'Tis the Season by Judith Arnold Page A

shrugged.
    Billy stifled a groan. If she had something of Gracie’s, maybe she was going to do something awful, like make them pay to get it back. Or burn it in a voodoo ritual—he’d seen some kind of ceremony in a movie Scott’s parents had rented last summer. It involved a big bonfire and lots of weird singing and dancing, and people wearing face paint. “We are in so much trouble,” he muttered. “If she walks us home—” if she didn’t hex them with the voodoo ritual “—Dad’s gonna kill us.”
    â€œNot if we go in through the window.”
    â€œHow are we gonna go in through the window if she’s with us?”
    Gracie didn’t have an answer for that. And anyway, Filomena was already back, carrying a flashlight and a scarf. She heaved the door shut behind her, flicked on the flashlight and came down the porch steps. “You lookcold, Gracie,” she said, wrapping the scarf around her. It was too big, and it went three times around Gracie’s neck and shoulders and dangled down to her knees.
    Gracie’s smile was so gigantic it practically split her face in two.
    â€œAre you going to trip on it? Maybe I should carry you so you don’t trip.”
    â€œOkay. What do you have of mine?”
    â€œI don’t know if it’s yours…” Filomena dug into a pocket of her skirt and pulled out something small and pink.
    â€œMy butterfly clip! Where did you find it? I thought I lost it in my room, ’cuz my room is kind of messy.”
    â€œI found it outside the window you were peeking into tonight.” Filomena handed the barrette to Gracie. “I guess you’ve been peeking into that window before, hmm?”
    Oh, boy, were they in trouble. Billy wasn’t sure, but he’d bet there were laws against people peeking into windows. And now she had evidence—Gracie’s stupid butterfly hair clip. She could take the clip to the police and have them thrown in prison for looking through her window. If only Gracie hadn’t kept following him around, none of this would have happened. It was all her fault he was going to wind up spending the rest of his life in jail.
    â€œThere you go,” Filomena said, pressing the barrette into Gracie’s hand and then lifting Gracie into her arms. “Hold on tight. And don’t drop the barrette.”
    Billy bit his lip. He didn’t like the idea of a stranger carrying Gracie, no matter how nice the stranger acted. But he figured he could tackle her if she tried to do anything evil. He knew his way through the woods better than she did, with or without her flashlight.
    They started down the path, Billy one step ahead of Filomena, who had Gracie arranged so her butt rested in the bend of Filomena’s elbow and her arms were wrapped around Filomena’s neck. The beam from the flashlight speared ahead of Billy on the trail, illuminating roots and rocks. He had to admit walking the path like this was a lot easier than counting on the moonlight to reach all the way through the branches to light the ground.
    After a few minutes they arrived at his backyard. “This is our house,” he said quietly. “Thanks. You can go home now.”
    Still holding Gracie, who was all snuggled up in her arms with her head resting on her shoulder, Filomena studied the rear of the house. “I’d like to say hello to your father.”
    â€œUh, no, that’s okay. I mean, he’s playing poker now. He wouldn’t want to meet you.”
    She pressed her lips together and shook her head. “I think it would be better if I met him. So he won’t be worried that you were with me.”
    â€œWell, he doesn’t have to know about that,” Billy explained.
    â€œIf I were your father, I’d want to know.”
    â€œHe’s just playing poker, anyway,” Billy argued. He wished she would just leave so they could sneak into the house