing in the stall shower?” Mrs. Perkins asked.

  “Oh, is that where she’s hiding?” Amy said. She was getting undressed to go to bed. “Jean and I were playing a game with her.”

  Mrs. Perkins came into Amy’s room. She handed Amy the little blue broom. “Take it down to the laundry room and put it away. I’m going to take a shower. Or do you think the broom wants to take one first?” Amy’s mother laughed and went back to the bathroom.

  Amy felt the broom shudder. “What’s the matter, Wispy?” She patted the blue bristles. “You’re not afraid of my mother, are you?”

  The broom stayed still while Amy carried her downstairs. There was a large box of rags in the laundry room. Amy put Wispy to bed there. Then she went back upstairs.

  After her bath Amy went to bed and fell asleep. Sometime later in the night she woke. Light was coming through the slats in the venetian blind and streaming across her pillow.

  She slipped out of bed and ran to the window to pull up the blind. It had stopped raining, and all the clouds had blown away. A full moon had risen over the houses behind the back yard. It was the moonlight that had wakened Amy.

  There were still a few lights on in the houses. And Amy could hear the sounds of Brooklyn traffic. But all the birds had gone to sleep. A breeze rustled the leaves of the peach tree.

  Something brushed against her shoulder. Amy turned to see the broom floating in the air beside her.

  Amy looked out of the window again. “It’s a lovely night for a ride,” she whispered.

  There was just enough moonlight in the shadowy room for Amy to see the broom nod.

  Amy pushed up the window screen. She climbed onto the sill. Wispy moved closer to her. Amy sat down on the broom, facing the blue bristles. She held tight to the stick. Without a sound the little blue broom flew out of the window.

  She soared over the peach tree. Then she flew higher and sailed over the roofs of the houses.

  Amy looked down. Far below she could see the lights of Ocean Parkway. The broom was so high now that it made Amy dizzy. She closed her eyes.

  When she opened them the moon seemed even brighter than before. There were no lights from the city now. They were flying over a dark forest. Deep inside her Amy had a funny feeling. Where was the broom taking her? She had to keep telling herself that she was not afraid.

  In the bright moonlight Amy saw that the ground below was getting hilly. As they flew along the hills were taller. Amy noticed that the tops of some of the hills had no trees growing on them. They were sharp and rocky. They must be mountains.

  Wispy headed for the highest mountain of all. She flew down. It seemed as if they were going to crash into the rocks.

  Amy opened her mouth to scream. But instead of crashing into the mountain the little broom flew into the open mouth of a dark cave. It was blacker in here than anything Amy could remember. She couldn’t even see the broom she was riding on.

  It was cold in the cave. Amy wished she had a bathrobe over her thin summer nightgown.

  For a while they flew on in the darkness. Then, far ahead, Amy saw a dim light. Wispy seemed to be slowing down. Amy could see the shape of the broom now. Soon she made out the rocky walls of the tunnel they were flying through. Wispy flew slower and slower. She stayed close to one side of the tunnel and kept stopping as if to look at what was ahead.

  The light was getting brighter. It had a red glow. Now the air was warmer. The tunnel was coming to an end. Ahead of them was a very big cave.

  The blue broom landed on a rocky ledge. Amy got off. The ledge ran all around the cave. It was high up near the ceiling and was all in shadow.

  The light came from a huge fire that blazed in the center of the cave. Around the fire was a crowd of people. Some were dressed all in red. Some in white. Some in black. And they all had brooms to match. One or two were sitting on their brooms.

  Unlike the way Amy sat on Wispy, they sat on the bristles of their brooms, with the sticks pointing up in the air. They all wore hats. And the hats pointed up in the air too.

  Amy was in a den of witches!

  In the very center of the cave was a large, flat rock. The fire had been built on the rock. A big iron pot steamed away on the fire. One of the witches was stirring the pot with a long-handled spoon.

  Amy saw that this was the only witch who was wearing purple. She was tall and thin and looked very old. The witch was throwing things into the pot and chanting something in a cracked high-pitched voice.

  The other witches were talking among themselves. A green witch showed the others what she had in a green bag. Some of them reached into the bag and brought out little squirmy things. Each one gave the green witch something in return. Sometimes there seemed to be an argument going on. The voices became louder. Amy heard someone scream, “Four mother-of-pearl buttons is too much to ask for a lizard. Three is more than enough!”

  The old witch in the middle stopped chanting. She banged three times with her spoon on the rim of the iron pot. It sounded like a gong, echoing back from the sides of the dark cave.

