Well, that was promising. “Lead on, but you need to act like a real cat,” I said.
He rolled his eyes—first time I’d ever seen a cat roll his eyes—and trotted forward.This isn’t my first search and rescue.And I am a real cat.
How many frogs had this cat found? Surely this wasn’t a normal occurrence.
“Hello!”
“Oh, no,” I muttered. I’d know that shrill voice anywhere. Plastering a big, fake smile on my face, I turned to the right to face my oldest, busybodiest neighbor. Mrs. Brennan. “Hello, Mrs. B. How are you?”
“Well, it’s nice to see you home. I hope you plan to take care of your yard soon.” She patted her short, blonde hair as if she was some housewife from the fifties, then ran her hands down the apron, covered in pictures of apples, as if it were wrinkled.
It wasn’t wrinkled. She knew it wasn’t wrinkled. Her clothes wereneverwrinkled. I couldn’t ever figure out if it was a nervous habit, or a way of her reminding me that I had plenty of wrinkles in sight. But as her judgy gaze swept over my much rounder body, and her nose wrinkled, I suspected the latter.
Man, we’d barely been back here, and I was itching to turn this woman into a toad too. I needed therapy, and lots of it.
Gritting my teeth, I stared at the tiny woman. “I’ll get right on that. Wouldn’t want to bother you with a messy yard.”
She sniffed. “It’s all right, dear. I didn’t understand why your son couldn’t have done a better job with it. But maybe he takes after your husband.”
Her words dropped between us like stones.
She looked disappointed when I didn’t react. “Didn’t he leave you for a younger woman?”
“Yeah?” I said with an edge in my voice. She was always hateful and nosy, but this was pushing dangerous territory.
“So, it makes sense your son might be done wasting his time around here too.”
I curled my hands into fists.Do not turn her into a toad. No matter how funny it would be to see a skinny toad with warts wearing her apron.My magic had already gotten me into enough trouble.
After pushing her glasses up on her nose and clearing her throat, Mrs. Brennan just couldn’t seem to stop herself. “Perhaps your husband would’ve been here if you’d taken my advice before. Had dinner ready for him, fixed your face.” She softened her expression as I glared, as if she cared about me enough to give me this sage wisdom.
“Hey,” Deva said loudly.
Carol stepped forward. “Rick was a loser. He didn’t deserve a minute with Emma, much less the years she gave him. Not that it’sanyof your business.”
Beth tossed her long, blonde hair back. “What’s happened in your life to make you so miserable that you’d talk to someone like that?”
“My guess is that all she has to offer any man aremeals,” Deva glared.
“At least my man comes home every evening,” Mrs. B gave me a dirty look. “I’d hate to be oldandsingle.”
“Who you calling old?” Deva challenged.
Mrs. B nodded toward me. “She ruined her looks with work, when she should have been moisturizing, cooking, and cleaning.”
Beth started taking out her earrings. “Those are fighting words, Miss Skinny Bitch.”
Uh oh.
I held up a hand. “It’s okay.” But even as I said the words, my magic had begun to tingle. Taking my arms, I spread them toward Mrs. Brennan’s perfectly manicured garden, hoping to lessen whatever Karma had in store this time. And in an instant, I realized Karma had created the perfect revenge. “Geez, Mrs. B. Looks like you’ve got some weeds in your garden.”
She turned slowly around, with her nose wrinkled, and peered across the road toward her yard.
“Is that…” I gasped dramatically. “Is that a dandelion?” I tutted my tongue. “Once you get dandelions, you’ve got them forlife.”
My friends giggled with my emphasis on the word life. They knew what that meant. My magic would make sure old Mrs. B’s yard would forever be plagued by the little poofy weeds.
“No. No, that's not…” She just continued staring in disbelief.
