A Sprinkle of Spirits Page 8

  Old Jack crossed his arms. “Well, if that’s the case, you shouldn’t be worried about me and my little garden. You ought to go after the other man, the one who was heading to the school. He’s probably making a lot more trouble than I am.”

  Oh no.

  Leo felt Marisol’s gasp like a candle flame held too close to her skin. Her face heated and her stomach dropped and even the smell of bread coming out of the oven couldn’t make this okay. “There’s another spirit?”

  Old Jack nodded.

  Marisol had parked between Daddy’s truck and Tía Paloma’s old car, and suddenly Leo felt surrounded, facing disappointed faces on all sides.

  She had no idea how these spirits had been set loose across the town. Was it really her magic? How many ghosts would appear? And if she couldn’t stop them, what would happen to Leo, to her family, to Rose Hill?

  She had picked the worst day in the world to fight with Caroline, because right now she wished more than anything that she could talk to her friend.

  “I don’t suppose it would do any good to ask you to knock it off, would it, cucaracha?” Marisol asked, her voice breathy and wobbling.

  “I’m not doing anything,” Leo replied, just as shaky. “I swear!”

  Before the prickling in her throat could turn into full-blown sobs, Leo’s worry was interrupted by a knock on her window. She turned around in her seat, terrified she’d see more orange flower petals.

  Instead she saw Mamá, eyebrows raised and mouth opened wide, and that was enough to make the tears spill over.

  CHAPTER 9

  QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS

  Inside the bakery, Mamá sat Leo on a stool and put a payaso cookie in her hand. She didn’t look disappointed. The front of the bakery bustled with people picking up rosca de reyes orders and grabbing a couple of cookies or conchas and a coffee on their way out. This was the kind of rush Mamá always hoped for, but it made it hard to hide three spirits out of sight without causing a mess of dough and flour and bumping bodies in the kitchen.

  “Isabel, the timers,” Mamá called as alarms blared through the kitchen. She was keeping Abuela away from the bakery tables with one hand and pouring several cups of coffee with the other.

  “I’m not going to ruin anything, Elena,” Abuela complained. “I just want to see how it’s going. It’s my bakery, after all—let me look around.”

  “You have other things to focus on, Mami.” Tía Paloma dragged Abuela to the corner by the cabinets. “I still don’t understand how any of this is possible. Tell me what happened.”

  “Thank you, dear.” Mrs. Morales accepted a cup of coffee, handed another to Old Jack, and let the twins lead her to a stool in front of the walk-in fridge.

  “There’s another spirit on the loose.” Marisol tugged Mamá’s sleeve, her voice high. “We don’t even know if he’s the last one. Where are they coming from?”

  “Enough.” Mamá shook Marisol off her arm. “I’m trying to understand too. Isabel, would you get the timers, please?”

  Leo looked down at the pink, yellow, and white cookie in her hand. These were the ones Mamá spelled to put an extra-big smile on the face of little kids. She bit in, and sure enough, the bite danced in her mouth and down her throat, and she had to stifle giggles as a warm, bubbly feeling spread through her fingers and toes. Even if the happiness was artificial, it kept her from feeling too bad as Marisol explained her side of the story to Mamá—even when she suggested that it was Leo who had caused the whole mess.

  “We tried to come straight here after getting the note from the Moraleses’ house,” Marisol said, “but we ran into this guy”—Old Jack nodded at Mamá with a smile—“and then he told us that there’s another spirit too. And we need to go catch him, whoever he is, before someone realizes he’s dead.” Marisol gulped her coffee.

  Mamá took a long breath, running a hand over her face. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll shut all the ovens off except the big one, and I’ll tell Luis to start sending people away and lock the front door.” Mamá peered toward the front of the bakery, where Daddy greeted another customer with a cheerful welcome. “We’ll figure this out.” She reached behind her back to undo the strings of her apron.

  “Elena, no,” Tía Paloma said. “It’s so close to Día de Reyes, and we have more business than I’ve seen in years. We can’t close down now.”

  Mamá scoffed. “I think this qualifies as an emergency situation. What do you want me to do? Sit here selling bread while my family needs me?”

