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obediently, licking his chops. “Out!” The dog barreled through the caf doors like he was on fire. “Carry on,” she said aloud.
    Right. Business as usual. Welcome to my world.
    “I don’t suppose you feel like dessert,” Peter said finally.
    I shook my head. Most of my hamburger had fallen—or crawled—onto the table. “Go ahead,” I said miserably. “I think I’ll go to the library.”
    •  •  •
    Summer!
    How could that be? She was not only cowen, she was übercowen. Math was magical to Summer Hayworth. If her parents hadn’t donated the school’s auditorium, she’d have been in someplace like Las Palmas High in south Florida, where Iused to go to school. There were no witches at Las Palmas, only surfer dudes with six-pack abs and brains the consistency of warm oatmeal. Summer would have fit right in there.
    She couldn’t have slugified my burger. I don’t know if I could have done that, and I was supposed to be pretty proficient for my age.
    But her face . . . She’d known what was happening. Even from that distance, I’d been able to see the look of triumph in her eyes. Not to mention the giggling Skankettes having a hearty laugh at the miracle their leader had wrought.
    It had to have been Summer. But how had she done it? I had to find out.
    •  •  •
    That night, I lurked.
    I often wished I had the gift of invisibility. I guessed almost every witch wishes that. It’s a rare talent, and I’d never met anyone who could do it. So in lieu of vanishing I had to make do with skulking around the corridor of dorm C, pretending to be visiting Muffies whose names I didn’t even know. Whenever someone came out of one of the rooms, I’d face a random doorway, smiling and waving, as if I were just saying good-bye to whoever was inside. Fortunately, that happened only twice—it was after midnight—before I reached Summer’s room.
    I could smell incense. That was a cowen thing, thinking that the trappings of magic—incense, candlelight, incantations, talismans—were what made the magic work. In truth, you could do magic in a supermarket, with fluorescent lights and announcements about red dot specials.
    That is, if you were a witch. These girls weren’t. They wereincanting like crazy, and burning enough incense to choke a horse.
    “Spirits, grant us power!” That was A.J.’s reedy little voice, presently shouted down by Summer.
    “Me,” Summer corrected as I heard a loud thump. “Give me power!” Then she added, less stridently, “We don’t want to dilute it.”
    “Jeez, Summer, it’s only a stupid Ouija board,” Suzy Dusset countered. “I don’t even think you’re doing it right.”
    “How would you know?”
    “A Ouija board’s for contacting the dead, doofus. It doesn’t give you power.”
    “Well, it worked before, didn’t it?”
    “Then let me do it.”
    “No way. You’d only use it to get boys.”
    “Yeah,” Tiffany agreed. “That’s why they call you Sleazy Does It.”
    I almost choked over that. As it was, it pretty much signaled the end of their session. Suzy started cursing like a sailor at about the same time the room resounded with the crashing of various items against the walls.
    One of them screamed in the high-pitched tone only girls who weigh less than ninety pounds could achieve. A.J., I figured.
    “Shut up!” Summer stage-whispered.
    “But there’s something on me!”
    “It’s only a stupid bug.”
    More squeals and thumping. “So get it off me!” Slaps and snuffles. “Get it—”
    “Okay, okay. Just hold still while I open the—”
    At that moment, the door swung open and a large moth—undoubtedly the creature that had unhinged A.J.—flew past me as I knelt awkwardly with my ear to what had been the keyhole.
    Clearing my throat, I stood up slowly, trying desperately to think of something cool to say.
    The four of them stared at me. Beside an abandoned circle of flickering candles stood a jar half-filled with what looked like