  All the witches stopped talking. They turned to face the purple witch. She pulled a scroll of paper from the pocket of her baggy skirt. “Roll call!” she said in a raspy voice.

  Then she began to read a list of names. “Abigail, Adelaide, Alice, Audrey.” As each name was called, a witch waved her broom in the air and cried, “Here!”

  “Barbara, Bertha, Beryl.” The old witch stopped. “BERYL!” she repeated. “Don’t tell me that silly blue witch has skipped the meeting again!” The purple witch looked around the cave. She frowned. “Beryl!” she yelled. “I’ll have no more of your nonsense. If you don’t answer me, I’ll have to ask you to turn in your hat and your broom!”

  Amy could see that the little broom was getting very excited. She banged against Amy and seemed to be trying to tell her something. Then she flew down near the witches. She stayed just behind them and reared up in the air to wave herself back and forth.

  Amy took a deep breath and shouted at the top of her voice. “Here!”

  The old witch nodded. She almost seemed to smile. “There. That’s better.” She went on calling the roll. “Caroline, Catherine, Colleen.”

  Amy felt something nudge her. Wispy was back. She was hovering in the air beside Amy. Her bristles were twitching, and she kept giving little jumps. Amy climbed onto the broom. She stroked the blue bristles to calm them.

  The little broom flew silently through the shadows out of the big cave and into the dark tunnel. Then faster and faster she went.

  Amy wondered who Beryl was. Why did Wispy care if she lost her hat and her broom?

  The cold air whistled past. Amy shivered in her thin nightgown. But she held tight to the broomstick and only wished the broom could fly faster.

  Next morning was Saturday. Amy’s mother and father didn’t have to go to work. They slept late. So did Amy. She was wakened by the sound of the doorbell.

  Amy jumped out of bed and ran downstairs to the front door. “Hi, Jean. Come on in. I just woke up. Mother and Dad aren’t up yet. Would you like to wait in the yard for me? I’ll be dressed in a minute.”

  Amy ran back upstairs. When she came down again she went out into the back yard.

  Jean was sitting in the swing, watching the birds. The bluejay was on the rim of the birdbath. She was standing on one foot and trying to wash her face with the other. A sparrow flew into the birdbath and began to splash around in the water. The bluejay drew back as if she didn’t want to get anything more than her face wet. The sparrow went on splashing. Finally the jay flew away.

  “That sparrow certainly isn’t worried about bluejays,” Jean said.

  A big black-and-white tomcat squeezed through the picket fence from the neighbors’ yard. The sparrow at once fluttered up into the peach tree.

  “Hello, Domino.” Amy stooped to pet the cat.

  “You wasted half the day in bed,” Jean said. “I wanted to go somewhere on the broom.”

  “I
already went somewhere,” Amy told her. “That’s why I slept so late.”

  “You mean you were out last night? What did your mother say?” Jean asked.

  “Sh-sh! My mother doesn’t know. And I don’t want her to find out. She didn’t much like it when she found Wispy in my bed.”

  The girls were in the back of the yard. Jean sat in the swing, and Amy stood behind her. Jean couldn’t wait to hear about Amy’s trip on the broom. “Tell me all about it. Where did you go?”

  “I don’t really know where I went,” Amy said. She told Jean the whole story of her adventure with the witches.

  The bluejay sat on the picket fence with her head cocked to one side.

  “Are you sure you didn’t dream the whole thing?” Jean said when Amy had finished.

  Amy looked around at the sunny yard. The black-and-white cat rubbed against her leg. Bees hummed in the roses on the bushes near the fence.

  “How could I be so silly?” Amy laughed. “It must have been a dream.” She gave the swing a push and sent Jean flying up into the air.

  Mrs. Perkins opened the back door. She was holding the little blue broom. “Amy, must you leave this broom all over the house? I just found it in the spare room.”

  Amy knew she hadn’t left the broom there, but she couldn’t tell her mother.

  Mrs. Perkins caught sight of the bluejay. She ran over to the fence and waved the broom at the bird. Amy thought the bird would get hurt. But the bristles seemed to bend away from the bluejay. The bird flew up into the peach tree.

  “Don’t chase her, Mother,” Amy said. “She’s a tame bird.”

  “Bluejays are nasty,” her mother said. “Come into the house now and have your breakfast. Maybe Jean would like something too. What do you girls want to eat?”

  Amy let go of the swing. It coasted to a stop. Jean got off. “Thank you, Mrs. Perkins,” she said, “but I’ve had breakfast.”