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a cold sweat.
    â€œWtmlgningtdo?” I chattered. “Wtmlgningto-do? Wtmlgningtdomlgningtodo?”
    I grabbed my jaw with both hands and clamped it shut.
    I went to my room and stared in the mirror over my dresser.
    Very slowly I relaxed the grip on my jaw.
    â€œWhat.”
    Before my mouth could utter another word, I clamped my jaw shut with both hands again.
    Okay. Stay calm, I told myself. That was good. You said only one word.
    I relaxed my grip again.
    â€œWhat.”
    I said it again. Then clamped my jaw shut.
    Then I relaxed it.
    â€œAm.”
    Clamp. Relax.
    â€œI.”
    Again.
    â€œGoing.”
    Again.
    â€œTo.”
    One more time.
    â€œDo?”

12

    â€œW hat am I going to do?”
    â€œWhat are you going to do about what, Sam?”
    The minute Mom walked through the door, I started to tell her what happened.
    I concentrated on speaking slowly, and this time it worked. I was talking like my old self again. I told her about trying to make the phone call and how I couldn’t slow down. And how I finally had to hold my jaw shut.
    I sat in the kitchen chair, and Mom leaned over me, her brow wrinkled with worry. “When exactly did it start?” she asked.
    â€œAbout an hour ago,” I answered.
    â€œDid it last long?” she asked.
    â€œNo, not too long.” I shook my head.
    â€œDid you feel hot?” she asked.
    I tried to remember if I had felt hot. “No,” I said. “I didn’t feel hot.”
    Mom touched my forehead. “Hmmm. Not hot. No fever.”
    â€œWhat do you think is wrong with me?” I asked nervously.
    Mom sat down next to me and smiled. “I don’t think anything is wrong with you.” She patted my hand. “Maybe something you ate disagreed with you. . . .”
    Something I ate.
    Like paste.
    Or fleas.
    No way, I told myself. Paste or fleas definitely could not make someone talk that way.
    Sponges. What about sponges?
    No. They couldn’t do it either. It would have to be something weirder than that.
    Much weirder . . .
    Like those little black flakes, the ones Aunt Sylvie added to my rice pudding.
    Those black flakes that burned my mouth and made me feel hot all over!
    That’s it! I realized.
    Aunt Sylvie did this to me.
    Why didn’t I think of it before?
    I remembered what she said after Lissa told her I ate only white food. “You must eat more than that,” she said.
    Then she sneaked those horrible flakes into my dessert. The ones she wouldn’t eat. That’s when all this crazy stuff started to happen.
    A chill ran down my spine.
    Aunt Sylvie knows all kinds of weird things about magic spells. Lissa and Kevin told me so.
    Those black flakes must be part of a magic spell!
    An evil magic spell!
    I have to talk to Kevin. I’ll tell him Aunt Sylvie put some kind of curse on me with those flakes! I have to tell him right away!
    I started for the front door, then stopped.
    I couldn’t go over to Kevin’s house. Aunt Sylvie was there—it wasn’t safe. And I didn’t want to call on the phone again.
    I’ll wait until tomorrow to talk to him, I decided. I’ll tell him at lunch.
    *   *   *
    The next day in school I watched the clock as the seconds ticked by. The morning seemed to drag on forever. I couldn’t concentrate on anything, not even the test on Johnny Tremaine. I probably flunked it bigtime. But I didn’t care.
    All that mattered just then was talking toKevin—and figuring out a way to make Aunt Sylvie take this curse off me.
    When the lunch bell rang, I jumped up from my seat and grabbed Kevin. “Hurry up! We have to get to the cafeteria fast!”
    â€œAll right!” Kevin threw a fist in the air and cheered. “Potato chips, here we come!”
    I tried to make Kevin sit right down when we reached the cafeteria, but he insisted on getting his chips first.
    I grabbed a seat and waited for him. I