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covered in paint. There were colorful stains on his slacks, shirt, and even his shoes. At the moment he was busy drawing squares and triangles with a charcoal pencil. His hands moved quickly as he sketched.
    â€œSee what I mean?” Annabelle asked her.
    Katie shrugged. “Well, I did draw a lot of shapes in kindergarten,” she agreed. “And some of my pictures looked a little like that.”
    Suddenly, the artist whipped around in his chair. “Do you think I cannot understand you?” he shouted in a thick French accent. “I speak English very well!”
    Katie gasped. Her cheeks turned as red as her hair. “I ... I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I didn’t ...”
    â€œYou don’t know anything about art. You are just foolish children. Now go away! Scat, like little cats!” the artist shouted at them.
    Katie did as she was told. Without even waiting for Annabelle, she ran off into a nearby alleyway.
    The alley was filled with wooden vegetable crates. A few rotting cabbages littered the ground. They stunk really badly. They smelled as badly as Pepper did that time a skunk had sprayed him.
    Katie guessed she deserved to be in a stinky alleyway. After all, she and Annabelle had said some pretty mean things about the artist who had been drawing shapes on his canvas. This was sort of like her punishment.
    She sat down on a hard wooden crate. Maybe if she waited here long enough, the artist would leave. Then she could walk back out onto the sidewalk and go across the street to the cafe where her parents were sitting.
    But deep down Katie knew she was going to have to walk out there and see him again. If the artist yelled at her, she would just have to listen. And say she was sorry— again .
    Katie stood up and got ready to walk out of the alley. But before she could take even one step, a cool breeze began to blow.
    Within seconds the breeze grew stronger. Soon it felt more like a wind than a breeze. And not just any wind. This was the magic wind!
    Before Katie knew what was happening, the magic wind was circling wildly around her. Katie grabbed onto one of the crates and held on tight. The tornado was really wild this time. She shut her eyes tight, and tried not to cry.
    And then it stopped. Just like that.
    The magic wind was gone. And so was Katie Carew.

Chapter 9
    Katie sniffed the air. She didn’t smell any rotten cabbages. Obviously, she wasn’t in the alley anymore.
    So where was she?
    Slowly, Katie opened her eyes and looked around. She could see her parents sitting at the café across the street, happily enjoying their coffee. She breathed a sigh of relief. At least she hadn’t gone far. Katie didn’t know her way around Paris. It was good to know that her parents were nearby.
    Now Katie knew where she was. But she still didn’t know who she was. Slowly she looked down at her hands. They were large and kind of hairy. They were a man’s hands!
    Okay, she was a man. But what man?
    Maybe her clothes could give her a clue. She was wearing loose-fitting, blue cotton pants. They were stained with different colored paints. So was her white T-shirt. There were little spots of colored paints on her black leather shoes.
    Uh-oh. Katie had turned into a street artist. And not just any artist. Katie had become the artist she and Annabelle had been making fun of!
    She sat there for a minute, staring at the painting and wishing that the magic wind would return and change her back. But deep down she knew that was impossible. The magic wind only came when Katie was alone. Right now she was on a busy street.
    The other artists certainly were painting very quickly. Once in a while they would glance up at the sky and frown.
    Katie followed their glances. The sky was getting pretty dark, and it looked like it was about to rain.
    Uh-oh, Katie thought again.
    The artist sitting beside Katie reached over and took a tube of paint from the box of art supplies