School of Charm Read Online Free PDF Page B

over. “And all students who graduate from this school take a bit of magic with them.”
    I stared at her, not really sure what she meant. She was either an old woman who looked younger or a young woman who looked older. She was tall and a little plump. Her hair was blondish-white, pulled up in a bun, almost the same color as her dinnerplate dahlias. Wisps of it were stuck to her moist, tan cheeks.
    â€œWhat’s your name, dear?”
    â€œBrenda Anderson.” I twisted my hands in front of me and looked up to the house. “Where is Miss Vernie? And who can join her school?”
    Her lips fluttered into a smile again. “I am Miss Vernie. And you’ve joined just by showing up.”
    I took a step back. Then another. I crossed my arms. “I probably don’t have enough money for your school.”
    â€œMy charm school is free to those who need it.”
    I sucked in my bottom lip. I didn’t need to be coming for free. I had thirty-five dollars hidden in my pajama drawer. Two years’ worth of birthday and Christmas cash. I didn’t even know for sure what kind of school this was, so how was I supposed to know if I needed it? My mouth was dry, and the words ran out of my head.
    I figured Miss Vernie could tell what I was thinking. Her eyes got all crinkly around the corners. “The only people who find their way here are the ones who need it. You’re free to stay if you choose. And you can stay for free.” She smiled at me like she was the sun, granting me some of her rays. Then she picked up a small shovel that was resting against a tree and walked toward a garden next to her house.
    Without any straight answers, Billy would have said this was stupid and run back down her driveway searching for our next adventure. But Billy wasn’t there. I followed her and watched while she dug up a clump of red flowers.
    â€œWould you believe I have to move all these?” she said, as if we hadn’t even been talking about the school.
    I kicked at a mushroom growing in the lawn. “Why?”
    â€œToo shady in this spot. I’ll try them somewhere else.”
    I cupped my elbows and squeezed hard. “Will they survive?”
    â€œFlowers are a lot hardier than you might imagine. Most things are, really.” She stared at me until I felt my skin prickle again.
    I cleared my throat. “About the school. When do classes start?”
    â€œWhy, class is in session right now.”
    I locked my gaze with her, trying to see if she had squinty, liar eyes, or worse—wild eyes. Billy said you can never trust someone with wild eyes. “There’s a class?” I asked in a shaky voice. “Where?”
    She spread her arms wide. “Right here in the garden.” Her eyes were soft and blue and clear.
    I looked around for desks or books or something. Two squirrels sat on a tree branch, watching us. “What about the other students?”
    She pointed her shovel across the yard, where two girls were kneeling in front of a small garden. “Oh, I almost forgot.” She got up and brushed some dirt off her flowery dress and reached into her pocket. She pulled out a gold bracelet. A charm bracelet. It twisted and glinted like it was a shiny little snake squirming in her grasp. “You’ll be needing this.” She fastened it around my wrist.
    My skin tingled. I wasn’t used to wearing jewelry. I didn’t even have my ears pierced. Every girl in the fifth grade back home had her ears pierced.
    â€œWhat am I supposed to do with this?” I held the bracelet up to examine the charms dangling from the chain: a pair of ballet slippers, a mirror, a flower, and a heart. I wanted to tell her I didn’t wear jewelry, and that trying this girly stuff on me was a big waste.
    â€œIt’s the only rule at our school: You have to wear the bracelet at all times. That’s how you know when you’ve completed a lesson—when you