  “Your family needs you to stay calm and run your business,” Abuela said. “You have many capable bakers and brujas to help you, Maria Elena. You don’t have to drop everything just to look after my old troublesome self.”

  “You always did for me,” Mamá argued, even as she let Abuela retie the strings of her apron.

  “And I expect you to do it for your children,” Abuela said, patting Mamá’s shoulder. “But me you don’t worry about. Let Paloma and the girls take care of me for now. Keep the bakery running, and we’ll be right here helping you out.”

  Mamá frowned. “My girls will help me out,” she said. “You will stay well out of the way.” Abuela nodded, holding up her hands and putting on her most innocent face. Mamá finally nodded. “All right. Paloma, can you use the scrying spell and see what information you can get about all this?” Another oven started to beep. “Isabel,” Mamá called.

  Isabel peeked her head in the door, twirling a thin sheet of waxed paper around a concha for a customer to carry home. “Sorry, I’m helping with the rush out here. And Daddy needs more change.”

  Mamá sent the twins to deal with the beeping oven, and Marisol scrambled to the office to break open rolls of quarters and dimes for the cash register.

  Leo took another bite of her cookie as she watched Tía Paloma pull a set of candles off a cabinet shelf and whisper to Abuela.

  Marisol returned with grumpiness clouding her face. “Mamá, we’re wasting time. I need to catch the spirit.”

  “We need all the facts,” Mamá said. “We need to plan this out. You’ve been driving around after spirits all morning, and I don’t want to send you out alone to chase another one with no idea where he could be. And I especially don’t want to send Leo anywhere if it’s indeed her power that’s at play here.”

  “I don’t need help,” Marisol huffed, “and it wouldn’t be with no idea, right?” She turned to Old Jack. “You know where the other spirit went?”

  “He was headed toward the elementary school. Said something about teaching there when he was alive.” Old Jack shrugged. “I couldn’t hear everything he said at the time, but I have to say, I’m hearing much better now.” He was looking a bit less hunched too, and his hair wasn’t quite as thin as it had been. Leo had never heard of dead people (or any people) aging backward, and it made her nervous. “That was about a half hour ago. It’s quite thrilling, isn’t it, living every second? And I forgot how good coffee tastes too.”

  “Our bakery has the best coffee,” Leo said softly (even though it all tasted like burned socks to her).

  “We need to get to the school,” Marisol said. “Now. I can drive there.”

  Alma and Belén dropped a tray of swirly orejas on the nearest counter to cool and nodded their colorful heads in unison. “We should go too,” Alma said.

  “Yeah, you’ve been having all the excitement and we’ve just been lining up trays all morning,” Belén complained.

  “Except that if we’re going to stay open, then I need you both here lining up trays—it’s a very important job! And making dough and cutting cookies and icing the king cakes and . . .” Mamá shook her head. “Paloma, did the candles reveal anything?”

  Tía Paloma looked up from her table, now filled with candles and herbs, and blinked. “I know they’re not zombies.”

  Marisol groaned. “We figured that out hours ago.”

  Isabel rushed into the kitchen and joined Tía Paloma in her corner, switching one candle out for
another and whispering furiously. The bell on the front door rang as more customers entered.

  “We’re a little shorthanded,” Daddy’s cheerful voice boomed from the other room, “but take your time looking around. Have you got your rosca de reyes yet? I’m sure we have a fresh batch coming out of the ovens any minute.”

  Leo stood up. “I can help with the register,” she said. She was used to handling rushes, and Isabel would be more use in the back of the bakery anyway.

  “Sit down, Leonora.” Mamá’s voice was sharp. “I want you to stay where I can see you. We’ve had quite enough surprises today.”

  Leo sat back on her stool and shoved the whole pink side of her triangle cookie into her mouth. Useless. Her family saw her as useless for anything but making a mess. She had to prove that she wasn’t responsible for the spirits.

  “On the back counter,” Mamá corrected Alma, who was about to set a second tray of orejas to cool on the counter nearest the door, ready to be added to the shelves. “That’s the special order.”

