Witch Twins Read Online Free

we can ask what to do about Fluff tomorrow. We’ve still got plenty of time.”
    But the next morning, Grandy slept late and came down to breakfast with an ice pack over her eyes.
    “I can’t tie it on the way I used to,” she grumbled. “If only your grandfather were around. He had a good cure for morning headaches. Something with seltzer water and salt. I can’t remember. Oof, I’m hungry.” She raised her pinkie and cast a quick breakfast spell.
    Hens in the hen house,
    Chickens on the loose.
    Fry my eggs and pour my juice!
    But Claire knew immediately she’d got the spell wrong (it’s supposed to be fox on the loose) and Grandy was served a saucer of juice with a raw egg floating on top of it. The thing about those easy pinkie spells is that if one word is lost, a lot of mess is made.
    Claire and Luna, who’d got up early to clean up last night’s poker chips, piano music, and bonbon wrappers, sat very still and polite at the kitchen table. After Grandy had recast the spell and taken a few bites of fried egg, Claire could no longer wait. As they had planned, she began one sentence, then let Luna take the next, and so on.
    “Grandy, a very horrible thing has happened to us.”
    “Dad is getting remarried.’”
    “And Fluffy is from Texas, which is two thousand miles away.”
    “And we know she’s going to want to move back there.”
    “Especially after she has Houston, because she’ll want to raise him in the traditional Texan style.”
    “With dogies and spurs.”
    Claire took a deep breath. Here came the hard part, which Luna had been supposed to say—only she had lost her nerve and put in that unimportant piece about dogies and spurs instead. “And so, it behooves us to call on you, as Head Witch Arianna of Greater Bramblewine, to please help us with our trouble.”
    “Please, Grandy!” Luna implored. “We don’t want Dad to have a new family. We were first!”
    Their grandmother pushed back in her chair and frowned so hard it was as if her whole face had sunk into her mouth.
    A bad sign, thought Claire. She should have known. There had been plenty of warning. First, she and Luna had come to visit on the wrong weekend. Second, Grandy was not feeling well this morning. Third, Grandy had just miscast a spell, which usually made her think that she was losing her touch. The saying goes that powers wane as wisdom waxes, but when all was said and done, Grandy liked her witch power better than her witch smarts.
    Now Grandy cracked her knuckles.
    “Hear me out,” she began in her forceful Head Witch voice that could freeze a summer raindrop in midair. “The fury of the moment plays folly with the truth. Keep your wits, Luna and Claire, before you speak so strongly.” Then in her regular, Grandy voice, she said, “Now who is this woman, this Fuzzy?”
    “No, Fluffy. Fluffy Demarkle,” Claire corrected. “She’s a fashion editor. She eats mostly soy products. She’s allergic to bees. She calls us ‘sugar’ and ‘gals.’ And she is our soon-to-be-stepmother who is stealing Dad off to Texas.”
    “Well, it’s of no interest to me. If your father wants to marry a pygmy and move to—wherever pygmies live—then by all rights he should.”
    “If we could just learn a small spell, Grandy,” Luna pleaded. “Nothing against Fluffy. Just a simple Keep-Dad-in-Philadelphia spell.”
    “Nonsense. Your father’s life is not a game, and you girls know very well that No Destiny Changing is almost as important a rule as No Telling. That’s all I have to say. If you need me, I’ll be in the greenhouse.” With that, Grandy stood up, collected her ice pack in one hand, Wilbur in the other, and stalked out the kitchen door.
    “Grandy’s sure in a bad mood. I guess we could have waited until the right weekend.” This was the closest Claire came to a you-told-me-so apology, and she was relieved when her sister decided to take it as one.
    “What are we going to do now, Clairsie?” asked Luna