The Unwilling Witch by David Lubar

that belongs to her? I remembered the words I’d read: Power seeks its rightful owner. In a flash of quick thinking, I managed to mutter, “I … uh … ummm … what?”
    She smiled. “Relax, child. It was a simple error. She’d promised it to me and then she gave it to you. But this should make things fair.”
    She held up a twenty-dollar bill. Was that all my power was worth? I shook my head. “No.”
    â€œAll right,” she said. She reached into her pocket and pulled out another twenty-dollar bill. “Surely this is enough.”
    â€œYou can’t put a price on it,” I told her.
    â€œBut it’s just a book,” she said.
    â€œA book?” I was too relieved to protest. “I’ll be right back.” As I ran up to my room, I wondered how the woman had found me. Then I remembered that Jan had used my last name at the spell shop. We were the only Claypool family in the Lewington phone book. I came back down and handed the book to the woman. She gave me the money.
    â€œSuch lovely hair,” she said. She reached out and stroked my hair where it brushed my shoulder, then turned and walked off.
    I put the money in my pocket and went up to my room. Forty dollars for a book that hadn’t cost me anything—something wasn’t right. Before I could think things through, the doorbell rang again.
    â€œAngie,” Mom called, “one of your friends is here to see you.”
    I ran down the stairs, then skidded to a halt. Never in a million years, except maybe in a million nightmares, would I ever have expected to find May Mellon at my door.
    â€œUh, hi?” I said. I almost added: Did you change your mind and decide you wanted to beat me up after all?
    She jerked her head to the side. For an instant, I thought it was some kind of dreadful twitch. Then I realized she wanted me to come out to the porch. I walked through the doorway, feeling vulnerable. May was big and strong. She was powerful enough to pick me up and throw me off the porch. But I had power, too. That thought made me stand a bit straighter and look her in the eye. “What do you want?”
    â€œDoes this match?” she asked.
    â€œWhat?” I had no idea what she was talking about.
    â€œDoes it match!” she shouted, as if my problem had to do with the volume of her words and not the meaning. “You’re supposed to know this stuff.” She pointed at her shirt.
    â€œOh, your clothes.” Amazing. A few hours ago, she was ready to smash me. Now she wanted my advice. I tried not to flinch as I studied her outfit: jeans, a red belt, and a green shirt with orange flowers on it. “You look fine.” What could I do? I couldn’t tell her she looked like a walking advertisement for Hawaiian Christmas vacations. She’d clobber me for sure.
    May nodded, grunted a word that might have been “Thanks,” and walked down the steps. I should have made my escape, but something didn’t seem right. Why was she wondering about her clothes on a Sunday evening?
    â€œMay…,” I called after her.
    She turned back.
    â€œDo you have a date or something?”
    May grinned. “Lance Anderson said that Danny Gleason wanted to buy me a soda at the Burger Pit. I’m supposed to meet him out front by the big plastic burger.” She turned and lumbered off.
    Oh, no. I was sure Lance was playing a joke on her. Danny was the cutest boy in the school, and he hung out with the cool crowd. Lance hung with the mean crowd. I wanted to warn May, but I knew she’d never believe me. I went to the living room and sat down.
    The second my rear hit the chair, the doorbell rang. It was Miss Chutney. “I came to warn you,” she said. “I believe Elestra is a power-seeker.”
    â€œWho?” I asked.
    â€œElestra Malacorsa. The instant she saw you in my shop, she knew what you carried. To those who know how to look for