  “We’re wasting time,” Marisol told Mamá. “We need to catch the spirit at the school.”

  “School is out,” Mamá argued calmly. “The building is empty. We can’t spend the day chasing our tails all around town.”

  “But if someone sees him,” Leo said. She could imagine one of the town busybodies catching sight of a strange man breaking into the closed school, calling the police. Marisol was right; they needed to catch him before someone else did.

  “We need to focus on finding a solution,” Mamá continued, barely glancing at Leo. “And we’ll be better able to do that here, together.”

  “Or at home,” Tía Paloma interrupted, leaving the corner to put a hand on Mamá’s shoulder. “We’re not having any luck revealing the nature of the spell here. Your very brilliant daughter”—Tía Paloma smiled at Isabel, who beamed—“thought that we might do better if we work with a location spell, from the place where the first spirit appeared. That was Leo’s room, wasn’t it?” She looked to Abuela for confirmation.

  Abuela nodded. “I was pulled through into Leo’s room, about seven in the morning.”

  “Seven in the morning?” Mrs. Morales, who had been enjoying her coffee so quietly that Leo had almost forgotten about her, spoke up. “But then you weren’t the first spirit. I was pulled through hours before that.” She hopped off her stool and joined the huddle near the front of the kitchen, marigold petals falling from her skirt with every step.

  “Yes, I think I was pulled through at five in the morning, myself,” Old Jack said. “I awoke with the dawn and the birds, and with a couple of terrible squirrels that have really made a mess of my old flower beds.”

  “Leti, why didn’t you say anything earlier?” Abuela said.

  “That changes things,” Tía Paloma said softly, turning back to her corner.

  “What does it mean?” Belén asked.

  “It means that we really don’t know what’s going on.” Worry creased Mamá’s forehead.

  Leo stood up off her stool. She felt restless energy tingling in her fingers. Her family was wasting time, like Marisol said. They were being just like they always were, busy and distracted and not paying Leo any attention, and the frustration of it all pressed against her skin like cinnamon sugar rolled deep into the layers of oreja dough. She shoved the last corner of the cookie into her mouth.

  Usually, this was when she would talk to Caroline. But they stood in almost the same spot where Leo and her family had treated Caroline like an unwanted stranger yesterday. She was probably at home, not worrying about any magical disasters, just thinking about how angry she was at Leo. Maybe their friend Brent was visiting her house, and they were sitting on the trampoline making a plan to avoid Leo completely once school started back up. They would switch desks so Caroline didn’t have to sit next to Leo. Maybe they would be seat buddies on the bus. They could even walk to school, if they wanted, to avoid Leo completely, because they lived so close—

  Leo pressed her palms together as her brain caught up with itself. They lived so close to the school. . . .

  “I know what to do,” she said.

  Tía Paloma stayed bent over her candles and herbs with Abuela. Mamá and Marisol traded trays as they loaded the ovens, and Isabel carried new treats to the front of the bakery. Alma and Belén conferred with each other as they wrapped the special orejas in individual sheets of wax paper.

  “I know what to do!” Leo tried again. “You might not love it, but I think it will be the best—”

  Isabel returned through the swinging doors, almost dropping the empty tray she carried as she crashed straight into Mrs. Morales, releasing another large cloud of orange petals. “Careful,” Isabel hissed. “Someone could see you, or all of this!” She kicked orange petals off her shoe with a frown.

  “Isabel Lucero, show some manners,” Abuela snapped back.

  Leo used the argument to drift farther back through the kitchen, passing Tía Paloma, who took no notice of the commotion.

  “The reverse aging could be a factor,” her aunt was mumbling. “Or it could simply have to do with their developing sense of their physical selves . . .” Her fingers twitched and then reached for one of her old books, flicking through the pages. “There must be an explanation . . . energy manifestation, maybe?”

  Mrs. Morales’s hair was totally black now, and both she and Abuela looked taller. Old Jack’s head was filling up with more white hair.

  Leo kept inching backward.

  “We don’t need babysitters,” Mrs. Morales argued, pulling her elbow out of Isabel’s grip.

