than chocolate mousse
Makes me want some apple juice!”
B opened her eyes again. Her glass was still empty, and the juice carton hadn’t budged. Her parents’ hopeful expressions froze and Dawn went back to eating her magically cheery pancakes.
Her mom poured B some apple juice by hand. B was grateful she didn’t use magic.
“That was a lovely rhyme,” she said, smiling sweetly at B. “Rhyming ‘mousse’ with ‘juice.’ How original!”
“Yes, nice touch with the chocolate part,” B’s dad said, ruffling B’s bangs. He worked as a senior marketing manager at Enchanted Chocolates Worldwide. “Which reminds me …” He flipped out his portable Crystal Ballphone. “Marcus! Hey, this is Felix. Can you conjure up sales figures for last quarter in our mousse and pudding sector?”
Her parents’ efforts to cheer her up only made it worse. B poked at her pancakes with her fork. She wasn’t hungry anymore.
“I just remembered something I need for school,” she said, tossing down her napkin. “Can I be excused?”
Her mother nodded. B ran back upstairs. In her room she reached under her mattress and pulled out the rhyming dictionary she’d bought with her birthday money from Granny Grogg. She hid it inher backpack, then slid down the banister and out the front door just as the bus stopped at the end of the street.
“Bye, girls,” her mom called as Dawn and B ran to the bus. “Have a charmed day!”
Chapter 2
B braced herself, expecting Dawn to say something about her magic before they got on the bus, but her older sister didn’t say a word. She just hurried to the back to sit with her high school friends. B searched around for her best friend, George, but he hadn’t made it in time. For a kid who won the 50-meter dash last year on track and field day, George sure moved slowly in the mornings. B took an empty seat near the front, where she could practice rhyming without anyone seeing.
“H … I … J … juice,” she said under her breath. “Here it is.” She scanned up and down for interesting words. “Chartreuse? Mongoose. Obtuse.Sluice?
Huh?
Truce. I’m going to need a regular dictionary to look these up.”
None of the words worked any better than “mousse.” B flicked through the book, checking for words that rhymed with “drink” and “glass.” Nothing exciting there, either.
Pass a glass? Fink, stink, juice to drink
… hopeless.
B didn’t know if it was her rhymes that didn’t work or if it was just her — the only eleven-year-old witch in the whole Magical Rhyming Society that didn’t have her powers.
The bus stopped at the high school. Dawn and her friends made their way down the aisle. Just then Jason Jameson popped up in the seat in front of B and grabbed her book.
“Hey, everybody, look at this!” he yelled. “
Hornet
reads the dictionary!”
The sight of Jason’s freckle-plastered face leering down at her, plus yet another of his awful bee-related nicknames, was enough to ruin even the happiest day. And this wasn’t one of those days.
Dawn shot out her softball fast-pitch arm and snagged the rhyming dictionary out of Jason’s hands. “You should try reading the dictionary sometime,” she said, glaring at Jason. “You might learn a thing or two. And my sister’s name is B. Not ‘Hornet.’” Dawn glanced at the book, then handed it back to B. Her high school friends laughed at Jason’s stunned expression.
B wished she could disguise herself as an empty bus seat and vanish. It was bad enough that Dawn saw her rhyming dictionary and that Jason would spend all day plotting ways to get even. But the worst part was that everyone on the bus was staring at her. She hated it when people stared. Still, Dawn had stuck up for her. That was better than a poke in the eye with a sharp mascara wand.
In first period art class, B secretly tried to transform a clay piggy bank into a toad, but it kept collapsing. In second period history, the teacher, Miss Taykin,
Makes me want some apple juice!”
B opened her eyes again. Her glass was still empty, and the juice carton hadn’t budged. Her parents’ hopeful expressions froze and Dawn went back to eating her magically cheery pancakes.
Her mom poured B some apple juice by hand. B was grateful she didn’t use magic.
“That was a lovely rhyme,” she said, smiling sweetly at B. “Rhyming ‘mousse’ with ‘juice.’ How original!”
“Yes, nice touch with the chocolate part,” B’s dad said, ruffling B’s bangs. He worked as a senior marketing manager at Enchanted Chocolates Worldwide. “Which reminds me …” He flipped out his portable Crystal Ballphone. “Marcus! Hey, this is Felix. Can you conjure up sales figures for last quarter in our mousse and pudding sector?”
Her parents’ efforts to cheer her up only made it worse. B poked at her pancakes with her fork. She wasn’t hungry anymore.
“I just remembered something I need for school,” she said, tossing down her napkin. “Can I be excused?”
Her mother nodded. B ran back upstairs. In her room she reached under her mattress and pulled out the rhyming dictionary she’d bought with her birthday money from Granny Grogg. She hid it inher backpack, then slid down the banister and out the front door just as the bus stopped at the end of the street.
“Bye, girls,” her mom called as Dawn and B ran to the bus. “Have a charmed day!”
Chapter 2
B braced herself, expecting Dawn to say something about her magic before they got on the bus, but her older sister didn’t say a word. She just hurried to the back to sit with her high school friends. B searched around for her best friend, George, but he hadn’t made it in time. For a kid who won the 50-meter dash last year on track and field day, George sure moved slowly in the mornings. B took an empty seat near the front, where she could practice rhyming without anyone seeing.
“H … I … J … juice,” she said under her breath. “Here it is.” She scanned up and down for interesting words. “Chartreuse? Mongoose. Obtuse.Sluice?
Huh?
Truce. I’m going to need a regular dictionary to look these up.”
None of the words worked any better than “mousse.” B flicked through the book, checking for words that rhymed with “drink” and “glass.” Nothing exciting there, either.
Pass a glass? Fink, stink, juice to drink
… hopeless.
B didn’t know if it was her rhymes that didn’t work or if it was just her — the only eleven-year-old witch in the whole Magical Rhyming Society that didn’t have her powers.
The bus stopped at the high school. Dawn and her friends made their way down the aisle. Just then Jason Jameson popped up in the seat in front of B and grabbed her book.
“Hey, everybody, look at this!” he yelled. “
Hornet
reads the dictionary!”
The sight of Jason’s freckle-plastered face leering down at her, plus yet another of his awful bee-related nicknames, was enough to ruin even the happiest day. And this wasn’t one of those days.
Dawn shot out her softball fast-pitch arm and snagged the rhyming dictionary out of Jason’s hands. “You should try reading the dictionary sometime,” she said, glaring at Jason. “You might learn a thing or two. And my sister’s name is B. Not ‘Hornet.’” Dawn glanced at the book, then handed it back to B. Her high school friends laughed at Jason’s stunned expression.
B wished she could disguise herself as an empty bus seat and vanish. It was bad enough that Dawn saw her rhyming dictionary and that Jason would spend all day plotting ways to get even. But the worst part was that everyone on the bus was staring at her. She hated it when people stared. Still, Dawn had stuck up for her. That was better than a poke in the eye with a sharp mascara wand.
In first period art class, B secretly tried to transform a clay piggy bank into a toad, but it kept collapsing. In second period history, the teacher, Miss Taykin,
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