  “Then stop acting like babies!” Isabel whispered back.

  In all the chaos, nobody noticed Leo slip into the office, pull the phone off Daddy’s desk, and dial.

  Caroline lived just a few minutes from the school. She already knew about magic. She might be mad, but Leo trusted her to help in an emergency. She was a good friend, and a good person. Leo didn’t care if her sisters wouldn’t approve. They needed help.

  The phone rang once, twice.

  “Leo?”

  “Hi,” Leo said. “I’m really sorry about yesterday.”

  “Oh, yeah . . . but don’t be. I’m not—I’ve got some other things to—”

  “Wait, listen.” Leo gulped. “I really am sorry, and I know we need to talk, and I want to. But right now we have a big emergency, so that’s why I called you. There are . . . ghosts. Well, they’re spirits, really. They’re coming into the real world, and they’re running around town. They could cause really big problems if they are discovered; everyone in my family says so. If people know that spirits can come back to life, it will be a big mess. And we don’t know exactly why they’re here, but we think it has something to do with my magic. Well, everyone thinks it’s my fault.” Leo cringed. “But I don’t think it is, and I need to prove it. And I would totally understand if you’re sick of dealing with my magic problems, and if you hang up the phone right now, but if you aren’t going to do that, then we could really use your help, because there’s a spirit headed to the elementary school right now, and I thought maybe you could catch him faster than my family could.”

  The silence stretched, and Leo’s stomach sank as she feared Caroline had hung up.

  “What’s his name?” Caroline finally said.

  “Huh?”

  “The ghost who was going to the school. The one you’re looking for.”

  “Oh . . . I don’t know.” Leo tried to remember if Old Jack had mentioned any details. “But you’ll be able to recognize him because he’ll leave a trail of flower petals behind him, orange ones. Old Jack, that’s the ghost who told us about him, said they ran into each other and he said he was heading to the school—”

  “Okay, good, hold on.” Caroline pulled the phone away from her mouth and spoke in a loud but muffled voice. Leo didn’t have time to worry who she was talking to before she returned. “Got it. That was Mr. Nguyen, you remember, from music. He ran i
nto Mr. Jack an hour ago, and I caught him when he passed my house. He’s one of the three I’ve got here. How many are at the bakery?”

  For a moment, Leo wondered if someone had slipped a sleeping spell into her payaso cookie. Was this some strange dream? That somehow involved her elementary school music teacher? “You know about the ghosts?” she asked.

  “Yes. How many do you have?”

  “I . . . I have three. Abuela, and Mrs. Morales. And Old Jack.”

  Caroline let out a long sigh. “So that’s six. Have any of your spirits mentioned any others?”

  Leo tried to respond, but all that came out was a strangled squeak.

  “Also, I don’t think this is your fault,” Caroline said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I . . . have a confession to make.”

  Leo’s mouth opened and closed while her brain sorted through Caroline’s words.

  Caroline knows about the spirits.

  Caroline has spirits at her home.

  Caroline doesn’t think this is my fault.

  “Leo,” Caroline continued, “I think it was me.”

  “You?” Leo shook her head. “How is that possible?”

  “I don’t know, Leo,” Caroline’s voice rose to a squeak. “I don’t know, and I’m kind of freaking out about it.”

  Slowly, like pouring honey, Leo worked out what she had to do.

  “Don’t move,” Leo told her friend. “And don’t worry. We’re going to come help.”

  “Are you sure?” Caroline asked. “I’m not part of your family, or their magic.”

  “I’m sure.” Leo would make her family listen. She would make them help Caroline. “We’ll fix this.” She balled her fists as she made the promise. “We’re brujas. It’s what we do.”

  She hung up the phone, stomped out of the office, and planted her feet in the middle of the kitchen. “HEY!” she shouted above the beeping and whispering and laughing and grumbling. “Listen up, everyone!” Her face flushed as so many pairs of eyes turned toward her, looking surprised or confused or (in Marisol’s case) annoyed. Leo cleared her throat. “We have to change our plans,” she said. “I figured something out.”